by Drew Hayes
“Well, I’ll say this much,” Vince said. “After watching that video and seeing the way people are acting around me, I’m feeling strong enough to handle any challenges that come our way.”
Nick dearly hoped his friend was right.
190.
“How’d it go?” Professor Pendleton asked as Nick emerged from the infirmary. The visit had been quicker than he anticipated, yet Nick seemed considerably more upbeat leaving than he had going in. Certainly he was happier than he should have been, or than Professor Pendleton was feeling. In the year he’d been teaching he’d come to care about many of his pupils; however, Nick was something special. It galled him to see his prized student being flung out the door, but there was nothing to do for it. Nick had chosen his path and he’d structured it so well that it was all but impossible to stop him.
“We’re good,” Nick replied. “Although I’m not sure what his sentiment will be toward me once he finds out the full extent of my punishment.” The two began walking down the hallway. Professor Pendleton was officially his escort, unofficially his prison guard. Not that anyone really thought Nick would make a run for it after going to such great lengths to put himself in custody, but they’d all been around him long enough to know that the minute you thought you knew what Nick was planning was the moment he had you right where he wanted you.
“You didn’t tell him about the policy?”
Nick shook his head. “He’ll find out soon enough. No reason to break it to him without his friends around.”
“It’s not too late,” Professor Pendleton told him. “You could still lobby for just failing the year rather than a full expulsion. The wipe is far less extensive for that.”
“Good to know, but I’m okay with this. It’s the best way for me to leave.”
“With no memory of your experiences or your friends?”
“Look, I just willingly gave up a sweet cover I’d maintained for two years and got myself booted from this program in order to help someone, all with no payoff for me,” Nick grumbled. The duo took a turn and began walking down a different hallway. “These people, this place, all of it has infected me with... sentiment. It’s been fun, but I have to go back to my real world now. And going back as a softer, kinder Nick is likely to get me in serious trouble. If I’m going home, it’s better I go back as the cunning and efficient version of myself.”
“You really want to burn away all the progress you’ve made in your time here?”
“That’s why I built a pyre. What you witnessed in that arena was the funeral of Lander’s Nick Campbell.” They took another turn; it was only a few minutes to the room where Nick would make his final exit from Lander. “For what it’s worth, thank you.”
“Because I tried to talk you out of it?” Professor Pendleton asked.
“Because you really went out of your way to be a good teacher to me,” Nick explained. “Even though my cover made it hard, you still made sure I got a solid education. I wish I could say I won’t forget that, but we both know it wouldn’t be true.”
“You’re welcome,” Professor Pendleton said. “As a student you are a colossal pain in the ass, but you also have more skill and potential than I’ve ever seen in someone your age. I was looking forward to teaching you next year.”
“Maybe one day in the future,” Nick said. “Speaking of future, I have a goodbye present being delivered to you later today. Consider it my version of an apple on the desk.”
“That’s an unexpectedly kind gesture,” Professor Pendleton said.
“Wait until you see it before you say that,” Nick rebutted.
“Well, it at least evens the score for us. I got you something, too.”
They turned the final corner; however, instead of just an open hallway leading to a thick door, there stood a blonde girl five feet down it, tapping her foot on the ground and looking fifteen shades of pissed off.
“You dick,” Nick muttered. He raised his voice to deliver his greeting. “Hey, Alice. How’s it hanging?”
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Professor Pendleton said. “I think I’ll stand a few feet down the last hallway. You’ve got a couple of minutes.” With that, he turned around and headed back in the direction they’d come from. His coat had barely vanished behind the corner before Alice spoke.
“You’re leaving.”
“It seems you caught me,” Nick admitted.
“You’re leaving without saying goodbye.” She began walking toward him, posture somewhere between preparing to deck him and grabbing him in a hug.
“School policy. They tend to be brutally efficient when kicking someone out the door.”
“They also tend to fog over their memories so they can’t divulge any other students’ identities,” Alice added, her approach slowing as she drew within arm’s reach of him. “Didn’t think I’d know that, right?”
“Your father filled you in, I assume,” Nick sighed. “Did you tell the others?”
“No, but I would have if Mr. Transport had told me what was going on. Evidently Professor Pendleton sent a message to get me down here with no explanation. I put the pieces together while I was waiting.”
“Alice Adair, always too smart for her own good.”
“So you were just going to leave us? No hugs, no notes, no nothing?”
“Like I said, policy,” Nick defended. “At least they were nice enough to let me talk to Vince. As for the rest of you, well, I left something as a sort of farewell. You’ll see later tonight.”
“You knew you were doing this. You could have said something before it all went down.”
“Actually, I couldn’t have. Keeping you all in the dark was the best method I had for protecting you. None of you knew what I had planned, so they can’t try and spread the blame around. It was all me. I did the crime, now I’m doing the time.”
“I... ah fuck, I guess I already knew that deep down,” Alice said, her voice dropping several octaves. She reached out and took his hand, gently resting it in hers. “I realize you did all of this for Vince, and for us. What about you, though? What about the things you said on the beach? How even a man like you once wanted to be the hero. To make the world a better place.”
