The Deadlock Trilogy Box Set

by P. T. Hylton

  The exit happened the same way. This morning Frank barely had to time shout, “Good luck on your first day,” to Trevor before they were gone.

  Frank enjoyed the silence for a moment. Of all the things he loved about freedom, silence had to be near the top of the list. Prison was a loud place. He had almost forgotten what it was like to sit in silence with your own thoughts. He sat for a long time, staring into his empty cereal bowl. Almost drifting.

  Then he heard a knock at the door. He considered not answering. It was his choice, after all, to answer or not. Such options were the luxury of free men. He pushed himself to his feet, drifted to the door, and opened it to find Becky Raymond standing there. She was staring at the door knob; the one Frank had made for Jake and Christine so many years ago.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Hi, Frank. You didn’t forget about our weekly meeting, did you?”

  “No, of course not,” he lied. “You want to come in?”

  She glanced down at the doorknob again and then shook her head. “Walk with me. I have an errand to run.”

  “I’d rather not. Can we talk here?”

  “Come on,” she said as if she hadn’t heard him. She spun on her heel and marched toward the sidewalk.

  Frank took a deep breath and forced himself to unclench his fists. He stepped outside and followed her down the sidewalk.

  “Let’s talk,” she said. “How is the search for your brother going?”

  Frank looked at her. “I haven’t found him yet, Becky.”

  She arched her eyebrows. “It’s Becky now, is it? What happened to Ms. Raymond? You were much more polite at the prison.”

  “When you appear in my home and bully me into going for a walk, you are Becky.”

  “Well this isn’t your home, is it? Your home is Northern Tennessee Correctional Complex. At least until I say it isn’t. So I’ll ask you again: how is the search for your brother going?”

  The woman made him uncomfortable, but he had to keep a grip on his emotions. She was right. She held all the cards here.

  “I’ll be honest. I haven’t opened up too many leads yet.”

  Becky frowned. “You said you knew places where he hung out. That you knew the land. That you knew where he’d go.”

  Frank nodded. “Yeah, that’s all true. It’s taking me some time to acclimate to… how things are.”

  “That’s understandable.” Her gaze softened. “Let’s take a step back from the facts. What’s your gut feeling? Based on what you know about Rook Mountain and what you know about Jake, do you think he’s in town?”

  Frank scratched his chin. It felt strange, talking to her about Jake. Working with the people who were trying to track Jake down. He told himself he wouldn’t turn over any information that would hurt Jake. If he found Jake he would warn him—maybe they could even escape Rook Mountain together.

  Speculating couldn’t hurt, though.

  “The way I see it, there are two possibilities,” Frank said. “Either he’s in town and he’s been in town the whole time, or he found a way to survive outside of town without those crazy bird things eating him.”

  “And which of those options seems more likely to you?”

  “I’d say he’s in town. If he really knew a way to get past those things on the outside, it seems like he would have taken his family and gone somewhere else.” Frank shrugged. “Either way, he is close enough that he can at least slip into town to pass a cryptic message to Sally Badwater.”

  The woman smiled. “Let me ask you something, Frank. Was Jake close to his son?”

  “Yeah, of course. After the kid was born, it was all he wanted to talk about. It bordered on annoying.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She leaned toward him. “Can you imagine any scenario where Jake has access to Rook Mountain and doesn’t at least keep tabs on his son?”

  Frank thought about that for a moment. Becky was right. Frank couldn’t imagine a scenario where Jake wouldn’t be in touch with Trevor.

  When he was about to answer, Becky said, “This is my errand. It’s an interesting case. Follow me.” She turned up the sidewalk leading to the next house. Frank glanced up at it, a ranch-style home not much different than any of the dozen or so other houses they had passed on their walk. Frank stayed two steps behind Becky.

  When she reached the door, Becky knocked, waited about two seconds, and then opened the door and walked inside.

  “Hello!” she said.

  Frank followed her in. The man sitting on the couch sprang to his feet. He was short and slightly overweight, but his most distinctive characteristic was the scar on his left cheek. It was shaped like the number eight.

  “Hello, Ms. Raymond,” the man said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Becky smiled at the man. “That’s sort of the point of surprise inspections, Phillip. Anything I should know before I look around?”

  “No, ma’am. Everything in this house is in keeping with the Regulations.”

  “Good,” Becky said. She wandered out of the room as she spoke. “Frank here just got out of prison. He’s learning about the Regulations. Why don’t you tell him about your crime while I look around?”

  The man cleared his throat and looked at Frank. “I’m a Regulation breaker.” He pointed to his cheek. “Regulation 8.”

  Becky called from the other room. “He doesn’t know what that is, Philip. Explain.”

  “I uh, there was this family. They broke a Regulation, and their punishment was no rations for two weeks. I shared mine with them.”

  “Rations?” Frank asked. “You mean food?” Philip looked at Frank like he was trying to determine whether or not Frank was an idiot, then he nodded and looked away. “Yeah. I aided Regulation breakers. Not my finest hour. I’m paying my debt to society, though. Part of that means surprise inspections from time to time.”

