Psych Investigation Episodes: Episode III

By Kevin Weinberg

Jack Harris has already been through enough nonsense. Unfortunately for him, he’s about to be put through a whole bunch more. After accidentally eavesdropping in on a plan to attack the training camp, he’s once again thrust into nonstop chaos that will see him broken—and pieced together again.
This is the third book in the series. Please make sure you’ve read the first two before reading this one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Weinberg
• Release date: Oct 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311876065

Kevin Weinberg

Author of Questing Sucks! And the Psych Investigation Episodes series.

Book preview

Chapter 1: Varying Levels of Fairness

As the basketball hurtled through the air and landed into Jack’s unaware hands, he froze in terror at the nine heads that turned to him. Some wore a look of expectation, others a lustful scowl.

Move it, Harris! Barker demanded. You’ve got the ball!

Jack’s stomach filled with acid, and his heart raced in his chest. Why were they playing basketball again? And what kind of ridiculous drill was this, anyway?

Butch, Reggie, and a cherry-blonde girl whose name Jack didn’t know, all charged at him with their eyes focused intently on the ball. Reggie’s carrot-like face seemed to glow with the prospect of stealing the ball, though Butch appeared more interested in punishing Jack as opposed to winning. The gargantuan Reinforcer’s jaw tightened in anger. He had a look that said, I’m gonna get’cha, Jack.

Pass the ball, you dolt! Emma cried. She raised her hands into the air and waved.

It’s not fair, Jack thought. I’m not a dolt. I’m just inexperienced in sports.

Jack hated playing basketball. He hated it in gym class, at the park, and during lunch break, so it was no surprise that he also hated it at boot camp. To Jack, basketball was a boring, tiring sport—at least in real life. Everything always seemed so much easier and more fun in NBA 2k14. On Xbox, all he’d have to do was press a button to pass the ball, but with the way the three trainees were rushing at him, it was going to take a lot more than a button press for Jack to avoid humiliating himself.

Sergeants Barker and Gracie watched from the sidelines, calling out helpful instructions equally to both teams. They’d been pleased enough with the obstacle course results to keep Jack and Emma’s group together, so it seemed like, from then on, Jack would be seeing a lot more of Gracie’s group. Emma, an abnormally tall golden-haired girl who Jack suspected hated his guts, had nearly fainted when she’d heard the announcement earlier that morning, and she’d been doubly upset to find out she and Jack would be playing on the same team. Standing taller than any of the other girls—the boys too, for that matter—she had a natural advantage.

The gymnasium floor squeaked as the three trainees closed in on Jack. Things weren’t looking good. But what was he supposed to do? He searched frantically around him, trying to find a way to pass the ball to Emma, but he was surrounded. Everyone was out of his reach.

I’m coming for you, Harris, Butch said. The oversized Reinforcer clearly had a strong dislike for Jack, especially since they’d clashed on the first day of camp. His shadow was so large that it covered Reggie and their blonde teammate.

Jack shook, and his arms trembled. He could hear his friends Kordell, Sergio, and Billy shouting at him to pass, shoot, or do anything other than stand around like an idiot. But with Butch’s massive body now only inches from Jack’s, he remained frozen in fear.

Butch bore down on him with both his arms extended and his fingers curled, as if in imitation of a creature from an old monster movie. He charged at Jack like a wild animal, and Jack reacted without thinking. He was on edge, unable to evaluate things properly. Butch was going to kill him!

Without realizing he was doing so, Jack dropped the basketball and gripped his right hand into a fist. Acting off reflex alone, he lashed out at the bulky Reinforcer. The use of power had been forbidden during this exercise, so without Reinforcement, Butch was no different from any other pumped-up, bulky teenager. Even as Jack’s fist slammed into the right side of Butch’s face, sending the much larger boy staggering backwards, he knew he’d made a big, big mistake.

Butch was pushed a few steps back, but he seemed like he’d be able to recover himself, at least until he slipped on someone’s sweat and grunted as he fell on his back. Ugh, he moaned. Even his moan sounded like a giant’s bellow.

The sound of a loud whistle startled Jack. What in the hell was that, Harris? Barker roared. Did you just assault one of your group mates?

Jack glanced first at his fist and then down on the shiny floor, where Butch lay on his back with amazement in his eyes while he looked up at Jack.

He gulped. Yeah, I think so, but it was an accident.

"An accident?" Barker asked incredulously. You just hit Private Butchenson in the face by…by accident?

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jack fought with everything he was worth to stifle a laugh. Butch’s last name also had the name Butch in it? Jack felt his cheeks puff with air and he had to stare at the ground to prevent himself from erupting in cackles.

His name is Butch Butchenson, Jack thought. That’s awesome.

I got nervous, Jack said. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.

Barker paraded over to the center of the court. He knelt down and offered Butch a hand up. The boy looked dazed, but otherwise unharmed.

You okay, son? Barker asked.

Y-yeah. Harris just caught me off guard is all.

