“I-I had a bad dream,” Atticus said.
“A bad dream,” Brock asked.
Atticus was sure that Brock was going to make a joke and try to cheer him up that way, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, Brock walked into the bathroom and sat on the side of the bathtub next to him.
“Tell me about it. Dreams and psychology tend to go hand in hand.”
“I-I can’t.” Atticus pressed his eyes shut. “It shouldn’t be this bad, but I just-”
“But nothing,” Brock interrupted. “It’s only as bad as you let it be. You can tell me. No worries. Nothing is gonna hurt you.”
Atticus shook his head, but decided that telling Brock was the best thing he could do. He told him everything from the Gray Man to Varnum and the Ghost. Just thinking about the screams of the professor and the laugh of the Gray Man made Atticus sick to his stomach.
Brock sat in silence and listened closely. He wasn’t the best at puzzles, but he was confident in his psychoanalytical skills to piece this one together. He was still just a student, but he loved delving into the minds of others, and dream analysis was his favorite. No one was as good with dreams and nightmares as Brock.
“Like any dream, there is no right or wrong answer,” he said. “So, I believe that this Gray Man represents your obsession with finding Mike’s killer. You said that when he was around, you were frozen and couldn’t move, and I think that could mean you don’t feel confident in your ability to help. You feel like you’re trapped and not doing anything about the situation.”
Atticus shrugged. “But what about Varnum and the Ghost?”
“The Ghost killed Varnum in your dream. That could be your subconscious telling you that Varnum’s not the killer.”
“And the Jack of Clubs?”
Brock shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. Do you even have any idea what that this is,” he asked?
Atticus shook his head. “It’s so strange. One day, it was just there. I woke up and knew how to use it, like instinct. You know how spiders have the innate ability to know how to spin a web? Well, that’s how it felt with me and the Queen of Spades.”
“And there are others?”
“I guess there’d have to be,” Atticus said. “There are fifty-four cards in a traditional poker deck: forty basic cards, sixteen faces, and the two jokers. Perhaps there’s one for each?”
Brock snickered and said, “You’re asking the wrong guy.”
Atticus was starting to feel a bit better. It was easier to think about his nightmare now that he could think of them like how Brock explained, but that didn’t take away the images and sounds.
“I think I’ll just need to get some air,” Atticus said.
Brock didn’t argue. The two got already for the school day, Atticus taking a bit longer than normal. When they were all dressed, groomed, and ready to go, Brock told him that the only way to truly get over his fear is to face it. By finding out what exactly it was that scared him, he’d have no issue getting over his fear. Atticus wasn’t so sure about that.
The two split their separate ways, Brock heading for his first class of the day, But Atticus didn’t want to head to class just then. He felt his stomach rumble and he knew there was no way he’d be able to conquer his fears on an empty stomach.
Chapter 9
Atticus made his way to the cafeteria for breakfast. Normally, he wasn’t that hungry in the morning. He just knew he had to shovel something down or else he would regret it later. However, his nightmare gave him a fear born appetite. He figured that maybe if he ate something it’d help calm him down.
The walk to the cafeteria was a miserable one. He couldn’t take a step without thinking he heard the Ghost sneaking up on him. Every crunch of leaves underfoot sounded like someone was following him. He didn’t feel safe, and Atticus figured this was how Mike felt when he was being hunted down. There was no solace. There was no safe haven. Every person who as much as looked at him made Atticus feel ill. But, if he was in a heavily populated area, like the cafeteria, he figured he’d be safe. Nobody would stab him in the back in public would they?
The cafeteria was full, that was for sure, but it didn’t feel safe. Despite all the people around him, Atticus couldn’t be sure if any of them were people he could trust: student, staff, or anything in between. He hated being so paranoid, but he couldn’t shake it. Normally, he would never feel so in danger at Fortuna Prep, but now a single nightmare had ruined him.
He hobbled his way into the breakfast line and slowly but surely he felt himself calming down. He tried to talk some sense into himself, saying he was being completely irrational and reminding himself what Brock had said. It helped, but barely. The only thing giving him comfort was the smell of freshly baked pastries at the end of the line.
When he got to the front of the line, he picked up a plain glazed doughnut and a glass of milk and made his way to an empty table. Any other day he would’ve just headed off for class, but he needed to sit.
Atticus calmly ate his doughnut and stared blankly down at the table. Whenever somebody walked past him, he’d tense up like a cornered animal, but as he ate, the thoughts of the nightmare slowly began to drift away. The Gray Man’s smile and Varnum’s scream were almost distant memories. Almost.
Slowly but surely, he was calming down. He plopped the last bit of doughnut into his mouth and decided that he’d just need to take a break for the day. Perhaps after class he’d meet up with Brock and do something fun and mindless. Something to take his mind off Mike.
As he got up to leave, Atticus saw Camila and some of her friends just walking in. Suddenly, all of his fears about the Ghost and the Gray Man were transferred into not making himself look like an idiot in front of her. He wanted to wave, say hello, or something. But he couldn’t. Just seeing her made his legs feel wobbly.
