The Felix Chronicles: Freshmen

by R. T. Lowe

“Take it easy, dude.” Lucas withdrew a few steps, watching Felix curiously from the center of the room, smearing his eyes blearily with the heels of his hands. Lucas, wearing only green and orange PC boxers with a smiling sturgeon on his butt, looked very confused, and very tired. “It’s just another dream. Third one this week, dude. You think you’re done scaring the shit out of me?”

  Deeply relieved that this wasn’t a sequel, Felix slumped down on his bed and took a deep breath. He didn’t need Lucas to keep track of how many times he’d had this dream: Each time it scared the hell out of him, each time it was exactly the same, and each time it was horrifyingly unforgettable.

  “Sorry,” Felix said contritely. Most of his panic had melted away, but not enough to calm his racing heart. “Shit. Sorry about waking you up.”

  “It’s okay.” Lucas flipped the light switch and returned to his bed. “You remember anything?”

  Felix considered his options as he stared up at the darkened ceiling, but his answer was never in doubt. He would lie, just like he had every time before. “No.”

  “Too bad,” Lucas said. “G’night, dude.”

  “G’night.”

  Chapter 40

  Wolves

  “You look like hell,” Allison said to Felix as they walked along a path on the north side of The Yard.

  “Thanks.” He zipped up his jacket until the puffy down-filled collar covered his chin. It was bitingly cold, the coldest day of the year so far. The chill gnawed at his ears and the tip of his nose. “I didn’t get much sleep. I keep having these really weird dreams.”

  She gave him a searching look, her breaths escaping in little clouds into the frigid air. “You okay?”

  “I guess.” Felix wasn’t sure if he was okay or not. The dreams were really getting to him, bleeding into his waking life, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Ten o’clock classes had ended and the eleven o’clocks were about to start. The path and the steps to the lecture halls were clotted with students and drifted with clumps of fallen leaves.

  “So where’s Bill’s office?” she asked, as they skirted around a group of students hanging out in front of the Siegler Building. “Did you say it was in Stamford?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did he say… um… did he say why he wants to see me?”

  “Not really. I haven’t even talked to him in like a week and a half. Not since I saw him at Inverness.”

  “Oh. So what’d he do, text you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  They walked in silence the rest of the way, both staring at the ground. When they arrived at Bill’s office (they’d taken the stairs to stay warm) they found that the door had been left open for them. Felix shrugged out of his jacket. The comforting warmth of Stamford’s central heat had felt great at first, but now he was starting to sweat. He poked his head into the room and said, “Bill?”

  Bill was sitting at his desk with his laptop open in front of him, eyes focused on the screen. He looked up, startled. “Oh—hey Felix.” He snapped the monitor shut. “Come in. Is Allison with you?”

  “Hi!” Allison stepped around Felix and entered the office.

  Bill got up from his chair and leaned over his desk to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Allison. Please have a seat.” He motioned at the two guest chairs. “It’s a cold one out there, isn’t it? The weather guy says the high will only be forty today. Either of you like a cup of tea?”

  Felix shook his head and dropped his backpack on the floor, then sank heavily into the chair, sliding down until the small of his back rested on the edge of the seat. He folded his coat in half and held it on his lap.

  “No thanks.” Allison slipped out of her jacket and took a seat in the other chair, her eyes roaming around the room. Then she looked at Bill and said simply, “You don’t look like a groundskeeper.” Felix agreed. Bill was dressed like an investment banker on business casual day: tan slacks, leather loafers and a blue button-down shirt. Felix had seen him like this before so he wasn’t surprised.

  Bill smiled at Allison. “I’m trying to encourage my colleagues to take fashion more seriously.”

  Allison laughed.

  Bill settled back into his chair, then he looked at Felix and his eyebrows nearly came together over his nose. “You look a little chalky. You sick?”

  “Just tired. Nightmares keep waking me up.”

  “Nightmares? About what?”

