by Mark Frost
He didn’t know how he felt about that, but the whole last few hours weighed on him heavily as he walked back into the bedroom.
Dave was sitting at his desk holding the glass cube, looking at the black “dice” swimming lazily inside, suspended in a weightless vacuum.
“Cheers, mate,” said Dave with a grin. “You look surprised to see me.”
“I’m funny that way; it startles me when you keep breaking the laws of physical science.”
“Wanted to make sure you’d recovered from our expedition—”
“Why didn’t you warn me that thing would be down there?”
“Didn’t know myself. I just wanted you to see the Weasel Hole.” Dave held up the cube. Strange symbols and glyphs appeared inside it, followed by a projected image of the monster they’d just seen. “That was a lamia, by the way. Part female, part snake, part spider, and smokin’ ponies, can those things make a mess.”
“Is it still after me?” said Will, his eyes wide.
“Naw, mate, I turned its lights out after you shook a leg, no worries.”
“But did the Caps send it after me, specifically, like the other ones?”
“I don’t think so,” said Dave. “Just bad timing is all, and I blame myself for that.”
Will felt a thump in his chest. “Listen, what I’m asking is, does this mean the Caps know I’m here at the school?”
“Put it this way, the lamia didn’t have time to tell anybody. Depends on who else saw you. Did you get a good look at who summoned it?”
“No, but I have a few ideas,” said Will, pacing. “But even if they weren’t targeting me, I’m assuming this means there’s some connection between the Black Caps and whoever they were. Am I right?”
“So it seems,” said Dave gravely.
“So we have to find out, for certain, who was down there.” Will sat on the bed, took out the dark glasses, and twirled them around, thinking it through. “This Weasel Hole, that portal or window, that’s how these things come across from the Never-Was.”
“Right,” said Dave. “Here’s how it works.”
He held up the cube: The dice stopped moving and unleashed a powerful burst of light. Out of its brightness, a striking visual projected onto the wall, of cows grazing in a sunny meadow. In a corner, a milky window like the one Will had seen in the locker room burned in, like someone cutting a hole through a wall. Once the circle was completed, shapes pushed at it from the other side until the skin burst open, unleashing a cascade of invisible force that bent the air.
Will put the dark glasses on and saw a roiling mass of hideous black slugs pouring across the meadow. They swarmed over the cows, consuming them, reducing them in seconds to bony carcasses.
Horrified, Will took off the glasses. The image disappeared. “Why can’t I see these things without the glasses?”
“Electromagnetic frequency issue,” said Dave. “Takes a while for ’em to enter our visual spectrum once they cross over. The lenses compensate. We don’t usually hand ’em out, but you need a sniff of what you’re up against.”
“Of what I’m up against?”
“Bringing you up to speed at the right pace is my goal at this stage of the game. I’ve seen strong men collapse under the strain, but you’re doing a bang-up job.”
Will took a deep breath. “Can they come across on their own?”
“Starve the bloody lizards, there’s a heart-stopper. If the Fuzzy-Wuzzies could carve open a weasel hole by themselves from their side of the membrane? We’d be hip-deep in creepers by now.”
“Did you just call them Fuzzy-Wuzzies?”
“Not a technical term, more of a nickname.”
Will swallowed hard. “So this is how they brought over that … thing they used on my mom.”
“The Ride Along. One of the nastiest buggers in their playbook.”
“Show it to me,” said Will.
Dave raised the cube and another image projected on the wall: a vile tube-shaped “bug.”
“A small but vicious infestation unit,” said Dave. “It loads into a mechanical tracker that carries it to the target, where it deploys and attaches like a parasite on the back of the neck. They’re usually mistaken for an insect bite.”
Will remembered the red mark he’d seen on Belinda’s neck in the kitchen back home. His skin started crawling.
“It drills in and hatches into the bloodstream. Its spawn infiltrates the nervous system, spreads up to the brain, and starts to influence behavior.”
The image illustrated the infestation Dave described, as the implanted bug attacked a generic three-dimensional human “model.”
