Back to the Index
   Back to Sentinel Fic

*****
When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
  -Hunter S. Thompson
*****


   The RCMP badge was pressing uncomfortably into Jim's leg as he sat in Laurie's office. She was explaining that it really wasn't possible for her to let him into Tom's office. He let it wash over him. It meant nothing. The badge in his pocket was about the only thing of use he'd found in the backpack. Well, that and a 9mm, which was in his jacket pocket waiting for whatever might come up. He stood.
   "Wha--" Laurie said. "Where the hell are you going?"
   "To Tom's office. If you won't open it, fine. I can get it open."
   "But the police will want to know why I didn't call them when I heard you breaking in."
   "Maybe you were out for a walk. Or maybe I was holding a gun to your head. I don't care what you tell them." She looked Jim in the eye. He looked back, unconcerned. Whatever she decided, he'd get the information he needed.
   "Okay. I like Blair. Come on." She opened the door and handed the keys to Jim.
   "They expressly told me not to go in here myself, and certainly not to let you in. As far as I'm concerned, these keys have gone missing." She returned to her office, grabbed her coat, and left. Jim would've like to keep an ear out for trouble, but if he wanted to do a really effective job he was going to have to hire a sentinel, and he didn't know any. He resigned himself to taking his chances. He had barely noticed this office on the last trip. Now he saw the clutter, stacks of books and files tossed in with personal keepsakes and token displays of subversiveness. This was going to take awhile. Glancing around the room, he spotted a photograph of Tom Maranchuk and a small group of what looked to be fellow students. Closer examination revealed an unsmiling young man who matched the description Blair's student had given of the man who'd been in Blair's office. The strap of that leather backpack was visible on his shoulder. Directly below the photo was a dartboard with a picture of Uri Geller tacked to it. Jim stared at it for a moment, confused. What problem could a parapsychologist have with Uri Geller? The guy was psychic, right? He'd ask Blair about it later. It didn't take long to determine which desk belonged to the criminologist, and he concentrated on that. It was tidy, especially in comparison to Tom's, and Jim didn't find any evidence that this person actually conducted research. There were a few finished reports in the drawers, most bearing Tom's name. Jim had a feeling that he could find the ones about Joel if he looked, but he didn't want to spare the time. He turned the desk inside out and wound up with one piece of paper in his hands. It was a scrap, some kind of parking permit or gate pass. On the back was a stamp of the words, "Suffield, Alberta." It wasn't much, but it was the closet thing to a clue he could find, and he was prepared to go with it.

*****
If the U.S. government were an individual, no one would have anything to do with him.
  -Jim Marrs, Alien Agenda
*****

   "I've heard of Suffield. Now tell *me* something ... why do you ask?" The young man was outwardly relaxed, leaning against the checkout counter and chewing on a licorice pipe. Jim would've loved to know what his pulse was like. He gave the librarian an ugly stare.
   "Should I call tourist information instead?"
   "I don't think Travel Alberta likes to talk about Suffield."
   "Why is that?" He was considering asking why Jim wanted to know again. Jim could see it.
   "Why," he repeated, "is that?"
   "It's kind of a military town."
   "You mean a base?"
   "No." The librarian nibbled nervously on his pipe. "I mean a testing ground for chemical and biological weapons."
   "That's a significant violation of the Geneva Convention." The librarian looked disgusted.
   "They say it's closed down. Actually, what they say is that they're in the process of safely disposing of various materials -- that includes anthrax spores and botulinous toxin and biological bombs They've been `in the process' since 1989." Jim smiled.
   "Can I assume you don't believe them?" Let me put it this way -- in 1970, government officials told the United Nations that not only did we not *now* possess biological weapons, but we never *did*. That's an example of Ottawa's honesty on the topic."
   "So, officially the place is a storage facility?"
   "Right. They might do some other research there, or claim to. Its full name is Experimental Station Suffield. There may be some affiliation with the National Research Council."
   "Is that civilian?"
   "Officially. Make of that what you will. Also, Suffield has traditionally been a joint venture with Britain and the States, so either of them may be using it for something."

[True-- but I don't think that something is what you think it is.]

