Kevin’s dad takes me down the hallway and around a curb, to a dark, secluded office near the back of the building. Inside is the man who I’ve only met once, but am now banking everything on. He looks about as I remember him; a somewhat chunky man, with a mustache and short beard, and his hair combed back. He doesn’t immediately speak after Kevin’s dad leaves. He breathes heavily as he shuffles things around his desk, looking exasperated. Then, leans back deep into his chair and says, “Davis, right?”
“Correct,” I answer. “Davis, Ashley Viola. Do you remember me?”
“Vaguely,” he says. “So, I hear you have some complaints? Let’s get it over with.”
“The day we met, you talked to another girl, Zoe,” I tell him. “She’s missing, right now. Did you know that?”
“Of course I know that,” he says gruffly.
“Did you know that my friend and I were unjustifiably put into cuffs while we were trying to find her?”
He doesn’t say anything to that at first. He grabs a paper from his desk and stares at it for a moment. “My report says that you were disturbing the peace. Let’s see… ‘girls found destroying the landlady’s office…’”
“We didn’t do anything to her office,” I say flatly. “The landlady in question is a big fat liar.”
“Uh-huh,” he says sarcastically. “And the officer who wrote this indulged in her lie. Is that right?”
“Yes,” I say firmly.
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, brother. I didn’t know you were one of these kids.”
“Come on!” I chide him. “I thought you, if nobody else, would take us seriously. When Zoe’s parents tried to weaponize the police against us, you refused to cater to them. You don’t let people push you around. Or at least, I thought you didn’t.”
“I don’t let people push me around,” he retorts. “Least of all bratty teenagers.”
“Fuck off,” I tell him. “Do I need to remind you that Zoe, my girlfriend, is missing? We know the exact location she’s being held at. And nobody will even give us the time of day. I thought that the-”
“Wait wait wait, hold up!” he shouts at me. He leans forward across the desk, examining me. “You’re telling me you know her exact location?”
“That’s what I just said,” I say. “Would you like to hear what we know, or are you just going to cram us into another office and tell us to shut up, like your men have done?”
He continues to examine me, crossing his arms. “This better not be some stupid lie to get out of trouble,” he tells me coldly.
“It’s not,” I say. “I swear with God as my witness.”
He scoffs at me. “Alright, let’s hear it,” he says.
“We were hanging out with friends at the apartment complex called Lake View,” I explain. “Zoe was with her younger brother and a couple of others. They met a strange man who was attempting to cram a little boy into the back of a truck. She rescued the boy, but got shoved back there herself instead. By the way, the boy in question needs to be referred to Child Protective Services.”
He exhales agitatedly, and leans back in his chair. “Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me,” he says, seemingly to himself.
“We have reason to believe that she’s at an establishment in Austin named Play Hard Gentleman's Club,” I continue to explain. “That outfit seems to have a shady underside to it.”
He looks back at me, differently this time. There’s an odd clarity to his expression. It’s as if… he’s not entirely surprised by this information.
“Kid, how old are you?” he asks. “Sixteen or so?”
“Fourteen,” I say. “Fifteen in May.”
He growls. “You clearly have a talent for getting yourself waist-deep in hog shit,” he says. “This man, the one shoving kids into trucks. Was there anything… strange about him?”
It’s my turn to examine him. He has light blue eyes, which seem to be sizing me up.
Taking risks got me this far. Might as well go for it.
“Well, the truck wasn’t in a… normal place,” I said. “Not in the apartment’s parking lot. It was a secret place.”
“Uh-uh,” he says. “And what did this ‘secret place,’ look like?”
“Like somewhere not even on Earth,” I say. “Like something… supernatural.”
I watch his reaction closely, expecting at any moment for him to think I’m crazy, or to blow me off. Instead, he remains expressionless, and turns his chair over to his computer. He spends a while typing things I can see, and then turns back to me.
“For someone whose friend just had a… ‘supernatural’ experience,” he says, “You’re a pretty cool customer.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly surprised to be met with the supernatural,” I say. “You don’t seem shocked either, to be frank.”
“Mm-hmm,” he says. “Alright, kid. Let me explain a few things to you.” He leans over the table again, getting close to me. “The police can’t fight anything supernatural. Officially, no such thing exists. Are we crystal clear on that?”
I sigh in frustration. I’m just about to think that this was a huge letdown, when he continues on, not needing any response from me.
“But I’m very concerned about this kidnapping case,” he says earnestly. “So, I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you and your friend come with me, and see if we can get an ID on that guy you saw, or maybe the truck?”
I feel a rush of triumph. “Why yes… I’d love to help in any way I can,” I say. “But… I’d appreciate being uncuffed, if that’s the case.”
“Just as long as you don’t go tearing up any more offices. Got that?”
He removes my cuffs, and walks me back to Officer Snyder’s office. Anja was evidently uncuffed too, since she’s sitting around using her phone casually. He raps on the door, and Kevin’s dad answers it. “Handing her back to me, Sheriff?”
“Change of plans. I need to go investigate a lead in downtown Austin,” he explains. “I’m going to need to take the one with the glasses. Would you kindly call both of their parents and tell them they’ll be home soon?”