Barker nodded. Do you want to let this slide, or do you want to make an issue out of it?

An…issue? Butch rubbed the side of his face and gave Barker a questioning look.

He hit you, Barker explained. So, if you’d like we can fill out a few forms and—

Don’t worry ‘bout it. I ain’t no snitch.

Butch grabbed Barker’s hand, and the Sergeant pulled him to his feet. As he rose, he shot Jack a dangerous, vengeful glare. Jack knew this would cause him problems later. There was no way Butch would let this slide. And if Butch made himself Jack’s enemy, then Reggie was sure to follow. Thankfully, Jack could spot reassuring looks in the eyes of Billy, Sergio, and Kordell. Jack had befriended the three the moment they’d met, and since then, Jack and the three trainees had something of a bitter rivalry with Reggie and Butch.

As Barker made his way back to the sidelines, he paused and pointed a finger at Jack. Don’t do that again…or else. He motioned for Butch to walk over to the side and he handed the boy the ball. Normally, I’d give you foul shots, but that’s not the point in this exercise. Let’s not forget why we’re all here.

Keeping his eyes on Butch but addressing the players, Barker continued, The goal of this exercise—and many to come—will focus on teamwork and coordination. You’re not just here to prove your worth to me, but to prove your worth to each other.

At Barker’s words, the trainees on the two benches opposite each other leaned in closer, and Jack, along with the rest of those on the court, relaxed their tense postures and listened. Jack knew why. This was the first time Barker had mentioned their reason for going through the harsh, physically and mentally tiring training. Originally, Jack thought he was on some important mission, or so his mother had deceived him into believing, but now he knew the truth—he was here to become a better Psych. Yet since arriving several days earlier, the trainees had been put through grueling exercises, to the point where the purpose of it all was buried underneath the need to keep breathing.

I see I’ve got your attention, Barker said with a grin. You all want make it through this, don’t you?

Sir yes sir! shouted both Barker’s boys and Gracie’s girls.

Barker nodded. Well, no one goes at this alone. I can tell you from experience that the world you want to enter is not a gentle one. In the coming days I will push you to your physical limitations, but I’m also going to teach you something even more important. He pointed to each basketball hoop. Unless you can work with one another, you lose. And that’s in this world. Here, at camp, losing means not winning at basketball. In real life, losing can mean death.

Jack had to admit that the sergeant was right. Of all the trainees present, he alone knew what it meant to be on a team, a fact that would probably send the majority of the trainees—including Jack’s friends—into a jealous rage. He’d obtained what they all wanted. Even Billy, the nerdy-looking Telepath who Jack had met on his hike to the camp would probably grow bitter if he learned the truth.

The night prior, a night Jack would always remember as the ‘Eve of the Toilet Cleaning’, Barker had explained a few things. Unlike Jack, who was already accepted on a team, towards the last day of camp the Psychs here would be evaluated based on performance, and any who were deemed unworthy would be turned down. Juliette was the only other trainee aside from Jack who’d been pre-accepted, which was likely why she hid the fact as well.

Speaking of Juliette, I can’t wait to see her at lunch today. Oh man, I wonder if she’s gonna wear those denims again. The tight ones with the—

Eww, Emma said, backing away from Jack. Why are you making such a creepy, weird face?

Jack croaked. He really needed to learn more self-control. He blinked away whatever weird look had been in his eyes, and he waited for Barker to continue the game. Instead, Barker and Gracie walked towards each other and began whispering among themselves.

Listen up, Gracie said, we’re taking a break from the game. We’ll work on your teamwork a bit more tomorrow, but… She snapped her fingers at the ten trainees on the benches, who looked as if they were dozing off into sleep. They jumped to their feet and stood at attention. We can’t have you lounging around and getting lazy. We’re going to do some cardio next.

Jack wanted to fall down and die. Why did it have to be cardio? He knew what they intended, too. The basketball court only took up a third of the gymnasium. There was a room filled with treadmills and weight-lifting equipment.

May I ask a question? It was Billy’s voice. The boy who reminded Jack of Adam readjusted his thick glasses. Ah, sir, he added.

Go ahead, Barker said.

We’re on our third day here if you count the day we arrived. Why are we using indoor facilities when you’ve made us run an obstacle course yesterday? I don’t understand the transition.

Excellent question, Gracie answered. Yesterday we wanted to get a feel for what you’d do as a group. Today, we wanted to get a sample of how you work together as a team, and now, we want to see your individual performance. We’ll be making charts to track your progress, in a way we simply cannot do out in the open—heart rate, speed, etcetera. We’ll be getting an idea of where you’re at, and how to bring you to the next level.

Did she just say level? Jack wondered.

Now here was something Jack actually knew about. He raised his hand with such a passion that he was brought to his tiptoes. You have a question, Private Harris? Gracie asked.

Yeah. Umm, so you mentioned leveling, right? So I was wondering how many experience points we need to level up. Also, can I be a Necromancer?

Gracie turned to Barker, who shook his head. Don’t look at me, he grumbled.

