By the time Natalie and Kate coasted down on their cloudboards, Moron had vomited twice and fainted. He was out pretty deep, too, as zapping him didn’t wake him up. I entertained myself by flicking pebbles at him from my perch on an old log.
“Well?” Kate asked.
I shrugged. “I got nothing. He is in some deep denial.”
She sighed, then turned, asking, “Natalie?”
She shook her head, “I’m afraid I would kill him. I think he’s kind of hopeless. You’ve already had two weeks with him, so there’s nothing new I could show him.”
Kate sat down on an empty spot on my log. “So what do we do with him? I mean, has this ever happened to anyone before?”
“I’m not a history buff,” I said.
“I’m not aware of anyone being so deep in denial,” Natalie replied.
“Idiot needs some counseling,” I said. “There’s more issues going on in his head.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t exactly have a psychologist we can go to on this.”
“Maybe not,” Kate’s eyes lit up, “but we do have a detective.”
We exchanged looks. “That’s not exactly the same thing,” I ventured.
“Close enough for me,” Kate said.
Natalie shrugged. “He’s your rookie, so that’s fine by me.”
“Can you help me get him there, he’s going to be dead weight until he wakes up.”
“Easier to deal with than when he’s screaming,” I muttered, kicking him lightly in the shin.
“Come on, it’s a long flight back to the west coast,” Nat said, grabbing one of Moron’s arms.