Chapter 2-1
Preparing For Battle
Part 2
Yet it became apparent that I didn't explain everything. I cringed as he asked about the reason for the wheelchair. Dad stated it was more a ruse than anything but needed because of severe muscle weakness after being poisoned by a member of the Satanic cult. Dad waited for me to give him the sign that it was ok to tell him the truth regarding whether he could be trusted. Before I could answer, Stringham concluded that he was a man that he respected and had proven himself over the years to keep a secret.
Jeff nodded in agreement, which pleased me. As he left the room, a part of him remained with me in our special spot, where we could still feel his presence and communicate. It seemed that he had some control over this connection, or perhaps it was a higher power that I didn't want to know about. Curiosity lingered, but I also didn't want to delve into the possibility of it being God or simply my own imagination.
He mentioned his intention to explore the surroundings for a while. Jeff also reminded me that he wanted me to join the other boys in the yard while my adoptive parents and Stringum had a discussion. He understood that I didn't want to relive the traumatic experiences caused by Shawn, which was the main reason for me being here. In truth, no one wanted to go through that again. They had put Shawn here for that very reason.
Politely, I asked if it would be alright for me to join the boys in the yard and perhaps meet some of the teachers along the way. Using my so-called unique gift, I brought a smile to Mr. Walens' face and got him to arrange for someone to accompany me down to mingle with the other students. This was my way of showing Mr. Walens what he should look out for.
Meanwhile, my mom took off my light jacket, revealing my arms and wrists. We had painted a tattoo on them, replicating the markings that Shawn and Arthur had. I had noticed that the members of the Satanic Church also had similar markings to indicate their affiliation. Mom and Dad exchanged worried glances, but Stringham approved of the idea and suggested that Tony accompany me. As we waited, Dad explained that he preferred nobody knew my real name or the true reason why I was here, other than the idea of attending the school.
Mr. Walens mentioned that he had a good reason to keep quiet and understood the need for secrecy. This indicated that he and Stringham had known each other for a long time. So, when someone came to get me, he introduced me as Jacob Farnsworth instead of Nate Carrion. He knew that if someone connected my real and fake names, it would raise questions. Mr. Walens acknowledged the necessity of secrecy, as he and Stringham had a longstanding relationship. Although Shawn would have limited access to the outside world, with no phone or communication beyond these walls, he couldn't do much about it. The only way to connect with the outside world was through a monitored switchboard, which Mr. Walens restricted even with a pass and phone privileges, as it wasn't worth the risk.
I didn't want to stay and watch the videotape of Shawn and Arthur engaging in sexual activities, or the one from the other night. My adoptive Dad had already explained all the issues he was having with Shawn, Arthur, the satanic cult, and Crawford. I had heard enough. As I made my way down to the field, I could sense Jeff smiling, confirming that I had made the right choice.
Tony and Stringham suggested joining the team of boys in the yard playing ball to improve my social skills and learn how to interact while disabled. I struggled with portraying myself as disabled because I was becoming less reliant on the wheelchair. It wasn't ideal to recover quickly, especially with unresolved issues in Heber. We still needed a solution for going back home to my mother's house and addressing my different appearance. My father, Jim, and sisters didn't care about keeping it a secret and would sell me out in a heartbeat, even if it meant my death. As a boy named Austin introduced me and Tony, I shook hands with the boys. My wheelchair didn't faze them at all as they included me in the team.
Austin explained that I hadn't played sports since the accident. Meanwhile, Tony tightened the belt around my waist and legs, ready to assist me. He would push me and guide me to the ball as the boys tossed it to me. With determination, I made my way around the field, striving to reach my teammates and kick the ball into the goal. Although uncertain of my abilities, I knew it was better than sitting out and watching them have all the fun.
As I played, Jeff, a spirit invisible to most, leaned against the wall, observing me. His presence always hinted at hidden knowledge, and this time was no different. There was a worried look in his eyes as if he held secrets that he wasn't yet ready to share. I knew from experience that these secrets often came at a cost, one that I had paid dearly in the past.
Meanwhile, Tony handed off his wheelchair duties to one of the boys, spotting my adoptive parents approaching. I was about to inform them that I had reached my limit and that my parents needed me. However, to my surprise, Mom and Dad took seats, indicating they were in no hurry. The absence of Stringham and Mr. Walens added to my concerns, leaving me unsure of the game's outcome. Soon enough, a staff member called the boys in, signaling the end of free time and leaving the winner unknown.