“Of course!” Kevin’s dad says. “I’ll make sure they know what they’ve been up to, and that they’re safe.”
“Great,” the Sheriff says dryly. “Come on, kid.”
Anja wordlessly gets up and joins the Sheriff and I, and he takes us both out to his police car.
As we walk out, Anja gives me a questioning look. I respond with a firm nod. I can’t help but to smirk a little, too. Our plan is working; if not exactly the way we thought.
----------------------------------------
“Why did you do that?”
The question drifts to me, as though far away. It slowly processes as the room around me comes back into focus.
I turn and see the other girl. She gives me a look of cautious curiosity.
“Oh…” I say, not sure how to answer. “Well, I couldn’t leave you behind.”
She says nothing. She keeps looking at me, examining me.
“And, she confirmed something,” I say. “My friends know where I am. They’re coming to save us. You’ll… never have to see those men again.” I smile at her.
She looks skeptical. “Your friends can’t do anything,” she says. “The men here are cunning. They know how to hide from the police. They know how to make them go away.”
I keep smiling. “You don’t know my friends. They have.. special abilities. You’ll just have to see when they get here.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
She still looks like she doesn’t believe me. But that’s okay.
“Maybe we can help them get a head start,” I suggest, turning to the door. “You got out once before, didn’t you? How’d you do it?”
“It won’t be possible again,” she tells me. “That was in the other room. This one has no handle.”
“Huh? The other room?” I ask.
“You didn’t think we’re the only two girls in this whole place, did you?” she says. “I was originally in another room full of different girls. I found out how to pick the lock of the door. I had heard them saying that one of their agents got caught, so I was going to escape and find an authority. A woman tried to help me get out, but we were caught. I was thrown in here all by myself. As you can see, there is no lock to pick here.”
I look back at the door. Sure enough, there is no lock. She is to be kept under maximum security, he said. I feel stupid. I guess it makes sense that we’re not the only two here, but I just hadn’t thought about it until now. It must have to be opened from the outside. Maybe Ted could… no, he’s not tall enough to reach the doorknob.
“What'd you do to get in here?” she asks.
“I fought several of their men,” I say honestly. “I knocked two of them clean out.”
“How? You don't look very strong.”
I smile again. “There are types of strength far more powerful than muscle,” I say. I sigh. “If only I had my phone…”
“My name's Intan, by the way,” she says.
I turn back to her. “In-Tan?”
“ In tan. More on the in .”
“Intan,” I say, the unfamiliar name bouncing off of my tongue.
She nods.
“I'm Zoe,” I say.
“I know,” she says simply.
“Intan, where are you from originally?”
“Indonesia. Borneo specifically.”
“Oooh,” I say, trying to picture a map, and thinking of a part where there’s a bunch of islands all colored the same color. “Isn’t that in Asia?”
“Yes,” she answers.
“Your English is so good,” I say.
“I have not been home in years,” she tells me. I suddenly feel sadness so overwhelming I almost break down crying right there. “I know three languages: my home language of Indonesian, Chinese, and English.”
I sniff loudly, holding in the sudden feelings. “Wow,” I say. “You know three languages?”
“Halo, nama saya Intan,” she says. “大家好，我是英坦。Hello, my name is Intan.”
“Wow!” I say, impressed. “Indonesian actually doesn't sound too different from English.”
“They have some similarities,” Intan explains. “That helped me learn English very fast.”
“I, uh, know a little French from school. Um... Bonjour, je m'appelle Zoé."
Intan smiles back at me. I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen her smile. “Not bad,” she says.
----------------------------------------
Charlotte’s parents make beef tacos for us. They’re great. I eat them too fast and have to ask for a drink so I don’t choke on them and die.
I keep watch out the window while I’m eating, looking for that car the bitch drove away in.
After I finish eating, I notice that Charlotte’s dad is also looking out the window. I guess it’s just because he’s a black daddy in a town that doesn’t have a huge number of those, but he makes me think of my own dad: He has the same big eyes and messed up black hair. However, he has no facial hair, a more pointy nose, and he’s dressed colorfully in this green vest with little flowers on it.
Unexpectedly, he points out the window and says, “Ya see that 2007 Toyota Prius pulling out just over there? Blue one? That's a fine car.”
My eyes lock on to the blue car, as there aren’t that many. Not sure what to say, I just say, “Yeah.”
Then, suddenly, a thought occurs to me. “Wait. How can you tell what model it is from here?”
“Because boy,” he says, spreading his hands out dramatically, “I know E V E R Y T H I N G.”
“Wha-” I stammer, taken off guard by this.
“I have super autism powers,” he declares.
“WHAT?” I say. “You have autism? But you're an adult.”
“And I still got it!” he says confidently. “I may not remember what I had for lunch yesterday, but I remember the year, model, and brand of every car in this lot.”
I laugh. Yeah, that does sound like an autism thing. “Wow,” I say. “I know the number of every Pokémon.”
“Oh really?” Charlotte's dad challenges. “Then what's number... one-hundred ninety six!”