“You’re saying … this thing can take over a person’s mind?” asked Will.
“That’s right. The part we don’t understand yet is that it seems to work on more than just people. They can latch on to anything—animals, plants, even inanimate objects. Some of which, under laboratory conditions, have become … animated.”
“Can you get rid of them? Do the victims survive?”
“Not that we know of,” said Dave gently. “I’m sorry, mate.”
There was a loud knock at the door.
“Keep your voice down,” whispered Will.
“I told you they can’t hear me—”
“Just a second!” said Will. He opened the door to the closet. “Then would you mind stepping in here?”
“Not necessary.”
“They can’t see you either?”
Dave smiled. “Not unless we want them to.”
There was another even more urgent knock on the door. When Dave turned to it, Will noticed the back of his jacket again.
“By the way,” said Will, lowering his voice, “I know what ANZAC is.”
“Good on ya, mate. And what’s that got to do with the price of pancakes?”
“It’s on the back of your jacket? Hello?”
“So it is. I’d be well advised to never underestimate your powers of observation.”
Dave extended a finger and tipped over the open bottle of water on Will’s desk. It hit the ground and began pouring out onto the floorboards. Will rolled his eyes in annoyance, unlocked the door, and opened it a crack.
Brooke. Still wearing her coat and scarf, a little out of breath. Tiny beads of sweat dotted her freckled nose and forehead. She had an urgent look in her eyes.
“Sorry, can I come in?” she asked.
“Sure. Just pay no attention to … oh, never mind.”
Brooke slipped inside. Will closed the door. She clearly didn’t see Dave, who perked up in his chair as soon as Brooke breezed in. In fact, Dave wolf-whistled.
“Sweet raspberry tea cakes,” said Dave appreciatively.
“Shut up,” said Will.
“What?” said Brooke, turning to him.
“Nothing. I said, ‘What up?’ ”
“Will, listen, I came in downstairs just now and the door was open to Lyle’s office, and I saw Todd in there talking to Lyle. In a very intense way that I can only describe as conspiratorial.”
“What a stunner,” said Dave. “She is a serious beauty, mate.”
“Todd and Lyle,” said Will, shooting an angry look at Dave behind Brooke’s back and drawing a finger across his lips: Zip it.
“That’s right, and then I got up here and Nick just told me about what happened with you and Todd at practice today—”
“All in good fun—”
“No, Will, you don’t understand: If you made a mess in his sandbox, Todd is coming after you. The shortest distance possible, point A to point B—”
“What is this guy’s problem?”
“The problem is that Todd has no fuse. When he gets angry, he just detonates, without warning, and you need to get out of his way.”
“And he needs to leave you alone,” said Will.
“That’s the spirit, kid,” said Dave.
“We’re not talking about me,” said Brooke. “I’m talking about you. They’re probably on their way up here right now.”
>
“So?”
“So haven’t you read the Code of Conduct? Do you want to hand them a reason to kick you out of school?”
“What reason?”
Brooke’s eyes went wide with alarm: “Your cell phone?!”
“Oh, right.” Will took it out and held it up to her. “Here, you take it.”
“No! Will, they can search the whole pod if they don’t find anything in here—”
“Better listen to her, mate,” said Dave.
“Lyle has the authority to do that?” asked Will.
“Yes, and you’d know that if you’d read the manual. Why is there water all over your floor? Get a towel—”
The front bell to the pod rang repeatedly.
“They’re here,” she said. “I’ll try to stall them. Toss that phone out the window. Lock the door after me. Now.”
She rushed out of the room. Will closed and locked the door. He looked at the phone in his hand, then looked at Dave, who hadn’t budged from his seat at the desk. He didn’t look particularly concerned.
“I really need to hang on to this,” said Will.
“Roger that. Better find a place to stash it, then,” said Dave.
Dave rocked back and tapped his boot on the floor. Will was surprised to see that nearly all the spilled water had disappeared. He dropped to his hands and knees for a closer look and realized the remaining water was draining into a nearly invisible crack between floorboards under the rear left leg of the desk.
