The School of Revenge

Home > Other > The School of Revenge > Page 12
The School of Revenge Page 12

by Michael Richan


  How can I get him out of the School? he pondered while the announcements continued. There has to be a way.

  Later that day, the lunchroom was far more muted than normal. When Phillip joined him at their regular table, Aaron felt he almost had to whisper.

  “So I suppose you heard,” Aaron said.

  “What? About Karissa? Yeah.”

  “You still think it’s a coincidence?”

  “Dirk seems fine,” Phillip replied, nodding toward the lunchroom doorway where Dirk and Matt were entering, their normal chaotic exuberance definitely subdued. “I guess that blows your theory.”

  “Two people dead, Curtis on the way, and you think bringing up Dirk makes your case?” Aaron asked.

  “Maybe you’re right, but I don’t know what that changes. I’m still an Adherent. So are you.”

  “Not me,” Aaron replied. “Not anymore. I told you, I’m done.”

  “You didn’t talk to Herrod, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t. I’m not going to. I told that thing in my room I’m out.”

  “A conversation you had in a dream isn’t going to count,” Phillip said, taking another bite. “They’re going to be angry. I can tell Benjamin is already unhappy with you.”

  “They can all go to hell as far as I’m concerned,” Aaron replied, wanting to tell Phillip about Boone, but remembering his agreement to keep things between the two of them. “You can’t for a moment think the School is a real thing. Something’s completely off about it. It’s like a weird death cult.”

  “I know seeing Curtis’ throat ripped out was the most perfect way in the world to shut that asshole up.”

  Aaron stared at his friend. He knew Phillip was being honest, because part of himself agreed with him. It had been a horrific sight that had made him sick, but the endless barrage of attacks he’d endured from Curtis the past few weeks weren’t forgotten. Curtis had deserved something. The conflicting emotions inside him were driving him crazy.

  “Then we’re done, right?” Aaron asked. “Curtis and Dirk got theirs. It’s done. I wish you’d leave the School, like me.”

  “I made a promise. So did you.”

  “They lied!” Aaron replied. “They didn’t tell us people were going to be killed. I’m not obligated if it’s all based on a lie, and neither are you! Not to mention we’re fifteen! We can’t even get a credit card because they know we’re too young to understand the contract!”

  Phillip seemed defiant. “We’re supposed to recruit tomorrow night. Are you going to show, or not?”

  “We we’re misled, Phillip. The whole thing is bogus.”

  Phillip took the last bite of his burrito, stood up, grabbed his tray, and left.

  Great, Aaron thought. I wish I could tell if he really feels that way, or if he’s just being obstinate.

  It feels like I’m losing my best friend.

  —

  Aaron left the building, heading to the bike racks. As he turned a corner, he saw the flashing lights of the ambulance, parked near the extension buildings at the far end of the school.

  He unlocked his bike, and instead of heading home, he pedaled down to the area where a group of kids had congregated around the ambulance.

  “What’s going on?” he asked a girl who was standing near the back of the group.

  “Some kid in shop class,” she said.

  “Do you know who?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know what happened to him?”

  “He was impaled on a metal rod,” she said, scrunching her face as she spoke and pointing to her side. “Gross!”

  The exact spot Madame Pritchard drilled into Dirk! Aaron thought.

  He moved around the back of the group until he saw someone he knew. “What happened?” he asked.

  “Dirk Johnson,” the kid replied. “Fell on something.”

  A girl turned to them. “He probably wasn’t paying attention. He’s been a mess since that thing with Curtis.”

  Another boy standing nearby added, “Maybe it was suicide. He was supposed to be spotting Curtis, after all.”

  The girl scoffed at him, and an argument started.

  Aaron reversed his bike and began pedaling home.

  I knew it, he thought. I wonder if this will finally convince Phillip that I’m right.

  Once he reached home, he scrawled a note to his mother, saying he was leaving early for a party and planned to be home before ten. Then he took off for Boone’s place, enjoying the lack of a backpack.

