Prisoners of Prophecy

Chapter 26

Cato - Tuesday, July 23rd, 2019; 3:42pm

     With most of the students still in class, the day was quiet and peaceful. I had just finished my last class, and school didn't end for another hour. I had dropped my laptop off at the library and made my way to the large rock by the river to enjoy it before it ended.
     I lay sprawled out on the warm stone for an unknown amount of time, just looking up at the blue sky and watching the clouds roll lazily by. The Sun was hot on my skin; the slight, refreshing breeze ran through my hair like gentle, caressing fingers. The sound of the river flowing by behind my head was soothing enough that I thought I could fall asleep to it.
     And maybe I would have, if I didn't feel so trapped. So out of control.
     If I followed the river to my left, I would reach the house that had been abandoned who knew how long ago, and left undisturbed on ShadowWood's property for whatever reason until we arrived. I didn't have to look at it to feel its existence. The supernatural energy it held within its walls had always been apparent to me, but ever since Achiq had introduced himself, it had been growing steadily stronger. Did that mean the Gods were, too? Were we already helping somehow? I had so many questions I desperately wanted answers for.
     I had seen Calypso before school, and she told me Melany would be the one going to the basement tonight. That meant my time was tomorrow. I was both excited and absolutely terrified.
     As I lay there, half-dozing in the Summer heat and pondering on what lay next in my unpredictable future, I heard the sound of tires crunching over gravel. A car was approaching. It was unusual for anyone to be coming in around this time - the staff would come in before most of the students were awake, and left an hour or so after school ended, and the guards changed shifts when we were supposed to already be in our rooms. But it wasn't that unusual.
     So what was the dread, then, sinking into my skin like a chill you couldn't shake? What was the sudden irrational fear being driven into my chest like a blade? The panic, where had it come from?
I sat up quickly, looking in the direction of the noise. From my place on the flat rock, I could clearly see both the office and the large iron gates that it faced. On the other side of the fence, where the few guests who would come by usually parked, a police van idled. As I watched, two officers hopped out of the van and stood side by side in front of it, studying the gate, occasionally taking glances over their shoulders. They held themselves in the exact same way - feet planted widely apart, chin up, left thumb hooked under the front of their vest and their right hand on the butt of their pistol. The sight was almost hilarious, until the realization came to me.
There was a new student. And most of them didn't get two police escorts.
I could hear the two men's conversation easily, despite the distance. I listened intently, my heart pounding. I had no reason why this odd but not unnatural scene had sent such a persuasive doubt into me, but I felt it all the same. Something was not right.
     "I bet these guards get paid more than we do," one of them scoffed.
     "So?" The other retorted. "I wouldn't work here, would you?"
     "What do you mean?" Asked the younger one. He was tall and muscular, and had dark shades hiding his eyes.
     "I mean, just think about it. You got to constantly keep an eye on a hoard of notoriously unruly kids. Not to mention they got other murderers in there, not just this one." The slightly shorter, slightly wider cop with receding blond hair replied. "Some of 'em pure-bred psychopaths, too. I tell you, some of these kids belong in prison."
     "I can agree with you on that. But I wouldn't mind working here. I haven't heard of anything terrible happening here since they built the place, back in the nineties."
     The older man laughed heartily. "First of all, you're too young to remember those years." He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his breast pocket. He sparked one, put the pack and the silver Zippo - it glinted brightly in the Sun - back. He exhaled a cloud of blue smoke. "Second, if a facility like this don't want word getting out they had to shoot some kid for attacking a teacher, word ain't getting out.
     "Besides," he sighed. "If no trouble really has happened here, I got a feeling it's about to change real soon."
     His words made my blood run cold. What does he mean by that? I wondered. I didn't want to hear any more of this horrible conversation; I wanted to plug my ears and escape what that cop may be insinuating. I didn't even want to be near them any longer, them or whoever they had in that van. But, at the same time, it was impossible to go anywhere. I was glued to the spot, desperate to know why these officers were here, and what they could possibly be talking about.
     As their conversation lapsed, two of ShadowWood's masked guards came out of the office building. They were carrying rifles, pointing them at the ground. What the hell is going on?
     The older officer tossed his half-smoked cigarette and stomped it out with a heavy black boot. He raised a hand in greeting. "Officer Murphy and Officer Dylan. You've been expecting us?"
     One of the guards waved but neither of them spoke. They slowly approached the gate, both of their heads on a swivel to see if anyone here dared to make a run for it. I was close enough to enjoy the show, but not close enough to alarm either of them. Perhaps they didn't even see me. One of them used an assortment of keys on the gate, and then swung them open.
