Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Standing Outside the Fire ❯ 6 ( Chapter 6 )

6

 

All in all you're just another brick in the wall

 

The next morning, Konnor came to my door and woke me up at quarter to six, and told me this would be my get-up time from now on. He gave me fifteen minutes to get dressed and ready to go.

 

“Normally there would be breakfast,” he said, “but this morning you have your physical, and they will be doing some tests. I'll get you something to eat after you're done there.”

 

Konnor set a brisk pace as he led me to the Intake Center. The building was on the outer edge of the complex, near the main gates. It looked like any other small office building in the world, bland and squat and kind of boring, except it didn't have a lot of windows. Konnor opened the door for me and ushered me inside.

 

The hall was crowded with people bustling from one door to the next. Some of the people wore lab coats or scrubs like in a hospital, while others wore the gray jackets that meant they were students like I was going to be. A few wore normal clothes; these looked the most nervous.

 

As if he'd done this lots of times, Konnor escorted me right to a small waiting room. There were a couple of students sitting passively on the hard plastic chairs, and one fellow doing paperwork at the front desk. Konnor spoke with him a little, then the guy nodded and handed me a clipboard and a pencil.

 

“Your medical history,” the secretary said, his accent kind of thick but not so much I couldn't understand him. “Pay special attention to the `Allergies' and `Psychological' sections.”

 

I looked at the forms. At least they were in English. I scribbled down how I'd had measles when I was four, and chicken pox at six. The doctors had thought I had asthma once, but it was because I was claustrophobic; I didn't write that part down. I wracked my brain to remember whatever I could that might be relevant, from my uncle's heart attack to my gramma's arthritis.

 

A door opened, and a young guy in a lab coat like an intern gestured for me to follow him. He led me down a short hall and into one of those examination rooms that was all white and chrome and smelled like antiseptic.

 

“Take off your clothes and fold them neatly. You will wear this until your intake is completed. Place any jewelry or other personals in the bag,” he directed, setting a wad of fabric and a plastic baggie on the table before leaving through another door.

 

I set the clipboard down on the counter and tugged off my shoes and pants. The rest of my clothes joined them in a pile, and I slipped the flimsy little shirt on. It barely covered my modesty, though at least it tied on the side and not in back. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I almost laughed out loud: I looked like some kind of demented Roman soldier, in a striped toga held together by shoelaces.

 

I set about folding my clothes like the guy had said. I didn't wear jewelry or the like, just my glasses and my watch. Since I was blind as a bat without my glasses and I never went anywhere without my watch, I decided not to take those off unless he told me to directly.

 

The second door opened and the intern guy came back in, followed by an older man in a long lab coat with a stethoscope draped across his neck.

 

“Guten Tag, Herr Crawford,” the doctor said with a little bow. The stethoscope didn't move. “We'll need to take some specimens today. Devin will assist with that after we're done here.” Then the doctor went over to the counter and pulled out these latex gloves, and my throat tightened. I'd heard jokes about exams like that, things that grown men had to put up with at the doctor's, only I wasn't a grown man and this wasn't a joke.

 

For the next fifteen minutes or so, I was poked, probed, groped, and manhandled within an inch of my patience. The doctor seemed to be enjoying himself at my expense, while Devin looked on with that professionally bored manner only the really good nurses seemed to have.

 

“Everything looks just fine,” the doctor informed me, his eyes lingering south of where they should have been. “You're quite the healthy boy, aren't you?”

 

“I try, sir.” My face burned with shame. When he'd been touching me, my body decided to play a little joke, getting all warm and heavy feeling down there. I'd never been so embarrassed in my life. And something about the way his breath had caught while he did his exam made me want to puke. I'd heard of men like that, of course, but never in my life had I thought I'd run afoul of one.

 

My brother Jimmy would have punked him in the parking lot. I bit back the swell of emotion, remembering what Konnor had said about keeping tears inside the apartment. All of a sudden that seemed like real good advice.

 

The doctor left, and another guy came in with a tray of vials and needles. I sighed and sat on the table before they told me to, then held my left arm out for their convenience. I'd done this before, but when the needle hit I nearly jumped out of my skin. This guy wasn't even trying to be gentle, he just stabbed it on in there like a cook with a meat thermometer.

