by Willow Rose
It was something she had read about in her mom's book before she had ended up paralyzed. A way to enter another person's mind and place pictures in their brains and make sounds, making them believe they knew stuff or heard things, like her calling from inside the barn.
She hadn't thought it would work, but it did. Lying still in her bed had given her tons of time to think, and that was when she had used an old spell to enter the minds of the people surrounding her. First, she had tried it on the nurse, then the doctor, but all she had succeeded in doing was getting a lot of useless information from their thought-patterns. But then, one day, she had entered the mind of someone else present. She didn't really know who it was, but she had seen something in this person's memories that had shocked her. She had seen this person take off the skin and place it underneath the hatch in that abandoned farm, then drive away from the place. That was how she knew how to find it. Exactly how it worked, she didn't know, but it was a new power that she had somehow gained—maybe since everything else didn't work, like when blind people gain better hearing or strengthen other senses—and it worked on some people like Robyn. And right now, it was the only weapon she had. It was a way of contacting the world around her. The only way.
But it wasn't enough. They had decided to turn off the machines keeping her alive. They had decided to kill her.
Please, don't. Please, don't do this.
I will do my best to help you. I won't let this happen, Jazzy.
Dad? BamBam? Oh, thank God you're here. I’m going insane in here. Please tell them I’m awake. Please make them listen, will you?
I’m trying.
"Here you go, BamBam, say your goodbyes," she heard her aunt say and then felt the cat's paws rest on her chest. She could hear BamBam purring and feel it rub itself up against her cheek and neck. Jazmine smiled on the inside, enjoying the touches, then burst into tears, realizing she had gained the feeling back. She could actually feel BamBam against her skin. That meant she was getting better. But was it too late?
"Oh, my, she's crying," her aunt said and wiped away the tears from her cheek. "I don't know…what this means?"
"It's just her eyes cleaning themselves from dust in the air or whatever might have gotten in there," the nurse said.
"Oh, I see," her aunt said.
Please, Jazmine cried. She felt BamBam's paws on her body before the cat was picked up.
"Time to go," her aunt said.
Help me, Daddy; please, help me!
But there was no reply. There was nothing but silence outside of her limp body as she was once again left alone in her prison of misery.
Chapter Forty-One
Tinfoil Tim stretched himself. He had slept better than he had in years. The small cabin that he shared with three others at the camp had beds so soft and pleasant that he looked forward to nighttime every day.
The two others in his cabin smiled and looked pleased as well as they got up and got ready for breakfast. Roger, who slept in the bunk above Tim, gave him a look. He had once been abducted by a UFO and been experimented on. At least that was what he had thought it was, till he arrived in this camp and had realized he had actually been a victim of bloodsucking vampires that had fed off him on a regular basis, drugged him and sucked his blood, while persuading him to think that they were aliens experimenting on him. But as the strange men who had brought them to this camp had explained, that was the way vampires worked. They were deceiving creatures who had been controlling this world for a very long time, making people believe they weren't real, that it something was else happening to them. Either that or made them look like idiots for believing something was wrong. Just like Tony, who slept in the third bed in Tim's cabin, who had been in the world of banking for all of his life, until he accidentally walked in on a nightly meeting and saw hundreds of them gathered in the vault, sucking the blood of a group of illegal immigrants. He had lost his job and was sent to a mental institution, where they drugged him and told him he was a sick man. Since he got out, he had lived in the street, trying to warn people of how the banking world was full of bloodsucking monsters, but no one would listen. Just like they wouldn't listen when Tim had discovered that the law firm he worked for was also run by the same type of bloodsucking creatures. He had suspected something was off for years and started to research it. Tons of people wrote about these things online, about the Loch Ness monster being a real flying dragon, about vampires infiltrating and corrupting our government, about them controlling people's minds. That was when he had started to wear the tinfoil hat. He had also read about how witches were testing their potions from airplanes, causing Chemtrails of spells to control bigger flocks of people, using people as guinea pigs for their evil schemes. That was when he started to fear being outside, especially on days when there was no wind to carry the potions away when the trails were visible in the blue sky.
