THE DIRTY ONES

by JA Huss

  “We know what it means,” Camille says. “It’s a fucking threat, that’s what it is. The notebook just proves it.”

  “You never answered our question,” Bennett says, looking at me. “What did you do with the book on the last day?”

  “I left it in the tower,” I say.

  “You just left it there?” Bennett asks.

  “I was following instructions, Bennett.” I’m losing patience with him. “They told me—”

  “Who told you?”

  “The same fucking people who told you to show up when you did, Bennett.”

  “And you have no idea who they are?”

  “Jesus Christ, Bennett,” Connor says. “Would you stop already?”

  “I just want to hear it again. And that question isn’t just for Kiera. I want everyone to tell me if they know anything about who started this bullshit.”

  “I have no idea,” I say.

  “Me either,” Connor adds.

  Sofia and Camille both shake their heads no.

  “Hayes?” Bennett asks.

  “No. But I have ideas.”

  “Who?” Connor asks.

  “Dr. Eldridge, for one.”

  “The president at Essex?” Camille snorts. “Well, a lot of good that does. He died three years ago. So he’s definitely not responsible for what’s happening now.”

  “No,” Hays agrees. “But he could’ve been a part of something bigger.”

  “Like… a secret society?” Sofia asks.

  “Exactly.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Connor says.

  “It would be,” Camille says. “If it wasn’t real. But it is, Connor. Bennett and I have talked about it a lot over the years and we think it’s definitely got something to do with the college.”

  “And the alumni,” Bennett adds.

  For some reason this makes Connor look at me. “What?” I ask.

  “Your mother went to Essex?”

  “Yeah, so? Everyone in this room comes from an Essex legacy.”

  “And your grandmother too?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Did you guys know that Kiera comes from a long line of erotica authors?”

  Pretty much everyone—including Hayes, who should know this because he’s always been so up in everyone’s business, but clearly doesn’t—stops to stare at me.

  “So what? I come from a long line of filthy writers. I refuse to be judged. Especially when Camille and Sofia both write the same shit I do!”

  “We’re not judging you, Kiera,” Connor says.

  “Sure feels like it,” I say. “Because I seem to have a target on me. Again,” I add.

  “You weren’t the target back then,” Camille offers. “Connor was.”

  “OK,” Hayes says. “This is pointless. Let’s just read the book.” He walks over to Camille, snatches the book out of her hand, and tosses it to Connor, who catches it out of instinct. “You read it, Con. You always were the storyteller.”

  “Hey!” Camille objects.

  But Hayes shoots her a shut-up look that makes her cower back into the couch cushions.

  “Fine,” she huffs, closing her arms defiantly. “Whatever.”

  “Read it, Connor.”

  Connor looks at me, then settles back into the couch and opens the book.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - CONNOR

  We all knew there was a tower in the woods next to Essex College even though no one actually saw it. Maybe it was just local lore, maybe there was some truth to it, but everyone had convinced themselves there was a tower and that rumor was passed down to the incoming freshmen every year.

  But all anyone really knew was that there was a fence on the south property line. A twelve-foot-high wrought-iron fence that maybe went all the way around the mythical tower, or maybe not. No one knew that either because the fence had been there for so long the underbrush and brambles kinda ran through it. The woods were unkempt and thick. Like something out of a nightmare. So you couldn’t even get close to the fence to try to follow it to see where you might end up.

  The other thing we knew before we became the Dirty Ones in senior year was that there was a gate in the fence on the south side of campus. It was even more impenetrable than the fence. Perhaps it really was electrified, perhaps not. No one I knew was ever brave enough to touch the damn thing because of the high-voltage warning sign.

  Then there were the cameras. All over the place, but most notably right there on the gate. If you approached the gate and started fucking with it by poking a stick at the locking mechanism, a siren would bleep a few times. And if you didn’t get your ass back where you came from in ten or fifteen seconds, it turned into a full-blown warning that sent even the wildest, most daring students running.

  “Who cares?” Camille complains. “No one wants to hear this shit. We all know there’s a tower and a gate. We’ve all heard the alarm. We don’t need convincing. Just get to the good stuff, Con!”

  “There is no good stuff,” Sofia whispers.

  “The sex, I mean.”

  “That’s not good stuff,” Sofia counters. She looks at me for just a moment, then averts her eyes to the wall of bookshelves off to her right.

  I want to say something about her little comment, because it’s not my fault we were forced to do those things. And she didn’t fucking complain most weeks. Most of the time we actually did have fun. There was good stuff, and she can deny that all she wants, but I was there. She’s not fooling me. So what if we made the most of a bad situation? That’s what smart people do. So fuck her and that thinly veiled accusation. She was no more and no less a victim of what happened than anyone else.

  “Whatever,” Camille says, saving me from commenting. “No one wants to hear about the gate.”

  “Did you write this?” Bennett asks.

  “Who?” I say.

  Ben nods his head towards Kiera.

  “No,” Kiera says. “I didn’t set the scene in the first chapter, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Well, what did you write?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I described the tower. Two-story, made of stone, about fifty feet in diameter… stuff like that. But I never wrote anything like this opening.”