“Alice, this was that moment. Someone like me could never really cross over, never let go of how he was raised and the things he’s done. Even if I had made it to Hero, I wouldn’t have done the role justice, not the way Vince could. So I put all my chips on Silver. If he makes it, then I get to know that every life he saves is in part because of me.”
“That sounds far more noble than the Nick I know,” Alice chuckled, moving in closer.
“Like I said, too smart for her own good,” Nick agreed. They were very close now; he could smell the shampoo coating her long hair and spot the red areas around her eyes that told him she’d been crying. “Alice, you know I won’t remember any of this.”
“I know.”
“But you will.”
“So be it.”
With that she closed the gap, and for the first time in over a year, they were kissing. It was slower than last time, less frantic than in Alice’s intoxicated attack. This wasn’t a kindling or a beginning. This was a kiss goodbye.
It is impossible to say how long they were like that, only that they were interrupted by the coughing of Professor Pendleton. The two pulled away from each other, then exchanged a glance more awkward and genuine than either would have believed themselves still capable of. Professor Pendleton started forward, heading toward the room.
Time was up.
Alice started to move away, but Nick pulled her in once more, placing his lips carefully against her ears and speaking in the softest of whispers.
“Never forget who I am.”
Then he was gone, closing the gap to Professor Pendleton and walking through the door that would seal his fate.
191.
Mr. Numbers stepped carefully around the workers diligently packing away Nick Campbell’s belongings. They’d just
arrived, but from the speed with which they were moving, it wouldn’t be long until they were finished. It made sense; the HCP booted a lot of students in their freshman year. Having a competent moving staff would be an absolute necessity. Mr. Transport had agreed to teleport the cargo to Vegas once it was ready; at least they could save Nick the trouble of hauling it in his small car.
Weaving through the rapid workers, Mr. Numbers made his way to a modest shelf positioned above Nick’s computer. Stacked neatly, in alphabetical order, were at least two dozen DVDs, all of them terrible slasher films perfectly suited to Nick’s tastes. Reading through the titles, Mr. Numbers located the film he needed, Brazilian Bloodsuckers 6: The AB Negative Wars, and pulled it from the shelf. It made a brief journey into his coat pocket, and he turned to exit the room. No one made any move to stop him, nor had he expected them to.
Mentally, Mr. Numbers checked the item from his to-do list. This was his only acquisition; the next three tasks were deliveries. Normally he was not the type to run errands for others, but in light of Nick’s actions, he had allowed himself to be talked into it. Still, when Nick had given him the sealed envelope of instructions and the two packages, he’d never expected the sarcastic student to actually go through with any of the plans that got him thrown out. He was certain there would be some last minute twist, which only went to show that despite his age and ability, even Mr. Numbers could occasionally be surprised.
* * *
“Nick Campbell,” Dean Blaine said, his voice purposely raised and clear. There were only four people in the room, so it was a bit more effort than was necessary, but he made a point to keep everything in these proceeding as open and filled with clarity as possible. “For the violations to which you have confessed, you are being expelled from the Hero Certification Program. This means that you cannot reapply for junior year, or any year, at any location. You are forever barred from this program. Do you understand?”
“Crystal clear,” Nick said. Professor Pendleton sat next to him, trying to keep his face neutral. It was more effort than he would have expected.
“Good. Now, whenever a student leaves our program, it is necessary to take certain precautions to ensure they cannot divulge information about the facilities or their fellow students. Professor Stone is here to facilitate those precautions.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re going to wipe my memories so that I won’t know the secret identities of any of the Supers I trained with in case some make it to Hero.”
“Not the whole thing,” Dean Blaine corrected. “Admittedly, it will be more extensive than if you’d simply failed. Then we would only obscure memories of individuals, blurring out their names and faces, if you will. You would still retain all memory of your training, classes, and exercises. As is, you will still retain some memories from the last two years. Legally we cannot obscure any of your regular curriculum Lander classes. This meeting will also be preserved, so that you understand why there is a giant gap in your recollection. Everything else will be stripped away. Right now the packing team is also editing any photographs or documentation in your room. There will be no record of anything you experienced here in the HCP, mental or otherwise.”
“So, just to be clear, is this a psychic thing or a brain damage thing?” Nick asked. “I know it won’t change the outcome, but if you’re blowing up brain cells, I think I’d like to schedule an MRI for when I get home.”
“Your brain will be fine,” Professor Stone informed him, her voice softer than Dean Blaine’s, though not by much. “My particular telepathy allows me to interact with people’s memories. I can view them or obscure them; however, that last part is generally kept confidential.”
“I assumed it was someone on staff,” Nick replied. “You can’t very well have every bitter young adult you kick out of this thing go off with full knowledge of everyone’s names and abilities. Secret identities wouldn’t last five minutes after a new Hero’s debut.”
