Robert Walker - Unnatural Instinct

The door opened a crack, and Jessica saw that the interior was semi dark, the drapes pulled against any Virginia sunlight that might dare attempt to enter the room. Kim's normally bright and cheery surroundings appeared to have been turned into a mortuary or mausoleum. Uncharacteristically inhospitable, Kim held Jessica at the door, where she grimly stood; Kim also tilted her head to show only her left side. “Are you going to let me in or do I have to-”

“ Go away, Jess. I'm not feeling well, and I'm not receiving visitors, and I certainly don't… feel sociable right now.”

“ Eriq said you want off the case.”

“ Wanted off, past tense. I choose my cases carefully. I have to. I don't have the luxury of psychological distance, not like you and the others have, and at the close range I am at, I can't as easily maintain a mental balance in the face of such horror, Jess. Now, if you don't mind…”

Jessica sensed there was more to it than what Kim had to say, far more. But Kim didn't wish to confide, and in an impulsive move, she pushed the door closed, but Jessica just as impulsively shoved her foot in and pushed back, knocking the door open. It stood wide open now, sunlight pouring through as the two friends glared at one another. The sunlight created a halo around Jessica where she stood in the doorway. Jessica's action had surprised Kim, revealing that the psychic's right cheek appeared badly bruised. “What the hell's happened to you, Kim?”

“ I walked into a door,” she bitterly replied. “Now, please, leave.”

“ Who the hell's struck you? That cop boyfriend of yours, Sincebaugh? I'll kick his-”

“ No one's battered me, Jess!” Kim wrapped her head and face in a large scarf, revealing an area on each wrist that looked like age spots or the spots of leprosy. “You've got no right storming in here like some savior. I want you to leave now, Jess.”

“ My God, Kim, tell me what's going on! Your hands, your face are-”

“ Despicable, I know.” Kim's eyes swelled, and tears flowed. She turned away. “You're stating the obvious, Jess.”

Jessica grabbed hold of her friend's shoulders and stared at the awful discoloration on her right cheek. She gasped when realizing what she stared at was diseased tissue-^decay, even. She helplessly shrank back, recoiling for a split second as she might with a leper. But how had Kim contracted leprosy?

Kim recoiled away as well, flailing her way to a chair, her shoulder hurting from where Jessica had touched it. “I'm decaying, Jess. Literally decaying.”

“ My God, has it been diagnosed? Who're you seeing?”

“ I'm seeing DeCampe! She's decaying, Jess; she's somewhere fucking decaying, and I can't go near her, not… not again, not ever.”

Jessica stepped closer to Kim, one hand extended, yet fearful of touching her friend. “Are you telling me that your symptoms are due to-”

“ My only hope, if it's not too late, is to rid my mind of this goddamn case, to rid my mind of DeCampe and her condition.”

“ I've never known your psychic wounds to be so… this severe, Kim. I absolutely agree. I just need to understand. Are you saying that DeCampe is in the process of decaying and that you somehow tapped into her dead body and-”

“ Yes, damnit. DeCampe is decaying, by the hour in some hellish grave.”

“ She's buried somewhere? But where? Have you got a location, Kim?”

“ She feels buried alive but decaying at the same time. I see her in a coffin.”

“ Decaying alive,” Jessica repeated.

“ I don't know… it makes no sense… but she just doesn't feel dead… rather she feels like she wants to be dead.”

“ But she's not dead yet.”

“ Nor am I, Jess.” She turned and faced Jessica. “I keep sensing that she is somehow being tortured with her own flesh.”

“ My God,” Jessica gasped once more at seeing the discoloration on Kim's cheek, and now at her wrists.

“ That's all I know about DeCampe. Now you've got the information you came for, so please go.”

“ I appreciate your insights on the case, Kim, but I came here out of concern for you. No one's seen you.”

“ I know that you came out of concern, but now that you have seen me, please, go!” Kim fell into a chair.