"Are there any…other questions? Good, then please follow Barker and myself."

Jack puckered his lips, his mood soured. No one ever wanted to answer his questions, which were totally important and relevant.

As the eighteen trainees followed the sergeants into the adjacent room, Jack risked a peek at the one boy who didn’t bother to tag along. Jack still didn’t know the kid’s name. He had red hair and a rotten demeanor. Already he was something of a mystery to the camp, and Jack had heard several trainees whispering about him.

He’d been excused from today’s exercise, and so far, neither Barker nor Gracie had asked him to participate in anything. In fact, Jack couldn’t remember him doing a single productive thing since the obstacle course, where he’d dragged a girl by the hair through one of the more daunting obstacles.

He didn’t sit on a bench with the others. He sat on the basketball court floor with his back leaning against the wall and his legs pressed into his chest. In his right hand, he clutched a chain that coiled around each of his fingers, and in his left, he twirled a blade of grass between his thumb and forefinger. As Jack passed him, the red-haired boy gave him a dirty, hate-filled glare. It wasn’t the first, either. Though Jack had never seen him offer warm looks to anyone, the boy’s gaze turned particularly dark whenever it settled upon Jack.

Don’t get comfortable here, Jack, he whispered. Jack stopped, and a chill trickled down his spine. This was the first time the red-haired boy had spoken to him.

Hey, what did you say?

I said, don’t get comfortable here. I plan on sending you home back to your mother—in an urn.

Jack felt his eyes widen. Was the kid threatening his life? But why? And how did he know Jack’s mom?

W-what are you talking about?

Slowly at first, the boy’s lips formed into an outright sneer, and he leaned his head back against the wall, relaxed. You heard me. I’m going to kill you. You, Jack, won’t be leaving here alive. Just thought I’d let you know in advance. It makes for better sport.

Jack couldn’t respond. The words caught him off guard. W-why? I don’t understand. What did I do to you? Why do you—

Let’s go, Harris! Barker shouted. Jack was now the only one other than the red-haired boy still on the basketball court. Stop talking to Private Stephens and get over here!

Jack knew better than to make Barker wait. But before he scrambled to rejoin the other trainees, he whispered, Your name is Stephens?

That’s right, the boy replied. Rex Stephens, and the first chance I get, I’m taking your life.

Jack couldn’t afford another moment’s hesitation. He made his way through the court and into the other room, his mind muddled and alarmed. This wasn’t the first time his life had been in jeopardy since being thrust into the Psych-world, but it was the first time anyone had offered such a callous look while promising his death. The worst part of it was that Jack had no idea who this Rex even was, or why he hated Jack.

Maybe it’s someone I played against in Call of Duty? No, no, that wouldn’t explain this. I couldn’t have owned him so badly that he’d want to kill me. I’m not even that good. Maybe he’s an old friend from school that I forgot to add on Facebook? No, I’m pretty sure I’d remember him. Damn, what did I do?

At any rate, Jack had more than enough to worry about for the time being. He already wasn’t a fan of treadmills, and somehow Jack knew that Barker was about to make him hate the God-awful machines even more.

Chapter 2: Aggression and Trust Issues

Jack was too exhausted to even moan as Gracie placed the clipboard under her arm and the pen behind her ear. With her free hand, she leaned over and pressed the up arrow on Jack’s treadmill, resulting in a few short, but menacing beeps. The machine’s mechanical hum turned into a shriek, and Jack was taken from a jog to a sprint.

Please let this be the last increase in speed, he thought. She’s gonna kill me.

Still, Jack refused to mutter any words in protest. He’d promised himself to push through anything, no matter how difficult—or impossible. He pumped his arms and tried to keep up, because the moment the speed reached its new maximum, he feared he’d fall off the back of the treadmill. Fortunately, no matter how much Jack humiliated himself, the other trainees were too immersed in their own exercises to pay him any mind.

I can do this. I can!

Jack realized he must look ridiculous. His entire body was in motion—his legs, arms, and feet. Though it required all his effort, he felt a newfound pride in himself. He wouldn’t fall or give up. Jack would see this through to the end.

Okay, Mr. Harris, Gracie said, we’re going to pick up the incline a bit.

Jack, only a moment away from asking what an ‘incline’ was, had his question answered before he could voice it. Gracie smiled as the front of the treadmill raised high enough that, even before reaching its peak, Jack’s knees screamed in protest and his heart exploded in his chest. The speed was the same as before, but now he had to maintain it while running up a simulated hill.

Gracie had an amused glint in her eyes. She seemed to genuinely enjoy Jack’s suffering, which didn’t surprise him, considering what Jack had done to her on the first day of camp. When Jack had first arrived, Gracie had placed a hand on Jack’s forehead to ‘find his potential’, or something. Though for some reason she’d fallen to the ground, jittering as if she’d been shocked by Emperor Palpatine’s Force Lightning, so it was no big mystery why she didn’t like him.

I didn’t do it on purpose, Jack thought bitterly.

