Chapter Eight
After two days, Jeremy was finally re-introduced to the Mercy Clinic. Many of the volunteers regarded him with caution (some with hostility), and to start with, while Vera attended to her priority duties, he was placed into the back room to take inventory of the medical supplies. Having never worked an actual job before assuming his father’s place at the head of ANC, he found the task to be quite menial and aggravating. The concept of counting everything confused Jeremy, as no one bothered to explain to him that they needed those numbers when placing orders for new supplies. This sense of pointlessness made it extremely hard to get motivated, and soon he found himself distracted by each new thing the sheet prompted him to count.
One instrument in particular, a “catheter” as the label read, caught his attention. He held it up and inspected it in the dim light of the small closet-like room, wondering what on earth it was for. After giving up and deciding to move on, he simply hung it about his neck.
After a few hours, Vera summoned him for a lunch break. He wasn’t done with the inventory, but welcomed the chance to get out of the musty closet with enthusiasm. She laughed when she saw the catheter around his neck and lifted it off his shoulders, placing it back among the rest.
“What’s so funny?” Jeremy smirked nervously.
“That was a catheter.”
“I know that.”
“Do you know what a catheter does?”
“No. What is it?”
Vera didn’t answer him and instead continued laughing as she left the room. Jeremy grumbled to himself as he followed her, wondering what sort of joke he was missing out on.
The doctor joined Jeremy across the street for his break, offering to pay to show her gratitude. He declined, however, insisting that he didn’t need it. This seemed to offend Vera, and she didn’t say anything once they got their food. The first half of the meal was spent in awkward silence before Jeremy recalled something he’d been meaning to bring up days ago.
“So what’s with all those copies of The Los Angeles Voice in my room? You into collecting vintage stuff?”
Vera looked up at him and paused for a few moments, as if she didn’t have the words to express what she was thinking just then. “You’re kidding, right? That’s all you think that newspaper is? That was the last newspaper in the country, you know. The editor’s son was the CEO of ANC when they got sued to death, and it was rumored that the CEO was involved in…” She trailed off. “Wait a minute. You’re Rodney Malone’s son, aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah. It’s kinda why I’m the CEO now.”
“Then Jonah Malone was your…” Vera trailed off once more, trying to calculate where Jeremy fell into the equation.
“Grandfather,” he finished. “Yeah, but I didn’t really know him. He and Dad kept absolutely no contact. I think he was there at one of my birthday parties, because I know I met him once, but I really didn’t ever get to know him. Things were tense between them, like they were between me and Dad.” He shrugged it off as he stabbed at his plate with a fork.
Vera was suddenly intensely interested. Her eyes were wide and she was leaning forward. “I can’t believe… Am I really sitting in front of his grandson? I can’t believe you never even got the chance to meet him!”
“The Voice went out of business ten years ago, Vera.” Jeremy quirked a brow, not quite understanding her excitement.
“I know it did. I didn’t even read it back then. Readership was small, but dedicated… Everyone else just watched ANC. I was really ignorant before I discovered those papers… I found an archive of them and got to reading all I could get my hands on. I always thought that ANC was the authority, that their information was all you needed to know. When I read Jonah Malone’s articles, I learned that there were plenty of things that Fox Campbell and crew left out. Entire events, in some cases…” Vera leaned forward with her chin resting on her palm. “Nobody looks past ANC for information, so there are so many things that nobody ever finds out about. You guys just…omit what you please. Jonah told the rest of the story. Investigative journalism died with the paper…”
Jeremy felt awkward about having his own corporation bashed in front of him, but what was even more awkward was the fact that he found himself agreeing with Vera. He’d spared a few thoughts toward the ANC’s omission of knowledge, but had never thought about his grandfather’s newspaper like this before. He’d known of its existence, but even when he got around to reading it in his room, he never thought about how important it was.
“Tell me, Jeremy, where is he now? Can you introduce us? I know this is weird, but he’s my hero… He’s the one who inspired me to…” She trailed off once more. “…make a change in my life. Leave the current one I was leading and start a new one. Does that make sense?”
“It makes sense, but uh… He died a few years ago. When the Voice went under he left for some…undisclosed location in Europe, and the last I heard he got sick and passed away.”
“Oh…” Vera hung her head. “I see. Thanks anyway.”
“It’s not like it’s the end of the world. I mean, other people will start up newspapers. It wasn’t too long ago that this happened.”