He heard raised voices in the great room: Brooke, possibly Nick. Definitely Lyle and Todd. They were already inside.
Will shifted the desk a few inches over, then knelt down and felt around the edges of the crack, digging in with his fingernails. He grabbed hold and pulled; the board shifted slightly upward but wouldn’t give any farther.
He retrieved his Swiss Army knife, opened the thinnest blade, and wedged it between the boards. He levered the loose board up a fraction of an inch until he could grab hold, then yanked it out, a three-by-six-inch chunk of wood, clean edges, finely cut. Seamless. Undetectable to the naked eye.
“Nice craftsmanship there,” said Dave, leaning in for a look.
Below the gap in the floor was a hole a foot deep and half a foot wide.
There was a pounding knock on his door.
“Open up, Mr. West! Right this minute!”
Lyle Ogilvy.
Will set the cell phone and charger in the hole, then replaced the loose board and wedged the heavy desk back on top of it. “Feel free to pitch in anytime,” whispered Will to Dave. “You’re doing aces, mate.”
“I have a master key with me,” said Lyle. “And I’m going to use it as soon as I count to—”
Will unlocked and opened his door. “Ten?” asked Will.
Lyle stared down at him, livid with anger. Todd stood behind Lyle, glaring, hands on his hips, flanked by the two lugs from the running team who’d tried to take him out on Suicide Hill. Both had multiple cuts and scrapes on their faces from the spill they’d taken. Behind them in the great room were Brooke and Nick, who was cool and unconcerned, tossing another log onto the fire.
“You can count that high,” said Will. “Can’t you, Lyle?”
Lyle held a copy of the Code of Conduct in front of Will’s face and thumped it for emphasis: “Page five, section seven of the Code of Conduct,” said Lyle. “Suspected possession of contraband objects or materials is grounds for immediate search of said student’s entire residential area.” He turned to Brooke and Nick. “You two open your doors, sit down, and do not move until I tell you to.”
They did as they were told. Lyle lowered his shoulder and brushed past Will into his bedroom. Todd and his posse swept in after him, Todd pausing long enough to eyeball Will with a sneer. Dave had moved from the desk; he leaned on the edge of the bay window, watching calmly. None of the newcomers noticed him.
Just then Ajay came in the front door. He stopped when he saw Will in his room. Will caught his eye, mimed holding a phone, and slowly mouthed, “Call Mr. McBride.”
Ajay nodded, backtracked out, and silently closed the door behind him. Will turned to Lyle and the others, who had begun methodically tearing apart his room. Todd rifled through his desk, while the other two checked the bathroom and closet. Lyle flipped over the mattress, feeling for sinister lumps in the bedsprings.
#65: THE DUMBEST GUY IN A ROOM IS THE FIRST ONE WHO TELLS YOU HOW SMART HE IS.
“Todd, buddy,” said Will. “If you’re this serious about busting my chops, you should check out my awesome hiding place. Under the desk. You’re practically standing on it.”
Todd stopped long enough to scowl again. “You think I’m some kind of idiot?”
Dave nodded, winked, and gave Will an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
“Hey, just trying to help,” said Will.
“Go in the living room and wait with your roommates,” said Lyle. “Per the Code of Conduct, page nineteen, subsection six—”
#96: MEMORIZE THE BILL OF RIGHTS.
“No. I’m not doing that.”
“Sorry, what?”
“I’m staying here to watch,” said Will. “Per the Bill of Rights, Fourth Amendment. Protection from unreasonable search and seizure. In case any contraband ‘accidentally’ finds its way into my room.”
Lyle glared at him. “Are you accusing me of planting incriminating evidence?”
“Just make sure nothing falls out of anybody’s pocket.”
The goons came back from the bathroom empty-handed and Todd shook his head. Frustrated, Lyle picked up Dad’s rules from the bedside table. “What is this?” asked Lyle as he paged through it.
The sight of his father’s book in Lyle’s hands enraged Will.
