by Mark Frost
Todd signaled his sidekicks. Both lunged at Elise. With the reflexes of a cobra, Elise smacked their wrists, a sharp precise crack from her hockey stick. They backed away, shaking their hands in pain. Everyone tensed, both sides waiting for the other to react, the prospect of violence heavy in the air.
Standing in the doorway to Will’s room, Dave took out a cigarette lighter, fired the wick, and held it in the air like a concertgoer listening to an ’80s hair band. He disappeared a moment later when the front door burst open. Dan McBride hurried in, followed closely by a breathless Ajay.
“What’s going on here?” said McBride. “Mr. Ogilvy? Please explain.”
“Searching the room for contraband, sir,” said Lyle.
“On what basis?” asked McBride.
“He doesn’t have one,” said Will.
“I do so!” said Lyle, eyes blazing with anger, then he seemed to instantly regret that he’d said it.
Will could read it in Lyle’s eyes: He’s seen something but he can’t reveal how. There’s more to this creep hassling me than just bullying. Maybe a lot more.
“Let’s hear it, then,” said McBride.
“I’m afraid I can’t prove anything,” said Lyle, backing down.
“Yet. Let’s call it a misunderstanding.”
Lyle gestured to the others and they quickly followed him to the front door. Nick, politely, opened the door for them and waved as they left.
“Ta-ta,” said Nick quietly. “Have a safe trip back to Douche-bagistan.”
Todd gave Nick a last poisonous glare on his way out. McBride headed after them into the hallway. “I’ll be right back,” said McBride as he left. “Hello? Mr. West, are you still there?” said the operator.
“Mr. West?”
“Sorry. Wrong number.” Will hung up the phone.
“Da-yem, that was classic,” said Nick.
He asked for a fist bump. Will gave him one. Brooke dropped the pillow and wrapped her arms around Will, who didn’t object. Leaning against the door frame, twirling her hockey stick, Elise offered a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow.
“Two ambulances,” she said. “Nice.”
“Nice?” said Ajay, jumping around. “Nice? Are you kidding me? That was totally fa-rouking awesome!”
McBride came back into the room. “Will, step outside with me for a moment,” he said.
WAYFARER
Once they were in the hall, Dan McBride confided that this wasn’t the first complaint he’d heard about Lyle Ogilvy. He explained that the Center gave provost marshals authority because it reflected their philosophy of students governing themselves. This had occasionally led to a few marshals abusing their position. McBride promised to bring the incident to Headmaster Rourke’s attention.
“I’m glad you called me, Will. You let me know if he troubles you again. You’re certain you have no idea what Lyle could be looking for?”
Will felt bad about lying to him but didn’t see an alternative.
“No, sir.”
McBride bade him good night. Back in the pod, Will found his roommates seated at the table. Elise sat apart from the others, staring at the ceiling. He realized they were waiting for him to speak first, and he took a deep breath.
“Anybody have a problem with how that went down?” he asked.
“You’re clowning, right?” asked Nick.
“I know you’re afraid of Lyle,” said Will. “For good reason. He’s messed with you before, and he’s going to keep messing with you.” He made a point of not looking at Brooke when he added: “The same goes for his pit bull, Todd, and those other chuckleheads.”
“Tim Durgnatt and Luke Steifel,” said Ajay.
“Unless we put a stop to it. Right now.” Will waited. No one responded. “Come on, the headmaster wants us to talk to each other. So let’s talk.”
“Our concern is this, Will,” said Ajay cautiously. “As delicious as it was to see them all eat a large helping of crow, we’re afraid that now it may only get worse.”
“This is supposed to be a democracy,” said Will. “Who wrote this Code of Conduct Lyle keeps yapping about?”
“Dr. Greenwood and the school’s first class,” said Brooke. “Students helped draft it, and they’ve been in charge of it ever since.”
“Can we change it? To put the brakes on Lyle, or any other kid who throws his weight around?”
“You can propose amendments,” said Brooke, “but they have to be approved by the student council.”
