Back in the Rain

by Elen Chase

  "Drew," Dan followed me outside of the apartment, but I took the elevator before he could catch up with me, leaving him behind. I stopped to wait for him in the parking area.

  "Drew, what happened?"

  "What the hell was that about?" I screamed at him.

  "What?"

  "How can you stay so calm hearing that piece of shit talking about killing somebody? How can you trust him?" I was so angry I couldn't look straight at him.

  "Dre— " He was trying to say something but I interrupted him.

  "Why the fuck did you work for him in the first place?" I am saying too much, "How could you take drugs for him?" That's not his fault, I have no idea what happened to him, "I hate all of this! I hate to be depending on him." Saying these things to Dan is just cruel, "I can't believe you’re the same person who helped that asshole for years!" He's doing this to help me.

  "Shit!" he screamed, and I heard the dull sound of something hitting a hard surface. I looked at him and saw he had punched the wall close to him with all his strength. Judging from the noise that came out, I thought he might have broken his hand. I slowly got closer to him and looked at it. It was red and shaking, but it didn't seem there was any fracture. "It's not so strange, what you heard today," he told me, almost in a whisper. "Killing somebody is not so strange here. Whether it is with poison, drugs or a gunshot, every person you meet is a potential murderer or an accomplice. I’m no different. I’ve worked for them for years. I had a goal and threw away any morale to get what I wanted. This world is cruel, Drew. I’d like to believe it's just and fair, and the bad guys are the exception, but it's only a petty lie. People won't be good to you just because you're good to them. And if you want something, you have to be ready to give up something else. You have to be determined. Determined enough to live sacrificing ideals, pity, hope. I understand you cannot accept it. Deep down I’m happy you don't. Because the world you're looking at, despite everything you went through, is still clean. You still believe in justice. You're not like me. My world is dirty. I hate to disappoint you, but the truth is that your Shallie died because of people… like me."

  "Dan…" All my anger disappeared completely. I was just dead worried about that hand. "I hate Jim," I told him. "I don't like the fact that you've worked for him either." I took his hurt hand in mine, touching it softly. It was always like that with him; I'd start doubting him, then he would do something that changed my mind, until the next time. "But I trust you. If you did something wrong, you're paying enough for it. I can see how much you're suffering. I'm so sorry for what I said to you earlier. You're not like him, that's not really you."

  "I lied for so long, I don't even know what's really me."

  Those words hurt me almost as much as his tears always did.

  "You are the one who helped me change my sheets in the middle of the night because I was too freaked out to tell my mother I had wet my bed," I said, feeling terribly guilty for what I had told him.

  "I did that?"

  "Yes, you did that. You found me when I got lost in the mountain during the school trip, and you were punished with me. And you told me I could go to your place when I had a fight with my dad, then you called him to tell him I was alright. You apologized with me every time I did something stupid, even when An didn't want you to. That's the kind of person you are, no matter what happens to you."

  He looked at me, maybe a little flustered, but he didn't say anything.

  "Let's go home," I told him. "We need to ice that hand."

  I drove the motorcycle for the first time in my life on the way home. When we got back, I medicated his hand, which had started swelling up, and prepared something to eat. While waiting, Dan was working on the file I had made the day before, the one with the list of things to do next.

  "I'm looking up this Mr. Hutchison the maid mentioned. He's fifty-two, and he's worked for the Coltens for twenty-four years. Lilian suggested the old man the soldier mentioned might be related to the Coltens, do you think it may be him?" he said.

  "Uhm… why not? If he worked for Colten, it wouldn't be so strange for him to go back to the villa from time to time. It makes me think of that pattern, you know? The loyal servant who keeps thinking of his master's interests even when he's dead."

  "How is being a hindrance to his master's colleagues thinking of his interests?"

  "It's just a theory. Colten is dead, so there was a traitor in the sect. We know it was Robinson, but maybe he doesn't trust the others anymore," I said.

  "There's one thing that's been bothering me for a while," he added. "Shallie was probably brought to that park in Robinson's car, right?"

  "I know what you mean. I've been thinking about that too. If Robinson killed those people and died soon after that, how did he bring back Shallie's body?"

  "I thought she might have died before, and that he left her there and went back to the villa later, but it makes no sense. The car was found in the lake, and like you said, Robinson died soon after the others in the villa," he said.

  "This can only mean there was somebody else. Somebody else brought Shallie back in Robinson's car and then abandoned it in the lake. But who, and why?"

  "I think it can't be one of the members of the sect. They had to cover up Shallie's case in a hurry after she was found, so there's no reason why they would leave her so close to her home in the first place."

  "So it was someone on our side?" I asked.

  "I don't even know if we can talk about being on somebody's side. Anyway, we need to find out more about the people that were in the villa that day. Possibly get a list with all their names, so we can start searching each one of them."

  "But where can we get such information?"

  "I'd try with the servants of the Coltens. Not Hutchison or the head housemaid of course, that’s too risky. We need someone who cares less about the masters and is ready to talk."

