For a moment he thought it might have been a dream, but he realized he was wide awake as he saw the last of the creatures escaping at the corners of his room, slithering between the floor and the walls.
He inspected his arms and sides; there were indentations where the sharp points of the creatures’ legs had held him down. He tasted the putrid powder left by the antenna in his mouth, which made him cough and spit.
Aaron staggered to his feet and walked to the door. He opened it and made his way to the bathroom, where he tried to rinse his mouth out with water. The taste was still there.
“Are you alright?” It was his mother, standing in the doorway.
“I’m fine,” he croaked. “Just wanted a drink of water.”
“Well, you’re spitting out a lot more than you’re swallowing,” she said.
“I’m fine, really,” he said, turning to look at her. “Are you OK?”
“Of course I’m fine, except for being up in the middle of the night.”
“Sorry,” he replied.
“Go back to bed,” she said, turning from the doorway, headed back to her bedroom.
“Yeah,” he replied, still unhappy with the taste in his mouth. He opened the cabinet, searching for mouthwash. He found it, uncapped it, and swallowed a large mouthful.
No question now, he thought as he sloshed the wash around inside his mouth. Phillip can’t possibly doubt me now.
Chapter Ten
“You’re crazy,” Phillip said, taking a bite of his hamburger at lunch. “Or more likely, you were dreaming.”
“It wasn’t a dream,” Aaron replied. “I felt it. I turned on my light and saw them.”
“You were still dreaming,” Phillip replied. “Happens to me all the time.”
Aaron sighed in frustration. “So I agreed to meet with Herrod tonight.”
“Well, that’s good,” Phillip replied. “You need to explain yourself to them.”
“You don’t get it!” Aaron replied. “I’m going under threat! It said they’d attack my mom if I didn’t!”
“Again, dreaming,” Phillip said. “These are people, Aaron. Not bugs.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“You should hear yourself. You’d be rolling your eyes.”
Curtis and Dirk entered the lunchroom. The moment Curtis walked in, he began hacking.
“Looks like his cold is worse,” Aaron observed.
“Colds sometimes get worse before they get better.”
“You are completely sold on them, aren’t you?”
“Them? You mean the School? Yeah, I like it. You did too, before you got all high and mighty.”
“Before they started killing people.”
“They said Ryan died from a bacterial infection,” Phillip replied. “That’s not bugs.”
“Just smaller bugs,” Aaron muttered. “Be honest with me. You don’t think at least some of this is suspicious? At some level?”
“It’s unusual,” Phillip replied. “Then again, so is religion, if you ask me.”
Aaron watched as Curtis coughed repeatedly into his hand. It was so loud he could hear him over the noise of the lunchroom. Then he noticed Dirk scratching absently at his side, at the same spot Madame Pritchard had pulled out his intestine. Dirk’s shirt rose a little as he scratched, exposing a rash.
I could point that out to Phillip, he thought, but he’d just dismiss it too. He’d say he had a rash because he’s scratching.
People joined them at the table, and the discussion shifted to more banal subjects that Aaron found uninteresting. The memory of his night visitor was still weighing heavily on his mind, and Phillip’s unwillingness to believe his story bothered him. Aaron stopped eating; his stomach had been weak most of the day, and his lunch wasn’t sitting right.
“I’m heading out,” Aaron said, rising from the table.
“Weight training instead of football practice tonight,” Phillip reminded him.
“Right,” Aaron said, remembering the effort of the coaches to steer things away from football for a few days in light of Ryan’s passing.
As he returned his tray and left the lunchroom, Aaron could still hear Curtis hacking loudly.
—
There were grunts coming from all corners of the room as people were bench pressing, trying to outdo each other. Phillip was spotting Aaron in one corner, encouraging him.
“Push!” Phillip said. “Two more reps. Come on!”
Aaron completed his reps and sat up. Guys were working together in pairs, one lifting while the other spotted from above. Aaron saw the coach walk out of the room, and it didn’t take long for some of the pairs to begin joking around, including Curtis and Dirk in the opposite corner.
“My turn,” Phillip said, trading places with Aaron.
“You want more or less weight?” Aaron asked, walking to stand behind Phillip.
“Same as you,” Phillip replied, wrapping his fingers around the bar and lifting it from the stand.
Aaron could hear Curtis and Dirk laughing, and he glanced up to see Dirk adding more weight to the bar Curtis was using.
“Hey!” Phillip said. “You’re spotting me, remember?”
Aaron looked down at Phillip below him. “Sorry.”
Phillip had completed a half-dozen reps when a commotion developed. Aaron turned to look quickly at the source of the noise; Dirk was frozen over Curtis, a look of horror on his face. Below him, Curtis had his hands at his throat.
“Get it off him!” someone next to Dirk yelled, shaking Dirk from his frozen state.
Aaron reached for Phillip’s bar. “Stop,” he said, guiding it to the stand above Phillip’s head. “Something’s going on.”
Phillip rested the bar on the stand and stood up. They both walked a little closer toward the crowd gathering around Curtis and Dirk.
Matt and another senior were lifting the bar from Curtis.
“It just slipped,” Dirk muttered. “It slipped out of his hands.”
