Chapter Fourteen: When you want to plan a crime

Paul gathers supplies and human-shaped resources with Cassidy's assistance all in the hope of successfully breaking into Flare Mental Hospital.

“Thank you all for coming to my office on such short notice,” Paul greeted, sitting on top of his desk. “I’m sorry to take you all out of class, but we have something important coming up and I think we will need as many hands on deck as possible.”

             His plethora of students gathered in the small office, forming a haphazard ring. John stood beside Paul, towering over him and the rest. He looked down at Paul, his arms crossed. “What’s the sitch, captain?” He asked.

             “Well,” Paul started, placing his hands together. “We have been short a member, Kris, if you didn’t know, and we are going to get her back.”

             Hiding in a corner of the room, Cat asked, “Where is she?”

             The other students didn’t bother to glance at Cat as their focus intensified on Paul, waiting for his response. Paul took a long breath and exhaled with his answer. “Flare Mental Hospital.”

             The students were silent. Cat seemed unsurprised, but the others were shaken. Tiên and Ruby shared a look, while Alex and Rebecca waged a mental conversation. Eventually, Tiên raised her hand. Paul acknowledged it with a nod. “What are we going to do exactly?” She asked, sounding equally appalled and scared.

             Paul put on a confident smile and responded, “We are planning on breaking into the mental hospital and getting her back.”

             Silence lasted only a second this time as John whistled and others chattered. Ruby rubbed her mouth, hiding a smile. She was the first to say something to Paul. “That s**t sounds dope, I’m down for it.”

             “Same,” Cat called.

             The floodgates opened as students rushed to get a word in. “It’s crazy,” Alex commented.

             Rebecca quickly covered his mouth, talking over him. “We’ll help. Both of us.”

             “I’ve got nothing better to do,” Cheyenne said with a shrug.

             Ruby nudged Tiên, and she offered her support. The final holdout was John. “We are going to need costumes,” He declared. “Cause I can’t be caught.”

             Paul nodded vigorously. “We got you covered,” Paul said reassuringly. “It’ll take a few minutes, but we got you.”

             Paul looked around the room. The students’ expression varied from excited to nervous to neutral. Paul checked, “So, everyone?”

             Alex and Tiên deliberately nodded, while Cheyenne smiled faintly. Paul grinned. “Great, I’ll contact all of you when we figure out our plan,” Paul said, feeling a swell of gratitude in his chest. “Thank you, guys, so much. This means a lot. I won’t ask for anything this big ever again.”

             Ruby laughed, crossing her arms. “B***h, you better not,” Ruby replied. “Or else, I’ll get trapped in this game.”

             Paul chuckled, but wondered when would be the right time to tell Ruby that she shouldn’t in theory call him b***h. Others snorted and smiled; it at least got a giggle out of Cat. “Alright,” Paul said, bringing the meeting to a close. “You all are free to go… See you soon.”

             Tiên left quickly with Ruby by her side. Alex and Rebecca followed with John and Cheyenne reluctantly trailing behind. Paul would have to make sure the troublesome ones made it back to class. He sat at his desk before noticing Cat hadn’t left. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he commented, “Ah, this is our normal meeting time, isn’t it?”

             Cat nodded, having a seat. He had forgotten about their meetings because they were just that, forgettable. They would have uncomfortable, shallow talks about various things until it was time for Cat to leave for her next class. Paul hadn’t gotten a lot out of her since they started having these meetings.

             She crossed her arms and waited. Paul smiled politely, ever hopeful that she would be the one to talk first. Paul watched the clock for three minutes before giving in. “What would you like to talk about?” He asked, intertwining his fingers on his desk.

             “Kris,” Cat started, meeting his eyes. “Is she the one you keep mentioning to me?”

             “Yeah.”

             “Why is she in a mental hospital?”

             “For two reasons,” Paul explained. “One, Q should have records there and she’s trying to retrieve them to find Q’s identity. Two, she’s depressed… I guess she was also seeking out help while she was there.”