  “Burning to death.”

  “Burning to death?” Bill’s eyes went wide for a moment. “Are you doing your relaxation techniques?”

  “Sometimes. They don’t seem to be working.”

  “Have you—”

  “Sorry.” Allison held up her arm and nodded at her watch apologetically. “Not to be rude, but we actually have to meet our friends in a few minutes. Can we hurry this up?”

  “Of course,” Bill said. “This won’t take long. So you’re probably wondering why I wanted to meet you.”

  Allison nodded, her face placid.

  “It’s pretty simple really. The three of us know something the rest of the world is blind to. We know about The Warning. We know that Lofton Ashfield is the Drestian. We know that Felix is the Belus. And we also know that the world isn’t what it seems. If Lofton has put things in motion—and he has—you’ll start to look for the signs. You’ll see them everywhere once you know what to look for: the liberal politician with an unerringly consistent voting record who suddenly becomes an advocate for press censorship and the criminalization of public assemblies; senators from neighboring states forming alliances irrespective of political party; and most telling, the government’s inaction—deliberate inaction—to combat violence and poverty and to provide basic services to its citizens, which is clearly by design. The more incompetent, self-interested and corrupt the government appears, the easier it will be for Lofton to offer the people an alternative. His alternative. Living in this world—the real world—won’t be easy for you. You could feel isolated. You may doubt yourself. You may even feel like you’ve lost your mind. So I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine with all that,” Allison said lightly, shrugging. “I really am. I always thought—always hoped—that there was something more to all this. Something below the surface more important than all the trivial crap everyone’s so obsessed about.”

  “Good,” Bill said. “That’s good. I appreciate that perspective. But if you ever need to talk with someone, I’ll make myself available. Make sure you get my number from Felix. If you have any questions or anything, you can—”

  “I do have a question,” she interrupted, causing Bill to raise an eyebrow. “Why would anyone follow Lofton?”

  “Good question,” Bill said with a nod of his head. “According to The Warning, the Drestian will fix the Source, but the Belus”—his eyes went pointedly to Felix who was studying the maps on the wall behind Bill’s desk—“can only fix the Source with help from all of us—from humankind.”

  “But Lofton will also make everyone his slaves,” Allison pointed out.

  “That’s right,” Bill agreed. “It’s a classic example of competing political philosophies. If you follow Lofton, you’re giving away your freedom and your self-determination, but you gain certainty and security—and the survival of the Source. If you follow Felix, you believe that freedom is something that cannot be given or traded away. You believe freedom is a critical component of our makeup, and that without it, there is no point to our lives, regardless of the consequences—and there are consequences. Because if Felix and the rest of us—humankind that is—fail, the Source will fail. To put it simply, those who would follow Lofton have no faith that we can solve our own problems so they would hand over control—and their freedom—to a single man who will solve our problems for us. And those who would follow Felix believe we should have the right to decide our own fate, the right to fight for our own destiny, and that servitude to one man’s will, one man’s rule, can never be tolerated even if it means t
he end of the universe.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Allison said.

  Felix glanced at her, thinking she was joking, but she looked serious.

  Bill leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. “Well I’m glad we’ve reached the same conclusion.”

  Allison looked down at the floor and crossed one boot over the other. Then she lifted her gaze and said, “I have another question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why is Lofton killing people in Ashfield Forest?”

  “Sorry?” Bill said, surprised.

  “The Ashfield Forest Mystery,” Allison said. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s the Drestian. It’s his forest. He must be responsible.”

  “Lofton’s not killing anyone,” Bill said fervently, shaking his head. “At least not in Ashfield Forest.”

  “Bullshit!” Felix blurted and sat up straight. “Allison’s right! I can’t believe I didn’t see the connection. That can’t be a coin—”

  “Coincidence? It is—believe it or not. I happen to know what’s going on, and I can tell you.” Bill paused, watching them. “But you have to promise to keep this between us.” He waited until they nodded their assent. “Wolves,” he announced.