  “Because it’s boring,” Camille says.

  “OK, let me skip ahead,” I say. “Because there’s like five more pages of description.”

  “Well, then we know I didn’t write it.” Camille laughs. “My characters start having sex on page three.”

  Sofia rolls her eyes, but no one comments.

  Camille is good and drunk.

  “OK,” I say, and begin reading again.

  The invitations were beautiful and it was exciting for several reasons.

  One, we now knew there really was a tower.

  Two, we’d been singled out from the entire senior class.

  Three, we’d been given the combination for the lock to open the gate.

  And, four, we were supposed to go there that night.

  At least that’s how I felt when I got mine. How the others felt, who knows. All I really know is that we all showed up at midnight.

  Seven senior students.

  We were given pseudonyms in the invitations. Miss and Mr, then our initials. So, for instance, I was Miss KB.

  “Holy shit,” Bennett says.

  “Shut up,” Hayes snaps. “Just hold your fucking comments.”

  There was Miss CD, Miss SA, Miss EE, Mr. BY, Mr. CA, and Mr. HF.

  We didn’t call each other that, but that’s how I was instructed to write the story.

  “This is bad,” Bennett says. “And fuck you.” He points to Hayes. “I don’t take orders from you. This is fucking bad. She names the college. All people have to do is cross-reference every student in every senior class—”

  “Calm the fuck down,” Kiera says.

  Which makes everyone kinda look at her. Because that’s Hayes’ line.

  “It’s two letters,” Kiera continues. “There’s
got to be several people in each class with these initials. Essex College is over a hundred years old. No one will figure it out. And besides, it’s a private institution. They’re not gonna just hand over academic records. It’s fine.”

  “Is that why you wrote it this way?” Sofia asks. “So you could justify it?”

  “I didn’t write it.”

  “Well, this book says otherwise,” Bennett adds, joining Sofia’s side. “This is very clearly Kiera’s point of view.”

  Camille gets up and is halfway to the bar cart when Hayes snatches her by the wrist. “Sit down, Camille. You’ve had enough.”

  I expect Camille to start spitting venom, but she is oddly subdued and just turns back to take her seat next to Bennett.

  “Should I keep going?” I ask. “Or have we heard enough?”

  Kiera says, “I’ve heard enough,” just as Hayes says, “Keep going.”

  I sigh and keep going, scanning the next few paragraphs, then turning the page. “It’s just a bunch of stuff about how empty the place was and how she was excited.”

  “Skip that,” Camille says. “Just get to the first real night.”

  “That was the night—”

  “Shut up,” Hayes tells Bennett, shooting him a warning look that says the next time he opens his mouth there’s gonna be consequences. “Let him fucking read.”

  They were paired off. CA with SA—

  “OK, just say our names, for fuck’s sake. The initials are too confusing.” Hayes again. I nod, exhale out a long, frustrated breath, and continue.

  They were paired off. Connor with Sofia. Hayes with Emily. And Bennett with Camille. I didn’t have a partner. I wasn’t supposed to do anything but write down what happened each night in explicit detail.

  There was no explanation for this and we spent the entire year wondering why it was set up this way. Everyone agreed it was going to be used to blackmail us at first. But by the end of the year, we were wavering on that.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself. Because there was an incident that changed everything the very first night. I was charged with reading the instructions written in the letter waiting in the second floor of the tower and it is transcribed exactly below.

  Congratulations, Dirty Ones. You have been selected to climb the tower. All those who make it to the top will be rewarded with success. Don’t worry about failing. It’s not an option.

  All but one of you have been assigned a partner.

  Those of you with a partner have been assigned one night per month.

  On that night you will show up here, read the instructions left for you, complete the task, and then leave.

  One of you will show up every night, with the partners, to record what happens. There is a present in the storage room just inside the entrance. Go get it now. Come back upstairs, and open it in front of the group. All further instructions will be inside the gift.

  Sincerely,

  Tower Keeper

  So I went down to the storage room, found an exquisitely wrapped gift in black paper and gold ribbon, brought it back upstairs, and opened it up.

  Inside was a notebook. About two inches thick. Canvas spine, lined pages inside, about three hundred of them. About the length of a novel.

  Which is appropriate, because that’s what I’d written by the end of the year. Every page was full, every character had an arc, every plot twist revealed… except one.

  Why? Why did the Keeper make us do this?

  But don’t worry, dear readers. All the questions will be answered before you turn the last page.

  Back in the tower that night Hayes took the book from me and read the first page out loud.

  It was nothing more than assigned dates. Saturday night at midnight.

  I spent one entire year of Saturdays up in that tower recording the actions of the partners.

  This book is that book. This is our story and every bit of it is true.

  But again, I get ahead of myself. There’s more to this story than you think. There are more twists than you could ever imagine. There’s more drama, and fear, and violence than you probably need.

  But hear me, reader. And hear me well.

  This is the truth of what really happened to us at Essex College in our senior year.