     For a moment, I was filled with both awe and despair. Escape, I thought. That's escape right there. That's outside.
     Then, another thought popped into my head - this one made less sense, but it terrified me deeply. But that's not freedom. Not at all.
     "Stay here." The guard who had unlocked the gate was speaking to the other. "Make sure no one comes close."
     He gave a brisk nod and turned to face the school, while the other went to speak with the officers. "Who is this we have the pleasure of meeting today?" He asked.
     "I wouldn't say it'll be much of a pleasure," Officer Murphy scoffed. "Kids name is Gregory Allen. He's twenty-two years old, but was convicted of his crimes when he was eighteen. He has been charged with eight counts of first-degree murder back in his home town. He committed the murders between the ages of twelve up to the day he was caught."
     "Geez," the guard remarked.
     "Who the fuck is this?" I mumbled at the same time. My fear was gradually rising to hysteria.
     "Yeah, don't I know it," Murphy snorted. "And the kid claims the good Lord himself was the one who told him to do it. Kid's crazy. He don't belong here. But I guess the boy's parents got enough money to send him here anyway."
"Money can make just about anything happen," the guard responded chummily. I hated the way it seemed they were only speaking over lunch casually about some sport or another, not about a murderer they were about to bring into ShadowWood. "Let's get him settled in, you say?"
     "It'll be nice to have him out of my custody, but I gotta warn you, man - he's about as loony as they get."
     "Yeah he is," Officer Dylan agreed. "Screamed himself tired on the way here. He's asleep in the back now."
      "Well, let's go wake him up. Get him out the back. I'll stop him if he tries something dumb."
     "I'd hope so," said Murphy.
     They all shuffled around to the back doors of the police van. I watched, unblinking, as Murphy gestured for the younger officer to open them. That feeling of something terribly wrong coming was getting stronger with every passing second. I wanted to look away; I wanted to see who they would drag, shackled, from the van.
     The man was shackled - for the most part, at least - but he was not dragged out of the van. He let out a fierce screech that pierced my ears painfully, and then Officer Dylan was on the ground with the man on top of him. He had managed to somehow release one of his arms from the cuffs and wrapped a tight fist around the metal ring and was using them like brass knuckles furiously against the young cop's face. Each time his fist pulled back, it was bloodier.
I wanted to shield my eyes, but I could not find the strength to move. Each moment dragged by. Isn't anyone going to do something? I wondered desperately. It seemed as if everything was moving in slow motion except for the guy's rapid, deadly swings.
Finally, the other men seemed to realize the danger the officer was in. Murphy unholstered his pistol and drew it on the group writhing in the gravel. The guard aimed his own weapon, shouting, "Get the hell off him! Get off him, or I'll shoot!"
The prisoner didn't seem to hear. He just kept on hitting the cop. I could see a huge grin on his face, which had been splattered with a few drops of blood. The man beneath him was groaning. I wished I couldn't hear that awful sound so clearly, as if he were right in front of me.
     "Dammit, Murphy, all he's got is the handcuffs!" The guard yelled. "Just grab him! I can't drop this big fucking gun!"
     But Officer Murphy seemed just as frozen as I was.
     The guard shot his rifle. Dust spewed up from a place not a foot from the men on the ground. The sound was deafening, causing me to flinch. The man stopped his vicious attack, turning to eye the guard. The police officer beneath him didn't move, didn't make a noise. He appeared unconscious.
     "The next one's going in your head, fucker," he snarled. "Get off him and get on the ground."
     "I'm not supposed to be here," the man wailed, crouching over his victim awkwardly, his feet still shackled together. Blubbering like a baby. "God didn't say it would happen this way, God said I was good, God -"
     The breath was knocked out of him as Murphy had found his courage and kicked him square in the chest, shoving him off of his partner. He managed to get his handcuffs back on right and haul him to his feet. The fight seemed to have gone out of Gregory Allen. He now stared ahead blankly.
     The guard spit at Gregory's old sneakers - the laces were gone and they were practically falling apart- but he didn't appear to mind. Or notice, for that matter. "There ain't no God with you."
     "That's assault on an officer," Murphy growled. He was crouching by Dylan now, helping him sit up as the guard took a hold of Gregory. Even from this distance, I could see his face was swollen and smeared with blood. "We gotta take him back in for that?"
     "No, he's in our custody now. We'll make a report of it here." He had lowered his rifle, but was glaring Gregory attentively. "It will be added onto his offenses. Get him to the hospital, though. He looks awful. I've got to get him inside, before the classes end."
     I couldn't see, or hear, any more of this. I didn't care to see Gregory any closer than he was now, didn't even care to see if they made it through the gate, which was still open. I got up and hurried towards the library, not once looking back.

