Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 20
"In the
last analysis, our only freedom is the freedom to discipline ourselves."
Bernard M. Baruch
11 weeks to
go.
Seventy-seven
days.
One thousand,
eight hundred and forty-eight hours.
One hundred
and ten thousand, eight hundred and eighty minutes. Roughly.
Jarod didn't
bother calculating any further. He didn't really need to. No matter what the
numbers were, they were always one thing.
A lot.
Instead he
turned his thoughts to the other thing that was taking up so much of his free
time.
He still
struggled - and this was the thing of greatest frustration to him. He struggled
- in his attempts to make Sydney hear hiis thoughts and feelings. Jarod had
begun to feel something of those which emanated from his former mentor but the
feelings, like the man himself, were vague and difficult to understand and more
than once Jarod had almost given up in frustration.
His
connections with Angelo, however, had increased at a dramatic rate, although
whether it was from the empath understanding what he now wanted or because his
own ability was enhanced he couldn't say. He turned his thoughts in the
direction and was happy to feel a flow of thoughts coming from Angelo. It had
amazed Jarod that Angelo was capable of thinking in clear, grammatical English
when he could not speak that way.
It seemed
suddenly cruel to Jarod that he must have been trapped inside his own mind for
so long. Jarod shook his head, glanced once at the stars he could see through
his window and again concentrated on the task he had set himself.
Angelo's eyes
flickered open as the wave of thought washed into his mind. Jarod. One word but
it was enough and the empath opened his mind, allowing Jarod to 'see' all of
the activity that had been done that day.
Not that it
was a lot. The group spent much of their time conferring about the possible
actions within the Centre and, sometimes, about Jarod himself and what he was
doing.
Angelo felt
the tears that sprang into the trapped man’s eyes as he 'heard' the discussions
that had ensued.
'Are you
okay?'
'I'm fine.
They actually treat me pretty well here.'
'Are you
happy, Jarod?'
'What do you
think?'
There was a
mental moment of silence.
'Get Sydney.'
The thought was crystal clear and Angelo sat upright in bed. 'Tell Sydney how
to talk to me.'
'How?' The
empath carefully formed the word in his mind and waited for the response.
'Let me talk
through you. Can you do that, Angelo?'
'I can try.'
The figure
got up off the couch where he slept and walked over to where Sydney lay;
feeling that Jarod was preparing himself for what would be a difficult task.
"Sydney,
I need to talk to you."
"Angelo?
What's going on?" Sydney sat up in bed and stared at the savant.
"Sydney,
please."
The
psychiatrist’s brow creased in confusion. This wasn’t Angelo’s voice. It was
too firm, too deliberate, and most of all, too fluent. It almost sounded like…
"Jarod?"
"Got it
in one." Sydney saw the grin appear on Angelo's face as he pronounced the
words. Reaching over to the other single bed in the room, he tapped Steve on
the shoulder.
The former
sweeper, who was planning to travel back to his family the following day, sat
up rapidly in bed.
"What's
going on?"
"It's...I'm
not sure. It's as though Angelo is channeling Jarod."
Steve thought
for a few seconds and then grinned. "Oh, now I understand."
"Well,
I'm glad one of us does!" the psychiatrist snapped.
"Calm
down, Syd. Now listen," foreseeing a long night, the man made himself
comfortable. "Do you remember how we found out about an ability that Miss
Parker had to hear her mother's voice? She and Ethan?"
"Of
course. Well?" Sydney thought for a moment. "Oh, I get it. Jarod's
decided that he can't let her be the only gifted one."
Angelo’s
mouth twisted into a grin, but his eyes sparkled with something that looked
like indignation. "Are you implying that I'm...?"
"Jealous,
yes."
"Very
funny, Sydney. Now listen. I want you to be able to do this of your own accord,
without Angelo having to act as my mouth. Try to work out what I'm sending
you."
Sydney waited
and, suddenly, his mind was filled with a strange emotion.
Peace.
The
psychiatrist felt this, as it crept into his mind, and knew that it was coming
from Jarod. As it grew, fearing what would come next, Sydney tensed and
instantly the feeling vanished. Angelo let out a small sound that was like a
laugh as he settled on the end of the bed.
"I'm not
going to hurt you, Sydney. Shall we try it again? I won't do it if you don't
want to."
"I want
to."
Sydney
relaxed and felt the waves of emotion become stronger in his mind. Then,
suddenly, an image appeared on the edges of his mind. Sydney jumped as the
mouth of the figure opened. 'Can you hear this?'
"Yes.
Please don't do it again." Sydney was forced to speak the words, both to
justify his actions to the others in the room and to calm himself down.
'Don't say
the words,' Jarod’s voice stated in his head. 'Try to imagine yourself saying
them. Build up a picture in your mind and try to send it to me.'
'Like a
parcel.'
'Exactly.'
Suddenly the
words passing between the two were shattered by a sound that Sydney did not
recognize but which Jarod certainly did, as the bell that announced a room
inspection.
"Damn."
Angelo spoke the words, which also echoed in Sydney's head. "I have to go.
Things to do, people to see."
'Places to
go?' asked Sydney silently and with a smile.
'You might
say that.' Jarod's words were strangely curt, and then there was silence.