It amazed him how, just when he thought things couldn’t get any more difficult, a few button presses from Gracie—who Jack supposed was more than happy to serve as his personal babysitter and torturer—the intensity skyrocketed. Jack panted for air, struggling not to slip and roll off the treadmill.

Keep it up, she said. She made a notation on the sheet attached to her clipboard. Your heart rate is only one-sixty bpm. I’d say you’re good till at least one-seventy-five.

Jack nodded—he was too far beyond the point of responding verbally. He needed to hold on to each mouthful of air that his lungs could scavenge, so he closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was elsewhere. The sound of his machine blended in with the others, and he imagined himself inside a futuristic factory that created robots. It helped, but only slightly. However distant, the need to collapse refused to leave Jack’s mind, and during it all, his machine beeped several more times, in what was probably Gracie making things worse for him.

Finally, his suffering ended. It took a few moments for him to notice, but his breathing had slowed and things steadily grew easier. The treadmill decreased in speed until, peeling his eyes open, which now seemed glued together with perspiration, Jack realized he was no longer running, and the machine’s shriek had once again dulled to a hum. His body was drenched in a layer of sweat. The treadmill came to a stop, and he hopped off. His legs wobbled, and it was difficult to maintain his balance.

Nice work, Private Harris, Barker called from across the room where he’d been overseeing Kordell and Billy, who appeared as fatigued as Jack did. You survived. To Gracie, he said, How are the results?

Gracie unclipped several sheets of paper and sorted through them. Overall, not as bad as I thought it’d be, but there’s still quite a bit of work to be done here. Both your group and mine have a great deal of potential for using the power, but the area where I’m primarily concerned with is the overall lack of cardio endurance. Again, it’s not terrible, but it’s lacking. How were things on your end?

Barker sighed. About the same, Gracie. I’m telling you, it’s the damn internet and TV that these kids are consumed by. They never want to leave the house, so they’re lazy as all sh—

Gracie coughed in her hand. Language, Sergeant.

Jack stumbled over to his friends, who stood underneath one of the large ceiling fans that provided some much-needed relief. Only Sergio remained relatively dry. Billy and Kordell looked like they’d just come out of a pool, and even Emma dripped with sweat.

Billy raised his hand.

Yes, Private Lamont? Barker asked.

Why is all this so important? Is it really just to prove our worth?

Barker grinned as if he’d expected the question. Picture this scenario for me, will you? You’ve just tracked down a couple of brutal murderers—ruthless, unforgiving killers. His words immediately drew the attention of Jack and the other eighteen trainees. Barker took a moment to look at each of their faces before continuing.

So, you’ve tracked down these bloodthirsty rogues, and much to your horror, they’re stronger than you and your team. They’ve got a Telepath powerful enough to sap away your strength, to the point you can’t draw out a single drop of power. What do you do? The answer is simple—you do the only thing you can do. You run. That, or you die. The problem is that, as of right now, most of you lazy brats would run out of breath before you even got out of the enemy’s sights, let alone to safety.

Jack nodded with understanding. It made sense. Emma raised her hand next then, asked, When are you going to teach us more about how to use our power?

Soon, Gracie said. Try to remember that we’re still in the process of getting you independent from your abilities. We want you to be as strong as possible, but we want it done in a way that doesn’t have you relying solely on your affinities. Like has just been said—there may come a time when it fails you.

She turned to Barker. Now, if that’s out of the way, I think it’s time for lunch, is it not?

Barker removed the whistle from his neck and slid it into his pocket. Sure, I think we’ve worked them hard enough for the day.

The idea of lunch excited Jack. Not just because he was hungry, but also because he’d get to see Juliette. Something stood out in his mind, though, and he raised his hand.

Yes, Private Harris? Gracie answered.

Umm, how come you said, ‘for the day’? Does that mean there’s no more stuff to do today? Jack couldn’t help the pleading tone in his voice. The other trainees appeared interested in the question as well, because they turned their heads and remained motionless.

Barker took his sweet time in answering, clearly enjoying the suspense. When I see you guys try your best, I tend to stray away from evening exercise. Most of the sergeants do, in truth. As long as I’m not given a reason to keep you around, I’ve got better things I’d like to do myself.

Ah, sweet, Kordell said. So after lunch we can go around camp and do whatever we want?

Barker shook his head. No. First, you all need to head back to your cabin and clean the place up. I saw what it looked like this morning. It’s a complete mess. I can’t speak for the girls here, but you boys need to head back and take care of it. Then, after you’ve turned that pigsty into a place fit for human life, you can be about your business.

Ideas raced through Jack’s mind. The camp was huge, and he could take Juliette anywhere he wanted. By the looks of things, he wasn’t the only one with that plan. Several of the male trainees had wicked grins on their faces.

Naturally, with the two groups clustered together, a few pairings had been made. Sergio winked at a pretty little blonde named Kara, and Kordell blew a kiss in the air at a fiery Kinetic called Denisha, if Jack recalled their names correctly. He was still getting used to all these new people.