5:06pm

I had taken a table towards the front of the library, grabbing a few books at random before sitting down. I flipped through them absently to appear busy, but my thoughts were too hectic to focus on anything else. The library was almost empty until the last class was over, but the few staff and students that were there avoided me like I was diseased. I remembered once being able to enjoy places of silence such as these, but no more. Every squeak of a chair, every whisper, every book being set down - it was amplified and grating, each sound sending a stinging pain into my brain somewhere behind my blind eye. The later it got, the more students that filed in. And the louder the library got.
But I forced myself to stay. I had to. One of them would walk in any time. One of us.
Gregory Allen. His name sent a chill through me. Took the lives of eight people. He's probably got his tracking bracelet on now. If he's still behaving.
Why did that disturb me so much; fill me with the sense of utter doom?
I think it was because, in a way, he was like us. Maybe they'd even put him downstairs, in the oldest part of the oldest building on the property - except for the house. But I felt - deep down in places where knowledge comes from some ancient, instinctual part we all hold somewhere within us - that he did not belong.
That he was simply just not right.
The voices in the basement had said that Melany was the last one. So who is this? Is this really just some guy with a dark fantasy to kill? Why didn't it feel that way?
"Hey, you alright?"
I looked up from where I had been staring emptily at one of the open books on my table. Xantara was standing across from me, studying me with her startlingly black eyes. The cuts across her cheeks were still scabbed up, but looked like they were healing well. It seemed she had stopped caring to hide them with bandaids. The open concern on her beautiful face looked strange in comparison to the gruesome features that had appeared there. I was instantly pleased to see her here; her presence was full of warmth and comfort that eased my mind.
     "Have you seen Calypso?" I asked in a hushed voice, aware of all of the people around us. "Something happened."
     She looked me up and down, her dark eyes inquiring. "I could have guessed that much." She came around the table and sat in the chair next to me. "Care to share?"
     "Yeah. I think everyone needs to know." I groaned. "This is horrible."
     "You're worrying me, Cato," Xantara whispered sternly.
     "Why are we worried?" Illisha asked quietly as she came up to our table.
     "I think it's about time we all got together again anyways," I said, sharing a glance with the both of them. I could feel their unease. Could they sense something was wrong, too?
     "In the basement?" Illisha asked, a little loudly. Her eyes were wide and somehow a conflicting mix of horror and excitement.
     People were beginning to stare. I didn't have to look to feel their eyes on me.
     "No, we can't go there. Melany... Calypso said Melany is going to the house tonight. Who knows if there's already some God in there, waiting for -"
     "Tonight?" Xantara interrupted. "Where is she?"
"Hopefully not on the way there yet," I answered solemnly.
Calypso was coming. We all really sensed her before we saw her. All of our heads turned towards the direction of the library's doors as she was walking through them. Everyone - even the ones who had been gawking at us - turned their attention to her, too. Our group collectively drew a breath. Her pale gray eyes were narrowed, addressing us all. She looked away long enough to nod at the librarian and set her laptop down on the desk before making her way to us.
"What are all of you doing here?" She hissed. "People are looking at you like you're about to start preforming, or something!"
"Have you seen Melany?" Xantara asked her worriedly.
I stood up. "Well, let's go somewhere else then. Maybe we'll find her. We need to talk."
"I haven't seen Melany recently, no." Calypso turned her piercing gaze from her to me. "I agree, let's -"
"You looking for me?"
We all visibly jumped. I could feel a wave of fear grow around us and then crash. Melany had come to join us, glancing around at each of us, curious eyes lingering the longest on Xantara and Calypso.
"Oh, man," Calypso grumbled, shaking her head. "Let's get out of here. They think we're some damn zoo attraction. Might start throwing peanuts if we stay any longer."