Chapter #15Of Accidents, Coincidences, and Enemy Action by: Seuzz   You're in too much of a daze to do more than take it in as a brute fact: Inside of ten days, all your friends who had known about the masks--except for you and Caleb--have suffered fatal accidents. You curl into a fetal position after Lisa has hung up.
It's that book. It has to be the book. There is no other connecting thread. And of course, it's a magic book. It's the kind of book that lets you do awful things-- You groan as you recall the kinds of things that you and Caleb were talking about doing: replacing people, becoming them, stealing their lives, reshaping them to your own purposes. There have to be demons and things lurking around that book, executing the spells for its users; and naturally those things would bite you back.
What did Caleb say when he first introduced you to the masks? Something about how the book didn't like people unless he made an "impression" of you. But wait, that was just a story, wasn't it, an excuse to get a copy of you before telling you about the masks. So this whole thing began badly for you, with a lie. A small lie, maybe, but it still seems like an omen in retrospect. Your stomach, already unsettled, heaves. Bad beginnings make for bad endings: that's another one of your dad's pet phrases.
You don't call Caleb, but you don't have to: after numbing minutes or hours have passed, he calls you. "I guess you heard," he says quietly. You don't reply. "Can we get together to talk?"
"I'm not driving anywhere," you say. You'd started to say it as a grim jest, but before you've got the statement fully out it has turned into a serious promise. Your chest is very tight.
"You don't have to," he says. "I'll come over there."
"I'd rather you didn't drive either."
"I have to drive anyway, if I'm going to school tomorrow," he says.
* * * * *
He shows up about twenty minutes later, and his face is pale in a way that makes the small patch of zits on his upper cheek stand out lividly. "I know what you're thinking," he says. "But c'mon. It's just coincidence."
You're laying on your bed, on your side, and you're too weak to stretch your arms out to throttle him, however much you'd like to. "James and Carson and Keith and Sean," you say in a fierce whisper. "That can't be coincidence."
"Sean was always reckless behind a wheel," Caleb says. "I know, because I was reckless when I was behind his wheel."
"And James and Carson?"
"Well, that's where the coincidence comes in."
"Those two? Together?"
"It has to be."
"It has to be the book."
"Then what do you want me to do?" he says, throwing up his hands. "I already told you I got rid of it."
"When?" You sit up with a frown.
"Right after what happened to Cameron and Sean." He licks his lips. "Look, I know what I said and what I'm saying now, but yeah, I freaked out. I guess I am freaked out. Better safe than sorry, even if I think it is just a--"
"And stop calling him 'Cameron'. It was Keith." You roll over with a groan. "If I hadn't given him Cameron's mask-- Because I felt sorry for him after what Javits was doing to him--"
"What was Javits doing?"
"The usual. That time it was putting Tilley's underwear in the tree out front." You wave your hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. Point is--"
"Point is, you were being his friend, and besides, I told you to talk to him. I'll take the blame for it."
"But if I hadn't switched with him, it wouldn't have been him in that accident."
"No, it would have been you. You're not making me feel better."
You resist the urge to say "Good." You take a few steps back in the conversation. "And where's Cameron?"
Caleb looks at you carefully. "Um ..."
"I mean the real Cameron. I'm not losing my grip enough to ask about the fake. You know, we could still get some shovels and--"
"Don't go there, either physically or conceptually. Let him rest in peace."
"So where's the real Cameron?"
"I've got him someplace."
"But where?" Your head hurts too much to try figuring it out yourself. "He's got family too. We could let him out--"
"And how do we explain his return? There was a big funeral there, too."
"We don't have to explain it," you say. "Just turn him loose, naked, some place. Jesus, let it be a mystery."
"Well, maybe he's safest where he is anyway. Maybe the bad things are just happening to people who are out in the open."
"What do you mean? 'Out in the open'?"
"Well, people who aren't hidden away. You know, people like you and me and--" He swallows. "The other guys. People who weren't--" Again, he swallows. "Who weren't victims of what we were doing."
