by R. T. Lowe
“The Journal?” Allison exclaimed. “What other part? Felix, where does Bill keep the Journal?”
“I don’t know. Wait! Didn’t he say it was in his bedroom?” Felix looked down at the safe. “It must be in this thing.” He twisted and crumpled the door, wrenching it out and snapping it off with a tremendous grinding sound, letting it fall to the table with a heavy thud. He plunged his hands into the safe and hastily removed the contents, bundles of $100 bills and envelopes containing papers, documents and passports.
“No Journal,” Felix said. “There’s no journal here! Where the hell is it?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” the man moaned. “The same guy who did that”—his eyes went to Bill—“took it. He took it, but he didn’t get all of it. I was told some pages were missing.”
Felix understood. “Who told you to come for it? Lofton?”
The man looked stunned. “Lofton? You two are clueless! You have no idea what you’re dealing with! I’ve never spoken to Lofton! Not one goddamn time!”
Felix looked at Allison and she nodded, confirming the truthfulness of the man’s words.
“What’s your name?” Felix rifled through the papers again to see if he’d missed anything.
The man didn’t answer.
Felix approached, looking him in the eye. He raised his hand and created a fire that flickered on his fingertips.
“Dalton,” he said quickly, his horrified eyes on the flames.
“Who do you work for, Dalton?” Felix stepped close, raising the flames, curling them around Dalton’s face, singing his hair.
“AshCorp,” Dalton whimpered, staring in terror.
“What do you do there?”
“Internal Security.”
“Explain!” Felix demanded.
“Special assignments,” Dalton choked out, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could no longer bear to look at the flames. “Protecting assets—human and property. Surveillance. Whatever I’m told to do.”
“Who told you to look for missing pages?”
“I told you I don’t know!” Dalton’s eyes opened, rimmed red with anger and pain.
“It doesn’t matter,” Allison said to Felix. “The order came from Lofton, but it could’ve been filtered through ten other people. The guy who killed Bill brought Lofton the Journal and when he saw it was missing the back pages he had someone send in this guy to find them.”
Felix nodded. He’d drawn the same conclusion.
“Anything else you want to tell us?” Allison said to Dalton.
“Fuck you!” Dalton screamed down at her face.
Enraged, Felix focused his thoughts on the man’s chest and reached inside, gripping his heart. He squeezed, seeing the organ with his mind, visualizing it as it oozed through the fingers of his mental grip. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and drool streamed from his mouth. Felix squeezed harder, pulverizing his heart, turning it to jelly. When there was nothing more he could do to the mutilated organ, he released Dalton and he crumpled to the floor.
Allison stood over him, glanced down for a moment with a disapproving look then fixed her tired gaze on Felix. “Dammit August,” she muttered. “You really only have two speeds, don’t you? We need to work on finding you a nice middle gear.” She sighed with dismay. “Well, I hope that’s all the information Dalton had for us.”
Felix was shaking with anger. He took in a deep breath and let it go, just like Bill had taught him, calming himself. “We should take this with us,” he said, motioning at the envelopes and stacks of cash on the table.
“I’ll find something to put it in.” She went down the hallway and returned with a plain white pillow case. “This should work.” They swept everything into it and Allison slung it over her shoulder. “We should get out of here. I can’t believe the cops haven’t come yet. Someone should have heard the gunshots.”
Felix stopped in front of Bill and knelt down to see his face. He looks asleep, he thought, struggling to understand how he could be dead. “You said he was happy?” He looked up at her.
“Yes.” Allison watched him.
“You know,” Felix began, speaking softly, “he laughed a lot, but he never seemed happy. It was always like he was sad about something… something he didn’t want to talk about.” He looked Bill in the face. “I know I disappointed you. I guess we just, I don’t know, maybe we couldn’t understand, or just… whatever.” He trailed off, turning his eyes to Allison. “I should’ve done it. If I’d just given it to him, Bill would be alive. I just didn’t… I didn’t wanna be forced to, you know, I didn’t want to think about it. I’m tired of being played by everyone so I did nothing and look what happened.” He nodded at Bill. “It’s my fault.”
