The next day at school..
"Hey, Val found one of the bodies of the missing kids," Chase says in a low voice. "Found his body in the boiler rooms downstairs."
It's lunchtime in the cafeteria, and you're sitting at your usual busy table.
"Yeah, they think it's Devin Farwood, but it's hard to tell. A lot of him was eaten," says Damien.
"Well, we've already found and disposed of two HFVMs. If we're very lucky, this was just the work of Josh and Sarah," you say.
"Neither Sarah or Josh looked like they had just had a supersize meal like that," says Chase.
"Hardly anyone goes down in the boiler rooms. Heck, only the janitors, hall monitors, and some maintenance guys have keys to get down there," says Damien. "Naturaly, those guys are being looked at pretty carefully."
"Yeah, I think Val's helping to interrogate them now," says Chase.
"You sound sad Chase," says Tatum with an icy voice. "You miss her?"
Damien taps your shoulder, and you move down the table out of earshot of Tatum and the others. You're trying to keep the number of people who know about HFVMs and the rest down to a minimum. The last thing you need is for this to leak out. Aside from the witch hunting hysteria it could produce, it would tip off any remaining HFVMs that you're on to them.
"So l asked a few guys to watch Dr. Franklin after school," says Damien. "And they'll try to follow him home. Do you know his home is unlisted? And I can't find anyone who knows where he lives."
"Okay. So long as Dr. Franklin doesn't notice them. And do your buddies know why they're following Franklin?" you ask.
"l just said it's for a prank. They think we're planning to teepee his pod or something," says Damien with a grin.
"What about his work office? l'd like to get in there and look around," you say.
"You know if he turns out to be innocent, this is going to be a serious invasion of privacy," says Damien.
"Don't worry, he's not innocent," you say. As much as you'd like to spill to Damien about Dr. Franklin working as a secret meatbag supplier for the government, your mom told you that in confidence.
"Anyway, if you want to check out his office, I'm game," says Damien. "But his office is locked. His teacher's assistant, Miles, has a keycard. Miles is a good student, one of the top ehrlichs, but maybe we can get some cooperation from him. Otherwise, Sven is pretty good at breaking through keycard locks. He's got some hacker device he uses."
"Or maybe we can get in there while Dr. Franklin is in his office. Ask to talk to him about something," you say.
"And then someone else calls him out of his office to leave you there for a minute?" asks Damien.
"Dr. Frankin's not stupid. Hard to do that without looking suspicious," you say.
"It's all risky," says Damien.
***
"Dr. Franklin, I just wanted to let you know that, despite what happened, Iappreciate you hooking us up with Toxifarian. It's the thought that counts," you say.
'Even though l'm pretty sure you knew they were fectos and might snack on Zeta High students,' you think.
Dr. Franklin seems to believe your lie, or he's a good actor, because he smiles warmly. "I appreciate that, Jen. I felt bad about that whole affair. Well, I'm glad no one from our school was hurt. It of course saddens me that my friends from college were so infected and had to be.." He looks over at Sven, perhaps wondering why the Swede is even there.
"Put down?" Damien suggests.
"Err, yes," Dr. Franklin says as he absently shuffles some papers on his desk.
"Fire!" shouts Chase from the other room.
Damien looks out the office door into the biology room. "Oh my God!"
Franklin makes a strange sound in his throat and runs out of the office. "Damn it!" he yells.
You peek out to see that one of his tables is on fire. They must have used some kerosene or something.
You and Damien run out to help, Ieaving Sven behind to do his computer hacking or whatever.
Damien and you do your best to give the impression of helpfulness in putting out the fire, while, in reality, accomplishing the opposite—including 'accidentally' pouring formaldehyde on the fire instead of water.
Just as the fire is finally put out, you see Svern walking out the biology room door.
Chase goes on and on about how he doesn't know what happened, and he hands over several bullets to Franklin for reparations.
You all meet up with Sven later.
"Zer is very little on zee computer, just verk stuff. Reading eez mail, it looks like he uses his home computer for more interesting things."
"Time for our Plan B, eh?" says Damien.
"Yup, ransack his house," you say with a chuckle.
"Oh, one thing I found vas a machine gun, an Uzi in eez drawer. Of course, I left eet," says Sven.
"Wow, that's an expensive weapon!" says Damien. "Not what l'd expect a biology teacher to be packing."
"I think it's safe to assume we're dealing with the most dangerous biology teacher in the sector system," you say.
The next day you, Damien, and Sven cut out of class early to go find Dr. Franklin's pod.