  “Wolves?” they said in unison.

  “Three domesticated packs were released into the wild over the past two years. Sometime last year, they came together to form a super-pack. The zoologists working with the governor’s office believe that because the wolves were raised in captivity, they don’t fear people, as they should, but instead view them as a source of food. As we speak, every wolf expert and big game hunter on the west coast is in Ashfield Forest attempting to locate the pack. And when they find them, they’ll kill them.”

  “How come we haven’t been hearing about this super-pack on the news?” Allison asked skeptically.

  “Politics,” Bill said with loathing in his voice, his mouth twisting into a frown. “The governor approved the re-introduction of wolves despite the protests of farmers and the lobbyists who represent them. If this were to become public, the governor would be wading through a shitstorm with an election year coming up. Lofton’s doing the governor a favor. He’ll keep it quiet and allow access to his forest in exchange for whatever he may need from the governor down the road.”

  “How do you know all this?” Felix asked.

  “I know some people,” Bill replied cryptically.

  Allison stood up and turned to Felix. “We’re late.”

  Felix grabbed his backpack and got to his feet, yawning.

  “You look like shit,” Bill said to him.

  “I feel like shit.”

  “Well pull it together,” Bill urged, giving Felix a smile. “I’ll be seeing you tonight. Twelve sharp. Don’t be late.”

  Felix groaned.

  “Nice meeting you, Allison.”

  “You too,” she said on her way out, her coat tucked under her arm. “See you around.”

  Chapter 41

  Stalking Stalkers

  The grass was wet and half frozen, crunching under their feet as they made their way through The Yard. The sun had crept higher in a white sky while they were in Bill’s office.

  “He’s younger than I thought he’d be,” Allison said to Felix.

  “I think he’s thirty-eight or thirty-nine. That’s pretty old.”

  “That is pretty old,” she agreed. “He’s lying, you know.”

  “Lying? About what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So how do you know he’s lying?”

  Allison started to say something, but nothing intelligible came out, and she fell into silence. He watched her, waiting for a response. The lawn ended. The southeast corner of the library was visible off in the distance and Little Ben’s enormous clock face poked its head above Garner Hall. He was getting restless. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. “Allie? What the hell?”

  “Sorry,” she said with an irritated shake of her head. “I don’t know why I know. I just do.”

  “Like an intuition thing,” he hazarded.

  “No. This is different. It’s like a… I don’t know. It’s just a feeling, I guess.” She clamped her jaw, staring down silently at the ground.

  Felix knew she was smoldering beneath her stony expression. He’d seen this before; impatient by nature, if Allison couldn’t immediately wrap her head around something she became frustrated with herself. He decided not to push her.

  “Hey Felix!” a girl’s voice rang out from the path up ahead.

  He didn’t recognize the voice, but he recognized the body it was attached to: Amber. Her long skinny legs reached right up to her mound of wavy strawberry blonde hair. She sauntered right over to him and he had to pull up to avoid running into her.

  “Hey,” Felix said hesitantly, wishing he’d noticed her earlier so that he could have taken evasive action.

  “How’s it going?” Amber said. She was wearing sheer black leggings and a tight cleavage-revealing sweater. No coat. She was either immune or oblivious to the weather.

  “Good.” He glanced furtively at Allison. “Good. It’s all good.” He took a step back, trying to reclaim his personal bubble.

  “It looks good.” Amber smiled and moved closer. She was practically on top of him. Her sultry brown eyes were eating him up, making him feel awkward. She bit down softly on her lip. “So who are you doing these days?”

  “Who?”

  Amber smiled at his confusion. “There’s a party tonight at Astoria. Common room on the second floor. There’ll be lots of beer. And anything else you might wanna get your hands on. Including me.” She drew out the last two words in a lusty breath, more moan than speech. Then she smiled suggestively and ran her hands over her ass, which he couldn’t help but notice (and stare at) because it was phenomenal.