 

My heartbeat thundered in my head, heat and pain welled up from my arm, and the next thing I knew that Devin fellow was waving an ammonia capsule under my nose. I gagged and choked in a breath. My arm was already bandaged and folded up to make it clot; I hadn't even been aware of them taking the needle back out.

 

The other guy was gone, and so was the tray. I wondered just how much blood they took while I was unawares.

 

“Bring your effects and follow me,” Devin ordered, opening the second door. He escorted me to a little bathroom, told me to put my things on the shelf outside, and handed me a plastic cup. My arm was beginning to throb now, and I figured I'd have a nasty bruise later on. But at least this part of the process wasn't invasive; I did what I had to do, and managed to do it without embarrassing myself. I washed my hands anyway before picking up my clothes and letting Devin drag me to the next event.

 

“Your glasses.” Devin held his hand out for them, and I grudgingly took them off. Everything close up turned into one big fuzzy blur. I handed the glasses to the nearest large white blob, pretty sure that one was Devin.

 

The guy let out a low whistle. “How long have you had this prescription?”

 

“About…ten months,” I told him, trying to remember.

 

“How often do you need new? Are they stronger lenses each time, or less strong?”

 

“I get new once a year, ever since I was six,” I told him. “I don't know if they're stronger, I just know that if I don't get new glasses I start to get headaches.”

 

I could hear him doing something but had no idea what. Then he shined a little pen-light into my eyes without any warning. I flinched.

 

“Hold still.” He flashed the light into one eye, then the other. Then I heard him scribbling notes on a clipboard. “Here, you get to keep these for a while,” he said, handing me my glasses. “I'll arrange for a thorough eye exam. Our specialist comes in twice a month; I want him to take a look at you. We will notify your mentor of the appointment time.”

 

I put my glasses on and the world swam back into focus. I had to blink a couple of times before everything got right, and Devin was already herding me toward another room. He made me take the glasses off again, and this time he said, “Watch, too.” Grudgingly I did so, though I didn't put it in the baggie: something about that made me think I wouldn't get it back, so I kept it out in the hopes I could nab it when the exam was over. He told me to set everything down on the shelf across from the door. Then he double checked his clipboard before setting it down on the shelf, along with his own pen and wristwatch.

 

He guided me through the door. I watched the blurs of my legs move, since nothing closer than fifteen feet would come in clear anyway. The room sounded big, with the hollow echo that large, empty rooms seem to have, and the floor was cold. When I looked up, my feet stopped on their own. This room held only one piece of equipment, one huge piece of equipment, and my chest tightened up at the sight of it. Without even thinking, I started to back up.

 

Devin's hand stopped me, pressing flat against my spine. He looked at me sharply. “It's standard procedure. We need a baseline MRI for your files.”

 

I shook my head. I couldn't go into that thing.

 

When I'd started having dizzy spells at school from the visions coming on, my father had taken me to a special hospital to make sure nothing was wrong. He didn't quite believe in the Sight, in spite of his wife and mother-in-law both having it. I guess he never expected to pass it along, especially to a boy. But when they'd tried to put me in one of those MRI tubes, I'd started screaming before I even got halfway in. They couldn't knock me out, because they needed to see what my awake brain was up to, and they couldn't make me stay on the table without strapping me down. My father wouldn't let them do that to me, so he cancelled and took me home.

 

My father wasn't here now.

 

*

“What's happening? Brad, can you hear me?”

 

“He's going into shock. Please, sir, sit over there and let me work!”

 

“Schuldig, come on, sit with me. All we can do now is wait.”

*

 

My chest hurt. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like I was deep underwater without an air tank. I couldn't stop staring at the machine, the huge, crushing machine with the small chamber in the middle of it. The small chamber this guy wanted to stuff me into.

 

Devin touched a switch on the wall and spoke quietly into the plastic grid. To me he said, “Don't worry, we'll get this over with as quickly as possible.”

 

The door opened and all of a sudden I felt like I was asleep. Like I was asleep, and floating. Someone was holding my hand, or my wrist, like feeling for a pulse. I heard voices that sounded like they were coming through a wall of jelly.

