14.| Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

We follow the strange old man through the dimly lit hallway, still flashing red in the backup lights. He has his shotgun slung over his shoulder and his cap lowered so the rim hovers above his tawny eyes.

He looks like he has seen some things in his life, and I find myself thinking of my mom again. All those late nights she'd come home from the hospital after being haunted when she couldn't save a patient. 

I remember she used to wake me up with the smell of alcohol heavily on her breath and tears glistening on her lash lines.

"I couldn't save them." She'd say while running her fingers through my hair. 

I'd rest my head in her lap and stare up at her, unable to find the words to comfort her about something I didn't understand at the time. Of course I know it now.

You know what I told her?

It's okay. That is what I said. Thinking back on it, I couldn't have been any more selfish. Maybe there were signs before dad went missing. He just so happened to be the tip of her iceberg.

"What are you thinking about, kid?" The old man asks me.

For once, I don't lie. "My mom."

"Ah, the popular case in the newspapers." He says, then cuts his eye at me. "What ever happened to her?"

My lips press into a thin line. I don't mind his curiosity, I just didn't expect to be struck by a whirlwind of emotions. Then again, I haven't opened up about it to Jack or my brother.

Not to Jack because I was bitter, and not to my brother because I wanted to protect him.

"Incarcerated in Arkum's psychiatric institution." I say. I don't know just because of the news, I know because I testified against her in court. My own mom.

I think back to that day, where every eye in the courtroom remained fastened on me.

"On November first of 2019, did you witness the defendant leave the house with a knife before you got in the car with her to drop you off at Rogan High?" The defense attorney asked me. 

"Yes, sir." I bit my bottom lip, trying not to look at my unhinged mother where I can see her out of the corner of my peripheral vision.

"Can you look at the screen and tell me if this is the knife you saw her leave with?" He asks next.

It takes everything in me to look at the projectile image. The knife is from our kitchen set, green handles because that is my mother's favorite color and theme. It's speckled with blood, and the tip is dented out of shape. 

I can tell the picture was taken at the crime scene.

"Yes." I swallow hard.

"And did you know of the defendants plans that morning, two hours before the incident that almost claimed the lives of three students?"

"No." My voice cracks and my attention finally drifts to my mother.

She's scratching on her arms, leaving marks and muttering to herself until we make eye contact. Then she looks sane for a moment, but oh so heart broken before shielding her face in shame.

"Please don't make him see me like this!" She screams.

"Mrs. Vixen, control yourself or you will be removed from the courtroom!" The judge slammed his mallet down. 

"Please don't! No, no, no, no!" She keeps screaming, then starts pushing papers off the table in front of her, pulling out chunks of her hair.

"Mom." I whisper at the sight of her. I don't recognize her anymore, and a single tear rolls down my face.

"Ian, I didn't do it, I know I would never do anything to hurt you!" She cries out, eyes red rimmed, snot pulling out her nose as she jumps out her seat.

Two officers are on her, already dragging her to the door as she squirms and thrashes in their hold. "Ian! Ian!"

My name is a heartbreaking shriek that echoes before it's muffled when the courtroom doors close behind her.

I want to run to her and tell her everything will be okay, but I know I can't.

"Ian?" The defense attorney repeats my name, as if he had been calling me for a while.

I blink away the tears and take a deep breath. "What did you say?"

"I asked you to tell me when was the first time you noticed something was wrong. That your mother had gone mad." He says, his voice cold and sharp.

I have no words. I just keep staring at the courtroom door, hoping it would open and let me out. My legs feel like jelly and they shake uncontrollably.

"I-" I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

"You what?" He presses me, his eyes piercing me like needles.

"I think when she told me she was being watched after my father disappeared. She said people were not who they seemed, that Biotech Breakthroughs could swap minds between bodies." I say, my voice sounding distant and robotic.

"No further questions." The defense attorney says, his face grim and dissatisfied. He walks away from me, leaving me alone on the stand.

The trial lasts for six hours, and when they escort me to the taxi that is waiting for me outside, there is a crowd of people. Curious onlookers and reporters snapping photos and shouting questions I don't want to answer.

"Did you help your mother?"

"Were you ever abused by her?"

"Do you think your father is missing because your mother killed him?"

The security guards clears a path for me, pushing and shoving if they have to. It starts to rain and I'm grateful, because I can hide my sobs as I slide into the back seat.

What was there to go back to?

An empty house and a brother who I love more than anything, who would be waiting to ask me questions I don't have answers to. For the last two weeks, strangers have been lurking outside our house or sleeping in their cars, hoping to get a scoop from me.

I press my face to the cold window and close my eyes, wishing I could escape from everything.

The car drives away and the steady rhythm of the rain hitting the glass window calmed me. But somehow I still heard my mother screaming my name in the back of my mind.

***

"Although I don't like kids, I got a farmhouse and a working car." The old man offers just as we reach the cafeteria. 

The lunch that was left untouched for almost a week is rotting on the tables and trays. Blood stains are everywhere, but there are no bodies to be seen.

