Have you heard of the idiom, "just what the doctor ordered"? 

Occasionally, the expression symbolizes a gallant physician arriving in the nick of time to rescue a dying patient. 

Other times, this idiom is said to be a figure of speech. People often say it to friends, unusual co-workers, and families so their troubled minds can be consoled.

But if you are at a restaurant surrounded by incompetent consumers, then you can count on Brooke King and Nessa Phoenix who gets the job done.

Caleb, Johnny, the customers, and the staff all surrounded Brooke and Nessa as they began to heal the dying old man. 

While everyone flocked at the chaos, one by one, the dead celebrities vanished in a blink of an eye.  

Brooke brought out a pair of silver tweezers from her backpack and acquired a silver bullet dipped in blood. 

Disgusted, she places the bullet a nearby trash can and asked Nessa, if she has a container of cleaning alcohol somewhere in her bag. 

Nessa bobbed her head. "Yeah, I think there is one in my backpack."

"Good." Brooke smiled. "Can you do me a favor and get it, please?"

"Sure."

Nessa leaves, then arrive back, unscrewing the bottlecap. She pours the colorless liquid into the wound, causing the old man to wince a little.

Small puddles of blood and rubbing alcohol sprinkled the brown tiles-like condensed raindrops on a frozen beer bottle. 

"You okay?" Nessa asked in a worried tone.

The old man tries to nod, but the discomfort in his chest made it hard for him to move. 

Watching the girls from afar, both Caleb and Johnny trade dreadful looks.

They had no doubt that the girls can cure this man, but they are worried about the public leaking the excitement outside the eatery.

Who is this guy? Johnny thought curiously. And what kind of asshole shoots him in broad daylight? 

Staring into the old man's sullen eyes, Caleb gave attention to his thoughts. They zoomed inside Caleb's head like pests orbiting around an animal's carcass. 

"Dude," Johnny whispered. "What's the old man thinking about?" 

Caleb shoots him a rude glare. "I don't know, man. That's what I am trying to figure out."

Johnny blushed. "Sorry, dude."

Sighing, Caleb locked his eyes at the elderly man and picks up where he left off.

Vital information flowed inside his mind as Caleb learned of an evil entity occurring in the murky water.

For ten years, it has eroded cruise vessels, devoured fish, and killed innocuous people -including the girl Brooke saw in her vision.

What the hell? Caleb wondered.

Surely this man had told the LAPD about what he saw. But then again, the authorities share little interest in anomalies. 

In fact, policemen tend to stay away from the supernatural community because they do not have the jurisdiction to arrest bloodthirsty werewolves of ruthless vampires. 

Tapping Johnny on the shoulder, Caleb whispered in a low voice: "After the fiasco is over, do you think we should leave?"

Johnny looks at his companion. "What are you talking about?"

"I may have a theory of what happened to the old geezer." Caleb went on. "But the last thing we need are people questioning us."

"Really?" Johnny's eyes widen like marbles. 

"Yep."

"What did you hear?"

Caleb gripped Johnny's right shoulder. "I will tell you after Brooke and Nessa are done."

Speaking of the girls, Brooke whips out a small, pink jar from her trusty purse.

She then unscrews the lid, scoops up the bitter, pink lotion with her index finger, and rubs the oily substance on the old man's bleeding injuries. 

"Sir, are you okay?" Nessa studies the old man's tired face as she mopped the sweat from his wrinkled forehead.

Running his dry tongue across his cracked lips, the old man bobbed his head. 

"Yes, I am feeling better now," he responded. 

"Thank you, kids." 

Both Brooke and Nessa smile at his gratitude, but Caitlin attempts to persuade the old man that he needs to go and see a doctor. 

However, as she looks at his bony chest, Caitlin noticed that Brooke's powerful medicine caused the fresh gash to disappear.

"Oh my God," she mumbled. 

How did the wound heal so quickly? 

Grumbling to himself, the old man gets up from the brown tiled floor.

He didn't understand how he wound up in a hamburger joint; especially the circle of people surrounding him.

But at least the injury in his abdomen had stopped bleeding.

"I think I am fine." the old man says to Caitlin. 

Caitlin nods slowly and analyses his slightly ragged appearance. 

His torn grayish-blue tank top showed gray chest hairs. His scrawny chicken legs hiding inside thick pairs of blue jeans.

Covering his massive arms is a worn-out leather brown jacket. Tucked in his back pocket is a pistol of some sort. 

Soft brown bandages cloaked the old man's wrinkled fingertips. 

Black combat boots concealed his large feet, whereas a thick brown cowboy hat conserved the old man's bald head. 

She didn't know if he was a homeless person or some kind of Hollywood actor. But Caitlin did not want to pry into his personal life.

