Dear Jesus, what the hell was going on?
By reflex, Cal looked about for a mirror or any kind of reflection, but there was nothing in his cell — just a decrepit sink and toilet in the corner. At least, he thought ruefully, he warranted his own private room. Also on the bright side, he was still wearing the clothes he wore to work under his overalls. No black and white stripes… yet.
An hour or two passed, more questions piling up in his head without any real answers, before a guard appeared at the door to his cell. The patch on the man’s uniform had the state of Tennessee on it, which only made Cal feel worse — it had to be serious if he was in a state prison. Maybe that damn fool Rudy up and died. So, why was he still in civilian clothes?
“Let’s go, Hooks,” the guard said. “You got visitors.”
Wordlessly, Cal stood — and Lord, it took effort just to walk! — and followed the guard out into the corridor. No other cells were occupied on the entire block, which seemed odd, and there was only a single guard, armed with just a billy club. Cal struggled to keep pace as he followed him down the empty corridor, marveling at the fatigue that dogged every step.
After what seemed like an eternity of walking that left Cal practically wheezing for breath, the guard opened up the door to a conference room and ushered him in. Waiting there were two men — one middle-aged and in a business suit, and, incongruously, another, much younger, with glasses and wearing a military uniform — both of whom were white, as Cal expected. The hat on the table had an anchor on it. The table they were seated at had a pitcher of water on it, some glasses, and a stack of folders with papers inside them.
“Mr. Hooks, please, have a seat,” the businessman said, with a smile that Cal wasn’t at all expecting. “How are you feeling? Can we get you anything?”
No white man had ever been this polite to him — of that Cal was certain. He didn’t know what to make of it, or how he should respond. “I feel… fine, I guess. Tired, matter of fact.” His eyes settled on the pitcher of water, and the two men across the table followed his gaze.
“Here you go, Mr. Hooks,” the Navy man said, pouring a glass and passing it across the table — another unheard-of kindness. “My name is Lieutenant Dan Wallace, and this is Dr. Detlev Bronk. I imagine you’re wondering what you’re doing here.”
Cal took the water with a soft “Thank you” and downed it all in one go. “Sorry, didn’t realize how thirsty I was. And yeah, I do have a few questions, if that’s all right. How’s that boy doing?”
Bronk smiled. “He’ll be just fine.”
Cal slumped in relief. “Thank Jesus. He lived. I guess he lost the arm?”
The two men traded a look before taking seats across from Cal. “Let’s step this back a bit, Mr. Hooks,” Bronk said. “When I say fine, I mean that Rudy is perfectly fine. His arm is fine. He’s probably getting ready for his next shift at the plant right now.”
It took several moments for Cal to get his head around that statement. Finally, he put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “You mean to tell me… now, I saw what I saw. That boy had his arm in a vat of hot rubber up to the elbow. I smelled the meat cooking clean off his bones! Now, Lieutenant Wallace—”
“Please, call me Danny.”
“Okay… Danny. How the hell do you expect me to believe that he’s perfectly fine?”
Danny smiled. “You really don’t know, Mr. Hooks? Can you tell us the last thing you remember?”
Cal frowned and looked down at the tabletop to think. “I saw the boy pull his arm out and heard him scream. I rushed over to help him and caught him before he hit the floor. I told the others to go get help. And then… then I prayed over him. I got dizzy. And that’s it.”
“That was two days ago, Mr. Hooks,” Bronk said. “And it seems that your prayers were answered.”
Cal opened his mouth to argue but caught himself. Was it a miracle? Did Jesus hear his prayer? It seemed sacrilegious to cast doubt so quickly. But did miracles even happen anymore?
“And there’s something else, Mr. Hooks. You were taken to the hospital, not Rudolph Leary,” Danny said. “The company sent you to the state hospital, and once the doctors there found you were otherwise healthy, they brought you here at our request.”
“Actually, we requested you be kept comfortable, but the state of Tennessee has some curious thinking on that point,” Bronk added.
Cal’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “Hold on just one second, now, please. You said ‘otherwise healthy’? What do you mean by that?”
The two men traded another look. “I’m sorry… you’ve only been awake a little while, and I’ve just realized that prison cells don’t have mirrors.” Danny fished around in his briefcase and pulled out a small grooming kit, where he fished out a hand mirror. “Take a deep breath, Mr. Hooks, and stay calm,” he added, handing it over to Cal.
There was something deep down in Cal that already knew, somehow, what he’d see. There, before him, was a man easily fifteen years older, in his sixties, with a head of thinning white curly hair and a virtual maze of lines and furrows across his once-handsome face. His eyes were sunken a bit more in his head. His cheeks drooped.
“Lord have mercy, I’m an old man,” he whispered.
The lieutenant gently took his mirror back. “Well, technically, you’re only two days older, but yes, we believe your body’s aging has rapidly accelerated since Rudy Leary was healed. Now, theoretically, this is only a temporary side effect, but your Enhancement is a new one, and unfortunately, this will have to be a game of ‘wait and see.’ We asked the authorities to monitor you closely but… well, as we discussed, they’re less than cooperative and, frankly, more than a bit skeptical when we told them your real age.”
Cal snorted. “They don’t care about an old Negro.”
“Maybe not, but we most definitely do,” Bronk said. “I know this all must seem bizarre to you right now, but you’ve been the recipient of an extraordinary gift, and we’d like to work with you to figure out how to use it properly.”
There was another long pause as Cal digested this. “There are others like me,” he said finally. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t even know what to look for.”
Danny smiled. “That’s right, Mr. Hooks. You’ve undergone what we’re calling a Permutation, and you’re not the only one. The United States government is interested in helping you and the others we’ve found get a handle on it.”
Cal leaned back in his chair, exhaling, and ran a hand over his now-wrinkled face. “I got a wife and a son. I’m the man of the house. I got to work. I’m saving so my boy can go to college. I ain’t got time for this, frankly. Appreciate it, though, but family’s the most important thing. And I figure Firestone done let me go, so I gotta find another job now, too.”
“Mr. Hooks, we understand completely, and we sympathize,” Bronk said. “We spoke with your wife and son this morning to reassure them you were in good health and would be well taken care of. They’re worried sick, of course. I’ll be sure to let you telephone when we’re done here. But think for a moment: What happens if you can’t control this ability? What happens if another incident occurs? What if you grow even older? What if it kills you? Mr. Hooks, trust me when I say that accepting our offer is the best thing right now for you and your family.”
Danny nodded in agreement. “And if you accept, you’ll be a government employee with a fine salary, several times more than you made at Firestone. We can even have the checks sent directly to your house.”