“And take on the ANC giants?” A pause. “No offense.” Vera crumpled up her napkin and placed it on her plate, too entrenched in the conversation to finish her meal. “The war ruined the chances of any other media companies starting up. Now ANC can’t be stopped. If anyone tries to oppose them, they’ll just use their influence to get the law on their side. It’s basically illegal to start up anything in this country that’s not affiliated with ANC. I really don’t think there’s any chance for more newspapers in America.”
Jeremy twisted his mouth, wanting to contradict her, but he had nothing to back it up with. The horrible part was although he owned ANC, he had no power to do anything with it. It was painful whenever the power he should have had occurred to him. Vera was probably expecting some sort of action from him, but he had nothing to offer. If he was going to do anything, it would have to be outside of the company. But he had no skills, no charisma, and no drive. He was useless. The only thing he could do was to submit himself to the menial tasks offered to him at the clinic.
Their meal concluded, and they returned to the clinic shortly after. Jeremy finished up his inventory, and was then put to a more secretarial task in order to free up some of the more experienced and medically educated volunteers. He could have sworn he heard Vera muttering something about the catheter to a few of her coworkers before they all burst out laughing, but they fell silent as soon as they realized that Jeremy was staring. Apparently one took pity on him, because as she passed, she quietly murmured to him the function of a catheter. Jeremy immediately recoiled in disgust, and the rest of the group promptly burst out laughing again. After spending a few moments getting over his indignation, he started laughing a little as well. It was kinda funny.
Jeremy appreciated that Vera didn’t have him working with people that day. He wasn’t quite ready to deal with the public just yet, but perhaps after getting used to the clinic’s atmosphere he’d be more comfortable around the clientele. It felt odd, coming off his first real day of work, but it was also very rewarding. There would be no paycheck to greet him at the end of the week, but he was still earning his rent at Vera’s house, so he felt quite accomplished. For once, he was working to earn something.
Over the next week, Jeremy neglected his office at the ANC building entirely. He had stopped checking his email altogether, hoping to keep Fox guessing about his whereabouts and whether or not he was even alive. The work at the clinic never got any more stimulating, but it was an enjoyable outlet nonetheless. Jeremy found himself in a better mood at the end of each day, and he had been able to adopt a consistent, regular sleep schedule for the first time in years—Vera pointed out that he was actually tiring himself out during the day, which was why he was so readily able to fall asleep at a decent hour. Admittedly, he still craved the vices of the life he once led, but found that it was easy to forget about them whenever he spent time with Shiloh after school, which allowed him to temporarily revert back to a time when life was simpler.
--
The trauma patient finally emerged from the back while Jeremy was plugging information into the small desktop computer. He watched Vera helping him out, down the hall, and into the examination room. Jeremy didn’t catch the face of the patient until he was once again walked out of the room and into the main lobby.
“So, just take what I prescribed and rest up some more and you should be fine. And don’t forget to call the police and follow up. At the very least you might be able to keep those muggers off the streets so they don’t get at anyone else.”
“Heh, thank you. I’ll be sure to do that.” His eyes slowly wandered around the room until they met Jeremy’s. Both sets of eyes immediately widened before Jeremy ducked his head down behind the charts. That was Fox’s guy. That…Tillman guy. Yeah, his name was Tillman. What was he doing here? More importantly…he’d been shot?
Lloyd said nothing and continued to express his gratitude before saying goodbye and leaving. After waiting about a minute and a half, Jeremy abruptly stood and made a dash out of the clinic. “Shit, shit, shit…” This was a disaster. Fox would know where to find him now. It was all over. He’d send the hitman and Jeremy would have to be on the run again. He couldn’t find Tillman as he stalked about the streets, running this way and that. He was on the verge of tears with frustration and worry, and nearly cried out when a hand gripped his shoulder from behind.
“What’s the matter, friend?”
Amanitas. Great. Perfect. Jeremy jerked away, too afraid of Lloyd Tillman to be afraid of this creepy teenager for the time being. “Just go away.”
“Not until you tell me why you’re running around like a lunatic.”
Jeremy slapped his forehead before slumping up against the wall of a building. “Fuck…” He slid down until he was in a sitting position. “It’s all over. That guy works for another guy who has the hitman out for me right now. I was hiding with Shiloh and Vera but now that he’s seen me and knows where I am I’m going to have to be on the run all over again.”
“So, in order to make this problem go away, the man who saw you can’t reach his destination?”
Not thinking, Jeremy murmured, “Yeah.”
“Let me take care of it.”
