“I feel guilty about Vlad getting so involved.”
“But it wasn’t just Vlad, was it? Poser went all in. I would have too, but I decided not to. I’m sorry you feel guilty, but if your guilt isn’t doing anything to change the direction you’re going, what’s the point? It’s a waste of emotional energy.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Brendan said. “Going along with Lucille was stupid. Trusting her always is. But when I was working on fixing that game, and even when Jennifer and the others were chasing us through the school, I wasn’t thinking about Torben. Or him killing Paul. Or that guy the warlords burned to death. Or Donnie.”
“I’m not sure finding solace in violence is a good thing.”
“Probably not. I’m just telling you the truth.”
They sat for a moment, neither speaking. The few students and staff that passed them by paid them no mind.
“You’re not the only one hurting here,” Tina said. “It’s not like I’ve been getting any sleep. And when I finally do manage to pass out, I have nightmares.” She showed him her chewed and ragged fingernails. “I broke this habit when I was nine. Now look.”
“Did talking to your doctor in Scottsdale help?”
She shrugged. “Who knows? I’m going to keep trying. But I know what isn’t helping. You. Worrying about what you’re doing next and whether you’re going to get hurt or killed is too much for me right now. I can’t do it anymore.”
Brendan felt numb. “What do you mean?”
“Look, your dad’s safe. I can’t imagine Agent Walters is going to do anything to you. He’s probably in enough trouble. And now with that video you’re on with this God of Clowns and everything else you had to do that night, I don’t even want to think about how this is going to affect you.”
“You saw that?”
Tina nodded. “Arizona has the internet too.”
“I didn’t ask for that. The God of Clowns and his employees were running their hit live. If you watched it, you know I wasn’t exactly there because I wanted to be. I had to save my dad.”
“I know you did, and that’s not the point. It’s what’s going to follow. Between this and whatever you’ve started with the Cathedral Valley kids, I don’t think you know how to get yourself out of it. I’m also worried Lucille has her hooks in you one way or another. But I can’t help anymore. I won’t be hanging around with you. I’m sorry.”
Tears were forming in her eyes. Without another word, she wiped her face and got up and left him sitting there alone.
30. The Final Meeting of the A.V. Club
“The A.V. Club is now in session,” Poser said. “Although if this were an actual meeting of the A.V. Club, Tina would be here.”
Brendan took a look around, but no one else in the student restaurant was paying attention.
“Not cool,” Vlad said.
“What, you think I’m making a joke at my friend’s expense?” Poser asked. “All I’m saying is that what’s happened sucks. Time for our fabled institution to evolve. Or mutate. Or dry up and go the way of the dodo and the electoral college.”
“Government is another class you’re failing?”
“Fourth-tier and sixty percent average performance isn’t failing.”
“Saved by the curve.”
Brendan kept quiet during the exchange. He resisted the urge to text Tina. He stared at his phone on the table as it lit up with notifications, all from teachers posting the day’s class notes. The students coming through and filling their trays with the evening offering of pork medallions and stuffed mushrooms talked their small talk, speaking with verve and volume, convinced their expressions were worthwhile. Seeing them all wrapped up in normal activity made him feel jealous. Some of them saw him and nodded or pointed, while a few turned away and spoke in hushed tones, maybe talking about him, maybe changing the subject. Brendan was certain that everyone knew about him and his night. The video, like the others featuring the God of Clowns, had been pulled from commercial video hosting sites, but its popularity had ballooned elsewhere. He didn’t have a clue what this newfound fame was going to do to his life, and he had no idea how to deal with it.
Vlad nudged him. Tina had come in the restaurant and was standing in the food line with two other girls Brendan recognized as players on the basketball team. She collected a heaping tray of food before sitting down with her teammates. He watched her as she sat and ate and laughed politely at the other girls’ jokes. She said very little, and she didn’t look over.
“Well, isn’t this awkward,” Poser said. He started to get up and Brendan grabbed his wrist.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” he said. “Just sit and let it be.”
“Brendan, I like you but you’re pretty thick. Plus, she’s our friend too.”
“Just sit down,” Brendan said a little too loudly. Poser sat.
“What happened to you, man?” Poser asked. “Did Lucille put the whammy down? Wait, don’t answer. You’d only lie if she did.”
“Look, Brian, Vlad…Tina’s going through some stuff. So am I. She’s dealing with it the best she can. Me, maybe not so much. She invited me to see her therapist last weekend but I turned her down so I could go mess with the football game. But after everything we saw happen on Not-Earth, everything we did, I don’t know. I guess it’s nothing you can just shrug off.”
“Is this why you picked a fight with Tyler a couple of weeks ago?” Vlad asked.
“I’m not making excuses. I’m working on it. But Tina wants space, so I’m going to give it to her.”