   "Okay. Thanks. Where is Suffield, by the way?"
   "Little ways out of Medicine Hat." Jim didn't know where Medicine Hat was, but he could look that up.
   "Thanks," he said again, turning to leave.
   "Hey, buddy...."
   "Yeah?"
   "I wouldn't go out there."
   "You think I'll mysteriously disappear?" The librarian shook his head, all traces of archness gone.
   "I think they poured a lot of shit on that land over the years. They say it's safe...but they say a lot of things."
   "Yeah," Jim agreed, "they do."

["Agreed?" said the demon, holding out his hand.
  -Gaiman and Pratchett, Good Omens]

   "You're right," Keiran told him. "You do need help." Jim glared at him. God, he hated this.
   "Yeah. Will you help me?"
   "You mean me," Joel said. Which was true, but Jim didn't like to look at him.
   "I don't know what I mean."
   "You mean him," Keiran said, "and possibly some friends of ours. I'm not useful in dangerous situations." Jim wondered about that, but held his tongue.
   "You know," Keiran said, "I take it, what they say goes on in Suffield?" Jim nodded. Keiran glanced at Joel.
   "Biological weapons. Christ. Somebody thought they were being cute." Something of the kind had occurred to Jim. He didn't find it especially funny, and he doubted these people did either.
   "So," he said, swallowing his distaste and looking Joel in the eye,
   "one bio-weapon to another...will you help me?" Joel smiled. Every time Jim had seen it before, Joel's smile had been unpleasantly beatific. Now, it was just unpleasant.
   "Only if we take that place to the ground."

*****
Oh baby, will you ride with me through the wheat towns to Medicine Hat? When the cold wind's blowing I'll be there. I'll hang on tight.
  -Daniel Lanois, Silium's Hill
*****

   "It's inconvenient that your super power has bailed on you," Keiran commented. Jim didn't grace that with a reply. One of Keiran's boarders had dredged up a map of Experimental Station Suffield from the internet, and two guys Jim knew only as Kreskin and Mandrake were bent over it, coming up with a battle plan.
   "Is that a coincidence?" Jim looked up from the map.
   "What?"
   "Your senses leaving you. Is that a coincidence?" That was classified information. Jim didn't feel like talking about what Blair did.
   "What else would it be?" Keiran blinked a few times, but said nothing.
   "Okay," Kreskin said. "this shouldn't be too hard. I'll get us in, Mandrake will dazzle 'em with bullshit, sentinel guy here can find his friend while we look around and Joel can turn out the lights when we leave. Unless they're prepared to fight paranormals, in which case we're fucked, but hey-- what's life without risk?"
   "They weren't prepared for Joel," Keiran commented. Jim, who had been trying not to think about that, took a sip of coffee to hide his face.
   "True," Kreskin said cheerfully. "True. It should be a walk."
   "How far away is Suffield?" Jim put in. Keiran smiled.
   "About five hours, by car. Lucky for you I have money. I've got a flight booked for you tomorrow morning from here to Medicine Hat, and there'll be a Pathfinder waiting at what passes for the airport." Twenty-four hours ago, Jim might have been concerned by the prospect of breaking into a Canadian military installation with three obviously crazy people who might or might not have super powers, and who were obviously hell-bent on trashing the place. Now he just wanted to go back to his hotel and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
   "I'll see you people in the morning."
   "I'll take everyone to the airport," Keiran said. "Be here by seven."
   "Right," Jim said, and left.

*****
I swear this is royal blood running through my skin. Can you see the state I'm in? Kiss it better.
  -Peter Gabriel, Kiss That Frog
*****

   If he dreamed that night, he didn't remember it when he woke just after dawn. His bed was rumpled, the second pillow across the room, and he felt as though he'd run a marathon -- but he couldn't say where the hours had gone. He didn't recall any more chimerical talks with Blair, but the kid was obviously dodging him, so that was no huge surprise. It didn't matter. They'd meet up for real before nightfall. He ate something before leaving the hotel, but only because he knew it was a good idea. Everything tasted like cardboard. Once everyone had met up at Keiran's house and piled into his Pathfinder, Jim looked at his partners in crime.
   "What exactly is it you people do?" Kreskin gave him a grin with far too many teeth.
   "Mandrake practices magic which is designed to befuddle and bewilder. Joel, I understand, you know about...and I am just a very convincing guy." Not a straight answer, really, but Jim didn't guess it was important. He'd find out soon enough.
   "We know what it is you do," Mandrake said, startling him. "But you aren't the guy being poked and prodded by the government. What's special about your friend?"
   "Nothing," Jim growled, and felt his stomach turn. "I mean, nothing...uh...paranormal. He's just a grad student who's been studying me."

