Hometown Kelly and the Gizmo Team

By Sharon L Reddy

It was Hell and always had been, but the only other choice was dead and he didn't get to make that one either. He'd worked not to wish he'd died with his parents in the accident he'd been too young to remember. He was alive and they weren't. Because they weren't, he was so rich he was kept alive. As long as he was, others had control of the wealth and used it, in his name of course, to make more wealth. They wielded the power it gave them, also in his name. They didn't know he was there. No one did.

But someone did know there was someone trapped inside the work of art, preserved for the power of wealth it gave those who controlled a corporation. A daring rescue, surprising proof and a unique town that decided he was theirs, miracles do happen.

Sharon Reddy:
"The working title of this little piece was 'I always loved comic books.' It was fun and someday there will be more adventures of Kelly, Jim and Gizmo's team."

About books by Sharon L Reddy, reviewers said:

recluse:
"The author is a fine wordsmith who possesses a marvelous imagination."

Raven's Reviews:
"...unique, fast-paced style ...allows one to read almost as fast as one can think."
"...romantic brain-candy... If you like almost any kind of men at all, you'll like hers..."

Mistress of the Dark Path:
"...you will also notice your mind is stimulated."
"...designed for a more educated and worldly crowd."

R. Cagle:
"I got hooked immediately."

Marji Holt:
"The characters came out of the books and into my dreams."

Twenty-four titles. Start your collection today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sharon L Reddy
• Release date: Jun 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781583383551

Sharon L Reddy

I write science fiction romance, but it's the literary definition of romance. Swashbuckle, Baby, in "white tie and tails." High romantic fantasies, million word mysteries, family sagas, statesmen, gurus and wise immortals. Loving dads, sons and brothers, and of course, the women who understand and appreciate them. High fashion and landscape design. Materials and art, the books are built to be read very fast, specifically for the way women visualize. Research on the soap operas of the fifties, trends in international populist (fan) fiction, technological development, and above all, long-term entertainment value. It has to be good in reruns. The intent is create a body of work that's just fun to read, in spurts or bursts over decades. Ethics, responsibility, nobless oblige, the power of money, the use of prestige. I write good guys win. Period. They're fantasies for women. Men with lots of muscle say, "I love you," a lot.Most of what is currently published was written in the first decade, 1991-1999, before Mother Nature changed my personal definition of "mature audience." I hope you'll remain with me as I and my work mature and enjoy the second decade of my work now being published, as well.I've lived many places and visited far more. My current residence is on a high mesa in New Mexico, in the United States, where I am engaged in a habitat restoration project.Explanation of the Pilots Group:Some of these works have been sitting on my hard drive close to twenty years and they're no fun for anyone just sitting there. They're exactly what they've been titled, pilots, like for a TV series. It is my intent and hope that other writers will choose to continue the adventures of the characters. There are only three restrictions. Don't kill off my heroes, don't make good guys bad guys and give my story credit if you publish. Yes, you may publish and make money on your stories. I loved reading and writing fan fiction, but the limitations on it could be frustrating, so... Have fun with these works that specifically don't have them.

Book preview

Sharon L Reddy

Hometown Kelly and the Gizmo Team

©2011

Target Yonder

Smashwords Edition

ISBN 978-1-58338-355-1

Chapter One

It was Hell and always had been, but the only other choice was dead and he didn't get to make that one either. He'd worked not to wish he'd died with his parents in the accident he'd been too young to remember. He was alive and they weren't. Because they weren't, he was so rich he was kept alive. As long as he was, others had control of the wealth and used it, in his name of course, to make more wealth. They wielded the power it gave them, also in his name.

He wasn't asked if he wanted more wealth. He wasn't asked if he wanted to 'merge.' He wasn't asked if he wanted to close three plants and put over two thousand people out of work. He wasn't asked if he wanted to be alive. He had four nurses and five people who cared for his body. And none of them asked if he wanted to be alive. They were discussing another surgery. Not the physicians, the ones who controlled the wealth. His wealth. They discussed it right in front of him, but they didn't know he was there. No one did.

It's probable the implant will keep him alive for a few more years. If he dies now, the Frazier deal will die with him. The potential profit is too high to suddenly have it fall apart. If his grandmother hadn't been crazy, we could have let him die years ago.

She wasn't crazy. She just didn't expect her son to die within three days of her and her grandson to be a lump for seventeen years. Naming a bunch of charities as third down on the list of 'give it all to' was great public relations, when she did it when he was born.

He's got one aide who's sure there's someone in there. He tried to get me to authorize a series of new tests. Years of tests and he wants to try a long list of new ones. I think he's going to be a problem.

Why?

The implant will reduce personal care. I think he should be terminated before it's even discussed further.

Agreed. He's becoming too emotionally involved with the patient. I'll tell Thurrel. Pitying the poor thing is one thing. Believing it's more than a body is going too far.

He heard the two leave and stared at the ceiling. He didn't know what the implant they were talking about was. He hadn't known one of the aides was sure he was aware. It didn't make him hope. He'd stopped hoping the day the physicians had said the neural activity they'd recorded was response to physical stimuli and nothing else. That had been when he was eight.

One of his aides came in and gently rolled him onto his side. It hurt, as always, but he appreciated it because he could see the television. This one usually turned him so he could see it. This one had been turning him to see it since he'd been hired. This one had taught him to read. He'd turned him to watch Sesame Street. He'd heard him tell one of the others, who moved his body and worked his muscles, that even infants liked the colors and sounds. He was sure he was the one, but he couldn't ask. So he watched the educational programming he'd tuned in. They were getting a degree in microbiology.

