Chapter 30 - XXX. | No quarter... (1/2)
He wanted to run from the room, but his legs refused to work. For a time, he could only stare at the red words in disbelief. It didn't feel real. It couldn't be.
But there was more. Horrifically, he saw another bloody message, this time on the sliding doors to his closet. Simply:
open -->
He didn't want to. He dreaded what he would see in there. But he had to look. He had to know what Geoffrey had done. And when he slid the door back, he saw a second dead body.
This one was Nathan. The young man had surely come to offer Hector a ride to school. And Geoffrey had torn him to pieces.
And still another message was scrawled onto the rear wall of the closet:
See you at school, son.
Hector could hardly breathe. He wanted to cry. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream. But more than anything else--he wanted to kill Geoffrey. As the seconds passed, as he regained his mind, his breath, Hector soon decided that the only thing that mattered now was ensuring Geoffrey never hurt anyone ever again. All other concerns came second. His grief and disgust and shock, it would all have to wait.
Tears in his eyes, he bolted back downstairs. Geoffrey had already left, of course, but Hector checked the rest of the house to be sure. He still saw no sign of his mother.
Back on the motorcycle, he pressed the machine for all the speed it could give him. He tried to think. What would Garovel do? Probably try to assess the situation calmly. Hector didn't know if he could do that right now. He'd never felt this kind of mind-numbing anger before, this unfiltered hatred. But Garovel wasn't here to talk sense into him. And he could not afford to be stupid about this, or even more people would end up dead.
What's more, Hector feared himself when he was this angry. Most of all, he feared that he might accidentally hurt someone innocent.
So he suppressed the fury, smothered it in his mind until it was only a vague heat, a passenger to his thoughts instead of the driver. And he focused. All that meditation had not just been for imaginary power. At the very least, he knew how to clear his mind.
Hector knew Geoffrey's power had grown. That was simple enough to deduce. And without Garovel, Hector had no access to regeneration or enhanced strength. But he still had his iron. And he sure as f.u.c.k wasn't about to run away. Iron alone would have to do.
He arrived at the school, taking the side entrance into the building. His helm drew strange looks as he rushed through the halls. There were not as many students as usual, but searching was still a chore. He tried to be both quick and thorough, eyeing people carefully, searching for the vacant expression of a puppet.
Then he heard a series of shrieks and ran toward them. A group of students were fleeing from a long streak of blood that sn.a.k.e.d into the boy's bathroom.
He walked in on a scene of three people crouching over another. Crimson stains were everywhere. Hector recognized the dead body on the floor. Micah Chamberlain. The three people on top of him looked up in unison. All obviously puppets. Bloodied, ripped flesh hung from their lips.
”There you are,” one of them said for Geoffrey, spitting out a red gob. ”I'm in the teacher's lounge. Come meet me, and then we can--”
And they were completely encased in iron, all three at once, thick enough to render them entirely immobilized.
Hector left them there to suffocate.
He paused as he came out of the bathroom. A crowd of students was staring at him, and he briefly lost concentration again. And Micah's face flashed in his mind. 'No,' he told himself, squinting inside his helm. 'Not yet...! Don't think about it yet!'
He took a wavering breath and stepped forward. The crowd shied away from him, and he saw their terrified faces. They were scared of him, he suddenly realized. Of course they were.
But there was no time. Hector ran for the teacher's lounge, as fast as his unenhanced legs would allow. He soon grew winded, but that wasn't enough to slow him down. The sight of Sheryl, however, made him stop.
She was still alive. Geoffrey hadn't gotten to her yet. Hector ran toward her. She seemed frightened of him, too--or of the helm at least--but she couldn't see the puppets stalking her from behind.
Four of them. The closest one leapt at her. Hector tackled it to the ground.
He tried to encase the other three in iron, but he was only able to seal their legs. The one below bit him above the elbow and tore out a chunk of flesh. Hector grit his teeth and made a metal knife. The puppet flailed, trying to throw him off, and he buried the blade into its eye socket. Blood spurted onto Hector's helm and gloves as he held it there until the puppet stopped thrashing.
The other three had all fallen over without the use of their legs, but they still crawled toward the fleeing Sheryl. Hector finished encasing them and then ran after her.
”Wait!” he yelled. ”Sheryl! It's not safe!”
”Stay the f.u.c.k away from me!”
”It's me! Hector! Please stop running!”
She did not seem interested in listening.
Another puppet sprung out at Sheryl as she passed an intersection. It grabbed her and dragged her to the ground as she shrieked and tried to pull herself away.
Hector coated the attacker's face. The groove for its mouth bumped harmlessly against Sheryl's neck, but the puppet still thrashed. Hector completed the coating and then shoved the iron statue off of her.
She tried to get up and flee again, but he grabbed her hand.
”Don't touch me!” she screamed.
”It's okay!” He pulled up the jaw of his helm, revealing his face. ”Sheryl, look at me!”
Her glance turned to a stare. ”H-Hector!”
”That's right.”
”But you! Y-you killed that other guy! And--and--”
”He would have killed you,” Hector said. ”Or someone else.”
”Why?! Who was he?! What the f.u.c.k is going on here?!”
”It's--agh--it's really hard to explain,” he said. ”Please, you have to stay close to me. I have to--” And he realized that he wasn't sure what to do with her. Just getting her out of the building didn't seem like it would be enough. As long as Geoffrey was alive, she would be in danger. And so would the others. ”Where are Gregory and Janine?” he asked.
”W-why? Are they in danger, too?”
”Yes.” He tried to keep his voice calm, for her sake as much as his own. ”Do you know where they are?”
”Well, I--ah--” Trembling, she took a moment, squinting as she thought. ”We usually come to school together, but uh--today it was just me and Micah. I, uh--I figured it was because of the power outage last night. A lot of people d-didn't come to school today, because, b-because of that. Or I th-thought that was why, but m-maybe--”
”That's good,” said Hector. ”They're safer at home.”
”Oh, that won't make much difference,” said another voice, belonging to yet another of Geoffrey's minions as it approached them from the rear corridor.
Hector placed Sheryl behind him and pulled the helm's jaw back down. He tried not to acknowledge the face of Geoffrey's puppet, but he had known Jenny Friedman for years. He had never been friends with her, scarcely even acquaintances, but still. Seeing her like this, blank-faced and mindless, was enough to make his stomach turn.
”I already know where Gregory and Janine live,” she said for Geoffrey. ”And you will not be able to reach them before my fetchers do.”
”You're lying,” said Hector.
”How do you think I know who your friends are? Everything Nathan knew, I know. And Micah. And Samuel. Everyone I have taken has provided me with a wealth of knowledge.”
Sheryl flinched. ”Nathan and Micah? What's he talking about?”
Geoffrey ignored her. ”I have learned some delightful things about you, Hector. And I would quite like to share. So please. Let us not drag this out any further. Come to the teacher's lounge.”
”Stop attacking people, and I will.”
”Oh, very well. But bring Sheryl with you.”
”No. Let her go.”
”Honestly, Hector. Even if I agreed to do that, would you actually trust me to follow through? I would like to see her reactions, as well, so just make this easy and bring her with you. Refuse, and Ms. Trent will be dead before you get here.”
Hector scowled. ”Fine.”
”Excellent. Follow me.”