As Tim had learned, it wasn't just the vampires that had taken over this world. There were also werewolves living among them. Another guy from cabin twenty-two had told him how he had been chasing the wolves for years since they took his grandfather, the only living relative he had. Since then, he had devoted his life to killing them, but people would rather believe in Bigfoot than werewolves. He knew they were real, as he had stared into the eyes of one as it killed his grandfather, and then he’d devoted his entire existence to tracking them down, even though people told him he was insane. If he wanted to find a wolf, then go to the mountains, they had said, but he hadn't. He had gone into neighborhoods, especially the most well-trimmed ones because that was where they lived. They didn't roam the mountains. No, the ones he looked for were our neighbors. They lived among us.
"What do you think is for breakfast today?" Tim asked as they walked outside.
"Probably all the deliciousness in the world, like the other days," Roger said happily.
They began to rush toward the cafeteria where they ate all their meals while greeting a couple of the strange spider-like men on their way.
They all felt like children in this place. Finally, someone was listening to their stories. Finally, someone believed them. The spider-like men told them they were gathering more like them, and every day, new ones came too, much to Tinfoil Tim's satisfaction. He liked not being alone with all this knowledge; he liked sharing it with people who would actually listen and believe every word he told them.
And he liked that the spider-like men—creepy as they were—had finally decided to rid the world of all this evil. Finally, someone was doing something to make this world a better place, fighting to gain back what once was. And soon, it would all be over, they had promised them. Very soon.
Chapter Forty-Two
"They're going to shut her off. I don't know what to do."
"Calm down, Robyn," Amy said. "You've got to calm down."
I had called her as soon as I got back from the hospital and told her I needed to come over and talk. We were sitting in her kitchen, and she was chopping carrots for a stew. She was chopping so eagerly, I feared for her fingertips. She was telling me to calm down when she was everything but calm.
"How am I supposed to calm down? I heard her voice, Amy. I heard her loud and clear. How else would I have known where to find Ruelle's skin? How else would I even know where to find the farm if it wasn't her leading me somehow, huh?"
Amy chopped faster, and it made me nervous. "Intuition? Maybe you read about the place in an article? Could it be a coincidence? Maybe you just got lucky?"
"It makes no sense," I said and threw out my arms. I grabbed a cookie that Amy had put out for me. It was tasteless. Not because it wasn't good, but because I felt so awful that nothing tasted good right now. I was close to panicking, thinking about poor Jazmine.
"I mean if the doctor says she's brain-dead, then I’m pretty sure that's what she is," Amy said. "Don't you think? I mean they should know, right?"
I shook my head. "I…I don't know. What if they don't?"
Amy placed a cup of hot choc
olate in front of me while putting the ingredients in the big pot for her stew. Soon, it smelled heavenly in the kitchen.
"I was just so…certain, you know?" I said. "That I heard her. That it was her, guiding me that day. But I guess that maybe I could be wrong. Maybe I made it all up. I spoke to Duncan about it on my way back. I called him on the phone and cried and everything, but he said he believed my mind was just playing tricks on me because I wanted so much for her to be well."
"He might have a point," she said, looking at me with her head slightly tilted to the side.
I sighed and sipped my hot chocolate. "I’m just not sure I’m ready to give up on her yet. I mean…isn't it kind of early?"
Amy shrugged. I could tell she was sad about this too. There was a certain look in her eyes. As usual, when she was upset, she hid it behind her cooking. Sometimes I would wish she would just sit down and talk about it instead. But this was what she did.
There was a long pause where neither of us said anything, each of us thinking about Jazmine when Amy broke the silence.
