Chapter #35I Spy by: Seuzz   There's nothing to do but settle in to watch, which you do. As you watch, the silence slowly fills with a soft hum that resolves itself into low murmurs and then into distinct voices.
"—try calling again," Timothy says.
"It's only been ten minutes," Becky says. "I'm sure he's got his phone off."
"I've never known Joe to turn his phone off."
"He's not Joe," Becky retorts. "God, is he not. If you'd ever kissed the real one, you'd know the difference."
"And if you ever had Joe in Jones's math class, you'd know the difference too," Ian laughs.
A general hubbub of conversation breaks out, until the upstairs door opens and a new figure appears. Timothy and Juliana move aside as he comes down the stairs, to stand over Carson.
It's Joe Durras—at least in form.
He puts his palm on Carson's forehead, then withdraws.
"What's the deal, boss man?" Jonathan asks.
"Brandt's going back in his place," Joe says. "Someone get him undressed."
"I thought we were trying to keep our distance," Jonathan says as Ian and Darcy start pulling the clothes off Carson. "That guy, you said, he's—"
"I know what I said, but it hasn't played out the way we want. Bredon's got it all figured out, dammit. He's even figured out a way to tell us from real people." A tremulous murmur runs through the room. "So Brandt's going in to get close. He'll bring us Prescott—"
"Who's not answering his phone," Becky says.
"He's probably got it turned off, he's not going to trust anyone from school, which is why we'll have to use Ioeger to get to him." Joe puts his hands on his hips. "I'll take over for Prescott, then Brandt and I'll try steering Bredon away." His voice falls to a mutter. "I hate wasting supplies like this—"
"Does Ioeger know what happened to the book?" Darcy asks.
"No, and Bredon doesn't either, unless—"
The upstairs door opens and a voice rings out: "Would you hurry it up? I'm freezing up here!" It sounds very familiar, but you can't place it.
"Just keep still!" Joe yells back. "I can't make it go any faster!"
"Well, I'm cold!" The door slams.
Joe turns to Jonathan. "What happened to number one dummy?"
"He'll be here any minute. I got a call a minute ago that he's at the gate. The beast's on his way too."
"Good. I wanna keep Frank and Joe buried as deep as possible."
"What's the deal with them?" Juliana asks. "What's so important about—?"
"Never mind," says Joe. "It just is. Ah, here they are."
Two shadowy figures appear at the glass door, and Jonathan opens it to admit them. One of them is Paul Zametti, a kid with a shaved head who plays in a band. He's got a friendly arm crooked around the neck of a scrawny kid with a thatch of scarecrow-like hair. You wince at how out of place Will Prescott looks in the company of these good-looking and athletic types. He grins nervously.
"And here's the beast," says Joe, turning at a noise. From the opposite side of the room shambles a man who looks to be in his late fifties or early sixties. He's bald and paunchy, with a bristling moustache and a deep scowl. "Tell him to fall into a beanbag, Jon."
"Take a beanbag, Dad," Jonathan grins, and with a barely audible oath the old man shuffles over and drops angrily to the floor.
"Prescott, you sit next to him," Joe says, and your double obeys. Your heart pounds, and your hand tightens around Bredon's knife. You questioned him hard last night, but look at the good it did: The guy who looks like you has been in league with the doppelgangers all along.
Joe kneels between them, and puts his hand over the old man's brow. He says some words—
A thrill runs through your head, from one ear to the next. The words—a series of nonsense syllables, repeated three times—ring clearly there, and you're seized by an urge to repeat them yourself.
As Joe speaks, he pulls at the old man's face. The man seems to shiver and shimmer very briefly—or maybe it's just your imagination—and then he sinks back, eyes closed and mouth agape. But Joe is now holding a bluish object: a mask.
He turns and does the same operation—hand on brow, murmured words—to Prescott. Again, a mask comes away as your replacement's limbs jerk and flop, and his head falls back.
But there's been a further change, and you drift around to get a closer look.
You drop the knife in surprise. The vision vanishes, and you find yourself back in the living room. Your heart is beating wildly.
When the mask of Will Prescott came away, it revealed another Joe Durras.
* * * * *
You retrieve the knife and close your eyes again. Think of the— And you're back where you were before.
