Chapter #19An Escape from Certain Doom by: Seuzz   Your eye falls on Sean. He's not looking at you, but you feel yourself bridle. You don't want to look like in a coward in front of him.
"I've got a grudge against Blackwell," you say. "I want to help take him down. And I really don't like the idea of an evil version of me living with my family."
Frank looks like he wants to argue, but Joe gives you a subtle thumbs up. Frank sighs. "In that case, let's take care of Blackwell first. We'll get him taken out, and then it'll be safe to get rid of your double. Mitchell, what would be the best way of getting you outside your house at this late hour?"
Sean hesitates, and then lowers his head, thinking. Finally he has to shrug. "I don't know. If it's a fake me, he probably wouldn't want to leave the house anyway, would he?"
Frank paces. There's more argument. Finally, he sighs. "Then we'll have to take him out tomorrow."
You do get rid of your evil twin that evening, and at least that goes smoothly.
* * * * *
The sight of Sean Mitchell in the hall after first period sends your heart into your throat, and you head the other direction. You bump into Caleb. He does a double take and frowns when he sees the look on your face. "What's up with you?"
Your mind races. You need to warn him, but you need to be careful. "Lotta weird stuff going on," you mutter. "You talk to Sean yet today?"
"Briefly." He looks at you closely. "He said there's some kind of team meeting after school."
"Can you skip?" you ask.
"School?"
"No, the meeting."
Now his eyes narrow. "How come?"
"I just wanna talk to you. Alone. About all this stuff."
He stares, then pulls a book from his bag. "Yeah, well, I got homework." He shoves the book at you. "Do it for me."
"Do your own homework," you snarl back. "This is serious, more serious than Chem."
He glances over his shoulder, and leans in close. "Yeah, okay. What's this about?"
"Just skip. Come with me. Don't mention it to Sean, alright?"
He just grunts.
* * * * *
And then when it's time for lunch Caleb comes to find you. "I don't know about skipping the meeting, but I can skip the rest of school. Come on."
"I have a quiz in History--"
"If it's more serious than Chem, then it's more serious than History. Come on, you sound freaked out. Is it that serious?" You nod. "Then let's make time for it."
As you get in his car, you pull out your cell phone. "I gotta call someone," you say. "We need to meet with them."
"Just tell me what this is all about first." He reaches for your phone. You bat at his hand. He frowns. You put it away with a sigh. "Where are we going?" he asks.
"It's out near Farm Road," you say, deciding that Blackwell's villa is worth showing to him. "There's this big house--"
"You're being really mysterious, Will," he says. "I'm not going anyplace strange. Let's go over to the school by your house. Tell me what's going on."
As he drives, you tell him about your adventure yesterday: Going out to Blackwell's and being trapped with Sean and Lucy; about your escape; about meeting Frank and Joe; about unmasking the fake Lucy and finding Blackwell's hiding place, and how the "Sean" at school isn't the real Sean. He listens quietly, but with increasing consternation, long after you've arrived at the elementary school.
"Tell me more about these two guys who rescued you," he says, and you tell more about them, laying particular emphasis on their occult powers. "Are you sure you trust them?"
"They helped me get rid of that double, put me back in my life."
"That's a good point," he says. He unzips his back pack and takes a mask out. You can't help flinching. "Of course, we still have this old mask we made of you."
Before you can react, he claps it onto your face.
* * * * *
You wake with a throbbing head, and it takes you a moment to get a grip on where you are and what must have happened. You groan; you're growing to hate going into and coming out of masks. You sit up.
You're in the elementary school basement, on the filthy floor. "Caleb!" you call. There's no reply. You struggle to your feet and call again. You look around. You seem to be alone. You go to the door and yank at the handle. It doesn't move and you bang on it. Grimly, you conclude that you're locked in. You go one of the windows and peer out. Caleb's car is gone.
