By A Thread

9. More Bad News

It was a long afternoon and evening, as Sam explained every detail of his project – or, rather, as much as his memory allowed. The documents the professor had brought with him included detailed notes that he and the younger Sam had taken, and Sam was grateful to fill in some glaring gaps.

And, with trepidation, Sam began to explain the idea that something else had been controlling his leaps. The unknown factor that they had labelled ‘God,’ among a handful of other similar titles.

It was at this point that Professor LoNigro stopped to clean his glasses, brow heavy over his eyes.

“Goodness,” he said, “how can we hope to account for a variable for which we can’t possibly know the value?”

Sam swallowed an aspirin before replying. “We can’t,” he admitted. “Up until now, I figured whoever – or whatever – was doing this had the universe’s best interests in mind; that the things I was sent to do were to the benefit of humanity.”

He laughed. “So imagine my surprise when he, she, they, or it, let this happen.” He rubbed his eye, which might as well have been closed for all the visual input it was giving him at this point.

“If that pain really is temporally correlated to the injury of your counterpart,” the professor remarked as he watched Sam’s obvious signs of distress, “then you may begin to experience some cognitive decline as the damage spreads.”

Sam’s mouth flattened to a line. “I… I know. Judging from the location of the pain, I can expect left frontal lobe damage first. And with it, quite possibly my fine motor functions, memory, and likely my understanding of much of what we’ve discussed today.”

There was a minute, or perhaps longer, of contemplative silence, as the two men sat with this bleak forecast, and considered their options.

“We don’t have the kind of resources you have in the future,” the professor finally said. “I can’t say I’d be able to build one of these Quantum Leap Accelerators; certainly not in the short time you have.”

Sam’s heart sank. Somewhere deep down, he’d known that was the case, but there had been a part of him that dared hope.

“…However,” continued Professor LoNigro, “let’s think laterally. You said that to trigger one of these ‘leaps,’ you had to accomplish some altruistic goal in the life of this person.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And this ‘god’ figure of yours directs where the next leap will take you.”

Sam was beginning to understand where he was going. “So you’re suggesting that I finish what I came here to do, and then I’ll leap to a point that will allow me to fix my mistake?”

“It’s not that I would count on such a thing, but… frankly, it’s all I can think of, Sam.”

That had been the first time the professor had addressed him as ‘Sam’ without first hesitating. It was a small victory.

*          *          *

Katie and Sam sat quietly in the back of the cab as they were escorted back towards Yolanda’s apartment. The arrangement was the same as the previous night; Thelma Beckett still had no interest in leaving the side of her husband and son, no matter how pained her neck became from sleeping in a chair.

Sam’s one good eye peered out the window, watching the city lights, which seemed to irritate his left eye, even though the connection between the eye and his brain seemed severed or otherwise incapacitated. He covered his eye with his hand, frowning.

He hadn’t told Katie about the decline he expected in his brain function; not yet, anyway. He’d need to find the right way to tell her – and he knew eventually that would need to happen, since she would be witness to it.

As the taxi approached the now-familiar run down apartment building, he sensed Katie stiffen beside him, and he followed her gaze out the windshield of the car.

“Watch out! Stop!” she shrieked, as the taxi driver finally noticed the ball of grey fur in the road. A ball of grey fur with gleaming yellow eyes reflecting the taxi’s headlights.

The car screeched, and Sam felt like he was back on Main Street, watching papers full of physics equations fly through the air.

But, instead of that, there was a horrible ‘thump’ as the taxi came to a halt.

“Blitzen…?” Katie squeaked.

Sam had once almost been executed in an electric chair— twice in one leap, in fact. But now, it felt like that leap was a cakewalk compared to the emotional rollercoaster that was this one.

I want to get off now. Please?

*          *          *

The after hours veterinarian pulled up to the side of the road, where Katie and Sam waited, the severely injured Blitzen lying before them.

Sam’s medical knowledge did not extend well to small animals, he realised quickly, but he knew it didn’t look good. But he had to try; surely there was enough tragedy happening around them at this point.

The vet climbed out of the car, clicking his tongue as he peered down at the wounded feline.

“Oh my,” he said, kneeling over Blitzen. “Let’s get this poor creature into better light, shall we?”

He held out his kit bag to Katie. “Would you carry this for me, sweetheart?”

Katie took it silently, while the vet and Sam gingerly picked up the cat. Blitzen let out a visceral wail.

“Don’t hurt him…” Katie whimpered, her eyes red and face stained with tears.

“We’re doing our best, young lady,” the vet said, as they brought the cat inside the apartment building, and placed him on the tiled floor within. An overhead light provided a fair amount more illumination than the dark street. Sam and the vet knelt before Blitzen’s quivering, blood-matted form.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m a doctor…” said Sam, passing the vet his supplies. The vet looked up at him with surprise.

“You, ma’am? Really?”

Sam frowned. “Yes, now would you get to work? Time’s wasting!”

The vet furrowed his brow for a moment, before beginning his assessment of the injury.

“Hmm…”

“What? What is it?”

“These injuries are extensive, I’m afraid,” he said grimly, holding up a gloved hand covered in blood. “I suspect, if I had an X-Ray of the spine, it may well be shattered in places. It’s a miracle this poor creature is still hanging on.”

“What are you saying?” asked Sam, feeling dizzy. “You’re giving up on him?”

The vet looked into his eyes with the weary face of a man who’d had this conversation time and time again.

“Ma’am, if I were somehow able to stave off the death of this cat, it would be in agony for the rest of the time it had. Sometimes it’s best for the animal to let them go.”

Sam brushed tears from his eyes. “You don’t understand! I can’t do this… not today. There has to be some way…”

He crumpled, his forearms flattening on the floor, and his head bowing to meet them, as he sobbed. Of all the cruel things for GTFW to do to him. To Katie.

Then, he felt a warm hand on his back. Katie maneuvered herself next to him on the floor.

“Hey… it’s okay, Sammy. Please don’t cry…”

Sam turned his head, meeting her eye. “I’m sorry for putting you through all of this.”

“Sam, don’t blame yourself. How could you have prevented any of this? Well, except the first thing, but even then, how were you supposed to know?”

She wrapped an arm over his shoulder and squeezed. “I’m fifteen, not a child,” she said. Her voice quavered, but she was remarkably calm. “Am I sad about this poor kitty? Of course. But I get it… I understand that it’s better that he’s put to sleep. I don’t want him to suffer any more…”

“When did you become the big sister?” Sam said, giving her a weak smile, before straightening, and looking to the vet. “I guess… do what you have to.”

As much as it pained him to say it, the vet had been right. It was still heartbreaking, of course.

And he still didn’t know whose cat this was.

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