2010-07-01: Not According To Plan



Date: July 1, 2010


Not everything goes according to the plan…

"Not According to Plan"


It's been three days since Micah's ability fizzled out while talking to Mark on the phone and there's no sign of Wireless anywhere. He's been looking madly through all of his computer files, searching his hard drive, and skimming every piece of technology in an effort to find her. This is an incredibly slow-moving process as he doesn't have his ability. Instead, he's had to read each file after opening it manually, the old-fashioned way like everyone else.

Frustrated and exhausted, Micah lays on the bed with his laptop on his lap, but he's not touching it, he's not even looking at it. His blue jeans and red-shirt are disheveled and he has that spaced-out look like someone who has spent far too much time on the computer, all thanks to his ability which won't work for him.

"I can't find her anywhere," he mutters more to himself than anyone else. "Nothing that looks suspicious or out of place… she's not here. I killed her." His jaw tightens, it's an odd thing to carry around; guilt for terminating a computer program thanks to his ability disappearing, but there it is.

Cam isn't looking all that good, really, though he hasn't complained about being sick. He's looking pale and he's not been moving much, but for the time being he hasn't complained at least. He sits on a chair near the bed, and says, "Are you sure she wasn't just someone like us whose power might have gone out like ours did?"

"She's… different than other people… I think she'd try to get ahold of me by… more conventional means if she was okay— " Micah still has email, right? His eyebrows furrow at Cam as he finally snaps the computer shut, there's no reason to keep his laptop running at this second. "You don't look so good… you okay?" the concern wears on Micah's already nervous face. He runs a hand through his hair wearily before sighing. "Feeling overheated…?"

Cam is quiet just a moment as he's thinking about reasons she might not have emailed, to try to reassure Micah, so the other question catches him just a little off guard. "Oh, actually I'm a little cold. Mostly my stomache just hurts, that's all."

"Really? Why didn't you say something?" Micah leans forward a little concerned. "Maybe you should… get under the blanket or something…" He wrinkles his nose as he sits up a little straighter on the bed. Shifting so he's sitting on the edge of the bed he faces Cam now, contemplatively. "Do you… need to see a doctor or something?"

Cam shakes his head quickly, "No way. How could I see a doctor, anyway, with no parents?" He starts to reach forward for the blanket, and as he leans forward past a certain point he flinches back, "Ow!" Shaking his head he leans back, and comments, "Maybe Wireless fried her computer with whatever happened, and she can't email yet. Maybe she's disabled and can't type without her power."

Micah winces at the question and the flinch. "Cam… something's really wrong…" His own concern grows. "I dunno about the doctor thing, but you're not okay— " He reaches over to press a hand to Cam's forehead, not that he really knows anything about illness, disease, or the like, but he's not stupid. "What are your symptoms…?" he adjusts himself on the bed and pulls the laptop to his lap. While he might not be able to scour for information like before, he still knows how to use google and WebMD. He opens his browser and shrugs about Wireless, "She turned binary. Like… what she was writing— it changed… all zeroes and ones… I don't…" he shakes his head, trying not think about it and focusing on Cam instead. "So. Symptoms?"

Cam frowns a little, almost willing to argue, but obviously deciding to just go with it. "My stomach hurts, from my belly button out to my side, especially when I move too much or cough. And I guess I have a fever. And I kind of feel like I might throw up, but haven't yet."

"Alright…" Micah places his fingers on the keys. It's a foreign feeling these days, he'd become so dependent on his ability, his typing is slower than it used to be, but it's still pretty good and will improve with practice; he's sure of it. He taps a few of the keys and examines the list that pops up only to frown. "Uh…" he glances through the possibilities before walking over to Cam and pressing gently on his stomach only to release all pressure seconds later. "…did it hurt more when I pushed down or when it let up?"

Cam cringes at the pressure, and flinches again as he lets go. He answers, immediately, "When you let go, yeah. Why, what's that mean?" Now he's just a little worried, glancing towards Micah's computer and then back up to him.

"I think…" Micah goes back to the laptop and scans the warnings and the like. "I… think it's serious. According to WebMD" everyone's at-home-always-available doctor and every hypochondriac's worst nightmare "you might have appendicitis… and I know we're like avoiding government people and stuff, buuuuuuut…" he doesn't finish his thought, only stating more firmly, "You need to see a doctor."

Cam closes his eyes at that, resting his head back on the back of the chair and swearing. (Given Cam rarely ever swears, normally using fake swear words like 'frak', this is probably notable.) He's quiet for a long moment, but when he speaks he doesn't argue. He trusts Micah too much. "Ok, once you're packed up, we can call an ambulance. You need to get away quick, or you'll be caught too. Email me where you're going and soon as I can escape, I'll catch up."

Now it's Micah's turn to swear; this isn't according to plan, but his quiet curse is interrupted by his own good sense. "Look, we'll be okay. We'll always find each other, I think this last year has been evidence of that, and yeah, I'll be in touch. Ability or not, I can find wi-fi." He issues Cam a comforting smile, "You'll be okay, you just need a doctor." Or a healer, it's too bad their abilities aren't working.

And then Micah springs into action, packing everything into two backpacks: his and Cam's. "Keep your stuff with you— if you can give the slip once you're fixed… send me an email… we'll figure it out."

Cam nods a little, and says, "I know. I'll find you. If you don't answer my email, I'll track you down like I did before, but you better." He grins a bit and says, "And don't worry, I'll be able to slip away. As soon as I'm good enough to run again, I will. I don't need ice to do that much."

Finishing packing his backpack and Cam's Micah takes a deep breath, taking extra care to keep his laptop in his own; it's his lifeline and the one way he'll be able to find Cam again. "You'll be able to find me. I can't see myself going far either…" He shrugs a little before issuing Cam a smile and zipping his bag. Tugging his shoulders, he reaches for the room phone and dials. 9-1-1. Cool, calmly, he provides all of the information requested from the operator on the phone. Well most of it, anyways. The address, the room number, but no names. Not his, and not Cam's. Instead he hangs up.

Turning to Cam, Micah forces a smile, clamping a hand on his foster brother's shoulder. "They're on their way. You're gonna be okay…" A glance is given to the door, but he waits just a few moments longer.

Cam nods a little, and gives a smile to Micah, confident, "I know I will. Don't worry. But you better get out of here. What if they're already close by? I'll email you as soon as I can get away. Oh, just don't go to Las Vegas. If they ask who made the call, that's where I'll say my brother's going."

"Right," the paramedics could already be near the hotel. Micah gives Cam's shoulder one last squeeze. "And… thanks. I'll stay away from Vegas." He winks before heading to the door. He steps through it, once again into the unknown.

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