“Given it to whom?” Allison asked softly.
“Lofton.” Felix waited for Allison to say something, but she only gestured for him to go on. “I saw him at the fountain. We talked. He knew about the Journal and he wanted me to bring it to him. He said it was a test. Another goddamn test.”
Allison nodded. “When?”
Felix thought for a moment. “A while ago, just before the colonies were bombed.”
“Why did he want it? Did he tell you?”
“It’s proof.” Felix’s eyes fixed on Bill’s hands, unmoving, cold. “Proof of what Lofton is. Proof that there’s another, you know, world no one knows about.”
Allison frowned. “And proof the country is controlled by Sourcerors.”
“Yeah. I think Lofton’s worried of what’ll happen if people find out about people like, well, like us.”
Allison chewed on her lip, brow creasing. “I hadn’t really considered that.” She paused. “They’d be scared shitless. They’d hunt us down—try to anyway.” A smile flickered across her lips. “I guess I… I understand why Lofton would ask you to get it for him.”
“I should’ve just done it.” His voice caught in his throat and he cleared it. “I should’ve known Lofton wouldn’t just give up. I should’ve… I mean shit! Why didn’t I even warn Bill? I should’ve seen this coming!”
“It’s not your fault.” Allison put a hand on his shoulder. “Lofton was trying to manipulate you and you didn’t let him.”
“Hooray for me,” Felix muttered and stood. “The one time I make a decision for myself and Bill dies for it.” He shook his head angrily. “I thought I was being principled, taking control, making decisions for myself and all that shit.” He waved a hand at Bill. “Great decision, huh?”
“I respect your decision,” Allison said seriously. “You weren’t wrong.”
“Pick a side, don’t pick a side, it doesn’t matter. Either way, people die.”
“It does matter, Felix. You need to do—we need to do—what we feel is right.”
“Bill’s dead,” Felix said flatly. “Whatever we do, people die.”
“The people close to us will always be in danger,” Allison agreed.
Felix sighed. “You thought any more about Bora Bora? Just you and me?”
Allison smiled. “I’ll take you up on that. One day. In the meantime…”
“I know. There’s no hiding from this, is there?”
Allison shook her head and stared down at Bill. “You weren’t such a bad guy. And don’t worry. I’ll take care of Felix.” She started for the door.
Final words? Was this the last time he would ever see Bill? How could he be dead? It didn’t feel real. He struggled for something to say, his thoughts jumbled. Maybe words don’t matter when you’re dead. Maybe it’s all pointless—maybe it’s too late. But he felt the weight of the moment in his chest and he knew he had to say something meaningful. He owed Bill that.
He cleared his throat, feeling a cold wind blowing in from outside. “One day,” he began, his voice a whisper, “I’ll make you proud. I don’t know how, but I will. I promise.” On an impulse, he took Bill’s hand and placed it between his own, holding it tight. His eyes felt hot. “I promise.” With that, he turned and follo
wed Allison into the night.
Chapter 24
SPOILS
Their friends were waiting for them when they returned to the dorm at just after four in the morning. Allison’s unexplained departure had worried Caitlin who woke up Harper, and the two of them had met Lucas in the hall as he was stumbling back from somewhere he wasn’t inclined to disclose though it may have involved a girl named Mandy.
“What’s in the bag?” Lucas asked, still wearing his clothes from the day before.
Allison smoothed out Felix’s comforter and emptied out the pillow case on the bed.
“You rob a bank?” Lucas came over for a closer look. He picked up a stack of $100 bills and slapped it against his palm. “This is ten thousand dollars.” His eyes roamed over the bounty. “Five, six… you’ve got sixty thousand dollars here.”
“Shit,” Harper whispered, approaching cautiously with Caitlin alongside. “Where’d this come from?”