Jim Waters looked at the termination slip and check in his hand, again, and nearly stumbled down the steps of the huge mansion where he'd worked for almost three years. The reason for termination was a long explanation that basically said he was very good, but the wrong one for the job because he just couldn't accept the patient would not, could not, improve. It highly recommended him for employment in a position working with individuals who could appreciate his careful attention to the needs of the physically impaired and determination to aid them.

He'd tried to get them to run new tests on the boy and they'd fired him for being sure they'd show something that hadn't been seen ten years before. He'd wanted a CAT scan and a trace of neural activity when the boy had something to see and hear to stimulate his mind. They'd fired him for believing he had one.

He got in his car and started home. He didn't know he wasn't going there, until he passed the freeway exit that would take him there. He didn't know why he had, until he was pulling into the parking lot of the retirement condo complex where Dr. Hoskins lived. He buzzed her door and smiled slightly when she yelled she'd heard, but she was too damn old to move fast, across the intercom. She opened the door about two minutes later.

Jim!

Hello, Doctor.

What's wrong?

I was fired for becoming emotionally involved with my patient.

What?!

I wanted them to run more tests. There are a lot that weren't around before. Dr. Hoskins, I'm sure that boy is aware. I checked and every test they ran was... wrong.

Explain wrong.

They didn't do anything that would stimulate his interest. They poked and prodded, flashed lights in his eyes and made loud noises, but they were just lights and noises. I think they're planning on doing something to him and wanted me out before they do it.

Jim, if you didn't care about your patients, you'd be playing football and making a lot more money, but they may be right about you becoming too attached. You've been taking care of that boy's physical needs eight hours a day, five days a week, for several years.

Doctor, I can tell when he's awake.

What?

He can't close and open his eyes, but he sleeps and wakes. He can't move, but he sees and hears. I'm not the only one who feels it. The last time they did surgery on him, the surgeon insisted he be anesthetized. He had the statements of a dozen doctors that it was unnecessary, but he insisted on anesthesia.

Surgery?

Many. They've been going on for fifteen years, usually without anesthetic. The whole program was ordered not long after the accident. They've been doing skin grafts and such since he was a baby. He's a pretty young man now. I've seen what he looked like after the accident. It's odd to be grateful they rebuilt his face and got rid of the scars and still be angry that they only did it because he's rich. That is the reason, Doctor. I heard one of the trustees say it was worth the expense to have photos to show 'nosy do-gooders' he wasn't being neglected. He thought it was funny they wanted to be sure they were doing all they could for him, when they'd get several billion dollars if he died.

Jim, that's reality.

No, Doctor, it's greed. I think they've found something that will reduce the cost of his care and got rid of me before they did it. I'm not saying they're bad people, Doctor, but most of them don't think of him as anything but a business expense. Doctor, they don't want to know he has a mind. I don't know if he did when they did all those tests before, but I'm sure he does now. He was an infant, Dr. Hoskins. We know that the brain does develop after severe trauma in infancy, in some cases.

You really are sure.

Yes. I... can feel his presence. Find out what they're planning. Please. He's never had anything beyond an EEG. They haven't run one of those in years. Doctor, I want to be wrong.

I understand that completely. I may have nightmares. Jim, those trustees have probably had them.

I have. I've dreamed I was a marble statue and helpless to tell anyone I was alive. He's beautiful and I think I'm in love with him.

I'm not in practice anymore or I'd be looking for financial assistance for you for therapy.

That's why I'm sure, Doctor. I'm twenty-seven and I have three special friends, who assure I know I'm a healthy heterosexual on a regular basis. I never wanted to make love to a male before, but I don't make love to very many women and I have lots of volunteers. Basically, his gender isn't particularly important. That I love him is. I know how healthy I am, Dr. Hoskins. I couldn't fall in love with a vacant body, no matter how beautiful it is. I wanted to be there when he stopped being in pain.

Stopped?

All the muscles are supple. All the surgeries that were scheduled are done. In a few days, he'll see live human faces for the first time when masks, gowns and gloves aren't required due to immuno-suppressants to prevent rejection. In a few days, he'll be 'cosmetically restored.' Doctor, he's hung like a horse.

Why did you tell me that?

Who else could I tell? Who else wouldn't say too bad it was wasted?

Anyone in my profession or I'd do my best to get them out of it. Get in here and make tea for us. I'll get on the phone and see what I can find out. I'll probably want two or three others in on this, if I do decide something needs to be done.

I'd prefer there weren't. I'm going to keep them from hurting him. I'd have stopped it before, but I'd have endured the pain to have the type of damage he had repaired. That's done. Nothing they do now is for his benefit. I intend to rescue him. I'm sure they'll call it kidnapping and say I'm 'sadly disturbed.' I imagine I'll be caught, but he'll get those tests. They can't pay you enough to believe I'm crazy.

All right. I'm convinced. Let's get a judge in on it to start with and see if we can keep you out of jail.

Doctor Elaine Hoskins had many friends. She called one who wouldn't spend a great deal of time considering the financial ramifications on a 'human rights' case. Five hours later, a young woman showed her badge at the gates of a huge estate.

A judge hadn't been pleased with being put off. He'd decided he wanted answers now. He'd sent a marshal to get them. It worked well. The chairman of the board of trustees was on his way to the estate to answer them. The marshal smiled slightly and waited patiently. She wouldn't have had a receptionist put a judge on hold, then said call back at three the next afternoon.

Terry Sandusky looked around her and wondered if they hung velvet ropes and gave tours of the place. It nearly shouted it was kept beautiful to look at but nobody lived there. She was there because someone was sure a not-quite eighteen-year-old kid did. She stood and smiled when a plump gray-haired man hurried in the door.

Good evening, Marshal. I'm Walter Amunson.

"Sorry to interrupt your