Tony quickly retrieved me so the boy who was my pusher could join his classmates as the boys passed me shaking my hand; telling me they hoped to see me again, I said "Depends if my parents will like the school. They are kind of fussy about finding a good fit for me. Ever since the accident where I had given up thinking I could play sports again," knowing it wasn't going to happen.
When Mom asked if I had some fun, I nodded in agreement. It was quite a challenge, considering I was stuck in a chair. Soon after, Mr. Stringham and Mr. Walens returned. Mr. Walens then asked if I was ready to meet some teachers and see where I might be staying. However, it wasn't actually for me personally, but for Shawn. He said it loud enough for both the boys and the teachers to overhear.
Jeff walked behind us, his gaze distant and his brow furrowed, giving the impression that his mind was elsewhere. He appeared completely oblivious to the surroundings, but the dimly lit hallway added an eerie atmosphere, casting long shadows that danced along the walls. In truth, Jeff was getting strange vibes, and they weren't good ones as we walked the halls. The sound of our footsteps echoed, creating an unsettling symphony of clashing tones. The air carried a heavy, musty scent, a combination of old books and dust that clung to our clothes. I felt my nose wrinkled and my throat itch due to the heavy, musty scent as if the air itself was tainted, and I wondered why.
It wasn't until we reached the dorms where Shawn would be staying that I began to pay closer attention. The sound of footsteps reverberated through the hallway, their rhythm matching the beating of my heart. As we introduced ourselves as the Farnsworth's, assuming a false identity for our visit to the school, the man in front of me extended his hand. I reluctantly shook it, a shiver running down my spine as our palms touched. The scent that filled my nostrils was unmistakable - a nauseating odor reminiscent of decomposing flesh, making my stomach churn. It hung in the air like a suffocating fog, clinging to my senses and filling me with unease.
My eyes caught sight of a pentagram on the man's hands and wrists, its dark lines standing out against his pale skin. The symbol seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly glow, sending a chill down my spine. It reminded me of the sinister depths associated with the Satanic Church, a visual representation of the darkness within him. Although I was unaware of the full scope of his involvement or his actions, the shiver that ran down my spine and the strong, acrid smell that hung in the air hinted at a deep affiliation with the Satanic Church, suggesting his high rank within the organization.
As he noticed the curious gazes, he hastily covered his wrist, with the tattoo. In a rush, he mentioned "from his rebellious past," feeling the silent accusation in the air, wary of exposing any more about himself or us. The scene was filled with murmurs and whispers from the bustling crowd around us, all eyes fixated on his inked skin. A faint scent of anticipation and curiosity lingered in the atmosphere.
A smile slowly crept across his face as his eyes met mine, his gaze acknowledging the matching tattoo on my own wrist. Introducing myself as Jacob Farnsworth, I inquired about the room that would be mine. The sound of his deep voice blended with the distant laughter and chatter, creating a symphony of conversation.
Suddenly, my Dad interjected, his voice firm and authoritative, making it clear that the decision regarding my room had already been made. The weight of his words resonated, accompanied by a mixture of disappointment and understanding. A sense of tension filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of determination.
It became evident that the markings on his wrists had caught my parents' attention as they extended their hands to shake his. Their hands meeting echoed in the surroundings, a brief moment of connection as if sealing the deal.
"Jacob, my dear," my Mom began, her voice filled with warmth and curiosity. It seems we've found someone here who shares our beliefs, or at least had them when he, too, was a rebellious young man. Is that right?" Her hand reached out towards him, a gesture of friendship and understanding.
I was filled with uncertainty, unsure if I had the courage to participate in the activities. Jeff stood by the wall, his watchful eyes fixed on me, silently assessing my decision. Amidst the mingling of people and distant laughter, creating an atmosphere of anticipation, I could hear his steady breathing - a sound only I, as the only one who could see and hear him, could perceive.
The man noticed me and smiled eagerly. My family shared his beliefs and expressed their agreement, saying, "Indeed, we look forward to spending time with your son and introducing him to students and teachers who share our beliefs and goals. With the headmaster's permission, I would arrange for him to be placed with boys who have similar backgrounds." He was alluding to my wheelchair, but also the tattoo and the cult he was referring to. Mr. Walens nodded in agreement, playing along, though I could see that it had shaken him, despite his attempts to hide it.
They quickly led me into an empty room, as students were either in class or performing chores to maintain the school. Mr. Walens said to the man, "If you wouldn't mind us using this room while you attend to his accommodation, I will continue my rounds and explain the rules and guidelines to our new student." As soon as the instructor left, they closed the door and watched him quickly depart, most likely to inform his friends that one of their boys had arrived here and had been placed with them.