 

Then I was waking up on one of those wheeled hospital cots, the kind they use to move people around. I was parked in the hall next to the shelves where my clothes and all sat.

 

Devin offered me a cup of juice. “You've passed out on us twice now. Did you leave anything out of your medical history?”

 

I shook my head. I was starting to remember a very weird dream, only part of my head insisted it wasn't a dream at all. It was like those stories you hear about alien abduction, where the people can't remember it clearly but know something happened to them all the same.

 

Devin made some more notes on his clipboard, and told me they'd schedule a dental exam in about two months, since my teeth looked fine just now. I didn't remember my teeth getting x-rayed or even looked at, but then again I hadn't been awake all the time. And I was starting to doubt the usefulness of being awake here anyhow: they seemed to have ways of getting around that.

 

We headed back the way we had come. One of the guys from the waiting room stumbled out of a doorway ahead of us. His shoulder was all bandaged, his arm in a sling. He had his jacket half on and a blue t-shirt in his hands. He didn't look so good. A momentary flash of the Sight showed me the same kid a little later on, going after the boys who'd wrecked his arm. Going after them with a gun. I shook my head, not wanting to See this.

 

Devin opened yet another door, and this one led back to the first office. I heaved a sigh of relief, not caring that I was walking into a room full of strangers while I was wearing nothing more than a pillowcase: at least the exam was over. Konnor was talking with the secretary again; both of them looked up when we came into the room.

 

“We're done with this one,” Devin announced, a faint smile making it sound a little less nasty. He put his hand on my shoulder for a moment and said, “If the lab finds anything, they will notify your mentor. Get some food as soon as you're outfitted, all right?”

 

I nodded, and Devin gestured at one of the other waiting students to follow him back into the maze of rooms and hallways.

 

Konnor appeared at my side. “Here, let me take that,” he said, relieving me of my bundle of clothes. “We have a couple more stops to make before breakfast.” He guided me out the door and down the hall as though I weren't barefoot and wearing a hospital gown.

 

When I saw our next destination, I had to agree that getting dressed would have been kind of pointless. This barber looked like he'd get hair down my clothes out of spite. I didn't think I needed much of a trim, as my hair was already summer-short, but he buzzed away and bits of black fluff drifted to the floor like soot.

 

By the time he was done, there was quite a pile of black hair on the floor. I fumbled the hem of my hospital shirt down a little further as I slid from the chair. Distantly I mumbled a polite thank-you to the barber, then followed Konnor to yet another door.

 

A short man with a tape measure and sharp eyes studied me a moment, then set a pile of gray and blue on the counter. He nudged a foot-measure toward me, and I stepped on it. He frowned, then went behind the counter and through a narrow door.

 

The man returned with a pair of shoes and gestured me toward a fitting booth. I took the clothes and shoes and slunk into the little room. Fortunately for me, it had one of those saloon-type doors that didn't reach the floor and had little slats in it; if it had been a solid door, the fitting room would have been small enough to throw me into a right state.

 

I used the flimsy hospital shirt to wipe hair off the back of my neck before trying on my new uniform.

 

Simple white underwear and gray gym socks, black trousers that felt like they had some wool in them, slip-on black sneakers - the fitting guy was good, they all went on like they were made for me. I didn't care for the t-shirt so much: besides being just the wrong shade of blue, it was a little too close-fitting for my taste, especially around the neck. I tugged at the collar until it felt a little better. The jacket was one of those double-breasted types, with a high straight collar and two rows of black buttons. It looked stiff, like some kind of canvas, with royal blue trim along the seams. I looked down and noticed that the pants had blue stripes, too. I sighed, then shrugged into the jacket and set about working the buttons through their unyielding holes.

 

When I was done, I put my glasses back on and looked at my reflection. The uniform felt kind of tight but I had to admit, it looked pretty sharp in the mirror. I looked older, with the neatly trimmed hair and high-collared jacket. I hardly looked like me at all.

 

I flexed the toes of my shoes a couple of times, checked to make sure I could sit comfortably enough in the trousers, then opened the door. Something about the cut of the uniform made me stand taller - not like I ever slouched or anything, but I did notice a difference in the way it made me walk.