             Cat hummed, but didn’t say anything. Her eyes had drifted to stare at something above him. Paul felt compelled to continue, “Her depression was getting out of hand… Q would know the whole story, but Kris became easily agitated and perpetually fatigued. I told her that she couldn’t be on the team if she couldn’t manage it… She decided to do this for herself…”

             Cat didn’t respond. “To get better, you need to want to get better,” Paul added. “It’s okay if you aren’t there yet.”

             Pursing her lips, Cat’s face became contemplative. Paul had said all he could; he just would have to wait. Cat took her time as Paul wondered if she was constructing what she would say. Cat slouched further in her chair. “I don’t know how I feel,” She started. “I just know I feel bad.”

             “What do you mean?”

             “I mean that I feel bad when I don’t have a reason to,” She retorted.

             Paul gave her a sympathetic smile, his forehead wrinkling. “That’s okay,” He responded gently. “Sometimes people’s brain chemistry is off, resulting in… bad vibes.”

             Cat snorted. “Are you sure you have a degree in psychology?” She joked.

             “I don’t know how to explain it,” Paul said, mildly embarrassed. “I only know it at a collegiate level. How do I describe it to a kid?”

             “I’m a teen, first off,” Cat began. “Second, I understand chemistry… Tell me my serotonin is off, or my dopamine. My mom makes me take melatonin to ‘help’ my insomnia. I get brain chemistry well enough.”

             “Okay then,” Paul replied. “Generally, clinical depression has to do with a lack of serotonin, either not enough of it is being produced or there aren’t a lot of receptors that respond to it in the brain.”

             Cat nodded. “So, what does that have to do with me? I have to take medicine to fix that?”

             “If that’s what is happening to you,” Paul answered, feeling defensive when Cat started to roll her eyes. “Hey, hey… I can’t prescribe you anything. I can diagnose you and send you to a psychiatrist to get a prescription, but even then, the psychiatrist might want you to try a counseling-based treatment for months beforehand.”

             “Oh.”

             She sounded small, defeated. It hurt Paul to see some semblance of hope be taken away from her. He stood up suddenly. “I’ll go to bat for you,” He declared confidently. “I will advocate for a treatment that will best help you… Heck, if I suggest an MRI or a CT scan, we could probably find a biological basis for your condition, so that medicine will be seen as more of a necessity.”

             Cat looked up at him with a tight-lipped, reluctant smile on her face. He grinned at her. “We’d have to tell your parents-”

             Cat sucked air through her teeth, making an odd hissing noise that silenced Paul. She stopped and said, “I don’t know how my parents will respond to being told that their perfect child actually has something fundamentally wrong with them.”

             “Well, I’ll fight them, too,” Paul said, thumping a clenched fist on top of his desk. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you get the treatment you deserve.”

             Cat seemed taken aback. Placing a hand over her heart, she commented, “I don’t think I’ve ever had somebody stand up for me like that.”

             Paul felt like crying. This appeared to be a genuine break through after weeks of awkward conversations. He sat back down, rubbing his face. “Thank you for sharing with me,” He responded fondly.

             Cat gave him a tiny smile. “Thanks for listening, I guess.”

+++++

             Alicia waited in the foyer of Kattegat Institute for Cassidy. Tapping her fingers against the plastic counter, she checked her phone. Nicki had messaged her before going to work this morning. She was interested in meeting up later this week. She even suggested that they could have dinner and watch a movie at her house. Alicia wanted to respond, but knew she shouldn’t at work. The door whooshed open.  

             She looked up to see Cassidy walk in, face buried in her phone. She had kept her softer aesthetic from the other day, wearing a light denim jacket and cream pants. Alicia scowled to herself. No matter how cutesy Cassidy tried to appear, Alicia wouldn’t trust her. She put on a cordial smile as Cassidy reached the counter.