The executive slowly looked up, his eyes wide. This was against everything Vera had warned, against all of his better judgement, against everything that was righteous in the world—but he needed to stop Lloyd Tillman. His lips moved without any conscious thought behind them. “His name is Tillman. About six foot, short black hair, brown eyes. Wearing a grey clinic-issued t-shirt.”
Amanitas remained where he was, grinning down at Jeremy.
“What are you standing there for?” His voice was shaking at this point.
“I need your go-ahead. Give me the word.”
Jeremy’s own voice was now unfamiliar to him. “Go get him.”
Without so much as a nod Amanitas had taken off running in the direction Jeremy had originally been headed. Jeremy watched with a feeling of dread collecting in the pit of his stomach. Before he knew it, the teenager was out of sight, disappeared into the urban jungle that was Los Angeles. It just then occurred to Jeremy exactly what he had done. He had unleashed an unknown force upon a guy who hadn’t even done anything. Whatever Amanitas was about to do, it wasn’t going to be good.
Jeremy stood and began to walk briskly toward the clinic, bumping into several pedestrians as he did so. “He’s just a teenager,” he muttered under his breath, just quiet enough to be unheard among the ongoing buzz of the city. “He can’t do anything.” A pause. “Unless he has a gun. Shit. I can’t believe I just told him to—“
He was pushed back by Vera, who had attempted to follow him after he made his dash out of the clinic. “Jeremy.” She shook him, but the horrified expression on his face did not fade. “Jeremy, what’s the matter? What happened?”
“I…that trauma patient…”
“What? What about him?”
“He works for Fox.” A pause. “And he saw me.”
“Hey, calm down. Don’t jump to any conclusions. You should just go home for now. He saw you here, not at the house. It’ll be okay. I’ll keep an eye out for any suspicious characters, okay? Just calm down and don’t do anything rash.” Her concern was evident on her face, and it occurred to Jeremy that he wasn’t just a tenant to her anymore. He was touched, but his guilt and fear of the situation overrode any other emotions at the moment. Without another word, he took off for home. It was going to be a long night.
--
Instead of returning directly home, Lloyd made his first destination the studio, with every intention to give away Jeremy’s location. Through this stupid mixup with the assassin, he was able to accomplish his goal—he found Jeremy Malone, when any other circumstance would have kept him hidden. This had to be an act of fate. He couldn’t ignore this; he had to report directly back to Fox before resting at all like the doctor had told him to.
Then an unseen force shoved him into an alleyway. Lloyd met with the cold, dirty cement immediately, and it took a few moments for his senses to return to him. By that time, a strange boy was standing over him with a calm, business-like expression. “You Tillman?” Without thinking, he blurted out the truth. “Yes. What was that all about…?”
“Nothing personal, but I was instructed not to allow you to reach your destination.”
“By who?”
“Classified information.”
Lloyd smirked, sitting up. “Well what are you going to do about it?” He paused, looking the teen up and down. “You don’t have a weapon, do you?” Amanitas didn’t answer him. “Oh God… Please don’t… I didn’t even do anything!” “Relax, I don’t have anything on me.” He turned out his denim pockets. “See?” Lloyd breathed a sigh of relief.
“But you’re carrying a very dangerous piece of information, and I’m afraid I can’t allow you to make that delivery. I’m sure you understand.”
Lloyd grit his teeth. “Malone sent you, didn’t he?”
“Again, that’s classified. I’d tell you if this was a personal thing, but it isn’t.”
Finding his strength, Lloyd rose to his feet and poked a finger into Amanitas’s chest. “You just get out of my way. I have no reason to be afraid of you, and I could get your ass thrown in jail for assault. If you’d kindly step out of the way, we can forget this ever happened.” Amanitas looked down at the finger, and mimicked his adversary, placing his own finger upon Lloyd’s chest. With seemingly no effort at all, he used that finger to push him over and knock him flat on the cement once more. The news anchor turned red from sheer embarrassment and immediately scrambled to his feet again. “H-how did you do that?”
Amanitas just stood there silently, as if contemplating how he would carry out his task. Every now and then he would extend his fingers before clenching them into fists, digging his fingernails deep into the flesh of his palms. Lloyd indignantly stood again, but this time kept his distance. He was wary.
“I highly doubt that my friend wanted me to kill you,” Amanitas slowly began with his hoarse voice, “But what I’m trying to figure out is how to keep you from reaching your destination. He sure stumped me on this one. Again, you’ve done nothing wrong to me, so I have no reason to make you suffer. But I also can’t just make you promise not to tell anyone what you saw.” He brought a hand up to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully. “I could just knock you out for a bit. Put you in the hospital for a little while. It’d keep you quiet and give my friend time to think about what he wants to do.” A pause. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that.” He took a few steps toward Lloyd.