Joe puts a mask onto the old man; again there is a momentary confusion of form; now Will Prescott, in the old man's clothes, is sitting in the bean bag. He blinks and looks around, and flinches from his clothes.
Joe turns to his twin, who is unconscious, and puts a mask onto him. Another confusion of form, and now it's the old man there, with eyes open. The shirt rolls up, exposing a paunch, and the jeans swell up, looking like they want to burst.
You lost the sound when you dropped the knife, but you can see people laughing. The old man and your twin, blushing furiously, struggle to their feet and clumsily make their way into the kitchenette. They're already peeling off their clothes as they go.
Ian makes a gesture, and Joe turns back to Carson: a silver strip has appeared on your friend's forehead. Joe picks it up and gestures to Timothy, who quickly ducks into the kitchenette and returns with a mask and a small pot and brush. Joe takes these and sits on the arm of the sofa; he paints one side of the silver strip with material from the pot, then presses it into the inner surface of the mask and blows into it.
With the mask and Frank's clothes, Joe then goes upstairs with Timothy following. Jonathan goes outside. Those who remain below move about restlessly, talking.
Prescott and the old man come back out; they've exchanged clothes, but are still looking shy and subdued. Paul waves Prescott over and escorts him out. The old man also leaves. Timothy comes back downstairs, and then Jonathan comes back in with some rope; to your horror, he begins to bind Carson up. Naturally, your friend wakes and struggles, but Timothy sits on him and slaps a hand over his mouth while Jonathan finishes up. Juliana gets a napkin from the dining room, and they gag him. Jonathan and Ian lift him and carry upstairs. Timothy remains downstairs, stroking Juliana's shoulders lovingly.
Sound has been slowly returning, and Juliana's "—bury him someplace" are the first words you can clearly make out.
"Not literally!" Becky exclaims.
"No, not literally. Well, I don't know." Juliana looks around uneasily. "The less you know, the better, with some of this." She rubs her arm. "But I bet they just do like they did with Frank and Joe. You know, use one of those masks that gives them amnesia." She trails off.
"Did you expect it to be like this?" Becky asks after a long pause.
"We all knew there'd be complications," Darcy says. "I mean, you didn't expect it would be all tidy."
"I think it's going better than it ought to," Juliana says in a loud voice. "It could be a lot worse for the poor schlimazels, you know."
"That's right," says Darcy. "And it's only for a year."
"And it was less than that for the ones at Westside," observes Timothy.
"I know," says Juliana, and her face falls a little. She hugs herself. "I was having so much fun as Kendra." Timothy laughs, and bends over to kiss her deeply.
The upstairs door opens, and down come Ian and Jonathan. "Is he going to be okay," Becky asks them.
"Who, Ioeger? He'll be fine," says Jonathan. "It's just until we can get him fitted up. Isn't that right, boss man?" he calls up the stairs.
Someone new appears on the upstairs landing, a scruffy guy in torn clothes. He struts arrogantly down the stairs. "That's right," says Adam Karter, and jams a little on an air guitar. He throws himself into a beanbag and looks up from under hooded lids. "Becky," he says in a singsong. "I heard you been missing Joe, the real Joe. You loved me before that fucker ever—"
She giggles. "Why can't you put Joe's face back on?"
"'Cos ol' Dumbass has to stay outta sight until— Come on, Beckster." He pats his thigh. "I've missed you so much."
So she gets into the beanbag with him, and they snuggle close and nibble at each other. Juliana turns her back on them, and Darcy looks very prim.
But there's one more to appear, and he comes a few minutes later: Frank Durras, the Frank Durras who left the house a few hours ago on a mission for Rick Bredon. "Yo, Ioeger," Karter chortles. "How you like your sexy new body?"
"It's embarrassing," he says, and scratches at himself. "Come on, Darcy," he says. "We should get something to eat before I go back. It'll help the story look and sound better if I can give 'em real details."
A violent shiver runs through you, and again you lose the vision. But this time, you don't re-establish it.
Pretty obviously, this is the kind of "important thing" Bredon wanted you to call him about. And yet you hesitate.
After what you've seen, you feel sure you can get a mask off a person—and you're pretty sure you know where the real Frank Durras is.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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