"God damn, just what kind of disease is this." The old man whispers to himself as we walk in, looking around at the gruesome scene.

Julia is already stuffing her backpack with whatever she can find for Jake. Cans, bottles, snacks, anything edible. She is loyal to him, or maybe afraid of him. I don't know anymore.

As for Rose, she is still shaken from seeing Jane's dead body in the hallway. It is one thing knowing someone is dead, but it's another when you have to see it again completely unprepared.

It was hard for me too, seeing Jane like that. But I keep it to myself. I don't show any emotions anymore.

"Where did you exactly come from?" I ask the old man as he kicks open the kitchen door of the cafeteria, his shotgun ready for anything.

It is also empty.

"I'd like to know that too." I whisper to him.

"Do you think you can really handle Jake?" I ask him next.

He pulls his cap off and ruffles his hair before looking at me.

"Does he have any other weapons?" He asks me back.

I scan the cabinet for any items that I can claim for myself, items that I won't have to share with Jake and his cronies. Even though I have a plan, it's not a sure thing that Jake will cooperate just because there's an adult stranger with us.

If—and it's a big if—things go according to plan,I have a chance to escape from this nightmare and reach Ivan and Jack.

"I don't know what Jake has. Earlier, before our teacher died, he said she'd be the one catching a bullet." I tell him, my voice low and tense.

He nods and frowns.

"How well do ya know him? Do you think the bastard really has one?" He looks at me and I shrug.

"I wouldn't put it past him." I say, remembering how he snapped Zeke's arm and smiled like he enjoyed it. I know he's capable of anything.

"If what you say is true, I'll have to take him by surprise." The old man says to me, grabbing a few boxes of crackers from the bottom cabinets inside the cafeteria's kitchen.

He sounds confident, and I wonder what secrets he may be hiding. We all have things we don't like talking about.

I hear a clatter from beyond the door and my heart jumps in my throat, expecting to face another horror.

The old man and I exchange a look, then head for the kitchen door that leads to the cafeteria. 

"Sorry!" I hear Rose say, and when I peek my head through the doorway, I see her with her hands up and her shoulders raised.

I let out a breath. "God, you scared me. I thought we'd have to fight something else." 

Rose's face changes from shock to amusement, and she starts laughing, her shoulders shaking. "You should've seen your face."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny." I narrow my eyes at her, trying to hide my embarrassment.

The old man clears his throat to get our attention and we look at him. 

"By the way, those bullet casing match with a M27 Infantry Automatic Rifle. My guess, US Marines." He says, sounding like he knows more than he's letting on. That, or maybe at some point in time served himself.

Rose shakes her head, bewildered. "But why would they come here and not save us? No offense to the old man, but that doesn't make any sense."

"Ryan," The old man corrects her as he pulls out a cigarette from its crumpled pack and sticks it in his mouth. "My name's Ryan, and it might have something to do with what your spineless principal said earlier."

He snaps his fingers in the air, trying to recall. "Uh, the people that came in looking for you." Ryan points a finger at me.

That's right. Earlier Principal Riley told me people came in searching for me, and the only good thing he did was lie about whether I attended school that day or not.

I know that he deserves to be left alone after what he allowed to happen in the office, hiding away while innocent people died. But he also saved my life by not telling those people I was here.

"I want to know what they want from me." I rub my face with my hands, then sling a bag full of food I collected from the kitchen over my shoulder, ready to leave. 

There's a crackling that fills the air, then a loud screech. It's the intercom, probably Principal Riley about to beg us to change our minds about leaving him behind.

Ryan shakes his head. "This little shit. I ain't helping him." 

"Hello everyone inside of Rogan high," It's a man, but it isn't Principal Riley's voice. This voice is much deeper, cold and emotionless. It sounds like a killer's voice.

I look at Rose, and Ryan looks at us. Julia is already at our side with her bag stuffed with items.

"Who the hell is that?" She mouths and I shrug, looking back at the intercom in the left corner of the cafeteria.

The man over the intercom exhales, causing more static. "I know you're all wondering who I am. I work for the US Marines. Tasked with searching for Ian Vixen. I know there's a few of you in this school. I heard you, and I'll find you. Let's hope you have an answer, or if you are Ian, make it easy for everyone and come to the office."

What do they want me for?

I know nothing.

"Agh!" I hear Principal Riley yell. "I'm sorry, Ian!" He wails out.

The unknown person speaks again. "I got your friend here that lied to me earlier. But one of my men overheard him talking to you a few moments ago. How about we make a deal, you come to me and I won't kill anyone else?"

There's a long pause. What the hell does he mean by he won't kill anyone else?

"Oh god! Please no!" Principal Riley screams. There's a struggle happening, and then a loud bang. Silence follows and Julia shakes her head.

"He shot him." She says, her voice trembling.

"You hear that?" The man asks over the intercom. "That's one life. Make your decision quick, I'm an impatient man."