I spit out his skin. “Not a PsyPath, dumbass. Your conscious mind isn’t my goal, it’s your memories. And they’re stored in more than your mind. So, shield and trap away, asshole. I’m not even there.”
For the living, the most expeditious place to read memories is the brain. But I can also read memories of the dead. If the organ that is the brain is no longer living, how can I continue to read their memories? The mind’s a funny thing. As cerebral and conscious beings, we think our thoughts and senses are completely under our control and contained in our brain, which isn’t entirely true. What our brain can sense and perceive is much greater than we consciously know. Our senses along with any mind speech combines to form memories. The memories are created and stored in the brain, but there is a second area, a psychic cloud if you will, that memories are automatically backed up to. I can access memories from either place, but a physical tie or conduit is needed. I prefer objects as they provide a buffer, but human touch is the most direct.
Meathead is currently trapped in a loop of memories I created by knotting a circle in a particularly dark part of his memory thread and dragging it down into his memory lake and forging an anchor to tie it down. I didn’t have time to read them, but I can easily tell good memories from bad and I can assure you, he isn’t remembering kittens and rainbows. Though I can release him later, I prefer a PsyPath do so. It’d be great if I never see, let alone touch him again. If nothing else, the anchor isn’t permanent, and his memory thread will eventually untangle from the knot and extract itself from the lake. That will only take a few days, my anchor was pretty good.
My right hand is still pained from the kick, but my glove protected me a bit. I press the touch-to-talk button. “Gray here, police acknowledge. OVER.”
“Seti here. GO AHEAD”
“I got the sixth team member. I don’t know if there are any more.”
“ROGER. Location?”
“Same place, west and south of office and pool area, behind two shrubs. If the area is secured, I’ll stand up.”
“STAND-BY, Gray. AFFIRMATIVE, area is secure. Stand up.”
“ROGER. Standing up now. OUT.” I casually launch Meathead with my feet as I wiggle from beneath him. Beginning to climb up, I hear a voice calling my name.
“I’m over here. Gimme a sec, rising up now.”
“Here, give me your hand, I’ll help you up.” Of course, it would be Sheriff Helki. I first met him fifteen years ago when he was one of many responding officers during my altercation with Matthias Fischer, yes, father of Tracy Fischer. Next, he was on hand several years ago when I shot a man in self-defense. Now, he’s here to witness my wonderful countenance after biting Meathead’s cheek off and getting into a tiny tussle.
“I swear, you’re a trouble magnet,” he says while grasping my gloved hand and pulling me to my feet.
“Not my fault. Anyone could have discovered these despicable dumbasses.”
“Really?”
“Nefarious numbskulls? Fucktard fraternity? Dastardly dudes? Muy mal mujeres? Sinister sorority?” Stop rambling, take a deep breath, and calm down, I tell myself.
“Two of your options are for groups of women.”
“I object to the fact that a gathering of men and women is only referred to in the masculine. Equal opportunity, they can easily be called the feminine group name. But, my first two attempts are gender neutral and are thus my favorites.”
“Alright, wannabe badass.”
“First, no alliteration. Boooo! Second, plural is badasses.”
“I was referring to you.” He reaches down and flips Meathead to his stomach, handcuffs his hands behind his back, then searches him. Sheriff Helki is still pulling weapons off Meathead’s person when Lt. Setimika along with Tiko and his sisters arrive on scene. All those weapons and he wanted to get into a psychic showdown with me? Double dipshit.
“Seti, will you please call in two rangers to take custody of the suspect? They may need to carry him off. Gray, can you release him from whatever mind thing you did to him?”
“I can, but I’d prefer not to. I think a mind healer or PsyPath should do the honors. I can’t guarantee that I can keep his mind intact. Also, he’s the one that put the police officer in a trance or something, so I don’t want to muck that up.”
“I’ll call Healer Minki, Sheriff. She can send whoever she thinks best.”
“Thanks, Seti. Who do we have with the new residents?”
“Tamez is there now with Catori and Sully. Lowell is at base camp with Chief Quanah. Chief Quanah assumed command of the PsyPorters and PsyKinetics volunteering to help with the new resident arrivals today and directed their involvement in the operation. They’re all reservists in the military so are used to the command process. The suspected infiltrators are also being sent to Chief Quanah for questioning.”
“Wait, why would Chief Quanah, the head of SWACon military, be here in Albuquerque while we’re settling new residents? He’s usually at headquarters in Wir-Kiva or at the main military base in Hohokam. Did you expect an attack?”
“Gray, you know all conservatorships have stepped up territorial security, which falls under the military. We didn’t know an attack would happen, of course, but we upgraded our threat level for the new arrivals, just in case. Five thousand is a very large new group, one conservatorships haven’t experienced in a dozen years. Even the recently opened La Loche only had five hundred new residents at a time.”
“Oh, I thought the smaller groups was because La Loche is one of the smaller Psycept settlements.” Two military rangers arrive to take custody of Meathead. They have an ambulance