 

Konnor seemed to approve of what he saw. He smiled at me and said, “Here Bradley, you'll be wanting this.” He plucked my watch off the pile and handed it to me.

 

“Oh, thank you!” I murmured. Even fully covered in this uniform, I felt naked without it. The uniform-fitter scowled a little, but Konnor watched me with a proud look on his face as I fastened the battered old watch around my wrist.

 

“Come, let's get you fed.” Konnor put a gloved hand on my shoulder and steered me toward the door.

 

He led me to one of the long, low buildings that crossed the courtyard like an old scar. When the door opened, I could smell food, and my stomach growled. I looked at my watch: 8 o'clock.

 

I helped myself to a tray and accepted the plates of food with a mumbled “thank you” that made the servers smile a little. Guess they could tell I was new. The food smelled better than it looked, and that didn't bode well for the taste. I tried not to stare at my tray as I followed Konnor to an empty table along the back of the room. He only had a small cup of coffee, leaving me to brave the pile of scrambled eggs alone.

 

The eggs had that weird rubbery texture like food kept under the warming lamp too long, and the juice was mostly water. But I was too hungry to care. My arm still hurt from being harpooned, and I felt kind of weak from going without food all morning. I devoured what was on my plate and debated asking if I could have seconds.

 

“Students receive set rations, determined by the needs of their gift and their growth,” Konnor said, effectively answering that question. Then he leaned closer and whispered, “If you're still hungry, I do have a kitchen.”

 

A shadow fell across the table, and for one queasy second I was afraid it was Sonndheim. Then I glanced up to see a young brown-haired man wearing a dark blue suit. “Ah, so this must be the young man everyone is talking about.” His voice sounded British and kind of, well, fruity.

 

“Shelley! Good to see you!” Konnor rose from his seat and shook the guy's hand, then gestured at the table. “Are you joining us?”

 

“No, can't stay, I'm afraid,” Shelley said. “Just saw you here with an unfamiliar face and thought I'd barge in.”

 

“Ah, curiosity,” Konnor said with a tight smile. “So everyone's talking, are they? Was sagen sie?”

 

“Zu viel, Konnie, zu viel. Yes, word has quite gotten around,” Shelley replied. He checked his watch. “We'll have to catch up later.” He smiled at me and said, “Welcome to Rosenkreuz, Mister Crawford.”

 

“Shel, you rotter,” Konnor whispered, shaking his head. Then he sighed and said, “We need to finish your tour, Bradley. Today you will see much more of the facility, especially the areas where you will be attending classes. Are you ready?”

 

“Jawohl, Herr General.”

 

Once more he led me outside, through the courtyard, and into one of the class buildings. The rooms we passed had small windows in the doors, and I could see from one to two dozen boys inside each one. They all wore dark gray, like me, but some had blue trim and others had red. There was even one with green. Keeping my voice low and respectful, I asked, “What do the different colors mean, Herr General?”

 

“They denote what form of mental talent you have,” he replied. “Sort of a visual shorthand. Yours is blue because your gift is of the mental variety, not directly touching the solid world.”

 

“Oh.” His answer didn't really help me much, but I nodded anyway.

 

We peeked into a few more classrooms, and got caught in the sudden traffic when the class hour ended and students poured into the hallway. They steered clear of us, though they all seemed to pause and look. The kids in blue seemed kind of meek, while the ones in red had more stomp to their stride. Then again, most of the blue-shirts I saw had the dark gray coats; I'd already figured out that meant they were younger students, like myself. I didn't see any more of the green.

 

Konnor pointed out where my classes would be, and described what I'd be learning in each one. I felt a little overwhelmed; I was tired, and it was getting hard to concentrate. I just smiled and nodded a lot and hoped the tour would be over soon.

 

By the time we returned to Konnor's office late in the afternoon, I was starving again. He offered me another Coke along with some aspirin. I hadn't really registered the dull headache until he did that, but then it started pulsing behind my eyeballs. My hand shook a little as I washed down the medicine.