Gracie cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. Don’t get any funny ideas. There are places you can and can’t go. If you kids think you can just sneak off into the woods and be up to funny business, you’re sadly mistaken. No one’s allowed anywhere one of our staff can’t see them.

Jack felt a pinch of fear when, against his own will, he let out a groan. Luckily, he wasn’t alone. The majority of both the boys and girls joined in, and Jack was sure they each wanted some privacy from both the instructors and the other trainees.

Is okay, baby, Jack heard Sergio whisper while Kara clung to his chest. I ehh, I make sure to find us private place, yeah? Our love will no be stopped. Is stronger than wind, yeah?

Oh, Sergio, she purred back, wrapping herself around him. Tell me again all about the harsh Russian winters you barely survived.

Damn, Jack thought. Sergio is so freaking smooth. I must learn his ways.

He looked over to Emma, but she glared at him before he could open his mouth. She shook a fist. Don’t even think about trying out one of those lines on me again, buddy. She stuck her tongue out as if tasting something awful. Yuck, that’s just gross.

Jack retreated from under her angered gaze, his mood souring. He didn’t think Emma would ever come to like him, especially since it was Jack’s fault she’d been forced to clean toilets. In a sad sort of way, Emma reminded Jack of Andy. The other girls picked on her because of her abnormally tall height, and much like Andy, she avoided Jack’s attempts at friendship.

But I won’t give up on her. I will make Emma my friend no matter what.

Jack and the other trainees stood together in silence while Barker and Gracie mumbled to one another, passing files back and forth and pointing to various spots on the sheets of paper. After nearly a minute of quiet, Barker let out a chuckle.

What are all of you still doing here?

Jack looked around in confusion at the other trainees, and they glanced back at him with the same dubious stares. He raised his hand. Aren’t you going to lead us to the cafeteria?

Barker scratched his head. Have you forgotten the way?

No, but umm, don’t you need to take us there?

What’s wrong with your legs?

Nothing, but—

Billy put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, interrupting him. Don’t you get what he’s saying? He’s trusting us to make our own way to lunch.

The trainees murmured their surprised agreements. Since arriving, no one had been allowed out of Barker’s sight—well, except for Jack, who’d sneaked away to New York for a few hours to fight weird people and save Melissa—so the idea of some independence took some getting used to.

As if to lead by example, Billy about-faced and headed towards the gymnasium exit. It didn’t take long for the other trainees to follow him out.

So anyways, Kordell began, walking with a relaxed posture under the warm, noon sun. His hands were folded behind his head and he was full of cheer. "I’m gonna be a general someday. I’m headin’ straight for the top, ya hear me? Captain, commander, pssht—I’m goin’ for the gold, baby."

Jack listened to Kordell, Sergio, and Billy chat excitedly about their futures. The three became animated whenever they spoke about being part of a team. They even traded gossip about various generals whose names Jack didn’t recognize. He was glad his mother hadn’t been brought up as a topic of discussion, because that would’ve been awkward.

Jack still couldn’t wrap his mind around why anyone would want to be on a Psych team, and he didn’t believe he’d ever look forward to his new life as a member of the organization. But, at the very least, Jack had his own reasons for wanting to stay, even if he’d never enjoy it. He wanted to do whatever it took to keep Melissa, Michael, Paro, Sarah, and Kazou safe.

Jack stopped short. They’d arrived at the top of a steep hill, which overlooked the cafeteria just below. The hill ran down to the stone pathway which was surrounded by colorful flowers and led to the entrance.

Kazou.

Jack’s knees trembled. Why was it first hitting him now? It’d been just under twenty-four hours since Jack had returned to camp. He’d had a night’s rest, gone through toilet cleaning, the day’s exercise, and all with no problems. So why was this happening now?

Please not now, Jack begged himself. I don’t wanna think about him. Anything but that.

Against his own desires, Jack’s mind conjured up images of Kazou, from when he’d observed atop a nearby building. He could even hear the sound of the gun that killed him. There hadn’t been any time to stop or intervene—with the single press of a trigger, Kazou had left this world and entered the next. And Jack had never said goodbye.

Ehh, are you okay? Sergio asked. What is matter? Your legs, they hurt, yes?

Kordell laughed. This is why white boys shouldn’t be playing basketball.

Why you say that? Sergio demanded. I do, ehh, better than you, Kordell. I score more goals.

Points, Kordell corrected.

I can make it go away.

Jack ignored their bickering. He looked down at the ground and focused intently on a single blade of grass equidistant from his two feet. He didn’t know what he was doing, or how he knew what to do, but the answer seemed simple. Jack cleared his mind and pretended to zoom in, mixing together imagination and reality. It worked. All he could see now was that single blade of green, and more—he could see individual ridges and patterns. This blade of grass wasn’t like the others. No two in the world were the same.

Jack exhaled calmly. I’m fine, sorry. He lifted his chin. I thought I saw something. His three friends shrugged and continued on. Jack followed behind.