Felix dropped to his knees and began opening envelopes and shaking out their contents. “Bill’s house.” He meant to elaborate but he recognized the small boy in the pictures and his voice deserted him. He dumped out another envelope. More pictures. The boy wasn’t any older than two or three in some of them, though others were more recent, and it was clear who the subject was—Felix. One caught his eye, a photo of a blond haired kid on a swing, hair flying, smiling crazily, front teeth missing, and behind him his dad, arms out, and his mom beside him, watching with a joyful apprehensiveness, a perfect mixture of pleasure, pride and fear. His parents looked so young—so happy.
Allison, sitting at the foot of the bed, leafed through the photos. “Bill’s dead,” she said, looking up at their friends. “Lofton had him killed and he took the Journal.”
Caitlin gasped.
“Oh man.” Lucas pulled up a chair. “I’m sorry, dude.”
“Me too.” Felix felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up at Harper.
“I’m really sorry. I know you were close.” She leaned down and hugged him around the shoulder. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
“Thanks,” Felix muttered, and realized Harper didn’t have any shoes on—or pants. She must have been wearing shorts and a T-shirt when Caitlin roused her from bed, and he wondered for a moment, oddly, why her skin was always so tan, even in the dead of winter.
“Look at this one.” Allison pushed a photo in front of Felix.
It was creased down the middle and curled up at the edges as though Bill had kept it in his wallet. The headstone in the photo was gray and plain and a simple bouquet of sunflowers leaned against the base on one side. At the top, chiseled into the stone, was a name: “Lisa Stiner.” And below that, an epitaph: “Unto her was born hope.”
“What was your mom’s name?” Allison asked. “Elissa, right?”
“Elissa Tinshire.” He stared at the photo. “Elissa Tinshire. Lisa Stiner. It’s her. It’s my mom.” His eyes searched the photo, wondering why he’d never thought to ask Bill where she was buried. “Where—?”
“Our Lady of Peace, Tildon, Washington,” Lucas said slowly, on his feet again and peering over Felix’s shoulder.
“How do you know that?” Felix asked.
“The flowers.” Lucas was on his phone, scrolling. “There’s a card on them.”
“Very observant,” Allison said, sounding impressed.
“Looks like Tildon’s about an hour and fifteen from here,” Lucas said. “The cemetery doesn’t have a website.” He frowned in confusion. “What kind of place doesn’t have a website?”
“This is interesting.” Caitlin had wormed her way between Allison and Felix. “Check this out—the last will and testament of William Stout.” She placed the document on the bed, keeping her fingers on it to prevent the paper from folding in on itself.
Bill’s will was short, a single page, broken out into two articles, signed by Bill and two witnesses and notarized on the bottom. The first article provided that Bill’s debts and expenses would be paid from his estate. The second article, “Disposition of Property,” consisted of one sentence: “All of my tangible personal property shall be distributed to Felix August.”
“I guess that makes you the beneficiary,” Allison said.
“Oh.” Felix honestly didn’t care.
“All of my tangible personal property,” Caitlin said in a low voice. “He didn’t have any family?”
Felix shook his head, recalling the night Bill had threatened him with a bat when he balked at reading the Journal. Felix remembered the desperation in Bill’s voice as he’d told him how he had sacrificed everything for that moment. It seemed that was the one thing Bill had been completely truthful about. He really had given up everything for Felix, and in the end, he’d given his life.
Felix stood and walked to the window to clear his head. “I asked him a few times about stuff, you know, family and where he went to school, but he never wanted to talk about it. I got the impression he didn’t have any kids or anything, but I have no idea if his parents are alive or if he has siblings or whatever. He just never said anything.”
“You think the guy was loaded?” Lucas nodded down at the money.
Felix shrugged, staring at his reflection in the window. “Maybe. He drove a Range Rover and I think he told me he bought his house. I don’t know.” He didn’t want to think about what he was inheriting.
“For now,” Allison said, putting everything back in the pillow case, “we can’t let anyone see this. Bill was just murdered and we’re in possession of all the valuables he kept in his safe.”