"Since when does a biology teacher live in a neighborhood like this?" you say as you admire the largest pods you've ever seen in the Zeta sector.
"This is where Lance and Greg said they followed him to. 1537 Princely Ave," says Damien.
"Maybe it's good that Chase is sick and can't see this. I would have to listen to whining about his own inadequate pod for weeks," you say.
"What about Val? She'd probably enjoy this trip," says Damien.
"Bah, she doesn't even know we're here. She won't return my texts or calls," you say.
"She must be deep into the investigation along with the other school security," says Damien.
"Vee vill get to zee bottom of this before them," says Sven.
Above are grow lights, not the full grow lights that can mimic sun—that would take too much energy—but the diminished spectrum kind that are still good for growing some things. Along the path are flowers and bushes. Presently, the path opens up into a tiny park with actual grass—not the lush green grass of the old-day surface lawns, but a genetically engineered variety that requires less light and water. Its green is a bit dull and the coverage is slightly patchy, but it's still beautiful. Since the path ends, you presume you're expected to step on it. You do so delicately. In the middle of the clearing is a fountain with a statue of a boy playing with a toy boat on the beach.
"Okay, it should be straight ahead," Damien says as he consults his phone.
"So, Sven, you can break into even one of these fancy pods?" you ask.
"Ya, sure. Every pod has an emergency override for their lock. Dat way people like yer dad can get in any time they want." Sven grins at the metal box with LED display he clutches in his hands.
"That's got the override codes pre-programmed in, so we should be able to just open the front door," says Damien.
"What if someone's home, like his wife? Mr. Franklin wears a wedding ring," you say.
"Well, Mrs. Franklin must be the one making the big bullets, since biology teachers sure don't make this kinda bank. She's probably off presiding over some mergers andvacquisitions or something," says Damien.
"We don't know that. Maybe we should knock before breaking-and-entering?" you suggest.
"And if no one's home, that could draw attention from the neighbors," says Damien. You see his point. It is so quiet here. "Our plan was to go up to the door, slip the box on, unlock, and go in, as though we own the place. Fast and simple."
"Fast and simple if vere's no von home," Sven grins. "Vee could hide in zee bushes. A, how do you say it? Stakeout?"
"There's probably hidden cameras all over the place. These richies are probably all terrified of dudes hiding in the bushes near their pods," says Damien.
"Really? Cameras in the trees?" you say skeptically.
"I'm just saying we might not want to act like criminals in an area like this," says Damien. "And don't forget the Dr. is going to be coming home in about an hour."
"We'd be crazy to just break in without first finding out if anyone is home," you say. "Let's just act like normal people do and knock on the door. If no one answers, then we let ourselves in."
You walk across the grass and onto the porch in your most nonchalant manner. Unsurprisingly for a fancy pod, there's a doorbell, and so you don't even have to clang on the door and draw attention to yourselves. Faintly. you can hear the chiming inside the pod.
On the third ring, Sven fishes for his high-tech lock pick, but before he gets it out, the door opens. In front of you stands a tall, rather beautiful woman with long blond hair (obviously dyed) fastened into a high ponytail. She wears a stretchy workout top with tight yoga pants that reveal=shapely, muscular legs.
Both of the boys are speechless. None of you actually expected anyone to be home, much less someone like this.
"Oh! Is this Mr. Franklin's residence?" you ask.
"Yes, what do you want?" she says in a mild accent you can't place, but the tone tells you she'd rather not be having this conversation.
You had planned on just saying you were here for extra tutoring if anyone asked, but that explanation was prepared for the neighbors, who wouldn't know better. Still, it could have merit even if Dr. Franklin doesn't tutor at his house. There's a first time for everything, right? And doesn't Sven sound like a guy who could use some tutoring?
"Hi, I'm Jen, this is Sven, and this is Damien," you say as you point to everyone in turn. "We're here for some extra tutoring. Is he home?" you ask.
"He wishes to tutor you here, at his home?" she laughs humorlessly. "You are in error. My.. husband does not teach here."
"I dunno, that's what he said. Maybe he wanted to show off his beautiful wife?" you say.
She smiles slightly at this. "He is not home."
"Might we come in and wait for him?" you ask.
She pauses and looks over each of you carefully as though making some sort of calculation. Finally, she motions you inside and sits you down in the living room. There is the strong scent of incense in the air.
"You have a very nice home, Mrs. Franklin," says Damien. motioning to the lavishly furnished room.
"Yes, of course. I designed this myself. My husband is useless.." she pauses and then smiles. "He is useless when it comes to such things."