What did I just do?

Somehow, Jack had sealed himself off to the part of him that felt sadness, and as a result, a terrible guilt worked its way into his gut. But he refused to seal that off, too. No, the guilt would serve as a reminder, a promise that when Jack had finished camp, he’d allow himself to shed a tear in Kazou’s honor. Or would he? At once, Jack filled with both excitement and fear. He didn’t have a clue what he’d just done or if he could do it again, but the possibilities seemed endless. The notion of never again feeling guilt or sadness was both alluring and terrifying.

He decided not to dwell on the odd new discovery, at least not until later. For now, a brighter, more important matter consumed him: Juliette. It’d only been a day, yet to Jack it seemed like an eternity. He’d kissed her. Right there, in front of everyone, he had pulled her in and kissed her.

The memory fueled him, and he picked up his pace, walking ahead of Sergio and Kordell, with Billy trailing the farthest behind. When he arrived at the cafeteria, he stood at the entrance for a moment while he waited for his friends, who came shortly after. Sergio pushed open the double doors, and together the four of them entered.

The smell hit Jack’s nose at once. Sausages, he said, on the verge of drooling like a starving wolf. He took a step in the direction of the serving line and paused. It would be best to see Juliette first. There was plenty of food but only one blonde goddess.

He craned his neck and searched for his girlfriend, a word which still sent shivers of excitement rolling into his belly. Where was she, anyway? He looked first to where he’d found her yesterday, beyond a table with both boy and girl trainees. This was different. The day prior, the trainees had been seated according to group and gender, but now they were all mixed together.

I guess we’re allowed to do that now.

What are you waiting for, Jack? Kordell asked. Let’s get some grub.

Jack shook his head. First I wanna find Juliette. Man, it’s so crowded in here.

Hmm, Kordell said. Oh, there she is. He pointed towards the back of the cafeteria, not far from the bathroom Jack had destroyed, which was now sealed off by yellow tape. At first, Jack had difficulty in spotting her, but when he did, his heart skipped a beat.

What the hell? he whispered.

Juliette looked her finest as usual. Her tight jeans hugged her legs in a way that would’ve made Jack’s mouth water had rage not burned inside of him at the sight of her. She had her hands on her cheeks and a smile on her face. She laughed and then covered her mouth, pointing her finger at a guy sitting across from her. The guy laughed back, and then the two chuckled together.

What the hell is this?

The guy was the embodiment of what girls considered cute, complete with wavy brown hair, broad shoulders, and a button-down baseball shirt opened just enough to reveal some of the hair on his chest. He made some kind of gesture with his hands, and while Jack couldn’t overhear what he was saying from this distance, he knew it couldn’t possibly be funny enough to deserve the near-choking hysterical laughter that Juliette rewarded him with. And that could mean two things, and only two things: either A, he was talking about the part in The Lion King where that one Hyena called another hyena cactus-butt, or B, this guy was making a move on his girl. Jack felt his lips purse. This wasn’t something he’d take lightly.

Hey, man, Kordell said, it ain’t worth it.

Jack let out a growl he couldn’t control. To me it is.

With that, he stormed over to Juliette like an invading army, completely indifferent to the grumbles from several trainees who he gently pushed out of the way. He’d apologize to them later. For now, he needed to see what was going on.

Keep calm, he reminded himself. This could all be a big misunderstanding. Michael said I jump to conclusions too much.

Watch where you’re going! shouted a small, cherry-haired trainee as Jack accidently knocked her tray out of her hand, spilling sausages and a side of broccoli on the floor.

Sorry, he whispered halfheartedly. He kept his eyes in front of him, watching as Juliette’s table neared. Even had he been traveling at the speed of light, he still couldn’t have gotten there fast enough to sooth his racing heart and panicked fears.

When he finally managed to make his way through the crowded cafeteria, he approached Juliette from behind. Only the guy noticed his arrival, and he glared at Jack like a bear defending its territory. Without asking for permission, Jack took a seat next to Juliette and surprised her, kissing her on the cheek.

Hey, he said.

Ah…Jack, she said back. Of all things, her eyes lit up with surprise. Surprise! Why would she be surprised to see Jack? She should’ve expected him to show up. This is my new friend, Brad.

Jack cringed at the name. Throughout his life, all of his worst experiences seemed to come from people with names like Brad. Never Bradley, mind you, just the shortened version: Brad. And they always wanted what Jack had, be it his new Nintendo DS or whatever money his mom gave him to buy lunch with. Not anymore. That was the old Jack.

Hey, Jack said. Nice to meet’cha. I’m Jack Harris.

Brad jabbed his fork into his broccoli with such force that his tray shook. He was clearly making no attempt at disguising his animosity. He stared daggers at Jack, keeping his eyes trained on his forehead while he munched down the food with intimidating slowness.

Nice to meet you too, bro. He inclined his neck towards the other end of the room to where Kordell and Sergio now sat, eating lunch and probably still chatting about what kind of Psychs they’d like to become.