#30: SOMETIMES THE ONLY WAY TO DEAL WITH A BULLY IS TO HIT FIRST. HARD.
“That’s private property,” said Will, walking over to him. “I don’t care what your damn rulebook says. The next time you decide to get all gestapo up in here, bring a warrant signed by a judge. Because if you ever come in here again without one? I will roll up my copy of the Constitution and knock your teeth out with it.”
All four intruders froze. Will ripped the rules out of Lyle’s hand. Lyle turned pale, livid spots blossoming on his cheeks.
Dave hopped down from his perch in the window and went into what looked like a touchdown dance.
“You can’t talk to him like that,” said Todd, stepping between them.
“What are you good at, Todd?” asked Will.
“Excuse me?”
“What are your big talents in life? I mean, aside from ‘second fastest’ and ‘inheriting’?”
Todd’s eyes went as red as brake lights; his whole body vibrated. Lyle put a hand on Todd’s shoulder, but Todd shook him off and got in Will’s face.
“You are so completely gone from here,” said Todd.
#76: WHEN YOU GAIN THE ADVANTAGE, PRESS IT TO THE LIMIT.
“Get out,” said Will. “Now. All of you.”
Will stood chin to chin with Todd, who flexed his fists, then reached over and knocked the photo of Will’s parents off the bedside table. It crashed onto the floor, and the glass cracked. Fury spread through Will like a time-lapse sunrise.
I’m going to wipe that smirk off your face.
Wild energy rumbled through Will’s chest and throat, an electrical charge firing up his spine, but just as he was about to let loose, Dave leaned in beside Todd and blew lightly into his ear. Todd swiped at his head, completely spooked, spinning around to look for whoever or whatever could have done that to him.
“What the hell …?” said Todd.
Will saw a puzzled, inward look steal over Lyle’s face. He has no idea what to make of it—but he felt Dave’s presence just then.
“Search the other rooms,” said Lyle.
Todd put his head down and stormed out. His running mates fell in behind him. Lyle leaned toward Will and levered his face into a gruesome version of a smile. Will caught a whiff
of foul breath and sour body odor. Lyle’s voice was raspy and dry with adrenaline, spittle forming at the corners of his liverish lips.
“I’ve got you all figured out,” said Lyle.
“Do you?”
“You think being good is all that matters. That goodness and virtue have something to do with value. That’s the false comfort losers always fall back on. The pathetic fallacy of the weak.”
Will’s heart beat faster. The blood drained from his face.
“We don’t like you,” said Lyle softly. “We don’t like what your being here means: charity for nobodies. The false promise of a ‘level playing field.’ This field isn’t level. It never has been. It isn’t supposed to be.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” asked Will.
“Your superiors,” said Lyle viciously. “You’re an oik. Oiks don’t belong at the Center. And you won’t be here for long. Count on it.”
Lyle straightened his jacket over his slouched shoulders and left the room. Will followed him out. Brooke and Nick were watching the others try to open the door to Elise’s room. Lyle took out his master key and headed over to open it. Will picked up the nearest black phone and pushed the button.
“Good evening, how may I direct your call?” said the operator.
“Send an ambulance to Greenwood Hall,” said Will loudly. “Fourth floor, pod three. Right away. There’s been a terrible accident.”
Lyle, Todd, and their two goons stared at him. Will picked up the black phone, hefted it in his hand, testing its weight and feel. Seeing that, Nick lifted an iron poker from the fire pit and tapped it into his palm.
Todd took the key from Lyle and inserted it into the lock. Elise threw open her door from inside and blocked his path. She held her field hockey stick, spinning the blade in a confident, businesslike way.
Emboldened by the others, if not quite as committed, Brooke picked up a pillow from the sofa. Reared back. Totally prepared to throw it.
“Excuse me?” asked the operator.
“One sec,” said Will. He lowered the phone and made a show of counting Lyle, Todd, and the two goons—one, two, three, four. He lifted the phone again: “Make that two ambulances.”