“Small problem,” said Elise. “Lyle, Todd, and their minions—all seniors—control the student council.”
“And Lyle and Todd just put you on their Major Shit List,” said Ajay.
“Along with the rest of us,” said Brooke.
“Big whoop,” said Nick. “We were on it already.”
“Well, now we’re number one,” said Brooke. “With a bullet.”
“Thank you, Miss Congeniality,” said Elise caustically.
Time to make it real. Stop worrying about what they think of you and speak your truth.
Will stood: “Everybody shut up!”
They all looked shocked. Particularly Elise. But she didn’t look angry.
#98: DON’T WATCH YOUR LIFE LIKE IT’S A MOVIE THAT’S HAPPENING TO SOMEONE ELSE. IT’S HAPPENING TO YOU. IT’S HAPPENING RIGHT NOW.
“Fighting among ourselves is exactly what they want,” said Will. “What’s the worst they can do if we stick together and stand up to them? Throw us out of here?”
“Isn’t that bad enough?” asked Brooke.
“You tell me,” said Will. “The day before I got here, back home, a group of men in black sedans tried to kidnap me three times.” He paused to let that sink in. “And I’m starting to wonder if Lyle and Todd are mixed up in it somehow.”
They all stared at him, stunned. “You can’t be serious,” said Ajay.
“What’s your evidence for that?” asked Brooke, her eyes wide.
“Let him talk,” said Elise intensely to the others, and then to Will, an order, not a request: “Talk.”
“I can’t prove they’re part of this yet,” said Will. “But I saw something today that strongly suggests the kidnappers have people here who are working with them, or for them. I have an idea about where to look to confirm this, and if I’m right, if Lyle and Todd are involved … then we’re all in danger.”
Will looked around: Now he had their attention.
“You have to tell the school,” said Brooke.
“I told them some of this already,” said Will. “But I can’t tell them about Lyle because I don’t know who to trust. Here or anywhere. Aside from the four of you.”
“Dude,” said Nick sympathetically. “So what can we do?”
“What does that have to do with this?” asked Brooke, looking nervous.
“You heard him,” said Will. “Lyle just declared war on us and he has the Code on his side. If the system’s rigged against us, we have to fight back any way we can.”
The others kids shared cautious looks around the table. Will had struck a chord in everyone but Brooke, who sat upright and rigid, alarmed.
“You mean we have to break the rules,” said Brooke.
#55: IF YOU FAIL TO PREPARE, YOU PREPARE TO FAIL.
“Whatever it takes,” said Will. “Unless you want to let Lyle and his jackals keep using you as a chew toy. But I’m not lying down for that and neither should you.”
“Old saying in my neighborhood,” said Nick. “Don’t show up for a knife fight with a Hostess Twinkie in your hand.”
“Professor Sangren said the same thing today,” said Will to Brooke. “The hell with morals and ethics that are supposed to be the basis of civilization. Life is just an iron cage death match and only the strong survive.”
“He’s right, and I’ll tell you why,” said Elise emphatically. “Do you know about the Dunning-Kruger effect?”
“Never heard of it,” said Will.
“Scientific fact,” s
aid Elise. “Part one: Idiots and incompetents grossly overestimate their intelligence and abilities. In fact, they’re so stupid they’re unable to see what complete morons they really are. So they end up with a false sense of superiority, which in turn creates a false sense of confidence, which perpetuates the cycle that constantly reinforces their fake superiority. Part two: Genuinely smart and skillful people chronically underestimate their own abilities and end up suffering from equally false feelings of self-doubt and inferiority.”
No one responded for a moment.
“I think I can speak on behalf of everyone,” said Nick, “by saying … huh?”
“She’s saying ignorance encourages confidence,” said Ajay. “Intelligence creates insecurity. Therefore, the stupid act with blind assurance, while the smart are crippled by self-doubt.”
“And that’s how the lizard brains end up in charge,” said Elise. “How messed up is that?”
“Totally,” said Nick. “You can’t teach ‘stupid.’ ”
“No, it’s a gift,” said Elise, staring at Nick. “You’re just born with it.”