  "This should be easy. I doubt in a couple of months, in which they heard him torturing animals, they could grow fond of Colten," I said.

  "I guess so. We just have to decide how to approach them."

  "I'd say to take them out of context, pretend to meet one of them by chance. This way it'll be easier and less risky. For example, we can look on some social network for who was working for them three months ago and start from there."

  "Let's look it up." With that said, Dan started the research. We found many who had worked there in the past, someone recently hired, but almost none who worked for the Coltens in February. After a long list, we ended up with just two names. Both of them were hired at the end of January, and they were still working in the main residence. The first one was a woman hugging a kid in her profile picture. The other was a twenty-two-year old guy who was working part time while studying at Rosedeer State University. We decided our target should be him, since he was closer to our age and had no family to worry about.

  "He's from the College of AI and Technology," I said. "I have a friend from high school who's studying there." My best friend, Sean, the one who came to see me more often after Shallie's death. I should call him to thank him for worrying so much for me and tell him I'm okay. "Since we're going to the RSU tomorrow to meet Dr. Brown, I could try calling my friend and go see him at his school. I want to know how he's doing, and we never know, we might meet this guy by chance."

  "Just go see him then. I'll try finding the guy."

  "Eh? You're not coming with me?"

  "Why would I come with you? I think you should spend some time alone with your friend."

  "Ah, well, I just thought you would." I kind of wanted to introduce him to Sean, but it was clear he didn't feel like it, so I gave up.

  Chapter 23

  Rosedeer State University wasn't the most famous school in town, but it was indeed the one with the most students. The campus was huge with its twelve colleges, three libraries and six dormitories. Dr. Brown was dean of the College of History and director of the Library of Humanistic Studies.

  "I used to
come to the College of Law of this university for the preparatory courses to enroll in the academy," I told Dan while we were on our way through the campus to go meet Dr. Brown.

  "So you know the place?"

  "Just randomly. I didn't like coming to the university too much, it was stressful for me." And then I gave up on the academy after passing the final exam. But that was for the best. I have something more important to think about.

  We entered the library building. Libraries were my dad's favorite place in the world, so when we were kids he would often take us to visit some. I was never too fixated on reading on paper like he was, but seeing the physical book volumes gave me a totally different impression of the book itself, especially when I had to study with them. Judging from how many students were actually reading them in the library, I assumed I wasn't the only one to think that. Lilian had made the appointment for us, so the professor already had an idea on why we were there. We had to wait in front of his office for a couple of students who had to ask him something, then he let us in. Dr. Brown was probably close to retirement, a rather tall grandpa, bald with light blue eyes, big glasses and a gentle expression on his face. Even though he was a famous professor, he was dressed simply, with a shirt and classic pants.

  "So, you must be Andrew Lowell and Dan Rogue, which one is Andrew?"

  "Me. It's a pleasure, professor."

  "No need to be so formal, please sit down." We sat on the other side of his desk. "Miss Marshall gave me an idea about the situation, more or less."

  "Yes, we need you to tell us about the research Bart Robinson Jr. did here, in detail. Anything that comes to your mind, even an apparently trivial thing could be fundamental for us," I told him.

  "I will tell you everything I know, but I have to start from pretty far back in history," he said.

  "We're listening," said Dan.

  The professor nodded his head and cleaned his glasses with a handkerchief, for a time that seemed like an eternity. I was wondering just how far back in history he wanted to go, and if it would take forever, when he finally continued talking. "About a hundred years ago, when the new City government still hadn’t settled down, there were many people skeptical about the future, and discontent was spreading among the population. They suddenly saw their unique identity of being a separate country or state disappear to enter in a totally new system which put internationalization and technology ahead of traditions, and especially the world of artists and literates suffered a big cultural shock. That's when a small group of intellectuals wrote a masterpiece of our literature, the real turning point of our society at that point, the ‘New Era Eulogy.’ Do you know what I am talking about?"

  "Yes, we study it in school as the first book of our age," I answered. I had no idea how that could be involved in Robinson's investigation.

  "Right. As you know, it's a deep criticism of society in the form of an epic poem describing a world that falls apart. That book inspired all the young literates of the new generation, but, unfortunately, not just them. Some began to see it like a prophecy of destruction that was about to fall on our world, creating a sort of religious cult aiming to avoid the annihilation of humanity. Around sixty years ago, a sect was uncovered, which was killing a young girl as a sacrifice every year to prevent darkness from falling into this world, as they said. At the time it was a big scandal, and the people involved were all arrested to never come out of prison again. That was the end of the sect, or so it seemed. A few months ago, Mr. Robinson Jr. came here to ask me about this old story, saying that he was sure that sect was still active now. I didn't believe him, but since he looked so sure, I let him do all the research he wanted in the library. When he died, three months ago, I realized that he was probably right. I deleted all his access data to the library, so that nobody could find out he came here searching for the proof he needed, and I brought here in my office the books and articles he worked on. I read them over and over, but I have no clue what he could have found out from them. He didn't leave even one note, and I'm clearly missing an important piece to complete the puzzle. And now you are here. Miss Marshall mentioned you are following in her fiancé’s footsteps. I have to warn you, this could be very dangerous for you. You're so young, you don't have to take such a risk, no matter how noble it may seem to you."