Your brow knits. "Was Sean out in the open?"
Caleb's mouth twists. "No. He was a victim too," he says quietly. "Well, so much for that hypothesis."
"So where is Camer--?"
"Oh, stop it," he cries. "It's gotta be a coincidence."
"Stop saying that!" You finally rouse yourself enough to yell. "Once is accident, twice is coincidence, four fucking times is enemy ac--!" You gasp, hard. "Maybe it is," you say dumbly. "Maybe it is enemy action!"
"Stop harping on the book."
"No! Enemy action!" You turn on him with staring eyes. "Did you hide Cameron at Eastman?" He shakes his head sharply. "Do you have anything going on at Eastman, any secret plans you didn't tell me or anyone about?"
"No."
You grab the front of his shirt. "Don't fuck with me, dude, this is important! Is there any reason some guys at Eastman would be looking at and playing with masks like what we had?"
"Not that I know of," he says, and his voice and look are suddenly very sharp.
You fall back on the bed, thinking furiously. "A week or so ago-- The same day as Sean and Cameron's car wreck, in fact--" You struggle to get the words out as you describe what you saw at the bakery: two Eastman students with a box and a mask. "They were at Sean's funeral, too. I saw them but forgot about them till today. I went by the cemetery--" You ignore his cocked eyebrow. "They were at Sean's grave, with Scott. Scott was talking weird, too, after they left." Caleb stares at you intently, and asks you to describe them. The best you can manage is general terms: biggish, built like jocks, one dark-haired and one blonde. "I think their names are Frank and Joe."
Caleb pulls at his lip thoughtfully. "Could you recognize them again?" he asks. You nod. "Tomorrow," he says slowly. "Let's meet for lunch over at Munson's. You go ahead, separately, go into Eastman's office and see if you can find out who they are. Get with them and invite them over. At the very least, I wanna see these guys. But I'd rather talk with them, find out what they know."
"But if they're behind it all, somehow--"
"Then we'll know who's behind it. But stop being so gloomy. Maybe they'll know how to fix it." He punches you lightly in the shoulder. "I feel better just having a lead to chase. Besides--" He smiles and leans down to whisper in your ear. His words are indistinct, though, and you just brush him away with a frown.
* * * * *
Your promise to give up driving notwithstanding, you do drive yourself to school, going well below the speed limit, to the anger of all the other drivers, who honk at you and pass angrily. After second period you skip out, and with equal deliberation drive over to Eastman. In the main office you inquire after some students named "Joe" and "Frank," and describe them. "Sounds like the Durras boys," the secretary smiles, and you accept her offer to call one out of class.
It's the blonde one--Joe--who appears, and you notice his arm is now in a sling. Something seems to click in his eyes when he sees you, and he smiles as he holds out his hand and murmurs an introduction. Haltingly, you tell about seeing him and the other in the bakery with the mask (a recollection that to your discomfort doesn't faze him), and ask if he'd meet with you for lunch to talk about "masks." His eyes light up hungrily, and he offers to talk with you about them now, but you demur. "I've got a friend who wants to talk too," you say. He laughs: "The more the merrier."
Forty minutes later, you're waiting on the corner to cross the street when you see Joe and Frank emerge from the school. Joe waves cheerily at you with his good arm. More mutedly, you wave back.
Then: "Hey Will!" a voice calls from across the street. You turn to see Caleb in front of the strip center. He shouts something else, and beckons. You are dimly surprised to find your feet wobbling beneath you. The next thing you know you've stepped into the street. Caleb grins, and he's briefly obscured by the fiery glint of sunlight off a stream of hurtling automobiles. He beckons again.
A stream of automobiles? In the street you're currently crossing ...?
"Prescott! Don't be a fucking--!" Joe's shout is drowned out by the blast of a truck horn. You've barely time to turn and register the sight of its hurtling grey grill before it hits you. |
You've come to the end of the story. You can: - Step back to the previous chapter.
- Start reading the story from the beginning.
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