“That’s what a spotter’s for!” Matt yelled at Dirk as they replaced the bar on the stand. “How much weight did you have on here?”
“He wanted a lot,” Dirk replied.
“What happened?” one of the guys asked.
“It fell on him!” Matt said. “Dirk let it fall on him!”
Aaron finally gained a view of Curtis, who was lying on the bench, passed out. There was something wrong with his throat, and as he got closer, he could see that it was crushed.
“It slipped out of his hands!” Dirk protested. “I couldn’t catch it in time!”
A coach appeared in the room, and within seconds everyone was ordered out. The coach kept Dirk and Matt in the room while everyone else left.
Aaron and Phillip walked back to the locker room in silence. Eventually Phillip spoke.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Phillip said.
“There must have been three hundred pounds on that thing,” Aaron said. “And it all landed on his neck.”
“It was an accident,” Phillip said.
“Yeah,” Aaron replied, detecting, for the first time, a lack of firm conviction in his friend’s statement. “Sure it was.”
After they dressed, everyone waited for news from the coach. No one wanted to go home without finding out what had happened. Finally he appeared in the locker room, and the guys gathered around him.
“His larynx is crushed,” the coach said, “but he’s alive. He’ll be in the hospital for a while. This isn’t an easy thing to recover from. I’m sure he’ll be looking forward to visits from you all after he’s had a few days to get past the worst of it. I don’t think I need to emphasize the importance of spotting and knowing your limits; I think this unfortunate accident reminds us all of how important safety is. What a tremendous blow to our team this is; Ryan, and now Curtis. Go home. If there’s more news, I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
Everyone left the locker room. Aaron made his way to the bike stand, Phillip right behind him.
“I should go in there and tell coach everything,” Aaron said as he undid his lock.
“He’d laugh you out of his office,” Phillip replied.
“Maybe not. Not if I could convince him to come to the library and see things for himself.”
“Good luck with that,” Phillip replied. “He already thinks you’re a dorky freshman. I don’t think he’d give you the time of day, let alone believe you enough to check it out.”
He’s probably right, Aaron thought. The coach was very no-nonsense; if he were to tell him a tale of bugs and exactations, he’d probably lose any credibility he had.
They pedaled home.
“You look a little sick,” Phillip said.
“Just my stomach,” Aaron replied. “All this worrying about the School.”
“I presume you’re still planning on meeting Herrod tonight,” Phillip said.
“Probably,” Aaron replied. “After all we’ve seen, I can’t believe you’re still willing to associate with them. It’s obvious what they’re doing.”
Phillip scoffed. “Yeah, it’s obvious they’re a bunch of giant bugs!” he laughed, “Who look like people! Right!”
“I’m not saying they’re bugs,” Aaron replied. “I’m saying a giant bug threatened me and my mother last night. That’s what I’m saying. And they killed Ryan.”
“And they ran over Karissa with a car and they dropped the weights on Curtis’s neck? Come on.”
“There’s no point in talking to you,” Aaron said. “You’ve completely bought into their bullshit.”
“And you,” Phillip said, turning to take an earlier street than he normally turned on, “are batshit crazy!”
Aaron looked over his shoulder as Phillip peeled off and raced away from him, down the street.
When Aaron reached his house, his mother wasn’t yet home from work. He walked up to his bedroom and dropped again onto the bed, worried.
What am I going to do? he thought. I don’t want to go and meet with Herrod. I need a way out.
He stood up and paced around his room, desperate for an alternative. His eyes landed on the Mendelssohn sheet music that Mrs. Morrison had given to him last week. He felt dread, knowing he hadn’t practiced, and was going to suck the next time he went for a lesson.
Add it to the list of problems, he thought.
Then he remembered what she’d said to him the last time he was there. Something about if I’m ever in trouble, he thought. His hand rose absently to his arm, rubbing at the spot where the scar had once stood on it, the scar that Mrs. Morrison had noticed. It was gone now, completely dissolved into his flesh. No sign of it remained.
She saw the scar and knew something might be wrong, he thought.
He left the bedroom and ran downstairs. She mentioned travel, he remembered. It might be too late. She might not be home.
He locked the house and ran for his bike, intent on reaching Mrs. Morrison’s house regardless.
—
“Aaron!” Mrs. Morrison said, standing in the open doorway. “What can I do for you?”
“I was worried you’d be gone already!” Aaron replied, breathing heavily.
“Come in!” she said, standing back so he could enter. “We leave tomorrow. We’re headed to Yellowstone for a week. We already changed your lesson time, didn’t we?”
“We did,” he replied. “But I wanted to ask you about something else.”
“Oh,” she said. “OK. What is it?”
“You remember when you saw the scar on my arm?”
He could see a cloud of concern spread across her face. “I do,” she replied. “Is this about that?”
“Well, you said if I needed help, I could come to you.”
“Are you in trouble?” she asked. “No, don’t answer that. Just wait right here, OK?”
“Sure,” he replied.
She left him standing in the entryway, listening as she made a phone call in the other room. It was hard to make out what she was saying, and he felt a little guilty for eavesdropping. In a couple of minutes she returned.