Brad used a toothpick to remove a piece of meat from his teeth. Then he burped, and said, Shouldn’t you be over at the loser table? I was kinda in the middle of a conversation, bro. You’re interrupting, and it’s rude. And I really, really don’t like rude people.

Jack refused to back down. Fear burned a hole in his stomach the moment Brad finished his thinly veiled threat, much like it had throughout Jack’s entire life whenever facing down a bully. Yet at that moment, he didn’t care if a psychotic killer in a clown costume popped up from underneath the table—nothing was scaring him off. Not now, not ever. He’d done enough running to last ten lifetimes.

Umm, I’m not trying to be rude, Brad. I’m just here to see my girlfriend.

Instead of responding to Jack, Brad spoke to Juliette. This loser is your boyfriend?

Juliette’s lips moved but she said nothing, as if struggling to find the right words. Jack decided to do the speaking for her.

That’s right, he said. We’ve been together since before we even came here.

Brad nodded. Fair enough, little man. Again, he pointed to the other table. But I think you and I both know that Juliette needs someone a little…manlier than you, pipsqueak. Why don’t you go back to the kiddy table and let the grownups talk?

It was like an electric shock. As the last word left Brad’s mouth, Jack felt as if a fuse had been ignited, one that had been born the day Kip had beaten him at school and had been growing shorter ever since. Jack had choked his team-leader, Paro, and had done a host of other sporadic things due to this uncontrollable rage that jolted him like million volts and now once again threatened to rise to the surface.

He didn’t know why this happened to him, but regardless of the how or why, he couldn’t deny that a dangerous temper was becoming part of his personality. And now, as this Brad moron talked down to him as if he were trash, his toes twitched under the table. The anger was so powerful that he couldn’t sit still.

Look, I don’t want any trouble, Jack said. I’m just here to spend time with my girlfriend. I kinda get where you’re coming from, but there’s lots of other girls here.

Exactly, Brad agreed, which is why you should go find one. I’m sure there’s a few here that are fat or ugly enough to be with you. Oh, hey! He crooked a thumb over his shoulder. Everyone’s talking about that freak, Emma. Maybe you and that giant-girl can—

Jack jumped out of his seat. He reached over and gripped the sides of Juliette’s tray with such intensity that his knuckles turned white. Unable to stop himself, and unable to control the molten hatred that seeped from his pores like lava, he picked up the tray, not caring in the least about the meat and vegetables that were flung behind him.

Before he gave Brad the chance to react, Jack swung the rectangular plastic tray like a baseball bat, crashing it into Brad’s face. There was a ringing sound, followed by a gurgle as two bloody teeth exited Brad’s mouth and rolled across the table like marbles. He fell backwards and landed on his back.

Jack reeled in horror. He dropped the tray and backed away.

What did I do? Oh, God, what did I just do? I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean…

The cafeteria had gone quiet, and not a whisper could be heard, at least not over the sound of Brad’s anguished wails as he clutched the side of his face. Blood oozed out of his mouth, and he stared up at Jack in horror.

P-Please don’t hurt me, he begged. I’m sorry!

Jack’s body felt numb and distant. But I didn’t…I didn’t…Juliette, I swear I didn’t mean to—

That, Juliette said with a smile, was awesome! I like you more every day, you know that Jack?

Like me? But Juliette…

What’s going on over there? voices shouted. Jack’s body stiffened, and he found himself unable to blink or move so much as a finger. He knew what this was; a Kinetic somewhere was binding him, keeping him still with his or her power. A dozen Psychs rushed over, and Jack knew he was in big, big trouble.

As he was tackled to the ground, and as the sight of feet underneath the cafeteria’s tables became the only thing he could see, an odd, uncharacteristic thought popped into Jack’s head.

And I didn’t use the power, Sergeant Barker. This was all me. I guess running isn’t the only thing I can do after all.

Chapter 3: Awkward Phone Call

There were no two ways about it. Jack was entering a vicious cycle of missing lunch and attacking bullies, though he wasn’t sure which was worse. His stomach rumbled as he sank into the old couch in General Samson’s office. Well, at least the place was air-conditioned and he wasn’t alone.

It’ll be all right, Pete said. The boy, acting older than a typical eight year old, gave Jack a gentle pat on the shoulder like an old man soothing his grandchild. My dad’s not such a bad guy. I’ll put in a good word for you.

Jack had forgotten all about Pete’s dad, and it wasn’t until he’d been dragged into the cabin opposite Sergeant Barker’s that he remembered: Pete’s father was both a general and in charge of the camp. Jack inhaled to ease the pain in his stomach. Moments like these were the worst; he felt like he was on a rollercoaster and dropping hundreds of feet.

This is embarrassing, Jack thought. I need a little kid to comfort me. If Pete wasn’t here, I’d pass out!