  "Thank you for your concern, but we will do it anyway. I could never forgive myself if I were to give up now," I said, "please, let us take a look at that material Robinson worked on."

  Dr. Brown faintly nodded his head and smiled at us, "You can come here and work on the books and articles whenever you want. I'll give you access to a private room in the library. I just have two requests for you."

  "What?" I asked.

  "The first is that you keep me informed on what you find out. The second is that you won't die like that poor man."

  "Yes, I assure you that we won't end up like Robinson," I replied. "Thank you, sir."

  After the talk, he took out of a small cabinet a box full of books and printed articles, and showed us the way to that private room in the library. From the weight of the box I could understand how much material there was to check. I was thrilled to start going through it, and at the same time discouraged from the time that it would take to read and analyze all of that. The professor took two electronic card keys out and opened the door with one of them. On the third floor of the library, the study room was furnished with a couple of shelves, a big desk, a blackboard and a sofa. Access was possible only with the electronic key that he gave to us, of which he had a copy. He said we were free to go there anytime, even at night. The window was facing the inner yard of the library and the administrative offices on the other side. I wanted to start going through that data but soon I had to go meet Sean, so we left the room and locked it with our key. My mood was switching from the expectation toward those texts to a little of nostalgia for the past, as I was going to meet my friend. Dan and I split up when we got to the College of AI and Technology, since he was going to look for that guy who worked for Colten, and we agreed to meet again later at the library.

  Sean was already waiting for me in the cafeteria. He wasn't fat but his face was round-shaped and his mouth always smiling, giving him a funny look. I liked to call him a “super cool nerd.” Friends who knew him from grade school once told me he was able to make a working watchpad using pieces of a broken one when he was just ten. But this talent and his passion for creating things were never an obstacle for his social life: he had tons of friends, he was always in for a party and everybody knew that if Sean was coming, it would turn out to be a good day. He was a good friend and a good person. He had come to see me countless times after Shallie's death, trying to cheer me up. I felt sort of bad for never getting in touch with him after I left Uptown.

  "Drew!" he called me, happily waving his hand when I entered the cafeteria.

  "Sean!" I said his name back and gave him a friendly hug as soon as I reached his table.

  "Drew, I'm seriously happy to see you again and that you're looking fine. Last time I went to your house, your parents told me you left home. I couldn't believe it."

  "Yeah, a lot happened. I'm sorry I never called you back that whole time, but I needed to be away from everyone for a while."

  "If the coffee is on you today, I'll forgive you," he said, smiling.

  "Deal," I said, and ordered coffee for two.

  "So, what's been up lately?" he asked me.

  "Recently I’ve been in Downtown with… an old friend of mine," I said, and again it felt strange to refer to him as a friend.

  "Whoa, Downtown! Like, clubs, casinos and drugs? Drew, don't waste your life like this," he said, making the impression of a famous TV journalist who used to interview delinquents. "This is not what your poor mum raised you for!" I couldn't hold back a laugh.

  "No, life there is more normal than you think. I'm just on a sort of… sabbatical year?"

  "Are you asking me that? I'm supposed to ask you, you know," he said, laughi
ng back at me. "I'm glad to see you so lively. That's the Drew I remember, let's celebrate with a cheesecake. On you, of course."

  "Of course," I said.

  "You know, now that you're feeling better I feel I can finally tell you… Shallie is a friend I'll never forget. I'm so sorry, Drew, for what you're going through," he said then.

  "Thanks Sean, I appreciate it."

  "I found it so strange, how she left us… I'm sorry, maybe I'm not supposed to say those things to you now."

  "No, I'm happy somebody else feels the same way as me. I've tried to figure out something about her death..." For a moment I thought I could tell him everything, but I cooled down in time. "But I had no results. At this point I can just move forward."

  "And I respect that," he said.

  "What about you? Any news?"

  "News… ah Drew, if you knew..."

  "I'm asking now."

  "I know, let me do some poetry once in while." He cleared his throat, "Uh—Uhm, if you knew, my friend, what an angel I have been blessed enough to meet, what a marvelous creature— "

  "Okay, you're in love again," I cut it short. "Who is she?"

  "You go straight to the point, ah?" he said, a little upset. His annoyed face was too funny. "She's from another college. I saw her at the university festival, while she and her friends were running a cafe. She's a first-year, the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."

  "I see, what's her name?"

  "I never had the courage to ask."

  "Have you at least talked to her?"

  "Of course I did," he said. "I ordered two cheeseburgers and she told me ‘you got the wrong shop, the burger stand is on the other side of the street.’ Such sweet words—"

  "She just told you you're a fucking idiot!"

  "Yes, but she said it so sweetly."

  "If you say so… And then? Have you seen her after that?"

  "I never found her again."

  "You really are an idiot."