“ You know I can't just walk away from you and leave you here in this condition.”

“ Leave, please.”

“ I love you, and I want what's best for you. Have you seen a doctor for… what kind of medication you can use?” Jessica had gone to her knees before her friend, reaching out, caressing her forearms, careful to avoid any malignant spots.

“ Medications don't work on mind-altered states, Jessica. You know that as well as I. All I can do is keep away from Maureen DeCampe, wherever she is.”

Jessica sighed heavily. “I'm so sorry, Kim. I had no idea.”

“ No one does, and please, I would like to keep it that way.”

Jessica reached out and embraced her. Kim tried to hold back the tears, but in a moment, she erupted, her body quaking against Jessica's, until she pulled away and rushed from Jessica, shouting, “Go-get away from me. For all we know, this psychic leprosy could be contagious.”

Kim now firmly took hold of Jessica's arm and ushered her to the door, and there put her out, closing the door between them.

Jessica called out. “Let me know if there is anything- anything-you need, Kim. If you need someone, let me know.”

Silence. No answer.

It felt like the silence of a cavern behind the thick white door, the silence of suffering. Jessica felt angry with herself at having involuntarily recoiled at first sight of Kim's cankerous facial sores. She could not take that back, but the surprise and shock were understandable. It had only been a day since she had last seen a healthy Kim Desinor, and now this.

Agitated, pacing at the doorstep, not wanting to abandon Kim, Jessica saw that Richard was staring at her, that he must wonder what was going on. Her eyes returned to the blank door, which stared back, and she heard the soft crying of the woman inside. The sound made Jessica weak and angry with herself that she'd allowed Kim to manhandle her out the door. She now wondered what she ought to do. She then shouted through the door, “You know me, Kim. I'm going to meddle. I'm going to call Dr. Roy Shoate-best physician in the city. He'll make a house call on my say- so. There's got to be something we can do.”

Again silence.

Jessica felt a twinge of fear; she didn't want to leave Kim alone, but she also knew how fiercely proud the woman was, and she must respect her wishes. She stepped away from the door, feeling as if she were letting Kim down, that she and the FBI family had already let her down. She feared Kim might do something to harm herself.

Halfway back to the waiting car and Richard, she dialed Dr. Shoate on her cellular phone.

Jessica had learned never to discount Kim Desinor's visions or suspicions, and never to read one of her visions literally. If she said Judge DeCampe was in some place of decay, this could have many interpretations, that there were many rivers to the ocean. Decay had many connotations and images attached to it, and the place where DeCampe was being held might simply be a “place of decay” such as a cemetery or burial plot or even a cold storage meat packing company. The fact that her abductor had “confined” her could point to a decay of movement as in wither, ebb, crumble, dwindle, fade, fall off. In the most hideous sense, however, it meant spoil, corrupt, perish, degenerate, decompose, deteriorate, disintegrate, putrefaction, and adulteration. Then again, adultery came out of adulteration, so the association could go on endlessly, and therein lay both the strength and the weakness of the psychic and psychic imagery. The psychic vision might not in and of itself be useful, but in the psychic's interpretation, a use might often come of psychic information. Kim had proven herself time after time as an able and capable interpreter of her own visions. If she said that Maureen DeCampe was “in a state of decay,” there was some truth to this, but it could well mean that she was in a state within the contiguous United States that was in a state of decay, such as a farm state in a nation that no longer valued the private farm and its family of caregivers. Or it might be taken literally, that DeCampe might well be buried alive in a coffin this moment. Decay meant decline, decadence, failure-all adjectives perhaps better applied to DeCampe's abductor. Decay stood for collapse, for waste, breakdown, and breakup, dissolution, corruption, and mold, blight, and rot-perhaps the condition of a man gone mad. All these horrid images Kim had internalized, and the result was disease overtaking Kim's own body-a strange psychic malady somehow connected to DeCampe's circumstances. Psychosomatic illness taken to the tenth power, Jessica imagined.