Extracted - Chapter 13 – How Many Eggs Does It Take – Part 1 of 3

 

Extracted

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 13 – How Many Eggs Does It Take – Part 1 of 3

 

Special Agent Rosenberg had just gotten back to her hotel room when her cellphone rang.  She noticed that the call was from her boss back at the FBI building in New York.  She answered the call.  “Rosenberg.”

“Ellen,” her boss said.  “Have you had a chance to meet with the family yet?”

“I just came from there sir.”

“And?”

“And it looks like our worst fears are confirmed.  Stephen Marsh seems to have somehow picked up Nancy Stiller’s identity, and there is no sign of Stephen in his body at all.”

“Damn!  When you told me this afternoon what you discovered, I had no choice but to run it up the ladder.  I’ve had the brass from D.C. bugging me every twenty minutes ever since.  They’re not going to want to hear this.”

“Sorry sir, but it is what it is.  The problem is that I’m really not sure exactly what it is.”

“But do you still think that your earlier report was accurate, that we may be looking at a group somewhere with the capability of implanting someone else’s consciousness into other people, and possibly creating an army of killers?”

Rosenberg considered that for only a moment before saying.  “I’m afraid I do sir.  Now, more than ever.  As much as I hate to say it, it looks exactly like someone implanted Stephen Marsh’s identity and memories into Nancy Stiller, and then turned around and implanted Nancy Stiller into Stephen Marsh.  And sir, I’m not an expert, but it very well may have been done that way just to prove to us what they could do and that they’re not trying to fool us.”

“Damn!” her boss swore softly.  “Okay, I’ll pass the bad word onto D.C. right away.  Something tells me my phone is going to be keeping me awake all night.”

“Sorry about that sir.”

“Are you heading back now?”

“No.  I’m at my hotel.  I still want to talk to Stephen’s psychiatrist tomorrow.  Stephen actually had an appointment set up to see him again in the morning.  I’m going to be there, and Stephen’s mother and father both promised they’d be there as well.”

“Okay.  Good.  Keep on it, and let me know everything you find.  I don’t have to tell you Ellen, this looks bad.”

“It could be, sir,” Ellen agreed.

“See you tomorrow,” her boss replied before hanging up.

 

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It was late, bedtime, when Wanda found Nancy in the kitchen.  “What are you doing?”

“Oh!” Nancy said, startled at being caught.  “I hope you don’t mind.  I couldn’t sleep, and sometimes when I can’t sleep, I go down and make myself something to eat.”

Wanda looked at the eggs she had put on the counter.  “Eggs?”

“I like eggs.  I’ll put them back.  Sorry.”

“No.  I didn’t know you can cook.”

“Not that well, but it’s good enough for me.  So you don’t mind?”

Wanda shook her head.  “Go right ahead.”

Nancy went back to looking around the kitchen.  “I can’t tell you how weird it is to not be able to reach everything in the kitchen.  Even the stove is too high, but I can manage.  I had no problem getting to anything before.”

“Huh!  I’m and adult and I can’t reach everything either,” Wanda told him.  “What are you looking for?”

“The pans.”

Wanda went over to one of the drawers, opened it, and pulled out a small frying pan.  “Here you go.”

Nancy looked at the pan.  “That’s kind of small.”

“Small?  How many eggs are you going to cook?”

“I don’t know.  I usually make five or six.”

“Six eggs at a time?”

“Yeah.  Of course.”

“How much did you weigh?”

“Around one ninety eight.”

Wanda was aghast.  “One ninety….  Nancy, the last time we weighed you, you were only sixty-one pounds, not two hundred.  Here, have a seat,” she told her daughter, motioning to the stools on the other side of the island counter.  She put the frying pan away, then grabbed the eggs and put them back into the refrigerator.  From the freezer she pulled out a tub of chocolate ice-cream.  She dished out two scoops into bowls for each of them, then she sat on the stool next to Nancy.

Nancy took the spoon and tried some of the ice-cream.  “Mm!”

“What’s wrong?” Wanda asked.

“Nothing.  This tastes good.”

“Good.  I’m glad.  Did your mother buy that brand of ice-cream?”

“Yeah.  I just don’t remember it tasting this good before.  And I liked chocolate, but it wasn’t exactly my favorite.  Now, I may have to rethink that.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Wanda told her.

“It’s weird,” Nancy said.  “Since I’ve been here, everything tastes…different.”

“Different?”

“Yeah.  Better.  Like it has more flavor or something.”

“Mm,” Wanda said.  “Maybe it’s because your taste buds are younger.  But I’m glad you’re at least enjoying it.”

“I am,” Nancy confirmed.  She ate for a minute in silence, then said, “I’m sorry I cried earlier.  I…couldn’t help it.”

“You’re sorry?  In case you didn’t notice, I was crying too.”

“Yeah but I’m not supposed to cry.  I don’t even remember the last time I cried.  I feel stupid for doing it.”

“Why?”

“Because…I do.”

“Nancy.  You’re not a two-hundred pound guy anymore.  You’re a twelve year old girl.”

“Not mentally!”

“Still, mentally or not, you’re physically a girl.  And girls, and women…heck, females in general, cry!  And sometimes we cry at the drop of a hat.  It’s what we do.  It’s who we are.  Embrace it and enjoy it.”

“How can you enjoy crying?”

“Oh brother,” Wanda muttered.  “It’s all about giving in to your emotions.  Women…females, are filled with emotion.  Something tells me you need to get used to that.  I can see no reason why men seem to think they shouldn’t cry.  It’s stupid, but that’s the way it is.  But women crave emotion, and crying is something we just do.  She poked Nancy with the handle of her spoon.  “And you dear are now female.  Live it…and love it.  Or at least try to.”