“It does help explain what we’re up against,” said Ajay thoughtfully.
“And we’re putting a stop to it,” said Will, banging a fist on the table. “Starting right now. Tonight.”
Brooke’s face flushed. “I’m sorry, this is too much for me to process.” She stood abruptly and headed to her room. “I just have to think about it.” She quietly closed her door.
“Damn,” said Will, kicking himself. “Should I say something?”
“Don’t you dare,” said Elise.
“That’s how she deals,” said Nick. “Coloring outside the lines makes her crazy.”
“She’ll come around,” said Ajay.
“Dream on,” said Elise. “We’re talking about insurrection? Ten bucks says she’s never even jaywalked.”
“Well, if she ever does,” said Nick, “look out, ’cause traffic’s coming to a screeching halt—”
Elise kicked him, hard, under the table.
“What?” protested Nick.
Will held out his fist, inviting the others to put their hands on top. “Let’s do this. Right here, right now.”
Nick and Ajay put their hands on top of Will’s. Elise raised an eyebrow.
“Really?” asked Elise.
“Come on, chick-a-boom,” said Nick. “Get with the program.”
“I’m not a big joiner,” she said, wincing.
“Oh, for God’s sake, get over yourself,” said Ajay. “Do you think you can break the vicious cycle of the Dunning-Kruger effect by sitting on your hands?”
“At last,” she said dryly, putting her hand on theirs, “a way to channel my inner fifteen-year-old.”
“You are fifteen,” said Nick.
Elise looked at Will and shook her head: You see what I have to put up with?
“Let’s open up a nine-pound can of extra-crazy,” said Nick.
“Nick, Ajay, get your coats,” said Will, getting up. “Ajay, we need flashlights and a map of the campus.”
“What are we looking for?” asked Ajay.
“Evidence that connects Lyle to the men who came after me,” said Will. Then to Nick he said, “We’ll start in that room you wanted to see.”
“Awesome,” said Nick.
Nick and Ajay scattered to their rooms. Will lowered his voice and turned to Elise: “How’m I doing? Like me better without my ‘game face’?”
Elise assessed him coolly. “I’ve seen worse.”
Will hurried to his room. Dave was sitting on the bed, poking at the mattress. At this point, Will would have been more surprised not to see him.
“You’re not planning on spending the night, are you?” asked Will.
“I’ve just been authorized to give you a bit more information,” said Dave.
“One second.” Will slid the desk to the side, removed the floorboard, pulled out his phone, and checked for messages. A text had just come in from Nando: Call me. Will speed-dialed him. Nando picked up immediately.
“Yo, Will,” he whispered. “That place you asked about, the National Scholastic Evaluation Agency? It’s in the Federal Building.”
Will stopped cold. “Really? You’re sure?”
“I’m looking at it, bro. Seventeenth floor, name on the door. I’m going in—”
“Wait a second—”
“An unemployed Latino walks into the wrong office in the Federal Building. What could go wrong?”
Will heard a door open. Will felt like hiding, as if people there could see him by looking at Nando’s phone.
“Can I help you?” he heard a woman say.
“My brother Frankie says I’m s’posed to meet him here?” Nando replied, thickening his accent, dumbing down. “This is the passport office, right? Oh, he musta got it wrong.” Nando spoke into the phone again. “Wrong floor, bro. Passport’s on seven.” Then, to the lady, “So what’s this place? The what?”
The woman answered, losing patience.
“National Scholastic Evaluation Agency,” Nando repeated. “Is that a federal program? ’Cause my niece, my sister’s kid Claudia, who’s like super, super smart, goes to one of those, wha’chu call ’em, magnetic schools?” Then, in the phone again, “Hey, Frankie, she says it’s a private company, but they get federal funding, and all they do is testing.”
“Ask if they have brochures,” said Will.
“He says to ask if you got any brochures,” said Nando to the woman. “Okay, thanks for your help, lady. Sorry to bother you.” Will heard Nando open the door and walk back into the hall. He used his normal voice again. “No brochures. Normal office, front counter, civil service types. And two Black Caps—”
Will gripped the phone. “Where?”