  “Really? From the city manager?”

  Philip shrugged. “No, this is a first. Usually it’s a couple of cops.”

  Becky returned to the room. “Well Philip, I don’t see any evidence of Regulation breaking.” He smiled and nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s an honor to have you handle this personally.”

  Becky smiled back at him. “You’re proof that the system works. Hey, why don’t you tell Frank about your scar?”

  He looked at Frank. “It’s part of the punishment for Regulation 8 breakers. So people know not to trust me."

  “And tell him who gave it to you.”

  Philip took a deep breath. His smile wavered for only a moment. “It was my wife. She found out about my crimes, and she drugged me and took care of it. She’s a good woman.”

  “She sure is,” the city manager said.

  Back out on the street, Frank asked, “So what was the point of that little show?”

  Becky Raymond shrugged. “I’m continuing your education. I want you to know the score. Family is important, but Rook Mountain comes first.”

  “I’m not sure I agree with that.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you believe. It’s what the town believes. All I’m saying is to stay vigilant. You are out there grilling Sally Badwater and visiting your old haunts, and at the same time you are living with the town doctor and the head of the Certification program.”

  Frank took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. He spoke softly, but he still heard the anger in his own voice. “Listen to me. I agreed to look for Jake, and I am doing that. I will find him. You leave them the hell out of it.”

  “Of course,” Becky said. “I want you to know that we are watching. Always. Zed has eyes everywhere. You are never out of his sight, not in Rook Mountain.”

  Frank nodded. “I’ll find Jake, but I’m not bringing Christine and Trevor into this thing.”

  The woman smiled. “Frank. They live in Rook Mountain. They’re already in this thing.” They stopped in front of the Osmond’s house. “There’s something else. Something I didn’t tell you before.”

  Frank waited for h
er to continue.

  “Since Regulation Day, odd items have been appearing in Rook Mountain. They look like everyday objects. A mirror, a lighter, things like that. But they are extremely dangerous. We believe that Jake was interested in these items. Obsessed with them, really. We know he had at least one of them. He may have hidden it before he went away. If you find any of these objects in your search for Jake, you let me know right away. Understand?”

  “If they look like everyday objects, how am I supposed to find them?”

  “They have a symbol carved into them. It’s a broken clock.”

  Frank froze. He struggled to keep any reaction off his face. He had seen that symbol once. He’d seen it on the worst day of his life.

  “You find something with that symbol, you bring it to me.” Becky Raymond turned away from him and toward the street. “You’ve had your week to acclimate. Next week I expect to hear some results. If not, well, I’m sure CO Rodgers is keeping a bunk empty for you.”

  Becky Raymond gave him a curt nod and turned back up the sidewalk.

  Frank stood on the threshold of his former sister-in-law’s home, taking long slow breaths, trying to figure out his next move. He didn’t notice Will standing in the front yard, watching Becky Raymond walk away.

  3.

  Trevor followed the signs pointing toward the auditorium and tried not to make eye contact with the other students.

  Everyone had been polite so far, but when they looked at him he saw it in their eyes. They were all wondering how the son of a terrorist had gotten into the Beyond Academy.

  At his old school, it had been much more overt. Kids would make comments, ask Trevor if his dad had taught him how to make pipe bombs, ask when Trevor was going to blow up the school. It bothered him, of course, but most of the time he had been able to laugh it off. As Mom always reminded him, these kids didn’t know his dad. Yes, Dad had gone crazy for a little while there at the end, but that didn’t define him as a person. Trevor remembered other things about his dad. He remembered Dad reading him stories, and wrestling with him on the floor, and taking him for hikes in the mountains.

  But today, even though no one was saying anything, it was different. It was probably just the stress of starting a new school, but Trevor had a terrible feeling that someone would realize the error and expel him at any moment.

  He wished Carl had been accepted. Then at least he would have someone to walk with in the halls.

  “Trevor!” a female voice called.

  He looked around, bewildered for a moment, then saw a woman in a blue dress. She wore glasses and her black hair fell in loose curls around her shoulders. She was hot, but she was also clearly a teacher.

  “Trevor, hi.” The woman walked over to him. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Wendy Caulfield. Your uncle Frank and I used to babysit you when you were little.”

  Her statement was so unexpected that Trevor had no idea how to respond. “Hi, Ms. Caulfield.”

  She smiled. “I teach History and Civics. You’ll have me for fourth period this semester.”

  He nodded dumbly.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to say hello.” She turned to go, then stopped and nodded toward the auditorium. “Trevor, remember, however weird this place seems, and whatever you hear in there, this is still a school. We're here to help you learn. And you can talk to us –to me—if you need anything. Okay?”

  Trevor nodded again. “Okay. Thanks.”

  She turned the other direction, and Trevor stepped into the auditorium.