  —

  He punched the button to ring Boone’s condo. Seconds went by before he heard Boone come on the speaker.

  “You’re here, good, hurry up.”

  “Can I bring up my bike?” Aaron asked. “I can’t see anywhere to chain it up down here.”

  “Yeah, bring it up, just hurry,” Boone replied, and the buzzer on the door activated.

  Aaron steered his bike through the lobby and to the elevator, carefully maneuvering it inside without hitting anything. When he reached the top floor, Boone was waiting in the open doorway to his condo. He didn’t look good.

  “Hurry,” Boone said, waving Aaron inside. Aaron steered the bike into Boone’s home. “Just lean it against the wall over there.”

  Aaron parked the bike and turned to Boone, who was barefoot and wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. His skin looked white and milkish, almost translucent.

  “How long can you stay?” Boone asked.

  “A while,” Aaron replied.

  “A couple of hours, at least?”

  “I can stay until 9:30 or so,” Aaron answered. “I told my mom I’d be home before 10.”

  “Plenty of time,” Boone mumbled. “I need you to keep guard. I’m going to go into my bedroom, and I’ll be in there for a couple of hours. If anyone calls, don’t pick up, and if anyone comes to the door, ignore them. Don’t let them in.”

  “What’s going on?” Aaron asked. “You don’t look very well.”

  “I’ll explain later,” Boone replied. “One other thing, and this is the most important. See that thing on the table?”

  Aaron walked to the dining table. On it was a round metal disc; it reminded him of the one the School had given to him and Phillip to locate recruits, except that it was larger and had strange markings on its surface.

  “If any part of it starts to glow, I need you to turn it,” Boone said.

  “Just turn it?” Aaron asked.

  “Yeah,” Boone replied. “It might be any color, it might light up anywhere on the surface. If it does, just turn it until the glow fades out. It’s critical that you do this. If you don’t, we could both be in a lot of trouble, so don’t get distracted. I can count on you, right?”

  “Sure,” Aaron said, still confused but clear on the instructions.

  “Alright,” Boone said, walking back to the bedroom. “Stick with the plan and we’ll talk more in a couple of hours.” The door shut, and Aaron was left to himself.

  He sat at the table, looking at the strange device. It was shiny chrome, and he could see his face reflected in its surface. He reached out to touch it. It was cold.

  The first twenty minutes went by quickly. Aaron sat on the couch in the living room, checking his phone and occasionally glancing over to the table to see if there was any change in the disc. It seemed inert.

  What’s he doing in there? Aaron wondered. Why did he leave me sitting out here, alone?

  Suddenly he heard a moan from the bedroom. It sounded like a grunt.

  Seconds ticked by, followed by more moaning.

  Aaron rose from the couch and walked to the bedroom door.

  The moanings were softer; but then a loud one made him jump. What’s going on in there?

  “Boone?” he called through the door.

  He heard another grunt and more moaning, and it occurred to him that Boone might be having sex; it didn’t take much for Aaron to imagine a girl in Boone’s room. The sounds fit.

  He left me out here to wait whil
e he does the deed? Aaron thought. Why would he do that?

  “Boone?” he called again. The grunts continued. Aaron was becoming worried. If it’s just sex, he can tell me to go away, he thought. “Boone!”

  He grabbed the door handle and turned it, pushing it open, ready to back out quickly if he found Boone on the bed with a woman.

  Instead, he found Boone on the floor, naked and twitching. Aaron ran into the room and stood over him, frightened. “Boone!”

  The man looked longer than normal. As Aaron watched, Boone convulsed, his body twisting as though a wave had passed through it from his head on down. Something was wrong with his body; there was a mass of flesh, thin and translucent, wrapped around the middle of his chest, and his feet appeared flat and shrunken, as though all the flesh had been sucked out of them, leaving only the skin behind.

  Boone didn’t reply. His body convulsed again, and Aaron watched as six inches of it slid up and away from the mass of flesh at the torso, freeing his arms. They fell to his side, weak and useless, covered in a shiny slime.