  There was no furniture in the tower that first night. It was bare, and cold, and dark because there was no electricity. Just a few candles lit up in the center of the room. We were sitting cross-legged around them. Except Emily. She was pacing in circles around the perimeter of the room muttering to herself.

  The rest of us were mostly still stunned that we were here, but also a little excited because this was a secret society. And we were in the midst of initiation.

  Emily suddenly said, “No, thank you. I’m going to pass.” And she left.

  The rest of us sat there a little longer, discussing what this was. What we might get out of it, how it might be an honor to be invited in.

  It’s Skull and Bones, right? We play along, we get in, we meet new, interesting, powerful people, and we go on to ascend to positions of power and live fascinating lives.

  No one gave another thought to Emily’s sudden exit.

  We thought we’d come on our assigned nights and there’d be others here to welcome us. To explain things. To tell us what this is.

  We were wrong.

  Hayes and Emily were the first assigned pair the following week. Emily didn’t show. Apparently she was serious about passing on the opportunity. But I did and Hayes did. And there was a box in the middle of the room with three candles on top.

  Hayes opened it up, took out the note, read it, passed it to me. And this is what it said.

  Take the gun out of the box and shoot Emily with it. Then return the gun to the box and show up on your next assigned date. Tell no one what you did. Everything else will be handled.

  “I’m not shooting Emily,” Hayes said.

  “Well, I’m not shooting her either,” I countered.

  “So we quit?”

  I nodded. “I’m not sure what this is, but I don’t think it’s good.”

  “Agreed. So… we’re out?”

  I nodded again. “We’re out.”

  “We should tell the others,” Hayes said. “I mean, if they want to continue, fine. But they should know this is some crazy shit.”

  We left. We didn’t even blow out the candles, just left.

  And when we got back to the dorms, Emily was waiting for us.

  I stop and close the book. “I don’t want to read this part.” And sure, it’s a copout. Typical me, right? Take the easy road, refuse to engage, just go along and don’t make waves.

  But I don’t want to read this book.

  Everyone is silent. Not even an inappropriate joke out of Camille.

  Hayes sighs, then says, “Look. We all know what happened, we just need to—”

  “I don’t,” Sofia says. “I never understood that night.”

  “Well,” Hayes says. Then he pauses. Thinks. Says, “She had a gun too, Sofia. Presumably it came in a box with a note that said something like, ‘Kill Connor and you can be out.’”

  “But why Connor?” Camille asks. She’s sober now. At least, she looks sober. Like those few pages were enough to clear her flooded bloodstream of every drop of alcohol. “Why not you, Hayes?”

  He shrugs. Starts to say something. Changes his mind. Starts to say something else. Changes his mind again. I feel like getting up, walking over to him, and shaking him by the shoulders. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “It’s logical that Emily would be instructed to shoot me, as I was instructed to shoot her. But she went for Connor, instead. No one ever saw her note. We don’t even know if that’s how it happened. Maybe… we don’t know anything.”

  “We could ask her,” Camille says. “If we could find her.”

  All six of us turn to look at the locked library door. “Is she still out there?” I ask Hayes.

  “Presumably,” he says. “I’m sure someo
ne would’ve called to let me know if they found her.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Sofia says. “Why you, Con?”

  “Maybe she was after Hayes. He and I were rooming together, remember?” I say. “And Emily already had me cornered with the gun when Hayes and Kiera got to the room.” I look at Kiera. “Why did you come back to our room?”

  “I was afraid,” she says, looking nervously between me and Hayes. “There’s no way I was going back to my room alone. I didn’t have a roommate, remember? The whole fucking thing freaked me out. And that walk back to campus, in those creepy-ass woods…”

  “I told her to stay with me,” Hayes says. “She was shaking so bad she couldn’t even talk.”

  “Emily was talking incessantly when we entered,” Kiera says. “Like weird shit. Do you know what she was saying, Connor?”

  I shake my head. “It was incoherent. Something about ‘not for me.’ ‘Not me.’ Or some shit like that. And then you guys came in and she pointed the gun at both of you.”

  “And told us to get over by Connor. She wasn’t playing games,” Kiera continues. “And at the time, I figured she was talking about the note and the box, and the gun. That game. But… thinking back on it now, I think she was talking about something else.”

  “Like what?” Bennett asks. He’s been mostly silent since Hayes told him to shut up.

  “I think she knew,” Camille says. “I think she knew what that place was when she got there and that’s why she was pacing around the room.”

  “And she was always crazy,” I say. “I saw her on move-in day, walking around campus talking to herself.”

  “Maybe she knew she’d be asked to join?” Sofia asks.

  “Because someone told her?” Kiera adds.

  Everyone looks at me for the answer to that, but I have no clue. So I just shrug.

  “Anyway,” Kiera says. “Hayes and I moved over by Connor and she was muttering something about being sorry, but she had to do it. She had to get out. And then she pulled the trigger, but she missed us and hit the wall. Then she aimed again and I jumped in front of Connor and took the bullet in the shoulder.