by Simon Holt
She mentally gathered Mitch’s fear and thrust it into the forefront of his mind just as he lunged at them. Quinn swept her out of the way with one arm, but Mitch flopped to the ground, screaming in terror and covering his eyes with his hands.
“No! We couldn’t stop it! We couldn’t stop it!” he howled.
Quinn fell back in shock.
“What’s happening?”
“He’s seeing his darkest fears,” said Reggie, keeping her eyes locked on Mitch. She let him writhe on the ground for half a minute, then broke the connection. “Was that real?” she demanded.
Mitch shuddered, his hands covering his eyes. “You… have… their powers,” he gasped.
“Was that real? Answer me! Or I’ll send you back in!”
“Yes, it’s real,” said Mitch through gritted teeth.
“What’s going on, Reggie?” Quinn asked, but Reggie gestured for him to wait. She leaned over Mitch and grabbed his hands, wrenching them away from his face.
“How do you know this?”
Mitch stared back at her, furious but fearful.
“We got Unger. We made him talk. He was easier to crack than a walnut.”
“And that’s what he was planning to do?”
Mitch nodded. “And now you understand the stakes.”
Reggie’s head was reeling, but just then figures emerged around the side of the barn, descending upon them in a swarm. She thought she saw the glint of a pistol in one of their hands.
“RUN!” shouted Quinn, and he dragged Reggie off into the fields behind his house, leaving Mitch collapsed in a heap. Soon they were beyond the light emanating from the party, and they tripped along the uneven ground. At least the darkness kept them hidden from the Tracers, but Reggie knew they were making a tremendous amount of noise as their feet trampled and snapped the dead cornstalks lying in the dirt. Their pursuers would overtake them before too long.
Suddenly Reggie noticed a reflection of light, and she realized with some surprise that they were running past a parked car. And then there was another, and another. It was as if they had stumbled into a parking lot. This was where all the kids had left their cars, away from the house and barn so Quinn wouldn’t be suspicious when he got home. They both started trying door handles. Finally Quinn found one that was open, and he and Reggie leaped inside. Quinn yanked out some wires under the steering column and within a couple minutes had hot-wired the car. The engine roared to life.
“Muscle memory,” he said in response to Reggie’s questioning stare. “Quinn the Vour apparently did this pretty frequently.”
“Glad he was good for something.”
There was a shot, and the back window exploded in a shower of glass.
“Reggie!” yelled Quinn.
“I’m all right, I’m all right.” Reggie slumped forward, keeping her head down. “Just go.”
“You’re bleeding!”
Reggie put her hand to her forehead and felt the sticky drip of fresh blood.
“It’s just a cut.”
Another gunshot rang out. Quinn slammed on the gas and the car hurtled forward. He threw the steering wheel back and forth, trying to avoid the other cars parked around theirs. There was a screech of metal as he sideswiped one, and the side mirror popped off.
“Keep your head down as best you can,” Quinn said. He swiveled in his seat and looked behind them, but didn’t see any headlights following. “Their cars must be on the other side of the property. That’s good. They’ll have to take the long way around on the driveway, and we’re already almost to the main road.”
“Where should we go?” Reggie asked.
“We shouldn’t stay on the main roads for too long or they’ll catch up to us,” Quinn answered. “What’s close but not obvious?”
“I have an idea,” said Reggie. “Not perfect, maybe, but it’s the best I’ve got.”
“Where?”
“Something Wicked.”
20
Quinn looked surprised, but nodded.
“Good as any place right now, I guess.”
The moon was bright enough to see by, so Quinn drove with the headlights off to make their car more difficult to follow. Fifteen minutes later he pulled into the alley behind the bookstore that had once belonged to Eben Bloch. The building looked dark and unfriendly; after Eben had died, there had been some dispute as to who actually owned the property, and no one had taken over the premises yet. Paper lined the interior of the storefront windows, one of which was cracked. The sign letters that had spelled out Something Wicked had been removed but left weathered outlines on the building’s exterior surface.