“Can you come with me?” she asked.
“Where are we going?”
“To meet someone, down on Alki Beach. Someone I think can help.”
“Oh,” he replied. He’d assumed she would be the one helping him. “I guess.”
“I need to put my oldest daughter in charge before I go, so give me just a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Mrs. Morrison disappeared into the house. Aaron looked around the hallway while he waited. There were pictures of the family hanging on the wall; one showed his piano teacher with three children — two girls, and the youngest a boy.
“Alright,” Mrs. Morrison said. “I’ll drive you there and back. Let’s go.”
She led him out the front door and to her car. Within moments they were driving through the streets of West Seattle, making their way down to the beach.
“Who are we going to meet?” Aaron asked.
“My brother,” she replied. “He probably wouldn’t be happy that I’m telling you this, because he wants to check you out first before he takes you into his confidence.”
“Into his confidence?” Aaron repeated. “Do you know what’s going on with me?”
“I think I do,” Mrs. Morrison replied, navigating through the narrow streets. “But he’s the expert.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, Aaron unsure what to say or ask. It didn’t take long to reach the shore. It was a dreary afternoon, already beginning to turn dark. Large clouds filled the sky over Puget Sound as she parked the car and they walked to a small fish stand.
“Come on,” she said, leading him into the establishment. There was a line of people waiting to order at the counter. Mrs. Morrison led Aaron through the dining area and around a corner, where two secluded tables were hidden from the view of most of the restaurant. Seated at one of them was a young man with long hair. He was wearing a dark coat and a hat that covered half of his face. He had a beard growing from the bottom of his chin.
“Aaron, this is my brother, Boone. Boone, meet Aaron.”
Boone didn’t look up. “Did you set the pulser?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Morrison replied. “Just before I left.”
Boone raised his head, and Aaron saw his eyes. They were green. “Have a seat,” he said.
Aaron pulled out the chair opposite Boone and sat.
“I’m going to order some fish,” Mrs. Morrison said. “I told the girls I was going to bring some home for dinner.” She left them, joining the line.
“How long ago did you join?” Boone asked, looking at Aaron from under the hat. His eyes were piercing and serious.
“Join?” Aaron repeated.
“I know about all of it,” Boone said. “The School, the oaths, the mortipedes. So just talk to me, if you want my help.”
“Mortipedes?” Aaron repeated. “Is that what they’re called?”
“How long ago did you join?” Boone asked again.
“About a week.”
“And when did you defect?”
“Defect?”
“Leave them? They call it apostatizing, I call it defecting.”
“I guess two days ago.”
“And you took the Adherent oath?”
“Yeah.”
“Did they exact anyone from your list?”
Aaron gulped. “Yes.”
“And they know you’re defecting?”
“I think they suspect it. This…thing…appeared in my room last night.”
“And you were held down by lots of smaller mortipedes, right?”
Aaron recalled the feeling of the spiny legs pressing into his flesh. “Yes.”
Boone paused. Aaron felt his eyes studying him, trying to decide something. It made him feel uncomfortable, like an animal being examined in a zoo.
“We’re in a public place for a reason,” Boone said, “which is why what we’re going to do next will be very difficult for you. I
can help you, but you have to do exactly what I tell you to do. Can you?”
“I suppose. I guess it depends on what you want me to do.”
“I have a leather sleeve under the table,” Boone said, “and I’m going to bring it up and set it between us, provided I get a sense that you’re able to do this without causing a spectacle. You’re going to put your arm into it, just the way you put your arm into the box for the Adherent oath. It’s going to be very painful for about a half minute, and you’ll need to endure it without crying out or making a scene.”
“What’s it going to do?” Aaron asked.
“It’s going to take off the head of the mortipede inside you.”
Inside me?
Aaron suddenly felt sick. In an instant he realized that Boone was right, there was something inside him.
Of course. The scar. The weird feelings in my stomach.
“The head?” Aaron knew he was speaking, but it felt as though he was in a daze, speaking through hazy clouds.
“It can only remove the head,” Boone replied, “the rest of it will still be in you. The head is what we have to get rid of first. That’s how they’re tracking you.”
Tracking?! Aaron felt dizzy and was unsure if he might pass out.
Boone reached out to grab his hand. “Hold on there! Don’t hurl here in the restaurant, OK buddy?”
“It’s just…I’m…” Aaron stuttered.
“I know, it’s a lot to take in,” Boone replied. “I’ve been through it, same as you. We can’t go any further until the head comes out. If they don’t consider you an apostate now, they certainly will after this, so there’s no going back. They kill apostates. So you need to be sure.”
“Kill?” Aaron asked.
“And your family. They’re ruthless. You wouldn’t be talking to me if you didn’t know that already.”
Aaron gulped again. “What do I have to do?”
Boone reached down and pulled up a section of dark leather, placing it on the table between them. It looked like the arm sleeve of an old jacket, heavily padded and stitched. At its edge he could see a lining which was red with a diamond pattern. “Put your arm inside, and pull it up so that it covers where the scar used to be. Then, keep your mouth shut until it’s done.”
The School of Revenge Page 10