Instead, she had Caleb and Johnny take the old man over to their table where Caitlin wrote down his coffee order.

"Black with two sugar cubes?" the waitress repeated. 

The old man bobs his head. "Yes, ma'am."

Smirking, Johnny politely asked the waitress if he and his friends can take their lunches to go. 

"I see," Caitlin murmured. "So, you and your friends are not going to eat at the diner?" 

Johnny shakes his head in embarrassment. 

"Yeah, sorry." he nervously laughs. "My pals and I are kind of in a hurry."

"Okay." Caitlin lowers her pen to her side. 

Her blue eyes examined the sweat dripping down Johnny's face, then questioned if he and his friends are in any trouble.

"No, ma'am," he responds in a soft voice.

"Okay, cool. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Sure."

The young waitress grinned at the boy for a second until the chef called her name. 

"She totally likes you." Caleb teased after Caitlin left. 

Johnny rolls his eyes. "Shut up." 

"Look," Caleb whispered. "If you want to get her number, it's now or never." 

The old man glanced in Caleb's direction and scowled, "Now is not the time to be joking around." 

Johnny nods approvingly, watching Brooke and Nessa approach their table. 

Wiping her wet hands with a white napkin, Nessa laughed: "You've got the magic touch, Brooke." 

The young prophet chuckled, "Don't thank me. You helped out too." 

Despite their bravery, none of the customers or staff congratulated the girls due to the fact that they carried special passports to permit themselves in the diner.

As a result, two dozen customers left the diner while others alienated themselves from the children and the old man.

With the exception of Caitlin Holmes. 

Ignoring the hostility, Caleb and Johnny both assisted the old man, walked over to their table, and have him sat down in between them. 

"So," began Brooke. "What is your name?"

The old man tells her that his name is Triton.

"Your parents named you after Poseidon's messenger?" asked Johnny. 

Triton nodded. "My father is from Sierra Leone and my mother grew up in Athens, Greece.

"Cool, so where do you work?" asked Caleb.

"And how did you get a bullet in your gut?" Nessa inquired, earning a glare from Johnny. 

"It's rude to ask personal questions, Sis." 

"What?" she pouted. "Aren't you curious?"

Overwhelmed by their questions, Triton tells the siblings to slow down.

Embarrassed, both Johnny and Nessa atoned for their rude behavior and allow Triton to continue.

"I work in a company where I help Merfolk, Montauks, and numerous sea beasts find a suitable home. I am kind of like a social worker, you know?" 

"Oh." Johnny nodded. "That sounds cool."

"But things started to get weird when I received calls from my supervisor, telling me that some of my co-workers were missing." 

"Missing?" Caleb repeated. "Like running away and never coming back?"

Brooke gives her boyfriend a thoughtful look. 

"Listen to what he has to say, sweetie." she insists. 

Triton was about to continue when Caitlin returned to the table, carrying his coffee and the children's bags of takeout food. 

"Here you go, everyone." she beams, passing them around.

Nessa, Brooke, Caleb, and Johnny breathed in the succulent smells then exhaled through their nostrils.

"Thank you." the children said to the likable waitress.

Setting his meal in front of him, Johnny was about to pull his wallet out when Caitlin stopped him.

"It's on the house." she grinned. 

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's the least that I can do."

"Thanks."

Getting up from their chairs, Triton and the children carried their lunches outside.

While everyone was chatting amongst themselves, a cautious Caleb informed Brooke about his recent discovery.  

"There is an actual evil entity in the water?" whispered Brooke. "Are you sure?" 

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, apparently that thing killed the little girl you saw in your vision."

Stunned, Brooke stood in front of the door, letting the new information sink inside her head. 

"Damn it," she cursed. "I was so sure that she was still alive."

Placing his hand on Brooke's shoulder, Caleb sighed, "I am sorry. I wish there was something I can do." 

Brooke puts on a sad smile. "For now, let's get in the car. I am sure the others are waiting for us." 

As soon as the children and Triton left the diner, Johnny unlocked the car doors so his friends can place their bagged lunches on the gray seats.

Due to the aggressive rain, everyone wore their heavy rain jackets. 

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Johnny asked Triton for the seventeenth time. 

The old man did a smile. "No, I am fine, but thank you."

Hands slipped into her pockets as Nessa walked across the gray pavement. Her hair danced past her brown eyes as the wind cooled her skin.

"Hey Triton," she called. "Would you like to come with us?" 

Triton shakes his head. "No, I'll walk home."

Brooke did a stubborn frown. "Come on. It's the least we can do." 

Even though he is indebted to the children, Triton wanted to pretend that the stunt in the diner never existed. 

And besides, he shouldn't be wasting time with teenagers when he could be taking care of his sick cat.