“Good hiding spot,” said Quinn. “Looks like a crack den.”
They walked hesitantly up to the front door; the latch was damaged, and Reggie was able to push it open without too much trouble. The bell that hung from the top of the door jangled, and she and Quinn stepped inside.
It was pitch-black, but the smell of mildew and must filled her nostrils, and the memories flooded back. It had been almost a year since she’d been here, but before that, she had spent so many hours in these rooms, talking with Eben, confiding in him, and reading her favorite stories. Scary stories. The irony was as stifling as the shuttered air.
She instinctively reached for the light switch, but it didn’t work. That made sense. No one had been paying the electric bill for quite some time. She took out the disposable cell phone Aaron had given her and turned it on, flashing its dim light around the room. The place was a disaster—it had been ransacked long ago. Display tables were overturned, the wallpaper had been torn from the walls, and Reggie saw piles of broken glass from shattered lamp bulbs. And the books. All the books that Eben had lovingly collected now littered the floor, having been dumped unceremoniously from their shelves. Reggie felt a pang in her heart: It wasn’t that many, or even any, of these books were very valuable in the marketplace, but they had been like Eben’s children. And now the moisture and mildew and mold were destroying them.
“Let’s go up to Eben’s apartment,” Reggie said to Quinn. “Hopefully it’s in better shape.” But she didn’t feel very hopeful.
They walked up the stairs that led to the apartment above the bookstore. The door here was unlocked, too, and as Reggie shone the phone light around, they saw that it was only slightly less destroyed. In the kitchen the shelves and drawers had been emptied, the floor was covered with broken glass and china, and someone had sliced open the sofa cushions in the living room. But the dining room furniture, while disarrayed, was still in one piece. And in Eben’s office, the most sparsely furnished room in the house, there was little to destroy. Someone had taken all the files from the filing cabinets, and the computer was gone, but the desk and chair were still there.
“Why don’t you call Aaron, and I’ll try to find some light,” said Quinn. Reggie nodded.
Aaron picked up on the second ring, and Reggie told him what had happened. Before she had even finished, she could hear him running out the door.
“Don’t do anything,” he directed. “I’m on my way.”
Quinn had found some candles and matches among the clutter in the kitchen and was in the process of setting them up around the apartment. The light flickered eerily on the walls; the emptiness of this place was profound, but Reggie pushed it from her mind.
For lack of anything better to do, Reggie and Quinn began to clean up the debris in the kitchen. Reggie found a broom and dustpan, and they took turns sweeping the floor, being careful not to cut themselves on all the broken dishes. They had a garbage bag mostly filled when they heard thumping up the stairs, and Aaron burst in moments later. He ran to Reggie and hugged her.
“Thank God you’re okay. Sorry I didn’t get here sooner—I wanted to make sure I wasn’t being followed.”
“It’s okay. We’ve been keeping busy.”
“They really did a number on this place, didn’t they?” Aaron asked, glancing about.
“The Vours?”
&nb
sp; “The Tracers. Machen and I came here after you were kidnapped and took away as much stuff as we could that we thought might be important. But a few days after that, I came back and it looked like this. I think the Tracers were trying to find any evidence Eben might have left behind.”
“Lucky you got here first,” Quinn said.
Aaron put a large duffel on the counter and unzipped it. He pulled out a few flashlights and an electric camping lantern. He switched the lantern on, and ghostly white light filled the kitchen.
“Okay. Tell me everything.”
They took the lantern to the dining room and sat at the table. Reggie took a deep breath before she began.
“I know what Unger wanted to do. I know his plans. For me.”
“How?” Aaron and Quinn both asked.
“When I was looking into Mitch’s fears tonight, I saw it. His worst fear is that Unger’s plan might come true.”
“But how did he know what Unger was plotting?” Aaron sat forward in his chair.
“They kidnapped him,” said Reggie.
“That’s right. Mitch said the Tracers found Unger and tortured him to get the truth,” Quinn added.