 

He set about making sandwiches, and I noticed that he'd taken off his gloves and unbuttoned the collar of his jacket, but other than that he stayed as formally dressed as before. I fidgeted a little, wanting to get out of the stiff uniform but not sure if I was supposed to. “Um, Herr General, sir?”

 

He gave me a mock scowl. “It's Konnor, remember? What is it?”

 

My face went hot. I almost apologized, then remembered “lesson one”. “Konnor. Do I have to keep my coat on when I'm in the apartment?”

 

“Ah, that would be a case of `do as I say, not as I do,' Bradley. By all means, be comfortable here.”

 

“Thank you,” I murmured, and struggled out of the jacket. The stiff fabric resisted my efforts. Make the sleeves a little longer and add some buckles, and…well, it didn't seem very right to be thinking about it like that, I told myself. It's just a coat. I folded the jacket neatly and carried it to my room.

 

My room. When had I started thinking of it like that? I sat on the bed and sighed at myself. Then a vision rolled up and over me, showing me my things all packed away in a box, out of my reach forever. I knew what Konnor would tell me, though I couldn't pinpoint when: “It is standard procedure, your belongings will be stored until graduation. Students must not be distracted by personal things here: it goes counter to the training.”

 

“Let go. I don't want to See you,” I muttered at the future, never sure if it was listening. Already I'd lost my hair style and about a pint of blood, and now I knew for sure I was about to lose everything I'd brought with me. I hoped my Ma hadn't paid too much for the phone card.

 

The vision turned queasy with that sideways vertigo thing it sometimes did. Half doubled over, I hurried to the bathroom.

 

Once inside, I leaned against the door and tried to get a grip on myself. The vision released its hold, and my stomach settled back into place a notch at a time. I set my glasses on the counter and turned on the water, then washed my face until I didn't feel quite so unreal.

 

I caught sight of myself in the mirror: a frightened, lonely twelve year old kid in a tight blue t-shirt with a wad of cotton taped to his arm. Trying to anchor myself to the present time, I picked at the tape, peeling it off with a pained hiss. Oh, it had bruised all right - halfway down to my wrist.

 

I wet down my hair and ran my fingers through it, begging the remains of my headache to just leave peaceably. As it faded, my stomach started growling again. Finally more hungry than miserable, I rejoined Konnor in the living room.

 

“Are you feeling all right, Bradley?” he asked, bringing two plates to the coffee table as I flopped onto the sofa.

 

“Yes, sir. Konnor. Just the headache taking its time leaving, I guess. That and the visions,” I told him, wanting to be as honest as possible. I still had the feeling that people here would know if I lied or just didn't tell the whole truth, and that wouldn't be a good thing. Besides, my ma didn't raise me up to be a fibber.

 

“You should eat something. You look a little…” His voice trailed off, and I could see his jaw clench. “Pale.”

 

Somehow I knew not to ask. I picked up my plate and started in on the sandwich.

 

Konnor seemed to have lost his appetite. He got up and strode to his bookshelves as if looking for a good read. His lunch lay abandoned on its plate. “Help yourself to another sandwich, if you want it,” he murmured. He picked a couple of books from the shelves and set them on the coffee table in front of me. “Read the first chapter or two this evening. It will give you a head-start for tomorrow.” Then Konnor turned from the bookshelf and headed toward his desk.

 

I thumbed through the smaller of the books. It was like a history text, but it was all wrong. The good guys and the bad guys were all jumbled up, and nothing matched what I knew to be true. Then I recalled this line I'd read somewhere, about history being written by the conquerors, and I couldn't help but wonder if anything written anywhere was really right. Then I started really reading it, and before I knew it Konnor was telling me to get ready for dinner.

 

My suppertime was at seven, with “the late crowd” as Konnor put it. We went to the dining hall again, and this time it was really crowded. I hadn't imagined this many students here: there didn't seem to be enough room in all the buildings for so many people. The students sat in clusters, mostly grouped according to the color of their jackets and their shirts: light gray stayed with light, dark with dark, while red and blue and green simply didn't mix. I still didn't know what the colors meant, but they did seem to stick with their own.

