Behind Yellow Eyes: Chapter 18
Chapter 18.
Marcus has spent the past two weeks in the hospital. After he regained consciousness, he was promptly met by the police. They had some photos of his grandfather to show him. He was found dead in a neighbor's house, and they needed him to verify the remains. He was apparently trying to rescue them from a house fire, and smoke overcame him before he could get out.
"We don't do the whole morgue thing anymore," the officer had said. "Too grisly, asking family to identify a body in person. We use photos now, they're just as effective but it's emotionally easier."
Well, it wasn't. He cried long and hard, losing the only family he had left.
He feels lost. Moreover, he has no idea what to do about it. His grandfather was always the guiding force in his life, and despite how often he resented it in the past, he now wants more than anything to be pushed and prodded in some direction forward. The few friends he had are dead now, too. He's all alone.
As a result, Marcus quickly figured out just how often he could ask for relief from his pain, and a few days ago he noticed that they must be tapering him off because the drugs aren't working like they used to, plus he's getting doses further and further apart.
"Mister Fielding?" Marcus looks up and finds the question coming from a short Rhenthar, he recognizes the breed, Beagle. He's holding out a paw with very short, manicured nails. Marcus takes it and they shake.
"My name is Reese, I'm a representative from the Benjamin Morris investment fund." Emphasis on the, Marcus notes. He's irritable and wonders what this is about. If it's some bill collector, he's going to scream at him.
"So that's how things stand, presently. What would you like to do with the funds?" Reese asks.
Marcus hesitates. "What?" He turns and looks at Reese, somehow he made it over to the chair beside the table in his small area. Papers are neatly stacked beside him, and Marcus doesn't remember them.
"The dispersing of the life insurance payout. Where would you like it to go?"
"What life insurance?" Marcus asks, feeling thoroughly confused.
"Um," he pauses. "I see." Reese's eyes focus on the bandages around Marcus's head, and he nods to himself. "Let's try this again. Do you know who I am?"
"Your name is Reese, and you're... with some investment house?"
"Yes," he says, nodding. "Benjamin Morris sent me here to discuss your grandfather's life insurance policy, which as we discussed?" He looks curiously at Marcus. "Is rather large?"
"I'm sorry," Marcus shakes his head. "I don't remember anything after you just got here. Something is wrong with my head."
Reese is wearing an old-fashioned gold wristwatch, and he glances at it impatiently. "I've been here twenty minutes, perhaps I should come back in a few days?" he asks.
Marcus shakes his head. "Nono, I'm fine. What was this about again?"
"Ok," Reese says. "Let's try the short version. Thirty years ago, your grandfather bought into a policy that isn't even offered, these days. It vested when he died and you are listed as the only beneficiary..."
Marcus is now rich. He's not sure what to do with all the money, but several suggestions are offered to him by Reese. Financial houses that can manage his estate. He opts for one, purely by how the name sounds: Clearwater Investments. He's assigned a personal assistant who has answers for any question he can come up with, twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year.
Rather than do what most 18-year-old's would do with 4.3 million credits, and that's after taxes, he thinks about what his grandfather would want him to do. His education was his grandfather's greatest wish, so he decides to make it his own.
"Janelle?" his query is routed through his wetware's audio call processor.
"What can I do for you today, Mr. Fielding?"
"I'm looking for a better education. Can you get me into one of the big universities specializing in..." Marcus glances at busy Rhenthar walking past his hospital room. "The medical profession."
"Absolutely. I'll get back to you within the hour."