This is a first look at ELLA-mental, an eventual graphic novel I’m working on with my little brother as illustrator. Enjoy!

Chase Callahan wrestled a pack of spearmint gum from his pocket and folded a piece into his mouth, mimicking the gum commercials he had seen since childhood. It felt sloppy to do it any other way. He angled the pack at the caffeine-overloaded trainee at his side.

“Gum?”

The trainee eyed him, his hand fidgeting. “Uh—uh no, no, I don’t think I will.”

The stutter was already getting on Chase’s nerves. Who’d hired this guy anyway? He looked more like a patient than an employee. Chase pocketed the gum and pressed his thumb on the scanner. Something behind the scanner hummed.

“PLEASE SPEAK YOUR PASSWORD FOR VOICE AUTHENTICATION, MR. CALLAHAN,” sang a disembodied voice from a speaker above the scanner. The voice was male but very feminine. Chase just knew the techno-geek that had outfitted this system with his own voice had to be laughing in front of his computer somewhere, maniacally pleased to inflict his voice on overworked staff everywhere.

“Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow.”

“THANK YOU,” sang the speaker.

“C—c—c—cute,” the trainee smirked.

Two blue doors clicked as the lock switched open. Chase pulled on a stainless steel handle and propped it wide for his companion. The trainee hesitated, his eyes sliding to a corner and asking if Chase would enter first. Chase waited, an impatient muscle popping out from his jaw. The trainee stepped past, nervous squirrel eyes darting everywhere. Chase followed and let the door swing closed behind them, the lock sliding back into place. A wide blue and sea green corridor stretched twenty rooms beyond them, ten to each side.

“This is our high risk wing. Nothing but the worst in here.”

The trainee’s neck jerked to the side and his eye twitched. Just what this facility needed, thought Chase: a ticker.

“I’ve been told this part of the building could survive an earthquake, fire, and hurricane all at once. The walls and doors are all soundproof and the rooms narrow at the door, so a patient can’t hide behind it.” The trainee tiptoed to the closest door. A broad one-way window was set into it. Chase slid a panel open beside the door, where a monitor surveyed inside. “Why is h—h—he here?” the trainee asked of the ragged man inside.

“Hacked his three wives to death.”

The trainee shivered and backed away from the door. Keeping an arm’s length from the windows, he glanced into each room. He stopped at the last one, drawing near, and flipping open the surveillance panel.

“This one’s j—just a kid,” a note of awe stuttered into his voice. “L—Let me guess, she s—ssstabbed her parents in their sleep?”

“Actually, she almost blew them up.” Chase crowded the one-way window, his crows feet softening as he watched the frail child inside. “Purely accident, though. This is our special case. She’s here as much for her own protection as for the general publics’. Sweet little thing.” He was speaking his thoughts, forgetting the twitchy man at his side. “Just don’t let her think you care. That could be dangerous.”

“Th—that won’t be a pr—problem.”

The girl turned her head as if she knew they were at her door. Her dark eyes burrowed a sad hole through the window. The room showed none of the disarray of the others. She kept it spotless. The only sign that the room had ever been used was her presence. It was as if she was trying to disappear.

“She’s listening.”

“I th—thought you said the walls are s—sssoundproof.”

“They are; she’s warping the sound waves. This is Eleanor Wheeler, the psychologists and scientists are calling her an elemental.” Chase looked down at the twitching trainee; he was staring at the monitor in hungry fascination. “She can control the air.”