He lowered his head as he walked past, but it was no good. Instantly, she spotted him and gave a giddy wave. He decided to return the favor. She abandoned her friends and quickly made her way to Atticus, the blood rushing to his cheeks.
“H-Hi, Camila,” he said. “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you too.” She had a big smile on her face that made Atticus even more nervous. “So, how did your detective work go yesterday?”
“My detective work? It was, uh, how should I put it?” Atticus wasn’t sure what to say. Should he have told her about his accusations? About the Ghost? “It went well.”
“That’s good. What did you learn?”
“Not much,” he said. “Hey, I’m really sorry about just up and leaving yesterday. It’s just, I really-”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said smiling. “I can see how important this is to you.”
“Y-You do?”
Camila nodded. “I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Inspector.”
“I’m not a detective yet,” he said bashfully.
“Exactly! Not yet. But, you will be.”
“Well,” he said, “thank you very much.”
Atticus was pleased to know how confident Camila was in his abilities. He was always so afraid and would get so embarrassed when he told people about what he wanted to do. He wasn’t going into the sciences or mathematics, the things most Fortuna Prep students were going into. He always felt like an oddball. But around Camila, he didn’t feel so different. Here was this girl who took him just as serious, if not more so, as he took himself and she barely knew him.
“Say, I was wondering,” she said, “if you were busy tonight?”
Atticus shook his head nervously.
“So, since we didn’t get to study yesterday, would you like to tonight?”
He nodded and said, “Certainly. That would be perfect.”
“Wonderful!” Camila’s face beamed with delight. But, then she got quiet. “Would it be alright if it was just the two of us this time?”
Atticus blushed. “O-Of course.”
“It’s nothing against your friend,” she said. “It’s just that, I would really lik
e to, you know, get some studying done.”
“Y-Yeah, don’t worry.” Atticus felt his heart racing.
“Also, since it’s Friday, if you’d like, we could go see a movie together.”
Atticus wanted to say yes in a heartbeat, but he had to play it cool. What would Brock say, he asked himself.
“Y’know, a movie sounds like a blast.”
Nailed it, he thought.
For the first time, Atticus saw Camila blus. Behind heroval glasses, her cheeks began to turn a bright red that Atticus figured matched his own.
The two agreed to meet after class, and Camila went off to join her other friends who were giggling all the way to the breakfast line.
*****
Atticus decided to make his way to the faculty office before class started. Now that he’d calmed down, he had to confront Varnum about the ring, the Nelsons, and even the Ghost.
He made his way through the building to the English and History department. When he arrived at the Professor’s desk, he was shocked to find the professor wasn’t there. Now, Professor Varnum wasn’t one of Atticus’ favorite teachers obviously, even before this whole series of events, but he’d known that Varnum was always at his desk before classes started. Every time previous when he’d stop by to drop off an assignment or deliver something, Atticus always knew that Varnum would be at his desk preparing for the day.
Atticus waited for a minute, thinking maybe he just went to the washroom. However, he waited for quite a while, and unless the professor had some sort of horrible digestion problem, he would’ve been back already.
An unsettling feeling began to overtake him. Atticus felt like perhaps the professor really was attacked last night. Perhaps, he was killed by the Ghost.
He hobbled up to Varnum’s desk and looked all around for something that could maybe give him an answer. It was a stretch, but he was a detective-in-training. An empty desk wasn’t enough to get worked up over. Atticus mentally smacked himself upside the head and told himself to get to work.
After making a quick peek for any prying eyes, Atticus snuck behind the professor’s desk and snooped around for clues. He discovered numerous small notes that reminded the professor to grade papers, piles upon piles of history notes, and dozens of unmarked exams. This man certainly wasn’t teacher of the year. But, sadly nothing that pointed him in the direction Atticus wanted. He couldn’t find anything to help him.
Atticus made sure to keep a keen ear open to make sure nobody would see him rummaging ar0und the professor’s belongings. He had dozens of excuses running through his head in case anybody caught him, but actually remembering to use them was another thing. Plus, he wasn’t sure if somebody would believe him if he said he was just trying to help keep the professor organized or just looking for the cheat sheet on the next exam.
Just as he was getting ready to give up, Atticus took a deep breath and went looking through the desk one more time. Again, he found all the same books, notes, and ungraded exams. It seemed that there was nothing for him. But, as Atticus was putting everything back in its original place, he saw a small side drawer he’d completely overlooked. He tried to pull it open, but it’s lock was broken, effectively permanently sealing it. The only way to open the drawer would be to tear down the desk or fix the lock, and Atticus knew he had the ability to do one of those.
He smiled a mischievous smile placed his hands over the lock. The Queen of Spades appeared on his right hand and he felt the lock slowly get warmer. Under his hands, Atticus could feel the lock restoring itself. With a sudden click, Atticus knew that everything was done, and the drawer was ready to be opened. He took a long deep breath and slowly pulled the drawer out. Much to his surprise, the only thing inside was a small manila folder.
A hidden folder, Atticus thought. Hidden within a broken compartment that he most likely had no need to fix. Atticus carefully picked up the folder, making sure not to so much as scuff the corners.
