Voices – Page 82
“This is good,” Starkings said after a few sips from the mug Jen had handed to him.
“Thank you,” she said. “John buys it at the shop down the street. I just, you know… follow the instructions for the machine.”
Starkings smiled, took another sip, and then looked at them. He was sitting in the easy chair, turned to face toward them. Brian and Kevin were on the couch. John was sitting on the end table, leaning against the wall, legs crossed. Jen was on the floor, and her head rested against John’s crossed ankles.
“You’re waiting for me to tell you why I’m here,” Starkings said.
“I could find out, but it’s more polite to let you tell us,” John said.
“Ah, so you’re a telepath, then.”
“Yes,” John said. There was no sense in hiding it.
“Well, that explains a lot.”
Starkings smiled, drank, and looked at them.
“Start,” John said after a moment, and the FBI agent’s smile became a grin.
“Okay,” he said and, pointing at Brian, he began. “You’re Brian Thompson, only son of Reggie and Miribeth Thompson, of Framingham Massachusetts. You dropped out of a promising high school career and ran away at age 17, for no discernable reason. Now, thanks to the good people at, well… just about every news station in the country, we know the reason.”
Brian grimaced, but said nothing. Starkings went on.
“Do you turn into anything else?”
“Other than a giant, talking werewolf? No.”
“Then you are what we call a bimorph. You have two forms. If you cut yourself shaving, and then transform, and then return to normal, is the cut gone?”
Brian nodded.
“You are a generative bimorph, then, rather than a manipulative bimorph.”
“I’m sure you can sleep easy now, Brian,” Jen said.
Brian rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing,” he said, “That a manipulative bimorph can only change around his body’s molecules, not rapidly grow new ones. So like whatever they change into, it has to be the same mass and weight.”
“That is correct,” said Starkings. “You’re a smart young man.”
“So you have a whole classification system?” John asked.
Starkings nodded. “Bimorphs, polymorphs, omnimorphs… although those are theoretical. We’ve never encountered one.”
John was silent, considering this. Starkings continued, pointing at Kevin.
“Your name is Kevin Newbury, named by the state, as was your sister April, now deceased… my condolences. Parents unknown. You ran away from your foster home, with your sister, approximately eighteen months ago.”
“Yeah, because they…”
Starkings held his hand up. “We know. They’re in jail now.”
“Good,” Kevin said. “Fuckers.”
“Indeed. You can both generate and control electricity, and judging by what you did to the young woman from channel six, I’d say you’ve been practicing for quite some time.”
“Six years,” Kevin said.
“Interesting. How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Most children don’t manifest that young.”
“I’ve been immune to shocks since I was born. I didn’t figure out how to control it until I was nine though.”
Starkings nodded. He glanced at Jen. “And now, possibly the most interesting member of the group… You’re Jennifer Wilkens. Daughter of Henry and sister of Timothy. Your mother, Sarah, died when you and Timothy were two years old. You went missing at the same time that your uncle… died… and were presumed dead. Obviously, you are not.”
“No,” Jen said.
“You’re now wanted for questioning in regard to the death of Jakob Wilkens, Jennifer.”