You settle back, dumbfounded. You told him all that was going on, and he did this to you? Why? Even if that wasn't the real Caleb, if that was the golem that he and Sean made--
Something horrible clicks in your head. Blackwell got Caleb. That wasn't your friend, that was the magician. Now he's trapped you.
Worse, he has a mask of you--the mask you and Caleb had made. It will have all your most recent memories. He can use it to trick Frank and Joe and Sean.
You fall back on the ground. Some secret agent you turned out to be.
* * * * *
Hours pass. You lay on a table with dreadful fantasies passing through your head. You'll never be able to trust anyone again, even if you get out of this mess. Every face, every smile, every gesture, every invitation ... They will all seem false. Caleb, Sean, Frank, Joe, Keith, Lisa, James, your dad, your mom, your brother, the postman ... Any of them might be a perfect imposter, getting close to you, trying to get you out of the way.
And so time passes, morbidly. And then you hear tires on dirt. You sit up, heart hammering. Through the window you see feet hurrying to the door. You step back, looking for a hiding place, but before you can scramble away the door bursts open. Frank leaps into the room. His eyes freeze when he sees you, and he clasps his fist. Instantly--as you'd seen him do with Sean last night--your arms clap to your side. You are completely immobile. "Joe!" Frank shouts as his brother and two versions of Sean Mitchell pile into the room.
Joe darts to your side in three quick strides and grabs your face. You grit your teeth as he grapples at your features. "Looks like he's clean," Joe says. He looks pale, but he smiles. "We thought we'd lost you."
"How did--" You look him up and down. He's dressed like a cheerleader, complete with stockings and miniskirt.
"It's a long story," Frank says. "But maybe you'd like to check our faces first."
All your morbid fears rush back. He releases you, but your hands still don't want to work. Stiffly you reach for Joe's face. He smiles and relaxes. You grip him. Nothing comes away. You lick your lips and nod at the others. "Vouch for them?" you ask weakly. He nods. "We're all okay then."
"That's not clear yet," Frank says. "Tell us your story, and we'll tell you ours." You relate the day's events, and Joe and Frank nod grimly. "Close to what we'd deduced," Frank says. "Blackwell switched into Caleb's mask last night. When you talked to him today, he figured out something was up. He got you out of the way and switched into a mask of you." He gives you a peevish look. "There are too many of you running around, Prescott." You say nothing, and he continues. "He got Joe to come out to the villa, telling him he'd arranged to meet 'Sean' there. Luckily, he fucked up his play, so we're alright."
"Sort of," Joe mutters.
It's a lot to take in, and you let yourself be distracted by the two Mitchells. "So, Caleb," you say, flicking an amused glance between them. "You were really being Sean this afternoon?"
The silence that follows is horribly awkward, and for no reason you can discern. "I'm Sean," says one of the Mitchells. He points to the other one. "This is my brother, Taylor."
Your jaw drops. Neither one can look you in the face. You can think of nothing to say, except to stammer, "Okay, so where's Caleb?"
"Caleb is the least of your problems, Will," Frank says in a tone that sounds carefully composed. "After he screwed up, Blackwell tried running. He was in your truck, wearing your face, but we'll say it was his driving skills that were to blame. Joe gave chase, and there was an accident."
It takes you a moment for the implications to sink in. Joe has to spell them out for you: "I saw it happen," he quietly says. "No one was going to walk away from it. The world is going to believe that 'Will Prescott' is dead."
* * * * *
And so it proves: the ID on "Will Prescott" is unequivocal.
Worse follows: Using methods you don't inquire about, Joe and Frank sniff around the morgue and the accident remnants. The investigation bring ghastly news: The Libra was not in the wreck, and they were wrong about who was driving: It was a golem under your mask. Blackwell has gotten away.
It leaves a terrible choice: You can either reappear with no good explanation for how a perfect double of yourself died in a wreck--and it would be almost worse having to explain how it got your truck in the first place--or you can let your erstwhile friends set you up in a new identity. But they are very shy about explaining how the latter would work, and you get the impression you don't want to ask.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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