“I’m glad you understand the reason why we do this,” Dean Blaine said. “Now, as for your academic record, you’ve maintained good grades at Lander’s regular classes, and those will transfer to any university you’d care to attend, should you decide to continue your education. Your time in the HCP will count for various elective credits: gym, humanities, that sort of thing. You’ll have a transcript that will keep you on track for a four-year college career.”
“That’s awfully kind of you.”
“It’s policy. Just because someone didn’t make it in the HCP doesn’t mean they deserve to have their regular education set back. Besides, elective requirements are largely bullshit anyway.”
“Amen,” Nick agreed.
“So, you understand what will happen, and what your options forward from here are. When we finish you’ll be free to go. Your things have already been packed and delivered, and we will help you find your car in case the memory of that is stricken as well. Do you have any questions or statements before we begin?”
“Sort of feels like you’re asking me if I have any last words.”
“In a way, I suppose I am,” Dean Blaine admitted. He disliked this portion of the job more than almost any other. It was part of the agreement each student signed, to sacrifice bits of their memory in the event they didn’t make it, but still it always nagged at Dean Blaine. He felt like he was stripping away a piece of each person, tearing out chunks of what comprised them. It was a necessary sacrifice, he knew that, because it was better to lose a tenth of a person than to watch a whole one be killed through leaked information. That didn’t make him hate it any less.
Nick smiled. “You guys put on a good program. I had a lot of fun in my time here. I learned more than I ever expected to. I made friends, which surprised even me. I guess if I had to give one statement to summarize the whole experience, it’s that I have no regrets about coming here.” He turned in his chair to face Professor Pendleton. “That, and I hope that when you get your gift, you’ll be able to forgive what I’m about to do.”
“What do you mean?” Professor Pendleton asked.
Nick gave no verbal response; instead, he rose from his chair and crossed the room, walking around the large wooden table, coming to a stop in front of Professor Stone. He sat down next to her and closed his eyes.
“Let’s get this show on the road.”
192.
There was a light knock on the door of Rich Weaver’s dorm. He pulled himself from his bed without much enthusiasm. After the day he’d had all he wanted to do was go to fucking sleep. The only silver lining was that his roommate had already left town, since he was not obligated to stick around for questioning on today’s fiasco. The official stance on who passed and who failed was that if you weren’t spoken to then you should assume you had a place to come back to next year. New rankings would be announced at the start of next year, pending the results of the investigation into the Vince incident. With all that out of the way, the only thing Rich had left on his mind was rest, but now some knocking asshole had taken even that from him.
Rich jerked open the door to find a relatively short man in a dark suit staring at him.
“What do you want? I don’t have to be out until tomorrow at noon.”
“I brought you a package from Nick Campbell,” the man said. He pulled a small envelope out from his jacket pocket and handed it to Rich. It was thin, with only a single bulge at the lower left corner. As Rich’s fingers closed around it he realized it was about the right size for a flash drive. Probably one containing a video file.
“Is this the only one?” He’d have preferred to play it cool; however, this was too important to have signals get crossed.
“To my knowledge,” the man said simply.
Rich grunted his acknowledgement and closed the door. He’d have liked a little more reassurance, but it looked like this is all he was getting. At least Nick had lived up to his part of the bargain. He’d turned over the evidence and managed to keep the telepaths off of Rich’s back. The day had been terrible,
and with the small envelope in his hand, he could finally put the whole thing in the past.
Rich reared back and smashed the envelope down on his dresser, making sure his palm drove the device into the hardest corner. He repeated this motion a dozen times until all that would eventually come tumbling out were bits of plastic and hunks of metal.
* * *
Professor Pendleton sat at his desk, a glass of whiskey in front of him and a romance novel to his side. Not even the dashing adventure of Rodrigo could take his mind off the day’s events, though the whiskey was having a good bit more success. He swallowed another wretched mouthful. It was swill he’d picked up at the corner gas station. Good booze was for celebrating; it was meant to be joyfully toasted with. There was nothing he found worth celebrating today. This was whiskey for mourning.
“Afternoon,” said a voice from his doorway. Professor Pendleton looked up to see Mr. Numbers standing there, strangely unbothered to walk in on an educator drinking at his desk.
“Afternoon,” Professor Pendleton echoed. “Can I get you a glass?”
“Thank you, but no; I’ve still got some errands to run,” Mr. Numbers replied. He was thankful he’d been given this task instead of Mr. Transport; that man would have sat here drinking and commiserating through half the night.
“Ah, I take it to mean you come bringing my goodbye present. I don’t suppose Nick told you what it was?”
“I’m afraid not,” Mr. Numbers replied. He produced a wide envelope, one made for greeting cards, with a thick wax seal on the back. “In fact, he was very adamant I not open it. Said it would defeat the entire purpose.”
“Cryptic and effective. The kid was good.” Professor Pendleton took another gulp as he realized he’d referred to Nick it the past tense. It wasn’t incorrect, he just hated himself for adapting to the change so easily.