             “Hey Alicia,” She greeted, tucking her phone in a pants’ pocket.

             Cassidy nervously adjusted her backpack on back. Alicia focused on the laptop in front of her, preparing a visitor’s pass. “Good morning,” Alicia droned. “What’s your name?”

             Cassidy chuckled, confused. “Cassidy Hutch?”

             “No,” Alicia responded patiently. “You need a fake name, so no one knows you were here.”

             “Ah,” Cassidy intoned.

             “I’m thinking Bonnie,” Alicia started.

             “Like Bonnie and Clyde?” Cassidy joked. “Or I guess Bonnie and like… Clytemnestra.”

             Alicia burst out laughing. She collapsed against the laptop, trying to catch her breath. “What?” She exhaled, unable to get control of her laughter.

             Cheeks turning red, Cassidy smirked and tried to brush off her embarrassment. “I blanked out on Clyde-sounding feminine names,” Cassidy replied.

             Alicia recovered and took deep breaths. Nodding slowly, she said, “Alright, so Bonnie what?”

             Cassidy thought quickly. “Yoshiko.”

             Alicia nodded, typing it up. As the card printed, Alicia walked over to let Cassidy behind the counter. She mumbled a thank you when Alicia handed her the card. Alicia lead her down the main hallway, unwilling to let the gaff go. “Clytemnestra?” Alicia repeated with a chuckle. “Where did you get that from?”

             “I don’t know, man,” Cassidy said, trying to keep it lighthearted. “I was an English major and I had a class about Greek mythology… Must’ve remembered it from there.”

             Alicia took a left turn, avoiding her lab. She had mentioned what they were doing to Pagel earlier and he didn’t seem so happy. He would much rather have her there extracting mice DNA and trimming it with him. Maybe by avoiding the lab, they could avoid confrontations altogether. Alicia halfheartedly responded to what Cassidy was saying. “Oh, an English major?”

             “Yeah, helped me land a job writing at an animation studio.”

             “That didn’t last long did it?”

             “I guess not, but experience in one studio allowed me to be hired in another,” Cassidy answered with patience disproportionate to the barbed question. “So, it all worked out.”

             Alicia stopped in front of a metallic door and pulled out her key card. Swiping it, they heard the lock click. She held open the door for Cassidy. The room was filled with towering tin cabinets labelled various things such as “Metals,” “Bases,” and “Hydrocarbons.” Some had hazard stickers slapped on them. Cassidy nodded appreciatively as she walked to the center of the room. “What exactly is your plan?” Alicia asked, shutting the door softly.

             Cassidy tilted her head to the side, examining each cabinet intensely. “I can’t plan until I know all the supplies I have…”

             She trailed off as she opened the cabinet labelled, “Acids.” She pulled out a large glass bottle. She showed the brown-tinted bottle to Alicia. “For example, I found hydrochloric acid,” She continued. “Which can melt metals and would be a way to open locked doors.”

             Alicia huffed, unimpressed. “I could open any locked doors,” She responded.

             “Really?” Cassidy said, her telltale smile spreading across her face. “Is that a part of your power?”

             “I can control inanimate objects,” Alicia explained briefly, while contemplating if she should give a demonstration.

             “Cool.”

             The genuine warmth of her statement surprised Alicia. Cassidy turned away, grabbing another acid before closing that cabinet. She set both bottles on the floor and moved on to the next cabinet. Alicia watched carefully as she appeared to pluck random bottles from each cabinet, accumulating a large pile in the center of the room. “How do you know that those chemicals will be useful?” Alicia asked as Cassidy took out a couple small bottle of the same thing.

             Cassidy added them to the collection. “I can kind of see what every item does.”

             She picked up a canister from the pile. The canister had a simple knob to release the gas inside; even from the doorway, Alicia recognized the label as nitrous oxide. “Looking at this gas,” Cassidy continued. “I can tell that it knocks people out. I don’t know how it does this, but I know that it can work as a weapon.”

