Devour

Chapter 27 - Errol

It takes me the better part of the day to get to Oxford. I use telekinesis to get myself on and off of the necessary buses, still marveling at what a free man I am. No one takes a second glace at the tattoo on my neck. I quickly remove the anklet and wrist tracker.

I also need a change of clothes but I'm not getting them easily. I don't have any money on me, of course, and I am not confident enough to shop lift more than is strictly necessary. I hardly need to be discovered. While the average person doesn't seem to know about psychics there's every possibility the government does know.

Nobody in Bucknell recognized Cora's description. But. I haven't given up yet. Close, but not yet. I want to know if she's here, and okay. I have to. What if she is as lost as I? She said she went to Oxford, she said she taught there. If so then they should have record of her and maybe I can track her down.

In a new sweatshirt and different jeans, smelling vaguely gasoline and burnt flesh, I do not look like a trustworthy individual. Of that I am aware. However. I also don't care. Even if they don't tell me where she is then they'll think about it and I'll know.

Oxford turns out to be far bigger than I anticipated, and navigating it is confusing, scanning minds or no. Eventually I make my way to the social studies ish buildings and find my way to a competent looking office with a receptionist.

"Hi um---I'm looking for Cora Brightfield? I'm an old friend," that did not sound believable Errol you sound like a murderer.

"She's not in this department she teaches in the political science building," the receptionist says, wondering if she should be talking to me or not.

"Okay, cool, thank you," I say, leaving before she decides to call the police. She thought about where the political science building was, so with only a little trouble I find that to loiter outside of. That is the end of my plan anyway. I don't have time yet considering I still have no idea as to how to get back to the kids I have nothing but time to wait.

I only have to wait a few hours, in the end, before I see her. Ridiculously alive and not burned, chatting with a colleague and a student.

"Cora," I say, standing up and following her at a non-threatening distance in case she------she doesn't remember me. She has no idea who I am. "You don't know who I am----do you?"

"No, I'm sorry should I?" she asks, wondering if, based off of my injuries I'm someone from her military career.

"Kind of um----yeah I am pretty sure we knew each other and I'm having a bit of a problem and---could we talk?"

"Yeah---I'll catch up with you in a bit," she says to the others, even though she thinks I look odd she feels bad. She might not recognize me what with the scars.

"No you knew me after the scars----shit I'm sorry----I'll explain everything," I say, wincing when I realize I just responded to her thoughts. I'm far too used to it. 

"I'm really sorry I don't seem to remember you, what's your name?" she asks, kindly since I look sad.

"Errol Forty-Seven---um just Errol, you're Cora Brightfield you grew up in Brisbane and you like chocolate drizzled on the edges of wine glasses with a red wine, you love being outside and hiking and you're better than anyone I know at puzzles, you don't like shaving your arms and you have a .45 magnum in your purse now it's your favorite," I say, "I can tell you just about anything you ask me about you---because you are my only friend. And I could really, really use your help."

"How do I know you?" she asks, really suspicious but also kind of intrigued and pretty confident she can take me if I am stalking her to kill her.

"We raised five children together," I say, with a sigh, "And I think they're in danger and I need to get home to them."