***
After several phone calls, Brendan had finally got a deputy on the line who was able to tell him that visits from immediate family would be permissible. However, the deputy never actually confirmed Myron Reece’s presence at the jail. Brendan worried for the entire drive that since he and his dad had different last names the visit wouldn’t be allowed. Once they arrived, he gave his phone and wallet to Mr. Childes and signed in, handing over his student picture ID.
When his dad limped into the visitation room, Brendan saw a number of bruises on his face. It had been dark when he had last seen him, but his first thought was that the guards or other inmates had caused his dad harm. The room was private, with a yellow cinder block wall and heavy glass between them. There was a speaker mounted on one side of the scratched and stained glass. His dad sat down on the plastic chair opposite him and surveyed the barrier separating them.
“Not how I was hoping we’d ever see each other,” Myron said.
“Dad, your face…”
Myron touched his cheek and swollen eyebrow. “That’s from my twin.”
“How am I supposed to know it’s really you?”
Myron rolled back the red sleeve of his jail uniform. High on his right arm was a spiderweb of old scars. “See that? Maybe you were too young to remember.”
“What happened?”
“I had a drinking problem. Didn’t your mom ever tell you? I fell down the stairs to our apartment while holding a bottle of wine. I landed on the bottle. You were maybe three, three and a half. Doctors thought there would be permanent nerve damage, but it healed up pretty good. Ask your mom about that.”
“I didn’t know you drank.”
“I quit not long after. Focused on my work. I also sport a pretty good scar from getting shot. I doubt my double has a similar set of scars. It doesn’t work like that, does it?”
Brendan had to lean close to the speaker. It was as if his father’s voice was coming out of a soup can. “I don’t think so,” Brendan said. “So I guess every time I see you I need to see the scars.”
Myron nodded. “I guess the other me is still alive. It’s weird.” An odd grin crossed his face. “But it might help me too.”
“How?”
His dad gestured to the speaker and pointed up and around at the room. Someone might be listening. “Let’s just say if there were two of me, which one did the crimes? Men have walked on less. But ask your mom about
the fall down the stairs. At least you’ll have the peace of mind knowing who you’re talking to when we next meet. She’ll remember. I remember her screams and her crying. She’s a good woman.”
Brendan didn’t have a reply, so he nodded.
“What happens next?”
“Marshals Service comes for me unless there’s new charges. Probably catch a flight back to New York and go finish time plus added sentencing for the escape. But as I said, there’s two of us. They’re going to have to figure that one out, and my lawyer comes to town tomorrow.”
“So there’s a chance you walk.”
Myron nodded. “Hate to jinx it by being too optimistic. The other me might have his own tricks up his sleeve.”
Mr. Childes didn’t say anything on the drive back to Dutchman Springs. Brendan couldn’t decide if he was happy about his father’s capture or nervous about him possibly going free. Either way, he felt optimistic that one way or another he would see his father again. He sent his mom a long text message asking her about the night his father fell and if he’d been hurt. She quickly replied and asked if he had time to talk. He told her he was busy with a school project.
“Dad had a bad fall and cut up his arm,” she texted. “Went to hospital.”
“Was he drunk?”
A long pause. “Yes.”
“Is that why you guys split?”
The rolling ellipsis told him she was either composing a long text or rewriting a reply several times over. Finally she said, “Call me later.”
Mr. Childes turned the temperature in the car up a couple of degrees. The night air was cold and getting colder.
“Is that comfortable?” he asked.
Brendan nodded. He put his phone away. There were other things he’d wanted to ask his dad, but none of the questions would have been possible under the circumstances. He wanted to know about his dad’s business partners. About whatever software his dad had promised and why he couldn’t have just delivered. Was Walters someone his dad had been working with? The missing agent was troubling. Perhaps he had gone on the run after the video went viral. Agent Walters was as famous as Brendan now, at least until the next big thing hit the internet.
They arrived at school, and after walking him back to his dorm Mr. Childes wished Brendan a good night.
Poser’s door was propped open. The floor to his room was covered with electronics gear. “In before curfew,” Poser said. “What are the odds?”
“What are you doing?”
“Getting ready for Friday night.”
“Another football game? You’re not seriously thinking about going out to mess with Cathedral Valley again, are you?”
“I’m not in their weight class. Although neither are you, and I guess that didn’t stop us before. But no, Octavia Butler High has a supers night. Bring your own costume, mock up fights. I thought it would be fun to head over there, something for us to do. Vlad’s in. I already got a chaperone lined up. Maybe you could invite Tina.”
“Sounds…interesting. I’ll think about it.”
***
To his surprise, by the time Friday afternoon rolled around, most of the attention on Brendan had evaporated, although numerous messages challenging him and his friends to a supers duel continued to pop up on his email. How his email address had become public, he didn’t know. He sent the messages to spam.
He had two phone interviews during the week with the detective in charge of the investigation into the God of Clowns case, but the school lawyer was tied in to the calls and the questions were mundane and easy to answer.
He walked alone across campus to meet up with Vlad and Poser. He had his phone out and was trying to work up the nerve to text or call Tina. And again he decided not to.
Leave her be.