  Felix coughed nervously, trying not to look at Allison. He could feel her eyes burning into him. “Yeah, sure. I’ll try to make it.”

  “Your friend can come too if she wants,” Amber offered like an afterthought, her eyes remaining fixed on Felix.

  Allison jumped in, apparently not appreciating the bystander treatment. “I have a name—Allison. Thanks, but I think I have plans.”

  “That’s too bad,” Amber replied with practiced insincerity. “Hope to see you there, big guy.” She took her time looking him up and down, then licked her lips and walked away.

  They started up again.

  “That’s the ERA chick, isn’t it?” Allison said when Amber was out of earshot.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think she might like you.” She laughed.

  He grinned crookedly. “She scares me.”

  “You know she’s a trophy hunter,” Allison told him.

  “A what?”

  “She bags guys.”

  Felix considered this as they put the library and Little Ben behind them. Beyond the Courtyard and past a stretch of perfectly spaced trees stood the Student Center, which was attracting droves of students swaddled in heavy coats.

  “You mean, she like mounts their heads on the wall?” he asked.

  Allison nodded. “That’s the word on the street, anyway. She’s just a year ahead of us but the list of guys she’s slept with is long and illustrious.”

  “Really? Who’s on it?”

  “Just the most popular and hottest guys on campus. I don’t know any names, but it’s supposedly a veritable who’s who at PC.”

  “Seriously?” Felix said, recalling his steamy encounter with Amber after the Satler party. “Why would she do that?”

  “Who knows? Low self-esteem. Daddy issues. Maybe she just likes hooking up with hot guys. Got me.”

  “And she’s ERA,” Felix added. “She’s got a lot going on. I saw a guy with a tiger tattoo the other day. In Western Civ. He must be ERA, right?”

  “I’m sure he is. Two girls in my English class have them on their feet. They wear flip flops even on days like this. Showing off their tats, I guess.”

  “I
thought it had to be on your arm,” Felix said.

  Allison shook her head. “I think most are, but it’s not a requirement or anything. Some of them—oh shit!” She looked startled, then her eyes darted all around like she wanted to make a run for it. “Shoot me. Not him.”

  “Not who?”

  Allison didn’t have to answer. Grayson Bentley was coming directly at them, smiling. He was always smiling. It was like he was so pleased with himself he couldn’t help but be happy.

  “Oh God,” Felix muttered.

  Grayson waved and said cheerfully, “Hello.”

  “Hey,” Allison replied dully. “We’re actually on our way to—”

  “I haven’t seen you around the house in a while,” Grayson said to Allison, stopping them in the middle of the path. “You either.” He nodded at Felix with the same degree of dismissive rudeness as if Felix was a busboy at Friendly’s asking permission to clear off his table.

  “I’ve been busy,” Allison told him.

  “I can see that.” Grayson regarded Felix like he had the Ebola virus.

  “See ya.” Felix tried to step around him. He couldn’t take this guy, not even in limited doses. He hated the way he seemed to own every situation. It was like he was never uncomfortable. He figured Grayson had been told how great he was from the day he was born, and that message was now part of his fabric—he didn’t just think he was better than everyone else, he knew he was better than everyone else. Unfortunately, his résumé backed up his lofty opinion of himself.

  “Hold on a sec.” Grayson leaned in confidentially to get Felix’s attention. “I was thinking about you the other day. I know this kid who lives in Astoria. His name’s Jeremy. Real smart, but socially, he’s a train wreck. Total disaster. I’m sure you know the type. Anyway, he’s desperate to join my frat. Thinks it’ll get him laid.” He laughed loudly, his breath steaming thick in the cold. “We had a few beers at the house—probably his first ever. You know how some kids are, you give ‘em a drink or two and they won’t shut the hell up. He wouldn’t stop talking. The kid really opened up like I was his priest or something.”