Not even the cool air could lift the sense of impending doom from Jack’s spirits. He felt a mix of guilt, fright, and for some reason, excitement. He’d never wanted to hurt someone as badly as he’d harmed Brad, but Juliette’s approving smile and his own feelings of triumph occupied a small portion of his emotions. His anger had taken control, and in that moment of weakness—or strength, depending on how you looked at it—Jack went from wimp to warrior.

But I didn’t wanna do that to him. I hope he’s okay.

The office was slightly larger than Sergeant Barker’s two-bedroom cabin. It had an extra room in the front that served as sort of a reception area, with a dusty couch and a small, wall-mounted television playing reruns of Oprah. Two Kinetics stood guard just outside the office door. Did they think Jack was violent or would try to escape? The thought increased the nerves parading through his belly.

Hey, Pete, Jack said. Did you see what I did? At lunch, I mean.

Yeah, the boy said.

And?

Pete made a sour face. It was really bad. I can’t believe you did that, Jack! That wasn’t very nice.

Jack exhaled a sigh of relief. At least Pete didn’t think his actions were cool, as Juliette seemed to believe. Her response had left Jack conflicted. On the one hand, he was revolted that she’d like him more because he hurt someone. But on the other hand, anything that made her smile was worth doing.

I didn’t mean to, Pete. I just…it’s hard to explain. Maybe you’ll understand when you’re older.

I’m a big kid, Pete insisted. I understand why you did it. You did it ‘cause you thought he was taking your girlfriend away. I saw you two kiss, ya know. Gross!

"I’m gonna remember you said that, and then in a few years when you’re into girls and stuff, you’re gonna feel so stupid."

Will not!

Jack laughed. Will too!

Will not!

Will t—

The door in the corner of the room sprang open. Reinforcer General Peter Samson, the stiff, brooding father of Pete, closed the door behind him and paused just in front of it. He was a tall man, with short, buzzed-cut hair and a clean-shaven face. He was middle-aged, but the years took none of the threat out of his eyes: he looked every bit as menacing as Barker. He had a yellow folder in his hand.

He didn’t speak a word while he entered the room and made his way over to the desk across from the couch. He dropped the folder onto the desk, sat in the chair, and opened the first page. He tapped it twice with his finger.

Jack Harris, he said. His words weren’t a question, but a statement. He flipped through another page. Then another. Do you know why you’re here?

Immediately, this man became more terrifying than Barker. It was the way he spoke. Unlike Barker, who shouted and laced each word with intimidation and warning, this man only spoke slightly louder than conversational level. There was an edge to his voice, though, like a concealed threat. With Barker, no matter how angry or heated, Jack could always feel the undertone of human emotion in his words. But this man didn’t appear to have any. Jack knew then that he needed to choose his words carefully. And for Jack, that meant speaking as little as possible.

I do, sir, he said. He had the sense that this man didn’t need to demand much respect. People likely acted with due respect the moment they set their eyes on him. I’m here because I did a very bad thing. I hurt someone.

General Samson nodded. There was no scolding or rebuke in the gesture, only a cold acknowledgement of fact, which eerily bothered Jack more than any shouting would have. Worse, Jack realized he actually preferred the shouting to Samson’s casually detached speech.

Close, but not quite. The general slammed the file shut with such force that Jack jumped back into the couch, startled by the resulting bang. Pete gave him a wry look, as if his dad’s reaction was to be expected.

If that was all, then you wouldn’t be in my office, he said, in the same sharp, but level voice.

It didn’t take much restraint for Jack to keep his mouth shut. He wanted to ask, What do you mean? But somehow, he knew that if this man wanted Jack to know something, he’d say it outright. So Jack waited.

The following minute of silence was one of the most bizarre of Jack’s life. The general studied him but said nothing. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms under his chest. Every so often, he tilted his head or hummed, but he remained mostly quiet. Jack looked to Pete for support, but the boy was too preoccupied playing with lanyards.

We have procedures here for people like you, Samson said finally. Jack didn’t know why, but he felt like flinching every time the man spoke. The general stood up from his chair and walked to the front of his desk.

You see, he continued. When someone does something wrong, we tend to punish them. If they talk back, we give them labor to do, which I believe you’ve already experienced. Of course, the severity of their transgression determines the consequences. If two trainees are caught fighting or acting dangerously, the punishment is more severe than bathroom cleaning. But, Mr. Harris, what you did today went above and beyond what we find acceptable. Normally, you’d be thrown out.

Jack’s throat dried. His heart drummed so fast that he could feel it in his ears. He kept quiet and let the general resume speaking.

"Then again, you’re a special case, aren’t you, Mr. Harris? No, I can’t throw you out, because if I do then I’ll have not one, but three generals on my back. Still, this is my camp and it’s my call. So, here’s what I propose, Mr. Harris. Are you listening?"

Y-yes, sir.

I’m sure you can tell by looking at me that I’m not a man to make false threats, yes? The man took a

Reviews for Psych Investigation Episodes

[Timi · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Psych investigation is legit my all time favorite book. My favorite character in this chapter is obviously Rex. Sucks he's not as powerful but he's great.