             She set it down and grabbed two containers, showing Alicia the labels. One was an alcohol, ethanol, and the other was sodium hydride. From a few semesters of organic chemistry, Alicia could guess what they could do, but she waited for Cassidy’s explanation. “Like these two things,” Cassidy added. “Put them together and major fires occur.”

             Alicia crossed her arms and nodded. “That’s an impressive ability,” She admitted.

             Cassidy sighed before kneeling to pack all the chemicals in her backpack. Alicia hadn’t expected that reaction. Looking down at her, she seemed defeated, weak and small. Alicia bent over to help pack as Cassidy responded, “It’s tiring.”

+++++

             Q paced in Kris’s apartment. They knew what they wanted to do today. Instead of watching Kris’s ten movies on repeat again, they wanted to talk to Kris herself. They had never tried calling Flare before and wasn’t entirely sure it was possible. It also scared them a little. Paranoid thoughts raced through their mind as they feared Kris or them would be found out. Q doubted that Flare could find them from a number alone, but only slightly.

             They passed the phone, contemplating the decision. When they looped back around the second time, they picked it up. Another two laps and they typed in Flare’s number. A few deep breaths before they hit the call button. They walked around, patiently waiting, as the phone rang. The distinctly dead-inside receptionist answered, “Hello, how can I help you today?”

             “Hi, yes,” Q started nervously. “I’d like to speak to a patient.”

             “Who are you?” The receptionist droned while faint clacking could be heard.

             “Oh, sorry,” Q said with an uncomfortable laugh. “I’m Hazel Levigne. I should be a permitted contact for patient, Kristen James.”

             Q waited in a tense silence as the receptionist did something. Maybe she was looking it up or maybe she was waiting an appropriate amount of time before lying about it. Finally, she responded, “Yes, I see that here… However, her privileges have been revoked.”

             “Oh, is that so?” Q replied weakly, thoughts running wild. “Could you direct me to her psychologist there?”

             “Are you a spouse?” She deadpanned.

             Q stiffened, quickly saying, “A significant other.”

             The receptionist didn’t respond. Q felt their chest tightened as they worried she wouldn’t allow them to talk to Dr. Horns. “Please,” They pleaded fervently. “I’ll propose to her when she gets home if that’s what it takes.”

             The silence persisted. They could almost hear a huff before the receptionist said, “I’ll patch you in.”

             All of Q’s tension evaporated as they sighed in relief. “Thank you so much!” They replied with all the gratitude they could muster.

             The receptionist was mute, but the phone beeped. Suddenly, there he was. “Hello, Dr. Horns speaking.”

             Q felt fear bubble up in their stomach. They were tempted to hang up, scared that Dr. Horns might recognize their voice too. They returned to their pacing. “Hello, Dr. Horns,” Q said as calmly as possible. “I’m Kris’ significant other. I was getting worried because she always calls me on Friday and she hasn’t called me in quite some time.”

             “I’m sorry,” Horns responded before pausing, “Miss?”

             They resisted correcting him, knowing their voice sounded more feminine, than masculine at the moment. “Hazel.”

             “I’m sorry, Miss Hazel,” He repeated. “But Kris had a bit of a psychotic break and she attacked an orderly. She is currently on lockdown.”

             Jerking to a stop, Q panicked while their mind raced. It didn’t make sense. “Oh no…” Q responded devastated. “I’m so sorry, is the orderly okay?”

             “His injuries weren’t serious.”

             Q was relieved to know that Kris didn’t accidentally kill him. They bit their thumb. “How is Kris?”

             “She is doing better, but she will stay where she is for the time being.”

             Q’s shoulders slumped. “So, I can’t see her?”

             “Not for a while,” He answered. “But I will tell her you called, and I will call you to inform you when you can see her.”

             “Thank you, Dr. Horns.”

             “Have a nice day, dear.”

             Q shuddered, fully aware that they didn’t need to hide their revulsion of him. “You too, doctor.”