 

The headache started flaring up again, and I winced. I made it through my meal, but only just. The “meat” reminded me of those chicken nuggets that are all ground up and pressed into little molds, only I never found a tough bit or piece of gristle like one normally would, if it were really chicken. The bread was tough and bitter, and the “vegetable side” was more like a casserole of leftover greens than anything recognizable. The best part was the small chunk of hard cheese, though it tasted a little sour. They'd given me the choice of juice or coffee, and I'd picked the coffee; now I wished I'd gone with the juice. Their idea of coffee reminded me of nothing so much as water a kid used to rinse out a paintbrush.

 

I finally gave up on my food. Maybe Konnor would give me another sandwich. I sighed and looked around the room the way I used to look around my school cafeteria, searching for a familiar face. No surprise, I didn't find any.

 

When we left the dining hall this time we went right back to Konnor's apartment. By then I decided not to bother asking about more food. I was all wrung out, and really only wanted to go to sleep. I managed to get my jacket off a little easier this time, as though the fabric were starting to soften up a bit. The bruising on my left arm looked awful, and I noticed a small cluster of dots along the inside bend of my elbow. Jeez, how many times had that jerk stabbed me, anyway? I counted seven for sure.

 

Konnor followed me to the door of my room. “By the way, Bradley, while you have the chance tonight I need you to pack up the things you brought in with you. I'll arrange for their safe storage.”

 

I felt dizzy again, and sat down hard on the bed.

 

Konnor sat next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “It is standard procedure,” he explained, his voice gentle. “Your belongings will be stored until graduation. Students must not be distracted by personal things here: it goes counter to the training.”

 

“I understand,” I whispered, my mouth feeling like it was full of cotton.

 

An unexpected touch on my cheek made me turn to look at him. His eyes were kind, his expression almost sad. He licked his lips as if they were dry, then murmured, “I noticed you brought some books with you, Bradley. They don't have to be stored. If you like, I could stash them here for you.”

 

My mood brightened. At least I'd have something of my family, if only from the last week before coming here. “Thank you, Konnor. I'd appreciate that.” Then I blurted, “They're pretty good, you can read them if you want.”

 

Konnor smiled. “Thank you, Bradley. I just might.” Then he looked at his watch and said, “I have a meeting this evening. By all means, make yourself at home while I'm out. The light is good for reading on the sofa, if you prefer, and you know where the kitchen is. Just be in bed by ten or so, all right? You have an early day tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, sir. I know.”

 

 

 

A/N:

All in all you're just another brick in the wall

“Another Brick in the Wall part 2” - Pink Floyd The Wall

 

Long day, long chapter. Bradley's break with home is already nearly complete. (The quote for this chapter got stuck in my head when I re-watched “Pink Floyd's The Wall”: faceless children all dressed alike and marching in lockstep are shoved into a meat grinder.)

 

Note about names:

Konnie is another good nickname for Konrad, though not so common.

 

Translation note:

Since Bradley does not yet understand German, there is no translation note for this chapter.

 

Very Special Note:

 

Hey, all, just wanted to give you the heads-up about the BIG MOVE to my livejournal (guiltyred_fics). I'm reposting ALL of the “Cross of Changes” arc over there, including this story. When I'm all caught up, I will be posting subsequent chapters ONLY at my livejournal and my website! I will give you plenty of notice before pulling the plug here, as I want all of you to continue reading in the new venue.

 

Again, this move is due to restrictive, reactive, and arbitrary policies at most fan fiction sites, which must at some point come into conflict with my storytelling. It will also give me better opportunity to reply to reviews, comments and questions from my fans.

 

The first story to disappear from all fan fiction sites will be “Standing Outside the Fire”, due to content and rating issues. I plan on posting only TWO MORE CHAPTERS here - after that, this story will ONLY be available at my LIVEJOURNAL (again, that's guiltyred_fics) and on my WEBSITE (word wide web dot hopeforlorn dot net slash GuiltyRed slash main dot html). I am hoping that the livejournal will bring better interactive with myself and fans of my fictions.

 

You don't have to have a livejournal yourself to read (or review), so please, visit my livejournal, get comfortable with the setup there, and settle in for some (hopefully) powerful reading. Oh, and please, sign any reviews there with your usual fiction site pen-name so I know who you are!

 

Thank you!

 

GR