The news anchor in turn took a few steps back. He didn’t quite know how the teen would accomplish this without a weapon, but he knew that he had to have something up his sleeve. Amanitas lowered his head, allowing his curly, greasy hair to fall over his face. Slowly but surely, a wide grin split across his face. Without another moment’s hesitation, Lloyd took off running down the alley. He didn’t know how he’d get away, but he needed to distance himself from this kid. If he didn’t, something bad was going to happen. The gurgling in his gut was overriding the doubt in his brain, which coincidentally was the same effect Amanitas had been having on Jeremy. It was driving Lloyd crazy to the point of wanting to scale one of the buildings’ walls to reach a window. Anything to get away from this kid.
There was no warning before Amanitas struck. In a matter of seconds he had Lloyd cornered against the wall he was investigating for windows, and like a wild animal he snarled and overtook the news anchor in a forceful tackle. Lloyd’s disembodied howl could only be heard a short distance from the alley before he was silenced as per Jeremy’s instructions. Mission accomplished.
When a bystander discovered Lloyd moments later (an event to which he owed his life), Amanitas had already made himself scarce. An ambulance was quickly called, effectively sealing him off from his destination and Fox Campbell. The assailant, however, had stolen his cell phone, and once he had reached a place to sit that was safe and out of sight, he began to look through it. Amanitas had never owned a cell phone, and this was his first chance to actually hold one. He was quite amused.
To his great surprise, it rang while it was in his hands, and he almost dropped it. The ID read “Campbell,” and when he slowly sounded it out, the name sounded very familiar. Without knowing any better, he answered it and put it to his ear, but merely listened instead of giving the customary greeting.
“Lloyd,” the voice grunted on the other end. “Hey, you hear me? Lloyd?” This man didn’t sound too pleasant.
“Amanitas,” the teen corrected in an equally brisk tone.
“The hell? Who’re you?”
“Not the owner of this phone.”
“Well, that’s obvious. You work at that clinic?”
“No.”
“Well then, where’s Lloyd?”
“Dunno. Somewhere. I left him in an alley. He’s incapacitated so he can’t reach his destination.”
“Wait, they let him out?” Fox paused before Amanitas’s words hit him. “What do you mean by incapacitated?” he asked slowly.
“Poisoned. I heard the sirens of an ambulance. If they found him he’ll live. If not…not my problem.”
“Who are you?”
“Amanitas.”
“I know your name, but who are you?”
“I’m nobody.”
“The cops will beg to differ, once they get your identity and you take a ride in a squad car, asshole.”
“I don’t have an identity. Technically, I don’t exist. Sorry, brother.”
“What are you doing with Lloyd’s phone? What do you want?”
“I was just looking at it when you called. You can hang up whenever you want.”
“You with Malone?”
“Not right now.”
“But you’re associated with him.”
“Maybe.”
“Then why don’t you come see me face to face, tough guy? He thinks he can play my game? He’s got a lot to learn.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He didn’t say anything about you, so I have no reason to go see you.”
“Where is he?”
“Can’t say. We might meet someday. Depends on if you’re his enemy. If you’re his enemy, you’re my enemy.”
“My enemies don’t last too long, asshole. I’d watch my mouth if I were you. You sound like a fucking kid—he recruit you from a high school?” “I’ve never been to school. I came to him. Just hope that you never have to meet me. You might not be as lucky as your friend Tillman. You’ll see what I mean when you visit him in the hospital.”
“You can’t intimidate me. Just you wait. I’ll have you and Jeremy dead and buried before the end of the month. That’s a promise.”
“No, Campbell, that’s a challenge.” Amanitas took the phone from his ear and chucked it from his seat at the edge of a roof. After doing so, he pulled his legs up to his chest and placed his chin on his knees. This Jeremy guy was dangerous. Too many enemies. He would have to work extra hard if he was going to protect Shiloh and Vera. Perhaps he’d have a little conversation with the man, to see just what was going on. The sooner he pointed a finger to the man he’d spoken with on the phone, the sooner all of these troubles would be over with, it seemed.
It sounded like a fun way to pass the time before his next venture out of the state. He was waiting on the word of a friend, and it was taking an awfully long time. At least he wouldn’t be bored now.