[And my senses leave when he does, and Incacha made him a shaman, but he doesn't do anything special. Not that I ever noticed. Jesus. Blair, you had better be all right when I get there.]

   Jim could see that no one believed him, but he didn't care. This was private between him and Blair.
   "All right," Keiran said at the airport. "Good luck, stay out of trouble, and don't forget that you're probably standing near anthrax." Then, casually but thoroughly, he kissed Joel goodbye. Jim was as horrified by the sight as he would have been by the sight of someone fucking a demon. Joel was capable of such unnatural things... Jim wondered if he was even human. How could anyone kiss something like that? He remembered the brush of Blair's lips against his.

[How was it for you, Chief?]

   God, this day was already longer than he'd expected, and he hadn't even boarded the plane.

*****
I spend most of my time looking for simple answers to difficult questions... I have employed Bureau guidelines, deductive technique, Tibetan method, instinct, and luck. But now, I find myself in need of something new. Something, which, for lack of a better word, we shall call magic.
  -Dale Cooper, Twin Peaks
*****

   Jim was not impressed when Kreskin and Joel went of to do reconnaissance and instructed him to stay at the hotel in Medicine Hat.

[Stay in the truck, Sandburg.]

   It chafed, but he couldn't risk alienating these people. He was sitting on the bed fuming when someone knocked at the door.
   "It's Mandrake. Can I come in?" Jim opened the door and Mandrake shuffled in.
   "Sorry to bother you, but do you have a glove?" Jim let him by and shut the door.
   "Uh...no. Sorry. Why?" Mandrake held up his left hand, and Jim was glad for his dimmed senses. The hand was a bright glowing orange.
   "How did that happen?"

   Mandrake gave him an embarrassed grin.
   "I was setting something up and I had a spell accident. It's not serious. But," he added, "you can see why they call me Mandrake." Jim must have looked as confused as he was, because Mandrake laughed.
   "It's sort of getting on me for being a screw-up. I'm a little accident prone."
   "I-" Jim began. "I...uh...if I could do that, even by accident, I'd be impressed."
   "Well... it's not especially useful." Jim barked a laugh.
   "That's not the point." Mandrake's smile grew.
   "You're not used to magic, are you?" Jim thought about that.
   "I've seen things," he said slowly, "and I've never had any trouble believing my eyes. I'm not in any position to reject the supernatural. But this past week... it's been a little over the top."
   "You happened upon a magical community. And from what I hear, you belong." He could feel his jaw starting to twitch.
   "I don't want to be ghettoized."
   "What?"
   "I realize I'm a freak of nature. I accept that. But I don't want my life and identity to centre around it."

[Now there's a losing battle.]

   "You're not a freak-- you have a gift."
   "You sound like Sandburg."
   "Is that your friend?"
   "Yes." Mandrake tilted his head.
   "I don't want to be rude, but I think you were lying about him earlier." Jim sighed. No real point in lying now. "I was... sort of. God knows he's special but I don't know what he does."
   "Why do you say he's special?"
   "I can't describe it. He's... you know what I am, right?"
   "Yeah. More or less."
   "Well, mostly he helps me keep my senses under control." Mandrake looked sympathetic.
   "Magic runs wild sometimes." Jim opened his mouth to say that it wasn't magic, just a genetic thing, but changed his mind. When it came right down to it, Tom Maranchuk had been right about one thing-- Blair had a half-finished dissertation and a pile of tests; Jim had his visions and Inchacha's words... but neither of them really knew anything.
   "I knew a shaman years ago. He was with the Chaopec in Peru. When he died, he passed the role of shaman to Blair. It was the last thing he did."
   "Shaman. Interesting. What can he do?"

[Good fucking question.]