Nancy shook her head.  “How?”

“Try!”

 

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In Philadelphia, Agatha climbed the stairs up to Stephen’s room.  His bedroom door was open, and he was sitting on his bed staring at nothing.  “You okay?” she asked.

Stephen looked at her for a moment before he replied.  “Yeah.  I just….  It was good to talk to my family again.  My…real family.  I’m sorry if that hurts you but…to me, they’re still my real family.  And I miss them.”

“I’m sure you do,” Agatha replied, going in and sitting on the bed with him.  It was difficult to remember that her large muscular son was now mentally a twelve-year old girl.  Seeing him crying like he had earlier had been distressing.  “How are you coping otherwise?”

“Coping?”

“Yes.  How are you managing.  I’m sure everything has got to be so different for you.”

“That’s an understatement,” Stephen replied.

“Any big problems that stand out?”

“More than I can deal with.”

“What things bother you the most?”

“Being bored.”

“Bored?”

“I’m not into football or any other sports, and that’s all I see around here is things that…the old Stephen used to play with.  He’s got a closet full of shoes with spikes on them and a bunch of sneakers, but even the sneakers are full of mud and dirt and there’s hardly any shoes that look nicer.  And don’t get me started on the rest of his clothes.”

Agatha was surprised.  “What’s wrong with his clothes?”

“They’re boring!  Like everything else.”

“They are?”

“Yeah.  He’s got a couple of suits in the closet, and I tried one of them on to see how I looked.  I didn’t know how to tie the tie so I had to take it off and just leave the top of my shirt unbuttoned.  I looked okay, but basically, all his suits are the same.  All his clothes are the same.  It’s all the same.”

“What do you want?”

“I want…color.  Fun.  Interest.  Style.  Change!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not a girl right now.”

“How could I not notice!”

“So you’ve been trying on clothes?”

“What else is there to do?  The only problem is, the only mirror in here is the one over the dresser and I can’t see my whole body.  It’s useless.”

“I take it you’ve got a bigger one where you come from?”

“Yeah.  Full length so I can see my outfits.”

“Stephen dear,” Agatha said, putting her hand on his shoulder.  “You’re still too much girl!”

“I’m all girl!  Or at least I was.”

“I’m sorry,” Agatha said as she put her arm around both shoulders and squeezed him to her.  “I’d fix it if I could.  I just don’t know how…yet.”

“Yeah.  I know.  It’s just…”

“Frustrating?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe!”

“Oh, I believe it,” Agatha replied.  “Don’t forget, we’ve got another session with that psychiatrist tomorrow morning, except I don’t know how much time that FBI agent is going to take up.”

“She’s going to be there?”

“Your Dad and me too,” she told him.

Stephen nodded.

“Can you tell me something?” Agatha asked.

“Why not?”

“Since that phone call, I’ve been kind of curious.  What does your mother do?”

“Mom?”

“Yes.  What’s she like?  What does she like to do?”

“Throw dinner parties.”

“Dinner parties.  I do quite a few of those myself.  Does your mother like to cook?”

Stephen shrugged.  “Sometimes, I guess.  For the parties though, we have a maid…Mattie.  But her sister Claire likes to cook, and she’s like really good at it.  Mom hires her to cook for most of her parties now so that she can spend her time on all the tiny details as she calls it.  She likes to fuss so much over that stuff.”

“I guess I would too if I had someone to do the cooking for me.  Maybe I should check with Teresa and see if she has a sister like your maid.”

Stephen shrugged again.  “Maybe.”  His eyes fell on his dresser.  He noticed something he had been dying to ask about.  “Mom,” he said.  “And I hope you don’t mind me calling you that.  I really don’t know what I’m supposed to call you.”

“Mom is perfect,” Agatha assured him.  “What is it?”

Stephen got up and picked up the keyring from the dresser.  “I’m supposed to be seventeen years old.  I’ve got a car and a driver’s license in my wallet.  Will you teach me to drive?”

Agatha was shocked.  “Oh hell no!” she replied quickly as she got up and grabbed the keys out of his hand.  “You’re not old enough yet!”

“But I’m seventeen!”

“Not mentally, you’re not.”

“Then when can I learn?”

“Not till you’re sixteen…at least!  If then!”

“Sixteen!  But that’s…years away.”

“Like it or not, you’ll just have to wait!”

She walked out of the room shaking her head.  “Driving!”

 

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At the breakfast table the next morning, Wanda took one look at Nancy and was shocked.  “Nancy!”

“What?”

Wanda whispered, “Your nipples are showing through that shirt.  Why aren’t you wearing a bra?”

Her damn nipples again.  Nancy’s hands went to her chest and she rubbed her growing breasts vigorously.

“Nancy!  Stop that!”

“Why do they have to bother me so much?”

“Because they’re growing.  You know th…”  She stopped.  “Oh.  You don’t know that, do you?”

“That doesn’t mean they have to be such a nuisance,” Nancy complained.

Emily, sitting next to her snorted a laugh.  “Wait till they get bigger.”

“Which is what they’re doing right now,” Wanda told her.  “Now finish eating and go back to your room and put on a bra.  Then brush your hair…a full fifteen minutes this time and not a minute less!  Hear that young lady?  And don’t forget to throw it over your head and brush the underside like I showed you.  Fifteen minutes!”  She sighed loudly.  “And I guess I’ll be up after I clean up the breakfast dishes.  Something tells me that you and I are going to have to sit down and have a little talk today about becoming a woman.”

Emily sniggered a laugh, then got up.  “I’m not having that talk with her,” she called as she ran out laughing.

 

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