Tony followed him, while Stringham and the others cursed. Mr. Walens promptly apologized for informing us that the teacher was new and had only been here for a few months. He explained that the teacher had come highly recommended, but there had been rumors of boys being sexually abused. However, when he interviewed the boys, none of them would come forward. When he asked us how we knew, I pointed to my wrists and said, "The markings were the same as mine, and we had copied them from Shawn and Arthur as well. These are the same markings of the people belonging to the cult."
"There was also that feeling the moment I shook hands with darkness, so cold that it chills your blood. So far, I have only met a few of the boys, and those I have met haven't been marked, nor did I get the feeling that I got when I shook his hand. Perhaps Tony and I will find more, but there is no way to know for sure other than reading a room as I had done in your office, but that could take some time. Which neither of us has, due to our current situation, where we have other places to be. That could have repercussions and that would not be in our best interests."
Mom and Dad said nothing and didn't say anything regarding my friend Jeff, so I was unclear about how to do this, wishing I wasn't the only one who had a friend who could see him or communicate with him. It was one secret that none of us was willing to tell until we had no choice.
I cringed as I glanced at my watch, realizing it was a little after 4 pm. Our next task was to meet with Stringham's associates to go over the details of our relocation to Heber, a place where we had already started integrating into the cult. Nevertheless, the visit to the other school was still on our agenda for today. Stringham solved the problem and even though I didn't like the idea, it seemed like the only solution.
Mom and Dad would leave me with Tony while they visited the builders, had dinner, and ran errands. On Wednesday morning, Shawn and Tony's people planned to sneak me out. However, there was a problem - we hadn't told Stringham that Jared and I were supposed to have dinner at the High Bishop's house on Tuesday night. I contacted Jeff, who was somewhere else in the building, to let him know what was going on. He said that it wouldn't matter and that knowing about our plans might actually help him deal with the situation.
I cringed, feeling a shiver run down my spine, and whispered, my voice barely audible amidst the tense atmosphere, "Stringham, please, keep this information confidential." The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the air of secrecy.
As I spoke, the faint sound of a distant clock ticking echoed in the room, heightening the suspense. The scent of old books and musty paper lingered in the air, a testament to the ancient knowledge that surrounded us.
"Tomorrow morning," I continued, my words filled with a mix of urgency and anxiety, "my friend Jeff says the High Bishop will inform you that we have received an invitation to dine with him." The anticipation weighed heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
My mind raced as I recounted the events that unfolded during our recent gathering. "However, four members who were present will become targets of the mysterious woman we saw on the video." The memory of her ominous presence sent a chill through the room, causing goosebumps to rise on my arms.
"If you remember, she disguised herself as the high priestess," I added, my voice trembling slightly. The image of her deceptive mask sent a shudder down my spine as if her true intentions were lurking just beneath the surface.
I growled in frustration, my anger directed at Jeff for withholding crucial information. "This is a warning to the High Bishop," I explained, my words laced with exasperation. "He is next to join his murdered brethren, as he is being watched." The weight of the impending danger hung heavily in the air, suffocating our every breath.
With a mix of fear and determination straining my voice, I continued, "You will be notified that Tuesday's social event has been canceled, but he insists that we all still attend." The uncertainty of the situation gnawed at my insides, making it hard to focus.
"If we fail to show up," I warned desperately, "they will assume that my adoptive parents and you are responsible for the murders." The scent of fear mingled with the musty air, creating a suffocating atmosphere.
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach as I contemplated the consequences. "If Jared and I are absent," I continued, my voice filled with a mix of dread and determination, "he will harm you and them." The tension in the room was thick as if the very walls were closing in on us.
"He believes that we are accountable for the murders," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, "and attempting to deceive him and his organization because we left Heber while the killings were taking place." The weight of suspicion hung heavily in the air, suffocating us with its accusatory presence. "The only response you have given is a telegram, without meeting us in person, which he interprets as a delay and a cowardly act. This will only strengthen his belief that we are all involved. We need to establish a believable alibi for our absence that he and his people will find credible.
"Meanwhile, that woman is still at large. Jeff has agreed to help apprehend her, so the two of you can meet and collaborate to further our shared goals. Not to mention, the High bishop has a personal motive, especially now that he knows what has happened and what will happen in a few short hours. This knowledge will only strengthen his resolve. "I turned to Jeff, smiling wickedly at me, and without bothering to link our thoughts, I said aloud, 'You want me to do what?"