But somehow the girl reminded Triton of his seventeen-year-old daughter, Adele.

They are both accomplished in the medical field, have gorgeous chocolate skin, and compassionate hearts. However, Adele perished in a gruesome fire that destroyed his home.

If Brooke can handle a bullet wound in the chest, then maybe the children can help Triton with something challenging.  

"Alright," Triton says eventually. "I'll come inside."

*   *    *   *   *
Since it was Brooke's turn to pick the song, she switched the grunge station to something more relaxing.

"What A Wonderful World" by Sam Cooke blasted on the stereo as Brooke sang sweetly to herself. 

Meanwhile, Johnny's mouth is full of crispy french fries that were just warm from the fire. 

Sitting in one of the cupholders is his warm chicken nuggets reclining in a small, white box soaked in salty oil. 

In the meantime, Nessa is almost finished eating her gluten-free sandwich. 

Her fingers tightened around the toasty bread; crispy Lettuce, meat, and melted cheese slid down her esophagus and into her insatiable belly.

"Whoa, this sandwich is the best!" Nessa exclaimed after licking the warm mayonnaise from her lips.

Caleb nods, nibbling on his sausage pizza.

Bright orange grease and gooey cheese begin to dribble on the paper napkin, but he managed to keep his chair clean.

"I am glad everyone had their fill." Brooke smiled, taking a bite of her hot veggie chili.

"I like that waitress. She seems pretty nice."

"And has a thing for Johnny," Caleb added,  poking fun at his brooding companion.

Rolling his eyes, Johnny plucks a chicken nugget from the small box and ate it in two quick bites.

Dark brown eyes directed on the road as the young driver steers around numerous cars in his path.

After swallowing his fries, Johnny glanced at the crooked mirror and watched Triton sitting in the left chair, drinking coffee from a paper cup.

Easing his foot on the gas pedal, he asked the old man if he can retell the story again.

Triton stares at him for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"You know, the one you talked about in the diner?"

"Okay." nod Triton. "Where was I?"

Nessa takes another bite of her sandwich.

"You told us something about your job as a sea immigration lawyer," she responds.

After savoring his charcoal black coffee, Triton gives Nessa a candid nod and proceeded his tale.

"Ever since I had taken that fucking  job, there have been incidents." Triton sighed.

Brooke lowers her plastic bowl of veggie chili.

"Like what?" she inquired.

"For some reason, my colleagues quit their jobs because they think they saw something in the water."

"You mean like a sea monster?" asked Nessa.

Triton scratched his head. "No, but come to think of it, there have been sea creatures damaging our cargo, killing my co-workers, and demolishing our supplies."

"Hell, the job became so bad that most of my workers threatened to quit."

That's when Caleb put down his pizza.

"This monster sounds like a pain in the ass," he mumbled.

"It is," agreed Triton. "That is why I need your help."

The road trip became silent as Johnny and Nessa exchanged grim glances. 

Caleb licked the tomato sauce from his fingers whereas Brooke pictured honorable sea traders getting devoured by the menacing creature.

"We have encountered monsters before," she started to say. "But this sort of thing is suited for experienced people."

Nessa crumbles her napkin into a large paper ball and shoves it deep into the white plastic bag.

"And besides, do you know what the creature looks like?" she asked. "Was it a leviathan?"

A doubtful Triton shakes his head. "Normally, a leviathan occurs in the Mediterranean Sea."

"Is it a hydra?" guessed Caleb. "Johnny and I had encountered one in Greece."

A surprised Triton finished his cup and wiped the coffee mustache with the back of his hand.

"Wow, you guys went to Greece?"

The boys bobbed their heads in sync.

"Was it a family vacation?" inquired Triton.

Johnny steered on his left.

"No, it was more like a school assignment," he admitted. Headmaster—"

"Shush!" Caleb interrupts him sharply.

"Remember what he said about keeping our school's secrets under lock and key!"

That's when Johnny's cheeks turn into the color of ripe tomatoes.

Several schools allow students to talk about their studies to their parents.

But not Idlewild.

If a young pupil wants to attend Idlewild, the two things he is not authorized to talk about  his tasks or tell anyone about the school's whereabouts.

For some reason, the headmaster believed that there are people who are willing to expose the school for notoriety or covetousness.

If a human being enters the boarding school, then his students' protection will be jeopardized.

A bewildered Johnny realized this and asked Triton to forgive him. However, Triton politely held up his hand to prevent Johnny from explaining.

"I understand," he says calmly. "Idlewild must have taught you all to stay on guard."

Brooke, who is dumping her empty bowl into the deserted plastic bag, asked how he knew about Idlewild's strict rules.

"Don't you remember me?" Triton frowned. "I used to be your P.E. coach."