He brought up Lucille’s number. He had seen her at the usual places throughout the week, both in class and out, accompanied by Tyler as often as not. He knew she needed help, but he wasn’t sure how to tell her that and believed it wouldn’t do any good to try.
And what about her ability? He and the A.V. Club had written it off as charm, augmented by the upstream food and water she had received from Charlotte. But Brendan guessed it was the drugs from her brother that had really set her in overdrive. Instead of fearing her power, he felt bad for her. And who was her brother and what was his hold on her? He decided to talk to Tyler if he could catch him away from her, but not today.
The electronics lab had reopened. This week the group of students remaining in the lab after class had grown to fifteen, all of them interested in starting up their own supers projects. Ms. Hayes had put the hammer down and lectured on the code of conduct and use of school materials. That, along with a new regimen of forms and log sheets to better chart the lab’s activities, had culled the herd.
Somehow, Vlad had his gun back. He had taken it apart and was tinkering. Poser was busy doing an inventory on the supply closet with Ms. Hayes and a group of students.
“That’s extra credit you might need,” Vlad said, nodding towards the group counting every scrap of electronics.
“This is the one class where I actually have a good grade, everything considered,” Brendan said. “But I’m stacked up with extra credit geometry work, if that makes you feel any better.” He watched his friend work. “Somehow I thought you’d be scrapping that thing after what happened.”
“It’s not the gun’s fault.” Vlad kept working.
“Look, I’m sorry I got you into this mess,” Brendan said. “It got out of hand. I know you weren’t comfortable with it but I kept pushing, and that wasn’t right.”
“Serves me right,” Vlad said. “Maybe all of us. We cheer people on who wear costumes as they beat the crap out of each other and then get shocked when it’s someone we know.”
“Well, I’m sorry if I was a jerk. The last thing I wanted was for any of us to get into trouble with the law. I should have backed off when Agent Walters first came around. None of this would have happened.”
Vlad put his tools down. “You told me Tina invited you to see her doctor. You should do it. The stuff you’ve been through, the things you had to do to survive, they stick with you. Talking to someone might help, someone besides me or Poser or Tina.”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“Well think about it some more before everything you’ve been through sinks into your skin and gets into your bones and becomes part of you.”
“What have you been reading?”
“Mom and Dad are psychotherapists, remember? So you’re coming with us tonight?”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to make a costume and go play pretend supers. It’s a little too LARP-y and too close to reality.”
Vlad shrugged. “Think of it like a giant train wreck of geekiness. Maybe it’ll be part fight night, part rave. One way or another, it’ll give us something to talk about. Beats sitting around wasting another night playing video games. At least we’re getting out. You’re not going to want to miss it.”
“Please tell me the Cathedral Valley kids won’t be there.”
“Are you nuts? If I see them, I’ll be running the other way.”
“Just checking. It’s wishful thinking to hope they’ll just go away, but if we don’t instigate, the ball’s in their court to resume hostilities. If Lucille starts at them again, she’s on her own.” He examined Vlad’s setup. “If this is just a giant costume party, why are you fixing up your gun?”
Vlad smiled. “Because you never know when you might want to liven things up a little.”
“Vlad Behram, remind me never to get you mad at me.”
Brendan checked his phone. The school activities schedule for the night included a number of on- campus clubs, game groups, and movies. He also had homework. Alternatively, he could show up at the supers party and remind a gym full of people that Brendan Garza, Son of Drone King, was in the house. He scrolled down to the athletics program and saw the Dutchman Springs girls’ basketball team was hosting a game
versus St. Mary’s High School.
“I won’t be making the party,” Brendan said. “Tell Poser I have plans.”
“Suit yourself.”
He took the flash drive out of his pocket. Vlad saw it but made no comment. Brendan hadn’t found a better place for it and always had it with him. Deleting its contents meant losing the glove design forever. He put it away.
A chorus of laughter erupted, Poser making a joke with the other students doing inventory.
“Catch you later,” Brendan said. He got up and left. He thought about texting Tina but didn’t. She wanted her space, and maybe he needed his. But nothing sounded better than to go watch the game and see Tina play, so that was what he did.
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Author’s Note
Once again, this story, like all my other novels, takes place in California. I’ve taken geographical liberties with places real and imagined to suit my own needs. While I try to remain authentic to the region described, I tend to drop in my own fictitious towns so as not to offend the locals even though some places are real.
And sorry about Los Angeles.
None of this book or this series would have been possible without the hard work of my editor Brittany Dory. Her nudges towards clarity and smacks across the head for things overlooked are invaluable. She can be found at www.blue-minerva.com. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
My wife Abby remains my constant support and sounding board and pre-alpha reader. Thanks, Honey.
And finally, thank you to my beta readers who provide me with feedback on what works and what doesn’t. You’re the best!
Keep up with me with my newsletter containing free stuff, previews, and book deals. You can sign up here: www.gerhardgehrke.com.
The Dark Academy Page 19