"I detect a slight accent, Mrs. Franklin. Do you mind me asking where you are from originally?" you ask.
"My people are Israeli. I was here on holiday when," she pauses as though searching for the words. "When the virus hit. And so l end up here."
"You have military training, then?" asks Sven excitedly. "Different than what we get around here, I imagine."
"Hmph, of course," she says. "Before, all citizens of my country were required to serve. Men three years and women two years.
You have no problem believing her. Between her upright posture, toned body, and 'get to business' attitude, it's easy to imagine her having endured some vigorous training.
"So.. How did you and Mr. Franklin meet?" asks Damien.
She does not seem to register the question and asks one of her own. "Do your friends and family know you're here?" she asks. She is staring at you most intently.
'What an odd question,' you think. Although perhaps she knows something's up. Is she going to call your parents? In fact, no one knows you're here, but she doesn't need to know that.
You see no reason to lie, and so you tell her. "No, we're old enough to do what we want, so long as we get home at a decent hour."
She smiles wolfishly. "Such independent babies, so far from home."
"Vee are not really babies, vee—"
"You look like a strong boy," Mrs. Franklin interrupts Sven.
"While you wait for my husband, I can put you to work in my garage. I need you to lift boxes."
"I can help," says Damien.
"No, I only need one boy," she says quickly. "Keep the girl company. I'll will instruct Sven and then return."
The woman leads Sven away gracefully. She swings her hips as she walks, and you can see Sven following her along as though attached by a chain.
"Really?" Damien exclaims in a whisper when they disappear. "That's Dr. Franklin's wife?"
"Yeah, she's like an angry Barbie," you say.
"Well, Franklin's no Ken. I wonder what, like, she sees in him?" says Damien.
"Hey, some women go for personality and intelligence," you say as you punch Damien lightly on the arm.
"The doctor may be intelligent, but I don't think he's bringing the personality. Nope, she's gotta be nutty" says Damien. "Speaking of which, maybe we should check on Sven."
"I'm not sure we should shadow her in her own house. That seems rude. Maybe we should give her a minute. If she doesn't come back, we check on them." you say.
"Who knows what's rude to an Israeli? I can just pretend to follow her around because I'm infatuated with her," says Damien.
"Pretend, eh?" you say in a teasing voice, although inside you can't help but feel a little jealous.
"Yeah, I'm with you, Damien. I'm getting a creep vibe off this woman too. Let's check on Sven before he gets made into a skin skirt."
The two of you leave the living room, go through the kitchen and into a hall. Faintly, through a door you hear Sven's voice. "You are married vooman!"
Damien silently mouths "Wow!" and you smile despite yourself.
"Dis eez my comfort zone! Please respect my zone!" comes Sven's voice.
'Sven being molested again.' Time to break this up, you think as you open the door.
Mrs. Franklin has Sven backed up against the wall, his shirt unbuttoned. She turns, gives you a withering glare, and snarls like an animal. Sven dodges as she lunges at him; however, she catches his arm and throws him to the ground. She then jumps on top of him. Presently, Sven has both hands pressed against her face, pushing her away as she tries to bite him.
"Help!" cries Sven.
"She's a meatbag!" yells Damien.
Mrs. Franklin and Sven are entwined with one another.
You pull out Opal and approach from the side. Damien comes at her from the other side, which distracts her long enough for you to rush up close and fire.
BANG!
Her brains spatter across the carpet and onto Sven.
"Nice work, Jen. She's military trained and would have kicked our butts if we went hand-to-hand," says Damien.
"Looks like Sven got bit. I have some serum for that if Mrs. Franklin really is a meatbag."
"Oh feck, I'm infected!" laments Sven. "I'm gonna begin rotting! Things are gonna fall off of me! Precious things!"
"Nothing precious will fall off of you," assures Damien as he injects the serum. "Hey, Sven, what happened to your accent?"
"Feck the accent!" Sven yells. "I just do that because people think it's cool. How do you think I got Kid A? Just on my brains and brawn alone? Alpha sectors competitive, man!"
It's true. In his panic, Sven just sounds like another guy now, thanks to his deep voice, maybe a bagger, but no one unusual. It's a bit unsettling. It's like you're watching someone with multiple personality disorder.
You rub at Mrs. Franklin's neck. Makeup comes off to reveal a slightly gray skin coloration. "Looks like Sven's not the only one faking. Looks like Mrs. Franklin is a high functioning meatbag."