 +++++

             Paul’s busy schedule allowed him little time to accommodate Cassidy’s needs. The best he could manage was picking up Espe and meeting Cassidy at a Construction Depot near her apartment. Espe was infinitely curious about why they were taking a detour from their afternoon routine. Paul pulled into a parking spot as Espe asked for a third time, “Por qué estamos aquí?”

             Paul got out of the car, causing Espe to rush to get out and meet him at the end of the car. “Porque estamos help un amiga shop,” Paul answered shortly.

             Espe grabbed Paul’s hand. “Un amiga nueva?” She pressed.

             Paul briskly walked to the entrance of the large building. “Sí.”

             “De verdad? Tienes so many amigos!” Espe responded, swinging their linked hands.

             Paul paused in front of the doors as they whooshed open. Beyond the doors was Cassidy, who smirked spotting him. “Hey Paul,” She greeted warmly.

             “Hi Cassidy,” He responded, bringing Espe to her attention. “Meet my sister, Espe.”

             Cassidy held out her hand. “Sup Espe,” She said.

             Espe smiled and shook her hand, feeling very mature. “Hiya!” Espe chirped.

             “Espe, tú quieres push the cart?” Paul asked, pointing to the rows of carts.

             “Por supuesto!”

             Espe let go of Paul’s hand and ran over to grab a cart. She pulled one out before pushing it over to the pair. Paul grinned at how cute Espe looked with her head barely peeking over the handles of the cart. He looked at Cassidy, asking, “Do you know what you want to get?”

             Cassidy nodded, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket. “I got a list,” She answered before addressing Espe. “Ready to roll?”

             Espe made a little “yep” as confirmation. Paul stuck close to Espe as Cassidy led them through the store. Their first stop was an aisle full of power tools. Cassidy stopped to examine a few brands of nail guns. Paul was surprised, stepping closer to Cassidy. She noticed his expression before commenting quietly, “Sometimes the best weapon is the most obvious one.”

             “Promise not to shoot anyone with it,” Paul whispered.

             Cassidy held up a pinky and Paul quickly wrapped his pinky around hers. Without another word, she grabbed a nail gun in a case and a pack of nails. She put them in the cart and they moved on.

             In the next aisle, Cassidy picked up a small hammer and a screwdriver. Leading them to another row near the outdoor area, she found the masks. “Can I get your opinion on something?” Cassidy asked Paul.

             Paul nodded, getting closer. “How many gas masks do you think we’ll need?”

             He held up his hands and started counting. “Team of five plus seven volunteers… eight if you want one, so thirteen?”

             Cassidy reached out and flipped up a price tag to look at it. She whistled at the number. “Hmm, what kind can you spring for?”

             Paul looked at the variety. More expensive masks covered the entire face, while the cheapest were flimsy cloth-like ones that covered only the mouth and nose. Paul was conflicted. “What are we using them for?”

             “I got some nice gases from Alicia to knock people out,” Cassidy muttered. “So, we’d need something to reduce inhalation significantly, but maybe not entirely.”

             Paul looked at the masks and thought it over. He eventually decided on a compromise, a small mask with a filter. It came in pairs, so he grabbed four packs and put them in the cart. Cassidy added two more packs. “What about you?”

             Cassidy shrugged. “It’s not worth it to buy two more,” She answered. “I’ll just stay out of the way.”

             “Alright.”

             Cassidy directed them to the opposite side of the store for some tech. She picked up four simple, black walkie-talkies and put them in the cart. She took them to the front of the store to pick up some odds and ends, like matches, balloons, and water bottles. Paul chuckled when Cassidy put the balloons in the cart. “What are those for?”

             Cassidy grinned. “You’ll find out,” She answered. “I’m planning for distractions and deterrents.”

             She directed Espe to a checkout line before patting Paul on the back. “Seriously, don’t worry about it,” She added. “This is gonna be fun.”