   "I don't know. I just know I... need him around. He makes the senses work." Jim shrugged. "I love him like crazy, and I can't explain it. He's a great person; he's my best friend... I have lots of reasons to care about him, but this depth of feeling, it's way beyond the pale. There's something going on that's outside my experience. And I think..." Jim remembered Blair's eyes in the vision as he sent Jim away. "I know it's the same for him."
   "Right." Mandrake considered that. "Most people's friendships take place in a paddling pool. Ocean swimming can be difficult."
   "You're preaching to the choir," Jim acknowledged, "but actually... it's not that difficult." He smiled. "I like him." There was a knock on the door, startling them both.
   "Okay, guys," Kreskin called. "Time to go."

*****
These are not the droids you're looking for.
  -Obi-wan Kenobi, Star Wars
*****

   Jim had been surprised, as they left for Suffield, to find ghosts and witches and superheroes crowding the street. In all the commotion, he'd forgotten about Hallowe'en.

[Blair will not be pleased.]

   Hallowe'en was a favourite of Blair's, a purely pagan celebration of the bizarre. He was going to be unhappy when he found out he'd missed it.

[I'll make it up to you, Chief.]

   They had decided to arrive in the early evening, when it wouldn't be dark enough to complicate matters, but most of the staff was likely to have gone home. Jim looked out the window at the prairie and was drawn in by the distance to the horizon. It was possible to believe that, if your eyes were stronger, you could see forever. He decided never to mention that idea to Sandburg.
   "You see those?" Kreskin was gesturing at a herd of horses to the left of the Pathfinder.
   "They look wild," Jim said.
   "They are. The locals have some funny name for them...'grumbies' or something. They're the only animals that live out here. No cattle, no sheep, nothing people might eat. I understand they catch these horses for rodeos, but otherwise, they're left alone. Ah, here we are." Jim was astonished to find that Suffield was a town... a small one, but still a home to people. It was unsettling. He glanced at Joel, wondering what he was visiting on this community. Then he remembered his dream, the feel of blood on his skin, and decided he didn't care. [Not my tribe.] Blair wouldn't care for that attitude, but if he listened to everything Blair said, he'd hardly ever become involved in the full- scale guilt-soaked karmic disasters he enjoyed so much. Okay, truth be told, his moral lapses were on a layaway plan, and whatever happened tonight would probably cost him big for a long time. But he was going to do this, because if he listened to everything Blair said, he wouldn't have Blair around to ignore anymore.
   "Gate's coming up," Kreskin told them.
   "What do you want us to do?" Joel's voice raised gooseflesh on Jim's arms.
   "Nothing. Do nothing. Keep quiet and let me work." They pulled up beside a gatehouse.
   "I'm sorry gentlemen," the occupant told them, "but the station is closed."
   "We're supposed to be here," Kreskin said. His voice was low and reasonable, something like Blair's when Blair was trying to put Jim's senses in order. The guard was nodding slightly.
   "You've been instructed to give us visitor passes," Kreskin continued,
   "and then you are to pretend we were never here. This is a confidential visit."
   "Confidential," the guard repeated, "Yes sir." He handed over four visitor's passes. "Drive ahead." Kreskin rolled up his window and headed for the buildings.
   "The Force," he said, "has a strong influence on the weak-minded."
   "How long is the whammy you put on that guy gonna last?"
   "Whammy," Kreskin said, "That's a great word. Nobody uses it anymore." Jim leaned forward in his seat.
   "It should last about half an hour," Kreskin said quickly. "I figure we should move through the base together until you find what you're looking for. Then Mandrake and I will go off and create a distraction while you get him to the vehicle. Joel will make sure we aren't followed."
   "Why don't you just convince someone to take us to Blair?" Kreskin shook his head.
   "Would that I could. I have trouble influencing more than one person at a time. That guard will keep me busy until we leave."
   "You're still in his head?"
   "Can we discuss the details later?" Jim could see the sense in that.
   "Okay," Mandrake said turning to Jim. "Which building do you think he's in?" Jim frowned.
   "They did the recon; why don't you ask them?"
   "Because he's your friend." Jim leaned back, frustrated, running his eyes over the buildings. These people were professional magicians; he was just some guy with hyperactive senses, and right now he wasn't even that. How did they expect-- [What was that?] Unbidden, his eyesight sharpened and his focus narrowed. He was scanning the roof of a small, one storey building just to the right of the vehicle. [There.] It was only visible for a moment, but Jim saw it easily... the flick of a panther's tail.
   "That one," he said. Kreskin nodded.
   "Let's go."

