Chapter #61Hitting 'Em Where It Hurts by: Seuzz   "I'll take care of it," Frank says fervently. "You go with Joe. I'll stay here, act your part, live your life--" He swallows heavily. "That'll be part of my penance. And I'll arrange for you to leave in a way that won't hurt anyone."
You say nothing, for you are still numb with shock and confusion.
"It's not like we're going to leave right away, Frank," Joe says. "From what you were telling me about Westside--"
"What's going on Westside?" you demand.
"I'm not sure," Frank says. "It's very confusing." He recounts the day he spent as you.
It started with him looking for Steve Patterson and Gordon Black. The former was absent, and the latter didn't even remember his confrontation with Frank last night. He didn't seem to remember anything. Frank got him off alone and engaged in some rough questioning, and came away firmly convinced that Black was suffering from acute amnesia, for he claimed not to know anything about masks, golems, or magic books. "Same thing with the other guys," he says. "Lynch, Johansson, and Tilley."
"They would have been confused anyway, after what me and Joe did to them last night," you point out.
He shakes his head. "More than that. They seemed lost. No one remembered any of the last month."
"Fane," Joe says grimly. "Eric Kim musta got to them last night, done something to their memories."
"What is this Fane thing--" you start to ask, but are interrupted by the doorbell.
You all look at each other, but no one moves, even after it rings again. "We're not expecting anyone, are we?" Frank asks.
Someone beats on the door, and shouts Frank's and Joe's names. You grit your teeth. "That's Carrie Carmichael," you say. "One of the girls we were-- After you guys didn't show up at school she probably--"
"Fuck," Frank mutters. "I better get rid of her."
"Send Will to the door," Joe says.
"She's looking for us," Frank says.
"She's looking for fakes of us," Joe retorts. "That'd be Will."
You protest: "I don't know what to--"
Frank yanks you to your feet. "Just get rid of her. Tell her a story." He thrusts you at the door.
It rings again before you can get it open. Carrie leaps away from the screen door, her eyes rolling with surprise and-- Fear?
You're fortified at this moment by Seth Javits's native nerve. "Hi Carrie," you say. "I'm not surprised to see you. Me and Joe were going to come find you girls this afternoon, but I guess--"
"Someone lookin' for me?" You jump as Joe materializes behind your shoulder. "Hi Carrie," he grins.
She swallows hard, and her eyes dart between you and Joe. "Is that you, Frank?" Her voice quavers. "I wasn't sure if I should come by."
"We're glad you did," Joe says. "Me and Frank are pulling up stakes. Something's come up. Bad guys rolled into town."
If it's possible, Carrie's face turns even paler. Her mouth forms a voiceless "Oh?"
"Yeah," Joe continues. "So we had to play rough last night getting you and your friends back to normal. We'll real sorry about that--"
"Real sorry," you echo, feeling like you have to be a part of this conversation at least a little.
"--and it's best if, you know, you just forgot about everything that happened. It was a mad little adventure but it had to end."
"Oh. Um. Okay." Carrie shifts rapidly from foot to foot. "In that case I guess we'll see you around." She wheels and sprints across the yard.
"Back inside, Prescott! Now!" Joe barks. You're able to blink at him once before you're jerked off your feet by something invisible. The door slams shut.
"What d'you see, Joe," Frank asks as he hastens into the foyer.
"Black SUV. She's climbing in, doors slamming. Tags are--" Joe rattles off a string of letters and numbers. "I'm going up the tree now, see if there's any other goofball vehicles around." He must have caught the confused look you're giving him, for he grunts. "I'm not here. I'm on the roof, scoping out the neighborhood."
"Why are you so paranoid about Carrie?" you ask.
"It's not Carrie we're worried about," Frank says. "It's who drove her here. Straussler and Kim must have traced things back to her last night through your old friends. They woulda caught up to them, probably questioned them before wiping their memories."
"Oh, Jesus, are they going to do anything to those girls?" you gasp.
"Probably nothing worse than a mind wipe," Frank says. "If that's what they did to the others."
"And we should be more worried about what they're going to do to us," Joe says. "Fat Eric and three big guys in track suits are heading this way."