“Avi was right,” Reggie said. “I am a kind of hybrid now, half human and half Vour. Unger was trying to turn me into a new being, and he succeeded. Or, at least, he thinks he succeeded.” She hesitated. She saw Mitch’s fears as clearly as if they were in her own head. Really, now they were. Aaron and Quinn waited for her to go on, tension etched across their faces. “Every time I defeat a fearscape, the energy that gets released—the black smoke, I guess, the Vour ‘essence’—it doesn’t just float away. It goes back inside me. That’s what infected me. That’s what changed me. Killing the Vours has made me one of them.”
The words hit the air like the beats of war drums.
“Don’t say that,” Quinn insisted. “You may have some of their powers now, but you’re not one of them.”
“Semantics, really,” Reggie said bitterly.
“So Unger sent you into all those fearscapes because he wanted you to defeat them,” Aaron said slowly. “And that’s what he did with Macie before you, but she stopped being able to beat them. That’s why her tests plateaued. You were stronger. But why does he want to make a hybrid?”
“Because he wants to Vourize one on Sorry Night,” Reggie answered.
“Of course. Of course, that’s it!” Aaron tried to take her hand, but Reggie pulled away. She didn’t want anyone to touch her.
“He was planning to turn me into a Vour this Sorry Night,” Reggie went on. “But I wouldn’t be just any Vour. With my altered DNA I’d be a—”
“A super-Vour,” Quinn finished. Reggie nodded.
“With who-knows-what kind of abilities. That’s why the Tracers are desperate to kill me before the twenty-second. And frankly, I don’t blame them.”
“Don’t think like that, Reg,” said Aaron.
Reggie peered at him.
“I saw it, Aaron, in Mitch’s mind. I saw myself, killing people at will, causing mass delusions that drove the entire town crazy. I turned this world into a kind of hell, a fearscape that no one could escape from.”
“You didn’t do any of that,” Aaron said. “It’s just a fear, like the hundreds of others you’ve seen. It isn’t reality.”
“But it could be!”
“Not if you’re not turned into a Vour,” said Quinn. “Sorry Night is four days away now. All we have to do is keep you safe and fear-free until it passes.”
“Right, until next year.”
“Let’s jump off one bridge at a time,” Aaron said. “Quinn’s right. If we can make it through the next ninety-six hours, we’ll have quelled the most immediate threat. The Tracers have Unger, so he won’t be launching an attack. The bigger danger are those would-be 007s. But if we can evade them, we’ll have at least bought ourselves some time.”
It all seemed too big. Too many enemies, and now Reggie could count herself among them. She leaned forward and laid her head on the table.
“Mitch was right. I’m the biggest danger of all. If one thing goes wrong, it could mean the end of everything.”
“Reggie, I can’t imagine what it was like to see those things in Mitch’s head.” Aaron rose and began to pace. “But you have to remember that it’s not a prophecy. It’s a possibility. One of millions. We can’t base our actions on one guy’s fears. Look, you’re exhausted, and it’s been a rough day. Let’s all get some sleep and we’ll see things more clearly in the morning.”
Reggie didn’t have the energy to argue. She let Aaron lead her to the couch, where he flipped over the sliced cushions so she could lie down.
“Eben’s mattress is in even worse shape—torn to shreds,” he said.
“I wouldn’t want to sleep in there anyway,” Reggie said. She stretched out on the couch, and Aaron spread a blanket he had found over her.
“We’re going to get through this, Reg,” he whispered to her.
But Reggie wasn’t so sure.
Reggie had been afraid she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but as soon as she closed her eyes, she fell into a deep slumber. She woke once or twice during the night to see either Quinn or Aaron sitting awake with the lantern in his lap, but each time she drifted back into unconsciousness almost immediately. The next time she opened her eyes, the sun was streaming through the windows, and she heard noises coming from the kitchen.