*****
All my instincts, they return -- and the grand facade so soon will burn. Without a noise, without my pride, I reach out from the inside.
  -Peter Gabriel, In Your Eyes
*****

   It might have been possible for a scientist to tell what this building was used for. It wasn't possible for Jim. To him, one lab looked pretty much like another. Their visitor passes had acquired for them a guide, a young woman in civilian dress who looked at them oddly but led them around without complaint.
   "Nothing too interesting here," she said, "just labs. If you come back in the morning..."
   "This is fine," Mandrake assured her, hands carefully lodged in his coat pockets. "We were just asked to have a look around. I'm sure we won't be long."

[Better not be, anyway.]

   Jim tried to press his senses into service, but they were still sulking.

[I'm looking for him, okay? The sooner I find him, the sooner you'll have him back... so help me out here.]

   They'd been over the building pretty thoroughly, and Jim hadn't found any signs of Blair. His frustration was considering turning into panic when Joel tugged on his arm.
   "Do you know him?" Jim looked where he was pointing and saw the panther again, pacing at the end of the hallway.
   "How..." He turned to Joel. "I thought he was... in my head." Joel shrugged.
   "You were wrong." Jim shook that off, and went to the end of the hall.
   "There's nothing there," the girl called after him. The hall ended in a bookshelf. Jim tugged on it, feeling foolish, and didn't feel any less foolish when it failed to move. He turned away, and the panther growled. When he looked at the bookshelf again, the panther tensed and leapt into his chest, melding with him. As he steadied himself, he heard something below him, loud and insistent as a dozen warring drums. Heartbeats. Jim closed his eyes and took his hand from the wall, needing to focus on the sound. Filtering out one after another, he made his way to the one he was searching for. It was weak and rapid, but steady. Jim turned to the girl.
   "Take us to the basement."
   "There isn't one," she lied. "Just a crawlspace." He moved to her side and took out the gun he'd found in the backpack.
   "Take us to the goddamned basement. I will not ask you a third time." She looked at him with emotionless eyes.
   "Go ahead," she told him. "Beats the alternative." He couldn't scare her, obviously. Not worse than she already was. He turned to Kreskin.
   "Make her do it."
   "If I do that..."
   "I know."
   "You won't have much time."
   "I know." He nodded.
   "Once I tell her, we'll create a distraction. You'll only have a few minutes. Do not waste time."
   "You're not dealing with an amateur." 'Okay." He faced the girl. "You're going to show him to the basement. You will answer any questions, but otherwise keep quiet and still while he finds his friend. Then, you'll lead him back up the stairs and allow him to leave. You will not set off alarms or try to stop him. Understand?"
   "Yes."
   "Good. Begin." It turned out that the bookcase really didn't move. Instead, she placed her hands between the shelf and the wall beside it and slid the wall back to reveal an elevator. Jim admired the workmanship, but it was clear that the whole cloak and dagger industry hadn't become any less ridiculous since his retirement. They rode down in silence. Jim felt an anxiety bordering on terror and checked Blair's heartbeat again. It hadn't changed.

["I don't want to lead you here."]

   That had to have been just a dream. Not a vision or a message, or a prophecy. Blair would never be so incredibly dense as to think Jim would stop looking for him.

[What is it he didn't want me to see?]

   He was going to find out soon enough. The doors opened on an antechamber, dimly lit, with beige plastic coveralls hanging from pegs and a row of overshoes beneath them. Instead of the usual rubber soles, these had a thick cushion of what looked like velour. On the door to the main part of the basement was a large sign which said, "Shh." Below that, a smaller sign gave more detailed instructions.
   "Remain quiet at all times. If it is necessary to speak, do so briefly and in a whisper. All reflective jewelry and eyewear must be removed before entering the facility. Do not make sudden or extreme movements. Personnel wearing perfume or other heavily scented materials are required to use barrack showers before proceeding. Do not touch the occupants unless authorized for physical contact. Close this door firmly behind you."

[I should get one of those for the loft.]

   Jim put a hand on one of the coveralls. It was remarkably smooth.
   "Do we have to..." The girl shook her head.
   "It doesn't matter. Nothing helps."
   "What's behind this door?"
   "Project Aisthesis."
   "What?"
   "It was an attempt to create people with superhuman senses. They figured the subjects would have...uh...diplomatic applications." Spies. Jim's heart was pounding now, and part of him wanted to take Blair's advice, just walk away.
   "Did it work?" She smiled without humour.
   "Oh, the subjects have superhuman senses. No question about that." She pressed a button and the antechamber door swung open.