  Aaron was trying to comprehend what he was seeing, while at the same time trying to figure out how to help Boone. He had no idea what to do. “Boone!” he called again.

  Boone’s eyes were closed, but his mouth opened slightly. Aaron leaned down to listen.

  “Leave me,” Boone whispered weakly.

  Aaron rose and backed out of the room, watching as another wave passed through Boone’s body, and another couple of inches emerged from the translucent flesh. He felt the door behind him and backed out, closing it, sealing Boone inside.

  The disc! he thought suddenly, and ran to the table. On one edge an orange glow appeared, pulsing. Aaron grabbed the disc and slowly turned it until the orange color began to fade, and he stopped once it was gone completely.

  What the fuck? he thought, sitting at the table and lowering his head into his hands.

  Chapter Twelve

  Aaron heard the bedroom door open. He was still sitting at the table, watching the disc. It had begun to glow a dozen more times over the course of the evening, and each time he’d adjusted it to make the glow disappear.

  Boone walked to the table and dropped a large plastic bag on it, then sat next to Aaron.

  “You weren’t supposed to come in,” Boone said.

  “I thought something was wrong,” Aaron replied. “I could hear you moaning. I was worried you might be in trouble.”

  “Thanks,” Boone replied. “I should have warned you about that.”

  “What’s in the bag?” Aaron asked, looking at it.

  “Me,” Boone replied. “Well, last year’s me.”

  Aaron laughed uncomfortably. “You?”

  “Well, the outer part of me, at least. You want to see?”

  Aaron closed his eyes. “What was going on in there? In your bedroom?” He opened them again, looking at Boone.

  “It’s called molting. Do you know what that is?”

  “Snakes do it. It’s like shedding their skin.”

  “Yes.”

  “So…” Aaron asked, “why would it be happening to you?”

  “Not just snakes,” Boone replied. “Insects too.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t explain what I asked.”

  Boone reached for Aaron’s arm. He pressed a finger down on the spot where the bandage still covered the hole.

  “You recall what they did to you? Here?”

  “Yeah,” Aaron answered, unsure where Boone was headed with things.

  “I told you I took out the head,” Boone said. “At the fish stand. Remember?”

  “Of course,” Aaron replied, quickly recalling the pain.

  “The body’s still inside you,” Boone said. “And it’s still inside me.”

  Aaron pulled his arm away from Boone and held his hand over the spot, unsure he wanted to hear more.

  “I’ve got some bad news for you, kid,” Boone said. “You’re in the same boat as me.”

  Aaron felt the bottom dropping out of his stomach. He could see Boone lying on the floor, helpless, struggling as his body emerged from the shell of himself.

  “It’s going to happen to you, too,” Boone said. “Eventually. And it’ll keep happening, every six months or so.”

  “I’m going to go through…that?” Aaron asked.

  “You are,” Boone replied.

  “There’s no way to make it stop?”

  “I’ve been trying for thirteen years,” Boone replied. “And it still happens, twice a year. I have, however, been able to avoid turning.”

  “Turning?”

  Boone sighed. “You need to hear the whole story, and I need to eat something. Follow me.”

  They rose from the table and Boone walked to the kitchen, where he pulled a carton of milk from the refrigerator and began to chug it. He kept drinking until he’d finished the entire thing, then he tossed the empty carton into the recycle bin.

  “You’ll be starving after it happens,” Boone said, “so have some food around. Stock up before.” He pulled a plate of leftovers from a shelf in the fridge and began to eat.

  “How will I know…” Aaron started and then paused, unsure of how to describe his question.

  “You’ll know,” Boone replied. “Your skin will look like mine did, all transparent and whitish. When it starts, just find a quiet place and don’t fight it. You have to let it happen, or it just takes longer. And you don’t want it to take any longer than it has to because you’re vulnerable when you’re going through it. That’s why I had you stand guard.”

  “And the disc?”

  “I’ve made some enemies over the years,” Boone replied. “That thing keeps them thrown off.” He grabbed his plate. “Come on, let’s go into the living room and sit. My legs are a little weak just yet.”