"I could also try and…"
"No," I said, interrupting her. She had mentioned using her blood before to heal Jazmine, but we couldn't risk it. Her mom had told her it would require a lot of blood to get someone out of a coma, and Amy risked not surviving it. I wasn't going to lose one friend while saving another.
"It might work," Amy said.
"Or it might kill you instead," I said. "We can't take the risk."
I gave her a look to let her know this was the end of that conversation. We had discussed this before, and there was nothing more to say. We both knew Jazmine would feel the same way.
"I looked into the story about Timmy Reynolds," I said to talk about something else.
Amy lifted her eyebrows. "Really?"
I nodded. "It was quite the story back then. There was a guy, a policeman in one of our neighboring towns, who called the police in Shadow Hills and said he found the boy a few weeks later, wandering the streets late in the evening and took him home for the night."
"That sounds odd. I thought he was never found?" Amy asked.
I shook my head. "He wasn't. When the police from Shadow Hills came to pick the boy up the next day, he wasn't there, and the policeman said he had no idea what they were talking about. He had never called them."
"That's strange," Amy said.
I nodded. "He might just have been some lunatic, you know?"
Amy chopped an onion, then looked up at me.
"Maybe we should ask him about it?"
Chapter Forty-Three
"We’re still not getting anywhere with her."
Jayden was sitting at the top of the stairs, listening to his parents in the kitchen. They were talking about Ruelle, and his dad was sharing about the investigation over their evening coffee.
"She really doesn't remember any of it. Not kidnapping Jayden, not keeping him trapped in that awful abandoned place, or even that he hit her on the head to escape," Jayden's dad continued.
"What about Briana?" Jayden's mom said. "Could she be innocent?"
"We still don't know if Ruelle was involved in the other killings. Briana is accused of having killed Sam Walters. Nothing so far places Ruelle near that murder. The evidence still points toward Briana."
"Could she have inspired Ruelle or something? Like a copycat?" Jayden's mom asked.
"I don't know. That's what I’m hoping to find out soon, but I still can't get anything out of Ruelle. It's hopeless."
"The doctor did say she suffered from amnesia," his mom said. "Maybe the blow to the head caused it."
"Mm-hm," Jayden's dad said pensively.
"You seem troubled," his mom said.
"It just doesn't add up," he said.
"What doesn’t add up?"
"All of it."
Jayden's mom sipped her coffee and looked at her husband. Jayden could see her grab his hand.
"Talk me through it. I want to know."
Jayden's dad lifted his head and looked at her. "She came out of the house at the end of the street. She ran into the street, and Amy hit her with the car."
"We don't know that she actually came out of the house," Jayden's mom corrected him. "She could have been just running up the street and then in front of the car. Don't you think that it's all just part of her game? Could it be an act?"
"You're saying she made it look like she was hit by the car on purpose? To make us believe she didn't remember anything?"
"Or maybe she jumped out in front of the car on purpose."
Jayden's dad sighed and rubbed his forehead. "But what good does that do her? Why didn't she just get out of here? Run away? Why come back?"
Jayden's mom shrugged. "Because she had unfinished business? More people she wanted to kill?"
"But she must have known her cover was blown, that we had found Jazmine and the dog and Alyssa Heckler and that we knew she had taken Jayden. Why come back?"
"Maybe she's crazy?" Jayden's mom said.
He sighed again. "She seems normal. Except for the amnesia."
"It's the amnesia part that worries you, isn't it?" Jayden's mom said.
He looked at her. "Doesn't it worry you?"
She nodded. "I hate to admit it, but it does."
"What if we're wrong here?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. "What if we're wrong about Ruelle?"
Jayden felt a pinch in his stomach when hearing this come from his dad. He had heard the girls talk about Ruelle in the same way at the lake.
"I really don't…" his mom started but stopped herself.
"I had amnesia in the spring," his dad said, lowering his voice like it was a secret.
"Yours was different," his mom said.
He gave her a look. "Was it?"