*****
Lived a good life, lived a sweet life, oh, I have a beautiful friend. I am breathless from the mercy of a smile. I'm standing on the brink of the most perfect love. I am saved.
  -Jann Arden, Saved
*****

   It was an asylum. There was no other way to describe it. They were standing in a large room, with a dozen smaller rooms leading off it. Probably individual cells, though Jim could not see why these men would need to be locked up. All around them, men in hospital gowns were shaking and rocking, and crying without sound. Jim recognized zone-outs in some of them, others just seemed to be lost in pain. Many of them had torn at their hospital gowns. Jim guessed that the friction of the cloth had been unbearable. Blair's heartbeat called to him and he answered, moving to the far end of the room. Blair lay on his back, eyes shut, breathing quietly. Beside him was one of the test subjects. As Jim moved closer could see that the subject had his face pressed against Blair's shoulder and a hand roughly gripping Blair's arm. It seemed that Blair had been trying to move away when he fell unconscious; his head was turned from the subject, and there were bruises on his arm where the subject's hand still held him. Jim smelled [rain] blood, and saw streaks on Blair's face, evidence of a recent nosebleed. There wasn't time for anything here, all he could do was take his partner and leave. He pulled the other man's hand from Blair's arm, and rolled him away. The subject's face turned to Jim as he rolled, and Jim nearly screamed at the sight of healing scars in the hollows where his eyes had been. Swallowing bile, he turned to Blair and slid his hands under Blair's legs and back. The contact felt wonderful, warm water on aching muscles, cool sheets on sunburned skin. He pulled Blair close and stood, cradling him. Blair sighed, and Jim pressed a kiss to his forehead.
   "It's okay, Chief. I'm taking you home." It began almost as soon as Jim spoke, the keening. He winced, knowing from experience how harsh a human voice could be. If there was something he could do... [No time. Run.] He ran for the door, and the girl followed, the eerie cries chasing them all the way to the elevator. When the doors closed, Jim fell back against the wall in relief. Those men had been... [Don't]

   If he had never met Blair...

[Do this later, when he's safe.]

   Jim hugged the body in his arms and buried his face in Blair's silky curls for a moment before the elevator stopped on the main floor. Instinctively, Jim pushed the girl in front of them as the door opened. His senses were ranging, searching for potential trouble. No one was waiting for them, but what Jim saw and heard as they left the elevator stopped him in his tracks. Moving lights, odd smells, colours he'd never seen before... some of him knew that this was Mandrake's distraction, that he needed to push through it and head for the vehicle, but the rest of him couldn't look away. He didn't feel it when soft hair brushed his cheek as Blair lifted his head from Jim's shoulder.
   "Hey... big guy... this is not a good time. You *always* pick the worst times. Come on, Jim." The voice was rough and quiet, but it brought Jim back. He looked down into tired blue eyes. Blair rested his head on Jim's shoulder. There was an odd, quivering smile touching Blair's mouth as he reached up to lay a hand on Jim's face.
   "You," he said, "I can help." Then the eyes were closed again, shutting Jim out.

[Later. When he's safe.]

   Jim made himself look away from Blair's face, toward the door. The Pathfinder was where they'd left it. One door was open, and a strange glow spilled out.

[They're waiting for you.]

   He had barely pulled the door shut behind him when the 4x4 lurched forward. Jim looked up and was startled to find Mandrake at the wheel.
   "Where's--"
   "Dead," Mandrake said. He didn't sound happy about it. "Which we're gonna be unless Joel does something..."
   "I am," Joel said with perfect calm. "The fence is broken to our left. Farther. Now go straight." He shifted his attention to the rear view mirror. Jim set Blair down beside him and took out his gun. He was about to roll down the window when Experimental Station Suffield disappeared. Not a building, not a vehicle, not a soldier...nothing was left. The town stood meaninglessly around an empty field. Jim was so shocked by it, so scattered, that he forgot himself and looked into the eyes of an angry god. They were gleaming.
   "The centre cannot hold," Joel said, and smiled.