Who is LaFarge?
Whatever you do, find LaFarge.
Brian's last words echoed in my mind as I made my way uptown. I held a plastic bag with some supplies I had picked up on the way: bandages for my shoulder, a small pocketknife, a flashlight, some bags of trail mix, and a bottle of water. Not much, but it would float me while I headed up north to look for LaFarge.
LaFarge. Jesus Christ, I didn't even know who this guy was, or how I was supposed to find him. Brian hadn't finished telling that part of the story yet before he... before they...
I shook my head. My vision was shimmering like the pavement on a hot day. The side effects of the pill were getting worse, and I didn't know how long they would last. I was seeing things now. Several times on the walk uptown, I thought I saw the man in the bowler hat reflected in a store window. He was never there when I turned my head, but I swear his reflection was getting closer.
I reminded myself it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. At least I hoped that's all it was. In any case, as long as the pill was working it was shielding me from their control devices. The real thing to be afraid of was the side effects wearing off. That's when I would really be in trouble.
Control devices. Mind control devices. It still sounded ridiculous, even after everything I'd seen that day. "There's a government conspiracy to control our thoughts! Everyone is in on it!" For fuck's sake, there are crackheads who think more rationally than that. What proof did I have? Brian's papers were gone, no one else could corroborate anything I'd seen, I was actively hallucinating at that very moment because of the pill. Oh my God, I pushed Lindsay out of the God damn window — or did I even do that? Was any of this real, or was I laying in a hospital bed, foaming at the mouth, shouting, "They're coming for my thoughts, don't let them get me"? Was the world really in danger, or had I just lost my fucking--
Whatever you do, find LaFarge.
"Okay, Brian," I said to myself. "We'll do it your way. I'll head up north. If I don't find him, I'll get to enjoy insanity for the rest of my life. I've heard it's actually quite nice."
"If I do find him... well, I'll figure that out when I get to it."
I found where my car was parked, across the street from a dingy punk bar a dozen blocks from my apartment. There was always parking around there, because old punkers would sometimes smack the cars with barstools to relive their glory days. My car had a few new dings on it, but nothing major. I got in and set the bag down in the passenger seat.
My phone chimed. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw that my mom had sent me a text: "What's going on??? CALL ME!!"
I looked around. The street was completely empty, save for a mailman making the rounds. I looked back at the phone. It was a stupid risk. Stupid stupid stupid. But I had to try to warn her. I swiped it open and called my mom.
She answered, and I could hear the fear in her voice. "Honey, what's happening? The police just called me. They said something happened to Lindsay. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, mom. I need you to listen to me. Grab a bag, pack what you need, and drive out to Aunt Clara's right away. Don't stop, don't wait for anything, just get out of the house and go as quickly as you can."
"What on Earth are you talking about? Are you in trouble? Tell me what's going on."
"I can't. I'm sorry, but I really can't right now. I'm mixed up in something big, and they might try to hurt you. I'll explain later, but just get to Clara's and tell Uncle Jim that he has my personal permission to shoot anyone who trespasses on his land. He'll love it, trust me."