He said. "You heard me. It's not like you weren't going to do it, anyway. As your grandmother once said, 'In for a penny, in for a pound.' You already said you're not willing to back out, and this is the cost of not backing out. Now, put on your big boy pants and do it! Then again, if you need a reminder of what will happen if you don't …" Jeff placed a finger on my brow, and what I saw did not sit well with me. I saw everyone I loved being brutally murdered in unimaginable ways. Then, I saw others I didn't even know to suffer the same fate for refusing to participate and not doing what he was suggesting. Regardless of whether I thought it was right or wrong, there was a major difference. It was a consensual decision made by all parties, not forced. Personally, I saw it as a matter of opinion, and I didn't like it one bit. Time slowed down as I snapped back to reality. I realized that everyone was waiting for me to continue.
My voice was shaking after seeing a small sample of a possible future. In the future, I could be dead, lying in a pool of blood. I could be the one who caused these deaths as if I had wielded the knife myself. Another possibility was becoming a crazed sex abuser, like Shawn. The only difference would be that it would be consensual, not forced. However, no matter how I felt, the opposite didn't sit well with me. I didn't want to do it. The thought of being dead, along with my loved ones and countless others, didn't sit well with me at all. I had a lot to think about.
I said, my voice filled with determination and urgency. "However, this means we must work on two fronts, juggling our attention between two crucial locations." The weight of this predicament settles heavily upon me, a burden I can't escape. My friend Jeff's suggestion lingers in the air, its validity swirling amidst the cacophony of thoughts in my mind. The sights of this place call for our immediate presence, their significance overshadowing the other. A faint scent of anticipation hangs in the air, mingling with the musty smell of aged papers.
I let out a frustrated sigh; the sound echoing against the stone walls that confine us. I am unable to disclose the full extent of my knowledge, so my words remain restrained, trapped within the boundaries of secrecy. The weight of unspoken truths presses against me, tangible and suffocating. A sense of unease settles deep within me, a knot in my gut tugging at my resolve. Death, an unwelcome companion, lurks in the periphery, a constant reminder of the stakes at hand.
"But Jeff tells me," I continue, my voice tinged with hope, "that capturing the people here could be the key, a thread that unravels the intricate web they've woven. Changing our path, however tempting, would leave the boys and the girls and their families here vulnerable, their lives hanging in the balance. The unknown lingers, a shroud of uncertainty, as we uncover the sinister intentions of the occult, their presence casts a chilling shadow over this place.
"Like Mr. Walens said he was unaware of the problem other than rumors. He mentioned that it was rare for a boy to go missing or be found dead inside their rooms. At the time, it seemed like they had taken their own life, but as we both know, they are often discovered as warnings or used as ceremonial sacrifices. Someone removed their bodies, leaving us with no proof of their existence here because everything about them was destroyed or taken away.
"Even their own families have been taken care of in some way." As I sat there, the air heavy with anticipation, I couldn't help but cringe at the impending actions I was about to take. The sound of my growing frustration echoed angrily in the room, matching the turmoil within me. The sight of Jeff's wicked smile sent a shiver down my spine, but amidst the unease, a glimmer of hope flickered within me, casting a warm, hopeful light.
With the decision made, I felt a surge of energy coursing through me, electrifying my senses. The scent of possibility hung in the air, mingling with the musty smell of the room. But Jeff, with his mischievous laughter, revealed that he hadn't disclosed everything. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, a mix of fear and determination washing over me. Not knowing what else was in store for me in the near future, and seemed only Jeff knew the answer, frustrating me further.
I spoke, my voice laced with trepidation, "It's up to you and my adoptive parents. Let's find a solution, a way to make this work. I can't bear to witness another death like the one yesterday." The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. I whispered under my breath only heard by me and Jeff, "or in my case many deaths."
Suddenly, Tony burst into the room, panting heavily, his breath filling the space with urgency. He confessed that he had lost the person he was chasing. The disappointment was apparent, a weight pressing down on us all. Jeff was still watching us as he waited for them to make their decision and carry out some kind of test that only he seemed aware of, and I received advice to keep quiet until a plan was developed. Mr. Walens frowned, curious about the person I had mentioned. Dad, Stringham, and I exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between us. "It's a long story," we said simultaneously, the words tinged with weariness.
Tony asked. "What did I miss?" Taking a seat, trying to catch his breath.
Stringham grinned. "Oh, just the fact we were knee-deep in uncharted waters. Where we are at a crossroads, deciding how our young man here can be in two places at once."