  To call it an auditorium was a bit of an overstatement in Trevor’s opinion. Like the rest of the school, the room was clean and state-of-the-art. Every surface said quality. But it was more of a classroom with stadium seating than it was an auditorium. The school only had forty students. Trevor guessed this room could hold maybe seventy-five total. He eyed the back rows, looking for a block of empty seats where he could squeeze in without having to sit next to anyone. Fancy genius academy or not, this was still high school. Who you sat with mattered, and Trevor wanted to get the lay of the land before pigeon-holing himself into any particular clique. He found a likely spot in the second row from the back and hustled toward it.

  He had barely sat down before the lights flicked once, and a voice over the PA system asked them to rise for the national anthem. Trevor rose with the rest and turned toward the American flag on the left side of the stage. Pre-recorded music filled the room at a surprisingly loud volume. As the first verse began everyone's voice rose to match the level of the music. Trevor looked around as he sang and saw most of his fellow students for the first time. What he saw didn’t remind him of the first day of school. They weren’t slouching or giggling, and there were no annoyed frowns. Every pupil stood ramrod straight and sang loudly, their eyes glued to the flag. There was a quality about them that it took Trevor a few moments to identify. Then it came to him. The students weren’t just glad to be starting the school year, they were proud to be here. It was pride he saw on the faces of his fellow students.

  The “Star-Spangled Banner” built to its crescendo. The pre-recorded music cut off a moment too soon, jarring Trevor out of his thoughts. Everyone sank back into their seats. Trevor did the same, his eyes on the still-empty stage.

  The voice on the PA returned. “To open the 2022-2023 school year, please welcome back guest speaker and friend of the Rook Mountain Beyond Academy, Zed!”

  The students erupted with applause, and a tall bald man jogged up the steps to the stage. He wore a green, long-sleeved t-shirt and khaki pants. He stood there with an easy smile on his face waiting for the applause to die down.

  Trevor had heard a lot about Zed, of course, but he had only seen him up close once before. Trevor knew Zed had saved the town. They told that story every year on the anniversary of Regulation Day. He knew Zed lived in the big house downtown. He also knew that his father had gone crazy and tried to blow up Zed, killing three innocent people in the process.

  Zed was a legend in a town that had far too few of them. Everyone talked about him with respect and admiration. Everyone seemed to love him. In a lot of ways, he was the complete opposite of Trevor’s father.

  When the applause stopped, Zed held out his hands, palms up. He was wearing one of those headset microphones, and his deep voice filled the room when he spoke. “Thank you. You know, it’s really an honor to be asked back again to open the school year. Sometimes I feel like a broken record. I’ve said the same thing every year for the past four years, and I’m about to say it again. Some of you returning students might be sick of hearing it—”

  “No way, Zed!” called a male voice from the crowd. The kids all laughed.

  Zed pointed toward the student. “Thanks for humoring an old man, son. Some of you may be sick of hearing it, but what I have to say was true last year and it is still true today. Here it goes. This year is going to be the most important year of your lives.”

  Zed paused, his eyes moving back and forth across the faces in the crowd. The laughter was gone now, and the room was filled with a reverent silence. “I believe that with all my heart. Think about it for a moment. This year is going to be the most important year of your lives.” He paused again, this time looking down at his own feet as he gave the students a moment.

  He looked up and spoke again. “Let me ask you something. How many of you have traveled outside the United States? In the Before, I mean.”

  A few hands rose.

  Zed nodded. “How many of you have traveled outside Tennessee?”

  This time, over half the hands in the crowd went up, including Trevor’s. He didn’t remember it well, but he knew his family had taken a vacation to Florida when he was three.

  “How many of your parents talk about their travels? About what life was like outside Rook Mountain in the Before?”

  Every hand went up. Zed nodded. “Thanks. You can put your hands down. For those of you attending the Beyond Academy for the first time this year, today is an import
ant day. Today is the day that you stop listening to your parents’ stories about the world outside. Because I’m going to tell you something important: your parents’ stories don’t mean shit.”

  He held up his hands as if calming the crowd, though not one student had voiced an objection. “Don’t get me wrong! Those stories have their place. Just like stories of George Washington or stories of the Roman Empire. But I know every one of your parents at least a little, and I can say with confidence that they do not understand the world outside of Rook Mountain. Not anymore. Very shortly, you will. The days of your parents are over. Your day has begun.”

  He looked out over the crowd again. “A person can survive somewhere between three and six weeks without food. We have some food stored in town, but how long do you think Rook Mountain would survive without our brave Resource Specialists?” He let the question hang in the air, then continued. “But it’s not about survival. It’s about what you want the future to be. I know that many of you will choose to become Resource Specialists when you leave this school, but some of you will pursue different paths. That’s perfectly fine. As long as you work hard to get whatever it is you want out of life, this school has done its job.

  “I don’t work for the school. I am just a guy who cares deeply about Rook Mountain. Your parents have obviously done things right since you’ve all made it this far. But in the coming days and weeks and months you will see things that your parents will have no way to understand. Sometime during the next couple years, you will be allowed to go on a trip outside of town with some Resource Specialists. Depending on the expedition you are assigned to, you might see Elizabethton, or Kingsport, or Johnson City. You might even go somewhere farther if your Resource Specialist needs to fulfill a more exotic request.”