  They walked into the next room and Boone fell onto a couch, still holding his plate of food. Aaron sat across from him. Boone propped his feet up on the coffee table.

  “So, thirteen years ago, I was going to school here, just like you. A wadded-up ball of paper flies into my window, and I got all excited about the so-called School. I go, I get off on the violence and the revenge. It all seems a little wacky to me, though, like something isn’t right.”

  “That’s how I felt,” Aaron interjected.

  “They initiated me, turned me into an Adherent, and one day I find out that two people I thought were different people were actually the same person.”

  Aaron shook his head, confused. “Two people?”

  “So, who have you met at the School?”

  “There’s a guy who’s always at the door.”

  “He’s probably human.”

  Aaron paused. The idea that any of these people might not be human hadn’t occurred to him, but hearing the words from Boone’s mouth was beginning to bring the situation into greater clarity, and it was unnerving him.

  “There’s Benjamin. He’s always near the front, too. There was a woman who gave me a test.”

  “With the balls?”

  “Yeah,” Aaron replied.

  “You realize that test was total bullshit, right?” Boone asked. “Just one of their many tricks to make you think you’re special if you get accepted. It’s a way of keeping you loyal.”

  “Yeah,” Aaron replied. “That makes sense now.”

  “Who else?”

  “Then there’s Herrod, and of course Madame Pritchard. Do you know her? She seems to be the one in charge.”

  “Completely different names when they came around thirteen years ago,” Boone replied. “But it doesn’t matter. They’re the same person, the same thing that I encountered.”

  “Same person?” Aaron asked. “I don’t think so. These are all different people.”

  “Which ones have you seen side by side? Did you ever see Herrod and this Madame you mentioned?”

  Aaron thought. “No, I never saw them together at the same time.”

  “Who did the killing? On stage?”

&nb
sp; “Madame Pritchard.”

  “Then she is certainly the Scolo. It’s likely Herrod is the same Scolo if you’ve never seen them together.”

  “You mean that both Herrod and Madame Pritchard are the same person?”

  “Yes,” Boone replied, taking another bite. “They’re both the Scolo, and they can appear to be any human they want. When I encountered it years ago, it was a woman named Vanessa. And the man who did all the butchering on stage was a fat guy named Armando. But they were both the same creature, and it’s the exact same creature that you encountered.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because they’re territorial,” Boone replied, “and they live a long time.”

  “But thirteen years?” Aaron asked. “Do they leave and come back?”

  “They cycle around through the towns of their territory. Takes them just under a generation to come back. Any bad blood is forgotten by then.”

  Aaron saw Boone studying him. It was obvious that he was still confused.

  “The Scolo feed on a combination of adrenaline and endorphins that people emit during the show. There’s a chemical reaction in the body when people witness violence, but that’s not exactly what they’re after. They feed on a specific combination that is only emitted when people see violence committed against people they believe deserve the violence. That doesn’t happen very often. Since it’s rare, they have to create the situation if they want to eat.”

  Aaron sat in silence, trying to comprehend what Boone was telling him.

  “They recruit people who are most likely to produce the endorphin — people who have been bullied and tormented, people who don’t have any problem seeing horrible things done to those who abused them. They recruit them, and then set up a situation where they can stimulate you and extract what they’re after. You’re like cows being milked. The Scolo knew exactly who in the audience was feeding it, and who wasn’t. They take extra steps with those who aren’t responding correctly.”

  “Like turn them into Adherents?” Aaron asked.

  “Now you’re beginning to get it,” Boone replied, eating more. “They come into town and feed for a few months. Kids die at school as a result of their shows; the deaths all seem unconnected and coincidental, but it’s still an unusual number of deaths. They move on after a while, to another part of their territory. They’ll come back here in another thirteen years, because the Scolo’s brain is cyclical and instinctual, just like an insect’s. They’ll recruit a new bunch of kids to milk. And a few of them will become infected, like you and me.”

 

‹ Prev