Tony asked, "And why does he have to be in two places at once?" Stringham took charge and explained the problem to him. Tony focused his gaze on me and then rested his head in his hand, rubbing his face. He took a moment to process the information and said, "Alright, let's tackle one issue at a time. We need to find someone who can pass as our young man. That shouldn't be too difficult, I can handle that. Assuming we have enough time, I can start coordinating right away. I'll need to get in touch with my team. Once everything is in order, we can extract him and put Shawn in his place."
"I have one idea, but it won't be too pleasant, and it will require a little acting. Providing we can pull it off. The harder problem is doing it all in the hours that we have. Normally, an operation like this would require months of planning."
Stringham said. "We don't have months; we only have until Tuesday morning. Because Eric and Jared need to be with the Rothwells when we all arrive back in Heber. And Shawn needs to be in place by noon at the latest on Wednesday. Plus, we have to eliminate the threat here by then, or we will lose everything we have worked for, and I mean everything will be in vain. Either we take action now or risk losing any hope for a second chance, leaving us with no option but to start from the beginning.
"I can put off seeing the other school until Thursday, and I really want Eric there and his friend as well as you … so if we run into more of the occult, we can deal with it. If that is if his friend is still willing to help." I nodded that he was. Watching Jeff nod his head even though I was the only one in the room who could see or hear him.
Stringham said. "Well, at least that's something. The only question is how we plan to solve our current problem?"
Tony leaned back and said, "By using a doppelgänger. I figured if that if that woman could do it, there is no reason we can't."
Stringham said. "So, you're saying make an exact copy of Eric and use the person to take his place?" Tony nodded.
Stringham said. "Again, we don't have weeks or months."
Tony leaned in close, his voice controlled with a hint of mystery, as he laid out the risky plan. "It's only for a few scant hours," Tony murmured. "If we play it right, as that woman did, we could slip by unnoticed. The High Bishop barely knows him, so there's little chance of him giving us away. He just needs to show up and blend in without drawing too much attention." My heart raced as I imagined the scene unfolding before me. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, a knot tightening in my stomach. The room suddenly felt suffocating, the air was heavy with anticipation.
"The hard part," Tony continued, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "will be creating an exact copy in such a short amount of time. We'll need a top-notch makeup artist, someone who can work wonders. I can think of a couple, but slipping them in and out unnoticed will be the real challenge."
I couldn't help but mutter under my breath, my voice barely audible above the rustling of papers on the desk. The weight of the situation pressed down on me, making it difficult to breathe.
"No, this is a very, very bad idea," I whispered. The room seemed to close in on me, the walls closing in, suffocating me with their presence. The scent of anxiety filled the air, mingling with the acrid tang of fear.
I couldn't help but feel skeptical as Jeff, always the optimist, expressed his approval of two enthusiastic ghostly thumbs up, seemingly oblivious to the risks involved. Or did he?
"Yeah, right," I thought bitterly. "He's not the one about to engage in non-consensual acts with someone. Correction, consensually having sex with someone, or many someone's." The thought made me shudder, a wave of disgust washing over me.
As I mulled over the plan, the room seemed to darken; the shadows playing tricks on my senses. The air grew thick with apprehension, each breath filled with a sense of impending doom. No, I definitely did not like this plan at all. Mr. Walens said. "I think I can help with that.","
Stringham asked. "How much is that going to cost me?"
Mr. Walens said. "Oh, I am thinking that if you can help me get rid of our recently discovered problem, and this young man can, and Tony lend their service to me while they are here. I'll call it a fair deal. I don't want to wake up and find another dead boy or girl like the others. Not being able to explain too how or why it happened and then having to explain to their parents and family that I couldn't keep them safe under my roof. It gives the impression that I haven't been doing my job as well as I think I have all these years.
"Besides you owe me big time for the favor I am going to be providing for the Rothwells. Despite how much I like a good challenge. But after I watched that videotape, which will remain in my memory for a very long time;
Stringham said, "Let's put our plan in motion. Can we borrow your office while you arrange accommodation for the boys? Then we'll leave you to your hunting." Mr. Walens led us back to his office. He told Tony to take me to where they take the boys and check us in. Tony smiled, but I knew I wouldn't enjoy it based on how we were greeted earlier. I didn't like this plan, but it was better than death.
At the time, I questioned if death wouldn't be so bad considering my difficult life so far. Certainly, no bed of roses. Jeff seemed satisfied with himself as he showed me what he had done. He had gift-wrapped Tony a present. He assured us that the present would be waiting for us until we had the chance to play with our toy. Right now, my focus is on blending in and establishing myself as a new student. How difficult could that possibly be? I was used to changing schools frequently until I moved in with the Downings and Rothwells. Yet, that part was doable, and could do it. It was the other things later that I wouldn't like.