"A rather well-preserved specimen.." Damien pauses and looks at you carefully. "I mean, she's in great shape... Maybe she got turned recently, but what if she's an almost human meatbag, like even more human than Kenny, Benji, and all those others we saw at Stumbler's? Maybe your mom could use a tissue sample?" says Damien.
You sigh. You suppose he's right. You go into the kitchen, find a knife and a Ziploc bag, and return to the body. You begin sawing her ear off.
Sven covers his mouth and grimaces at your grisly work. "I did not vealize how tough your high school is."
"Well, we didn't realize." you look hard at Sven. "Hey! Cut it out with the fake accent. And that accent isn't even Swedish is it?"
"No.." Sven gasps as the serum starts to take hold of his muscles. "I can't... do Swedish... I think it's German... But I look Swe—"
And then he starts to convulse and drool.
"You're a clever one, Sven," Damien chuckles as he pats him on the shoulder. "It's kinda blowing my mind, and I'm not sure if I should be angry or impressed." He then turns to you. "Anyway, we have more important matters. Jen, maybe you should call your dad? I mean, who knows how many of these kind of meatbags are living amongst us?"
"There would be a lot of explaining to do. Meatbag or not, why did we shoot this lady? I mean, why are we even here?" you say.
"Maybe we should just spill it? Spill on Mr. Franklin, the meatbags at school, all of it?" says Damien.
"I'm not sure what all we would tell him. Yes, we keep running into HFVMs, but we don't understand why. My dad's a general, not a detective. He's not going to just start kicking down doors unless we have a coherent story to tell him. Besides, who's better for finding out what's going on at Zeta High than the students? And remember the red dot on my pod? I can't believe my parents have anything to do with this, but that dot means something. Maybe someone close to them is involved. Maybe they're under surveillance?" you say.
Finally, you saw the ear off of Mrs. Franklin and put it in the Ziploc. There's a little blood, as though her circulatory system is still working, albeit sluggishly.
Just then, the doorbell rings.
"Who's.. Uhhh! Who's that?" asks Sven as he shudders under the influence of the serum.
"How should we know?" says Damien. He trots on his tiptoes to the door and peers through the peep hole. He then returns and whispers. "A man and a woman. They look pretty normal. Wearing nice clothes."
"Perfect," you say sarcastically. "Probably the neighbors heard the shot," you whisper. "They probably just want to make sure everything's alright."
"Or maybe it's the neighbor meatbags that have come for revenge?" Damien whispers. "Ignore them and hope they go away?"
"But if they heard that shot.." your voice trails off in thought.
"Yeah, then they might call security and.." Damien motions to the corpse of Mrs. Franklin, "we have a mess on our hands," he whispers. "Jen, maybe you can sound like Mrs. Franklin through the door. Tell them you shot a rat or something."
"What am l, a stand-up comedian? I don't do voices!" you say. "Or we can talk to them. Say we're house sitting. Playing with a gun and it accidentally went off. You know, typical stupid teen stuff. "
"Come on," Damien winks. "Let's see that comedy routine."
You walk over to the door and look through the peephole just as they ring the doorbell again.
It is a middle-aged couple, the kind that look like they woke up this morning wearing freshly pressed clothing, perfect makeup (for the woman), and a good, even-keeled attitude.
"Uhh... Sorry for noise. Shot rat," you call through the door doing your best to mimic Mrs. Franklin's accent.
"Did she say rat?" the woman asks. The man shrugs. "Mrs. Franklin, are you hurt?" asks the man.
"No. Just angry at rat," you shout. "No problems, here!"
They stand there for a few seconds, perhaps expecting you to open the door. Then the woman and man exchange a bewildered look. "Okay, Mrs. Franklin, as long as you are alright. Maybe we'll talk another time," calls the woman.
"Yes, see you later," says the man.
You return to Damien and Sven and tell them that the couple has left.
"Wait, did someone replace Jen Valentine with Katharine Hepburn?" asks Damien with a grin.
"Yes, if there's ever a part for yelling through metal doors, I'll audition," you say.
By now, Sven has recovered from the serum. "Look, guys, about the accent—"
"Forget it," Damien cuts him off. "It's actually kinda funny. But knock it off when you're alone with us, okay?"
Sven smiles. With or without the accent, he still has his adorable goofy grin.
"Okay, Dr. Franklin's going to be home pretty soon," you say. "Let's search this place quick."
Realizing that the blood everywhere and fecto corpse on the floor will pretty much blow any chance of Dr. Franklin not realizing that someone has been here, you commence ransacking the house with gusto.
You pull out drawers, throw couch cushions, push over furniture. It's fun.
"Dude! This looks like tear gas," exclaims Sven as he holds up a metal canister.