“In a back room … Whoa, they just came out in the hall. Gotta bounce.”
The call ended. Will slapped the phone shut and turned to Dave. “That’s it,” said Will, excited. “That’s how they knew to come looking for me. The Black Caps are hooked in with the agency that gave me the test!”
“Sounds reasonable,” said Dave, still testing the mattress.
“Now if I can tie Lyle and Todd to that hole in the basement, maybe we’ll figure out how this all fits together,” said Will as he plugged the phone into the charger and slid it under the mattress. When he turned around, Dave was by the door.
“You were spot on about ANZAC, by the by,” said Dave.
“Another time, okay?” said Will, grabbing his coat, scarf, and hat.
“Thought you wanted to know who I am,” said Dave.
“No, I’ve figured that out, too. You’re my ‘imaginary friend.’ A phantom or hallucination—a really convincing one, I’ll give you that—that my brain cooked up after it was shattered by a nervous collapse.”
“So you’re as mad as a meat ax and I’m just a bit of random gristle stuck to the blade,” said Dave.
“Very much something like that, yes.”
“Hmm. Worth a rethink.”
“I have rethought it,” said Will, “and it’s the only possible explanation.”
“You might want to have another gander at that room in the basement before you count your chickens—”
“As a matter of fact, that’s where I’m headed right now,” said Will, putting on his winter duds. “So, no offense, in the interest of my mental health, I can’t pay attention to you. You’re a ‘symptom.’ A stress-related coping mechanism—”
“Fascinating theory.”
“But things are going to settle down, eventually—because they have to—and when they do, you’re just going to disappear. Poof. For good.”
Will headed for the door. But this time Dave didn’t dematerialize out of his path. Will ran right into him. Dave felt as real as a slab of industrial steel.
“Think what you like, mate. I’m just trying to give you the straight guff.”
“Please get out of my way,” said Will.
“You’ve h
ad your two bobs’ worth; now you’d better hear me out before I lose my temper—”
“I’m leaving now.” Will reached past him for the doorknob.
A blinding light filled the room. Will staggered back as Dave transformed into another, much larger, being. His head touched the ceiling. His broad frame obscured the door. He looked like he could crush a Mini Cooper in his fists. His whole body glowed with a white-hot righteous fury that was impossible to look at, but Will couldn’t turn away. The towering figure wore what looked like platinum armor and he held a gleaming blue sword in one hand.
Dave leaned over and roared in Will’s face, “Sit down and shut yer bloody yapper!”
The thunderous blast of his voice lifted Will off the floor. He flew backward into his desk chair, which rolled across the room and crashed into the far wall.
“Okay,” said Will, stunned, ears ringing.
Dave disappeared. Suddenly he was leaning against the wall next to Will’s chair, calm, collected, and back to his usual dimensions and physical appearance.
“Here’s ground zero, mate: You’re not half-cracked. On the contrary, this is all on the level and you’re up to your neck in the mullock. And you’re not the only one they’re after. I’m at risk, too. We all are, our whole side of the field. There’s a war going on, and you’re smack in the middle.”
Dave reached down, gripped Will’s shoulder, lifted him gently in the air, and spoke right in his face. Will shrank back, going limp.
“You’re in a riptide, Will, and the power and scope of forces at work here are as far beyond your comprehension as eternity is to an earthworm.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Our usual policy is to let the client figure things out afterward, but given the urgency of your situation, they’ve given me the green light to tell you who I am.”
Dave deposited him on the bed and showed him a partially burned identification badge. “Staff Sergeant Dave Gunner. I was a chopper pilot with ANZAC, as you’ve correctly inferred. Special Forces. Vietnam.”
Dave pointed to the insignia on the back of his flight jacket and the three images inside: the helmet of a knight, the red kangaroo, the silhouette of a helicopter. “Flew sixty-five combat missions,” he said. “Went down over Pleiku in 1969. Rear rotor came a cropper. Catastrophic mechanical failure.”