Frank seizes you by the shoulder and thrusts you into Joe's bedroom. "Stay here. This could get ugly."
"Shouldn't I be out there helping?" you ask.
"If we can't handle them, you can't, and you'd just be in the way. Sit tight." The doorbell rings, and with a warning look Frank closes the door on you.
You pace nervously, listening. You hear low voices, then some confused shouting. You tense, hands balling into fists. Seth's instincts are to charge out, but you force yourself to wait. There's lots of thudding from the outer rooms, then silence. More low voices.
After an interminable wait that probably isn't very long at all, the door opens again, and Frank gestures you out. You blink hard when you reach the living room: Eric Kim and three guys in charcoal-gray track suits are laying face down on the floor, their hands cuffed behind their backs. None of them are moving. Frank bends to the floor and scoops up three pistols, which he tosses onto the sofa.
"Don't remember everything about us, huh?" Frank's smile is grim as you gape at the scene. "Joe blinded 'em, then I knocked 'em off their feet and cracked some skulls together." He shakes his head. "Gimme a challenge next time."
Joe bounds in from another room. "I assume we want Fat Eric," he says, and holds out a pair of masks to you. "Show us how these work."
"You're gonna copy 'em?" you gasp.
"Well, duh. Gonna snip off this little tentacle for Hal while we have the chance."
"Who's--?"
"You can take Fat Eric, Frank," Joe says. "I'll take--"
"You can take him," Frank retorts.
"Rock paper scissors," Joe says, and extends his fist.
"How stupid do I look? Pick a number between one and ten."
"How stupid do I look? Alright, evens and odds." They flick their hands quickly. "Fuck." Joe turns to you. "Tell us again how these things work?"
In a daze you take the masks, double checking that they are blank and have mind bands in them. You hesitate as you squat next to Eric, who has a bandage around his head. "I'm on the team now?" you ask.
"Not officially," says Frank.
"But as far was we're concerned--" Joe claps you encouragingly on the shoulder.
A little thrill runs through you. Your first action in your new job ...
* * * * *
It's a fraught but tedious afternoon that follows. Joe--bitterly complaining all the way--strips Eric Kim of his clothes and dons the mask that you made. He also copy one of Straussler's men, and Frank takes his disguise. To keep Eric and the other victim docile, you put Frank's and Joe's masks on them, and leave the revived golems with orders to watch over the two remaining handcuffed men. Frank--even in his temporary face--looks a little green as you give these orders to the duplicates of himself and his brother.
He wants to leave you behind at the house, but Joe convinces him that things will go smoother if you go with them, so you accompany your disguised teammates out to the SUV, where a very frightened Carrie has been waiting alone. You gruffly comfort her on the drive back to her house--she still thinks you're Frank--and while parked near her driveway Joe fits a thing that looks like a motorcycle helmet over her head. "Flensing," he says distastefully as he works the buttons and dials on its side. "Devilish stuff, but useful. We should take it back with us, after using it on Eric and the rest of those guys. Nash might learn a few things." Carrie is dazed but otherwise healthy as Joe sends her tottering toward her door.
You swing by the Johnsons and the Paks after that, and you are tasked with luring Joanna and Sarah out for similar memory wipes. Then it's off to the ritziest bed and breakfast in town, where the Strausslers are hiding. Joe grumbles over having to flense Jonathan along with his parents, but Frank insists that it's the kindest thing in the long run.
But there's a joker in the pack when you arrive: Steve Patterson, sulking in one of the guest rooms. Frank prevents you from seeing him, though, and draws you off into a corner. "Okay, Prescott, here's the deal," he says. "You've suffered a lot at the hands of that guy in there. At least, I'm going to make believe he's the reason you did a lot of the stuff you did." His expression briefly sours. "But you're in no position to judge him."
"I know that," you say, both to be agreeable and because you see his point.
"You can't be his judge and jury, but you can be his grand jury. What I mean is this." He sighs. "Patterson's done enough that he might deserve some punishment. On the other hand, you might prefer to see him treated leniently. I'll put it to you. Do you want to see him getting what he deserves? There's no guarantees he'll learn anything from it from it. Or would you like to see him get a second chance?"   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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