"Yeah, I found a knife strapped to the bottom of a chair," says Damien. "They've probably got weapons stashed all over the house."
"No computer, though," you say. "Remember, we're looking for an outline of their diabolical master plan."
"Yeah, it's weird that a teacher wouldn't have a computer," says Sven.
You accidentally kick the wall as you search around the bed and notice a hollow sound. You feel around the wall by the floor and find a hidden compartment.
"Wow! Dude's got a hand grenade," you shout excitedly. You notice as you rip the place apart that you've adopted the use of the word 'dude' from the boys. It feels fun and pathetic at the same time.
"Dude, totally keep that," shouts Damien from the other room.
"Hey, maybe we should start pounding on the walls. I think they're hiding stuff in the walls," you call out.
You pound along the bedroom walls as Sven and Damien run in and start pulling clothes from the dresser.
"Oh, we should wear these!" Sven says, holding up a pair of nylons.
"Wow, first the accent and now this? Do l know you at all?" Damien exclaims.
"Not wear them on our legs, wear them on our heads," says Sven as he pulls one of the nylons over his face. "See! No one will recognize us. Newsflash—what we're doing isn't legal."
"You go ahead, I'd rather see," says Damien.
Sven leaves the nylon on as he continues to search.
Checking the time, you see that the school day has just ended. You heard that there was supposed to be an after-school teacher's meeting, but you can't be sure Franklin will attend. You need to find something fast!
You run back into the other room and check Mrs. Franklin's body. She's wearing workout clothes so there aren't any pockets, but you're desperate. Hoping that you will be able to suppress this memory in the future, you check between her breasts.
"Jackpot!" you yell.
"Isn't everyone full of surprises today?" says Damien who you did not realize was standing nearby. Startled, you pull your hand out of Mrs. Franklin's top and hold up a dark, plastic oval with a button on it.
"What's that for?" asks Damien.
"Not sure," you say. "Maybe this will do something." You push the button. Off in the distance, you hear a click.
"Dude! A door!" you hear Sven shout from the other room.
Sure enough, in the second bedroom, a hatch has opened from the floor. Down below are dimly illuminated stairs.
"So cool," says Sven. "This house is totally tricked-out,"
The three of you pause as you stare down the stairway.
"Okay, if everyone else is chicken, I'll go," says Sven.
"Wait! This is my secret passage. I should go first," you say.
"Or we can consider this for a moment," says Damien. "Maybe there's an alarm or a trap."
"l used the key. Why would you set off an alarm on someone with a key?" you ask. "Franklin's going to be here any second."
"Look, our home alarm has to be turned off once you use your key to get inside. There could be an alarm in there like that... Or maybe something worse, like a booby trap," you say.
"Well, Jen's the only one with boobies, so maybe just Damien and I should go," says Sven.
"Hmm, maybe like you better as the clueless Swede," you say to Sven.
"Sorry, I was just trying to keep things light," says Sven. "So, Indiana Jones, how do we find this hypothetical alarm or trap?"
"Hey, you're the one with the high-tech lock picks and stuff," you say.
Sven shrugs and then a moment later his eyes light up. "Oh, I found some baking flour in the kitchen. Maybe we can throw it down there and see if any lasers show up?"
"What makes you think there's lasers?" asks Damien.
"I don't know, but it would be cool," says Sven.
"Sounds kinda like something that would work in a movie, but not in real life," says Damien. "Perhaps simpler would be to just throw a blanket down the stairs. Any motion detector would certainly go off. It wouldn't help us with an alarm, but it would set off a trap."
"Let's do something quick," you say.
"Throwing the blanket is fast and better than nothing. The flour sounds more time consuming," says Damien.
"As much as l'd like to play Mission Impossible with the baking flour, throwing the blanket sounds simpler and faster." you say.
Without waiting for agreement, you strip the top comforter off the nearby bed, bunch it up into a ball, and throw it down the stairway.
There's a hiss and a kind of snapping sound.
"It set something off," says Damien, pointing down.
"Oh my God," says Sven as he runs down the stairs. He pulls something from the wall. "It's like a needle trap... Syringes with some kind of nasty something in 'em!"
Sven sniffs the syringe. "Eww!" he says and passes it up to Damien who also sniffs it. "Smells like fecto—fecto blood." says Damien. "Well, we definitely don't want to get hit by a trap like that. Good call on throwing the blanket, Jen." Damien strips the sheets off the bed, goes down several steps, and throws that down the remainder of the stairway. Only after that do the three of you dare to take the stairs yourselves.