With a deep sigh, Jayden rose to his feet and walked back up the stairs. He had heard enough. He entered his room and closed the door, then looked toward Robyn's house across the street from him. He would have to make a decision soon.
Chapter Forty-Four
"Mr. Ward? I’m Robyn Jones. I called you yesterday?"
The man standing in the doorway gave me a puzzled look at first, then nodded.
"The girl who's writing a paper for school, oh, yes," he said. "Come on in. It's chilly out here."
"Thank you, Mr. Ward, " I said and followed him into his living room. The TV was on, and he turned down the sound before signaling for me to sit on the brown leather couch. He sat in the recliner across from it. It was worn and ripped on the sides, and I guessed he sat in it a lot. He had been retired from the force for the past ten years; I had read about him while doing my research. Retired with honors.
"Sorry for asking again," he said. "My memory isn't what it used to be, but what was the project about?"
"Missing children in our area," I said, lying. "And how the police look for them."
He chuckled and leaned back in his recliner. "And just why do you want to talk to an old rat like me, huh? You should talk to those that work with these things today."
"I kind of want to talk about how they used to do it too," I said, wondering how I had gotten so good at lying. Fact was I had once again skipped school, and I was worried sick that they were going to call my parents soon. It was the last time, I had promised myself.
"To compare and make the report on how things have changed the past…say…twenty-five years."
"Ah, I see. Very smart indeed. Lots of things have happened; I can tell ya. They have it a lot easier nowadays with all the surveillance cameras, cell phones, and social media to track the youngsters, but I’m guessing they can tell you all about that at the Sheriff's office. You want me to talk about how it was when I was still on the force?"
I took in a deep breath. "Actually, I'd like to have you focus on one special kid, one that went missing twenty-five years ago. You know…as my case study. The case of Timothy Reynolds."
Mr. Ward grew pale.
"That old case?" he said, his voice becoming slig
htly shrill. "Why on Earth did you choose that particular one? It was never solved."
I swallowed. "I read in some old articles that you found the boy."
Mr. Ward shook his head. "You must have gotten that wrong."
"I want to know what really happened," I said. "You found him, it said and called it in, but then when they arrived, you told them you didn't have him, that you had never called."
Mr. Ward stared at me. I could tell a lot was going on inside of him. His teeth were grinding, and his jaw was clenched. His old eyes rested on me, scrutinizing me thoroughly.
"This is not for a school project, is it?" he asked.
I felt a chill roll down my back. I shook my head. "No."
He nodded. "I guess I should have known this would come back to haunt me someday."
"I need to know what happened. Please, Mr. Ward. It'll stay between you and me. I promise."
Chapter Forty-Five
"He was walking on the pavement when I saw him. I recognized him immediately because we had all been told to keep an eye out for the missing child, and I had seen his picture."
Mr. Ward sipped his coffee. We were still sitting in his living room, but he had made coffee for us. He had also put out a plate of very stale chocolate chip cookies that I ate to be polite. They were still way better than my mom's vegan, gluten-free molasses and chia cookies.
Mr. Ward seemed troubled when having to tell his story and he stopped every now and then and stared into the air, shaking his head.
"So, I approached him, naturally. I was driving in my patrol car and parked it, then walked up to him and asked him if he was lost. When I saw his face up close, I was certain it was him. He had been missing for a few weeks, as far as I remember, but he was still wearing the same clothes he had on when he went missing. I told him his parents were looking for him, but he wouldn't talk to me, which was only natural. His parents had probably told him to never talk to strangers. At least that's what I thought it was. So, I asked him if he was hungry and then he nodded. Now, back then, the sheriff's office was very small and so was this town. I was the only one on shift, and it was late at night, so I knew no one would come out to get him. I took him to the station and called the sheriff at Shadow Hills and told them he was with me. It was also a terrible snowstorm, I recall, and they said they would come out to pick him up the day after. I didn't want to leave the boy all alone at the station, so I took him home and fed him. It was the right thing to do, I thought."