“I’d rather avoid jail time,” Caitlin said, suddenly nervous, staring at the passports and cash with fear in her eyes.
Allison stopped what she was doing to give Caitlin a reassuring smile. “There’s nothing to worry about. There’s a dead man with a gun in Bill’s house and he’s got a bunch of equipment for removing the safe.”
Caitlin nodded uncertainly, hugging herself.
“I don’t think he had anything with him to open the safe.” Felix watched Allison in the window. “And it wasn’t his gun that shot Bill.”
Allison waved off Felix’s concerns. “The cops will assume the dead guy had accomplices and I don’t think they’ll be able to test his gun. You melted it.”
A new concern arose in Felix’s mind. “What will the cops think about that?”
“I’m not sure, but I doubt they’ll conclude a fire wielding Sourceror is responsible,” Allison answered with a hint of a smile. “Look, the cops will have to work with what they know, and they’ll think it misfired and exploded or something like that.”
“So the guy is… he’s dead?” Caitlin turned hesitantly to Allison. “Did you—?”
“I did it.” Felix moved away from the window. “He didn’t kill Bill, but he was part of it, and he deserved to die.” The admission didn’t trigger an emotional reaction. Normally when Felix was forced to acknowledge that he’d killed someone, a black cloud of regret and guilt tore at his heart. Not this time. He had killed Dalton in a rage, but even now, with his mind calm and centered, he knew he would do it again without a second thought. Admitting responsibility without the accompanying remorse was somehow liberating.
Caitlin pursed her lips and her shoulders slumped. She seemed as young and vulnerable as a child, and Felix noticed she wasn’t wearing any jewelry, no bracelets or rings, not even the diamond studs she never used to go without. She gathered herself and corrected her posture, looking Felix in the eye. “I know you did what you had to do.” Her gaze shifted to Allison. “Both of you. I can’t believe how brave you guys are.”
Harper slipped an arm around Caitlin’s shoulder and gave her a hug. “You shouldn’t worry about these two. Felix is a flame throwing airbender and Allison killed four Protectors without breaking a sweat.” She smiled sweetly at Allison. “Even if those assassins fight like kittens.”
Allison stared at Harper, drawing her eyebrows together, then she returned the smile. �
��You thinking about going?” she said to Felix.
“Where?”
She indicated his hand and he realized he was holding the photo of his mother’s gravestone. He glanced down at it, reading the name and the epitaph, his emotions oscillating between uncertainty and a strange sense of obligation. Nodding slowly, he looked up at Allison, a feeling of trepidation falling over him at the thought of meeting his mom for the first time.
Chapter 25
AN IRRESISTIBLE OFFER
Allison waited out in the hall, her nose buried in the latest edition of the school paper, The Weekly Sturgeon, skimming through editorials celebrating the administration’s decision to ban Professor Hamlen’s campus podcasts and the New Government’s bombing of the Rejectionists’ strongholds. The newspaper’s write-ins universally praised the fire-bombing of a half million civilians as a reasoned and appropriate response to protect the safety of the public and a strong statement that the New Government would enforce the laws to uphold the spirit of the Bill of Freedom. Allison wondered how all those brave defenders of the Bill of Freedom would feel if they watched just one person burn to death. She imagined the bold editorialists passing out at the sight of a papercut.
Wearing a baseball hat, Allison peered over the paper, only her eyes visible to the students going in and out of their dorm rooms and ambling down the hall for the staircase on Astoria’s top floor. She hadn’t garnered so much as a questioning look in the forty minutes she’d been there. Tucking the paper into her back pocket, she took out her phone, checking the headlines, keeping her head down. At just past noon, a girl in cheetah print leggings and a sheer black top unlocked the door across from Allison and stepped in without a glance behind her. The door began to close. Allison lunged forward, stopped it with the heel of her hand and slipped into the room. The girl gasped and stumbled back as Allison shut the door and twisted the lock.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the girl shrieked.