Still a little groggy, she got up and went to investigate. Machen was there with Quinn and Aaron, and steaming cups of coffee and bagels covered the counter. It was almost like a normal breakfast among buddies, except that they were discussing how they were going to prevent their friend from turning into a horrific monster and causing the end of the world.
“How are you feeling?” Aaron asked her.
“Better,” Reggie responded, though that was a lie, and they all knew it.
Quinn passed Reggie a cup of coffee and a bagel.
“Compliments of our esteemed former English teacher.”
“Thanks, but I’m not that hungry,” Reggie said. “You guys have everything figured out yet?”
She meant it as a joke, but the three men exchanged dubious glances.
“Kind of,” Aaron said. “I’m not sure you’re going to like it, though.”
“Just lay it on me.”
Machen cleared his throat.
“I think Aaron and Quinn are right—we should try to keep you off the grid until after the solstice. It’s risky, but trying anything else might be riskier. However, that means taking certain… precautions.”
“What kind of precautions?”
Machen hesitated. “I want to keep you on a regimen of sedatives for the next few days.”
“You want to drug me?”
“It’s imperative that you not experience any kind of fear on the solstice. Sedating your brain will help accomplish this. If the Vours are trying to track you by sensing your fear, it will help with that, too.”
“If I’m asleep, I can’t be afraid? What about nightmares?”
“The medication I have will put you in a deep enough sleep that you won’t dream,” Machen explained.
“So you want to induce a coma. Excellent.”
“I know it’s not ideal, Reg, but if it’s the best way of keeping you safe…” Aaron broke off.
“I get it. I do. Hell, maybe a dreamless sleep isn’t the worst idea anyway. At least I won’t have to remember what I’ve seen.”
“Exactly,” said Aaron.
“I also think that it’s best that you all stay here,” Machen went on. “Mitch knows that you’re now aware of the danger you pose and that they’re after you, and he’ll have reported this to the Tracers. Especially if the three of you have disappeared, they’ll assume that you skipped town, trying to get as far away from them as possible. They’ll be sending their feelers outward, not in.”
“So we’ll be hiding in plain sight, as it were,” said Aaron.
“Right
,” Machen replied. “I brought enough supplies to last you the next several days. Water, dry food—I’m afraid it’s nothing gourmet, but it will tide you over.”
“We’ll be fine,” Aaron said. “What are you going to do?”
“It’s better if, once I leave here, I don’t come back, just in case someone is watching,” said Machen. “I’m going to try to keep on top of what and where the Tracers are, maybe even set a few false leads if possible.”
Something occurred to Reggie.
“Your parents are going to flip when you both just vanish,” she said to Quinn and Aaron. The latter shrugged.
“It can’t be helped. We’ll be gone only a few days,” he said. Quinn looked more unsettled but didn’t say anything. Reggie guessed that while he was just as willing as Aaron to make this sacrifice, his situation was much different. His family had already been put through hell because of a disappearing act on his part. Plus, it was Christmas.
“Thank you. Both of you. For doing this,” she said.
“Eat your bagel, Reggie,” Machen said, breaking the awkward silence that followed. “You need some nourishment before we put you under.”
Reggie knew Machen didn’t mean anything by it, but the words put you under made her shudder. Still, she spread some cream cheese over her bagel and forced it down. When she was finished, she followed Machen back to the sofa. As she lay back, Machen brought out a pouch. He withdrew a tourniquet and a syringe filled with light, golden liquid.
“Give her one of these every twelve hours,” he told Aaron and Quinn. “She’ll begin to wake up around then, so make sure she eats and drinks before you put her under again. You need to ensure she stays hydrated.” He took the tourniquet and tied it around Reggie’s upper arm, then tapped the vein in her inner elbow.
“So this is something of a crack den after all,” she said drily.
“You’re going to be fine, Reggie,” Machen told her. “This is going to put you right to sleep. When you wake up again fully, all of this will be past us, and you’ll still be you.”
“I feel a little bad about it, actually,” Reggie said. “You all are doing all the work, and I get to take a nap.”