He laid it down and on the cover it said “10/1/3/11: I & E.” Atticus had no idea what it meant, but it had to be code for something. 10/1/3/11: I & E.
Atticus opened the folder and inside it was filled with what he could only describe as the most cryptic and professional looking document he could ever imagine. Dozens of pages outlining something that read like gibberish. The document was filled with so much jargon and terms that Atticus had never heard before; he had no way to decipher it. He caught a few names here and there: Gregor Wolfhowzer, Samael Velepsy, Franklin T. Forrester, and Annette Laveau. Atticus recognized them as Zebulon Scientists and Artificers.
However, most striking of all, was the mention of the Nelsons, specifically Pearl Eliza Nelson. Hers was the only of her family to be prominently repeated throughout the document.
As he flipped through the pages, Atticus saw the symbol of Zebulon up in the corner, the Z overlapping a Y.
Atticus wanted to keep reading, trying to figure out what it all meant, but he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere at the rate he was going. He needed to look it over on his own time. Against his better judgment, Atticus slipped the document into his school bag and made his way out of the office.
But, as he was leaving, another grouchy old teacher, Mrs. Crowe saw him leaving. “Young man,” she hollered, “what were you doing in that office?”
All of Atticus’ excuses ran through his head, but they meshed together as one. He faced the professor with as calm a complexion as he could muster.
“I-I was just looking for Professor Varnum,” he said.
Professor Crowe didn’t look to convinced. “And you couldn’t tell he was gone without going into his office?”
What would Brock say, Atticus thought.
“I thought maybe he would have left a note for me on his desk.”
The professor gave him a stink eye, but allowed him on his way, warning him that next time he’d need to get permission from a fellow professor before entering an office. Atticus nodded and agreed before going off on his merry way. He looked up at the clock and saw that it was just about to turn eight.
He was going to be late to class, but he didn’t’ care. He had his first piece of evidence. Real and tangible evidence that he could observe and use, and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste.
Chapter 10
The rest of the day, Atticus constantly had his nose pressed in the document. Slowly, he was able to decode it, bit by bit. There was so much to it that it was daunting to fully comprehend. Graphs, charts, symbols and several things Atticus didn’t understand were littered throughout the document. It was like reading an essay on a subject you knew little to nothing about. More than anything, Atticus wanted to know why the Zebulon Corporation was so prominent throughout it all. So many names of scientists and pivotal locations were scattered throughout the whole thing.
As the day went on, Atticus went to his classes like normal. During lectures, he was lost in the document’s pages. He’d completely space off when teachers were talking or when he was supposed to be taking notes. He only knew when class was over when he caught glimpses of other students getting up out of their seats. Class to class would pass and eventually it came time for chemistry.
Professor Banner was going on and on about molecules and compounds, things that were just oh-so interesting, while Atticus scanned through the pages for the fourth or fifth time. As the professor was lecturing about the periodic table, a student aide from the office from the office walked in holding a note. Banner stopped talking for just a moment as he snagged the note and quickly skimmed through it.
Atticus didn’t realize what was going on, but he did notice the professor calling out his name.
“Atticus Whaelord,” he hollered, “Principal Shepard needs to have a word with you after class.”
He looked up at the professor and then around to all of his classmates who were giving him all a confused look. Why would Whaelord need to go to the office, they all probably thought? What did he do? Atticus was in the same boat. He did
n’t know what he’d done.
Then a terrible thought popped into his head. What if Varnum realized his folder was missing and Professor Crowe told him about Atticus dropping by unannounced. Atticus’ heart sank deep into his stomach.
He knew his face was a blushing red mess, and he probably looked as guilty as could be. No doubt rumors would be all around campus by the end of the day. Atticus told himself that he wouldn’t let it get to him.
Class ended rather abruptly. Professor Banner was lost in a mindless speech about the differences of chemical and physical reactions and how useful it can be to know the difference in a life setting, but he was cut off by the bell. He quickly wrapped up his lesson for the day and excused the class, but not before reminding Atticus to stop by the principal’s office.
When Atticus arrived, all sorts of worrying thoughts raced through his head. What could he say? What kind of trouble would he get into? Would he get expelled? Atticus decided to just roll with it. He’d think of a way out of it. Perhaps this wasn’t even about the folder. Maybe the principal just wanted to congratulate him on something. As long as he held his tongue and didn’t say anything, everything would be fine.
Atticus knocked on the principal’s door, peering through the window. She’d gestured for him to come in. As he made his way into the office, a cool chill fileld the room. It was eerie. Normally, Principal Shepard had a warm happy glow about her, but today she seemed stern and serious. It was rather frightening.
“Y-You wanted to see me, ma’am?”
She nodded. “Atticus, you were friends with Michael Nelson, correct?”
“Y-Yes,” he said. He was not expecting that question to come up.
“And, you don’t think his death was a suicide, correct?”
“Ma’am,” he said, “I-I’m sorry, but what’s this all about?”
Spring-Heeled Jack Page 8