“Number 196 is Espeon,” I rattle off. “It’s a Psychic type, its ability is Synchronize, or Magic Bounce starting in Gen V. It has high special attack, special defense, and speed. Its moves include Psychic, Psyshock, Baton Pass, Reflect, Light Screen, Shadow Ball, Signal Beam, Grass Knot…”
“Alright, I get the point,” Charlotte’s dad interrupts. “You got it too, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I got it.”
“Funny story about that,” Ruth interjects from the chair behind me. “I've never been diagnosed with autism… but I do find some aspects of it pretty relatable,” she explains.
“Why, ‘cause you remember literally everything?” I ask.
“That,” she says. “And I sometimes fail to read people's emotions. I think very literally. I have ticks I do when I'm upset. I can feel overwhelmed by too much stimulus.”
“And you memorized every Pokémon's stats and abilities, and make up teams in your head when you're bored?” I suggest.
“...No, I don’t do that,” Ruth answers, looking bemused.
“Man!” I protest. “You’re lucky that the weird shit you remember is actually important.”
“Oh, there's a brand-new red 2013 Chevrolet Malibu! It's a beauty!” Charlotte’s dad points out.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to picture the car in my h- “WAIT! THAT'S…”
I scramble to the window, and find the red car. It’s her. And what’s more, she’s the only passenger. No Zoe. Fuck!
Charlotte’s dad raises his eyebrow at me quizzically. “That’s what?”
I ignore him, and turn around and look at my friends. “Uh... guys, it's time. Plan B.”
“Um, plan B?” Charlotte’s mom asks, giving me a weird look from next to the sink.
“Oh, uh, that's just his way of saying he wants to see my room!” Charlotte invents. “Come on, guys, I'll show you what art I've been working on!”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” I say.
Charlotte’s dad gives me a mock salute. “Roger that. Plan B is in motion. Good luck, soldiers,” he says.
“Uh... okay,” I say. I join the crowd going into Charlotte’s room, and prepare myself for the final battle.
----------------------------------------
Sheriff Hurt takes us away from I-35 and instead on a route through Dessau, perhaps in an effort to avoid the last overtures of rush-hour traffic. Dark has fallen already. Sheriff Hurt isn't the talkative type, so the car is quiet. Nova's half of the group just entered the palace. As I expected, Ms. Patel did not bring Zoe back, meaning that it's up to us to get her out of there. I get bored in the time it takes us to get there, so I spend some time stewing about how awful Ms. Patel is, and how much I can't wait for her to be the one in cuffs for helping human traffickers.
It's when we’re driving through an Asian sub-community when we hear a thud, thud, thud from the front of the car.
The sheriff lets out a long breath. "Son of a bitch," he swears. He pulls the car over to the side of the road.
"Something wrong?" Ashley asks.
"Something’s up with the front tire," he says. "Better not be a flat."
He puts the car in park and gets out. It strikes me immediately how spooky it is to be sitting in a stopped car at nighttime. Pretty sure I saw this scene in a horror movie a few times.
Although I can't hear what he says, I can tell that Hurt swears again when he looks at the front left tire. He gets out his walkie talkie, and then pops the trunk and starts digging through it, presumably trying to find the spare.
I wait anxiously for him to get the spare out already. If that’s what he’s doing. I watch the clock. One minute has passed. Ashley is staring out the window.
It could be awkward if another police officer comes by, wondering why he’s out of his municipality. I start to wonder how exactly the exchange between him and Ashley went. How much does he know? What’d she say to get him to agree to this? There’s a bunch of thudding from the back. Did he find the tire? All these thoughts spin around in my head, moving so fast that it’s nauseating.
"Anja, did you see that?" Ashley asks, still looking out the window.
“No,” I say.
“There’s something moving out there,” Ashley says.
"Come on, Ashley. That's not funny," I tell her, feeling anxious enough without her.
“I’m serious,” she tells me. “Look, ov-”
And that's how prepared we are when the sound of a gunshot rings out in the night.
Ashley and I duck instinctively, but it didn't hit the car; there's no broken glass. But I hear another, louder thump from the trunk and turn to see the Sheriff has fallen face first into it.
Ashley, for once, looks panicked. She dives straight for her phone, and grabs my hand. I briefly understand that she's taking us to the Metaverse before I black out.
----------------------------------------
When I come through on the other side, it starts to hit. I'm quickly on the verge of hyperventilating when I say, "No... no, he didn't... he's not..."
"He wasn't moving," Ashley says, her voice shaky.
"No... how can... who..." I'm incoherent at this point, so I stop talking to rake in breaths in a meager attempt to keep pace with my racing heart.
Ashley looks like she's about to do something to comfort me, when her head whips around. She shoves open the door and pops out of the car, summoning her Persona as she gets to her feet.
I whip my head in her direction in time to hear her say, "You're going to-" before I hear a staticky sizzle rend the air, as Ashley gets hit square in the chest with green lightning.
"NO!" I shriek. I fumble for the door on my side and get it over, and then fall out of the car. I scramble to a crawl, as I hear slow, methodical footsteps approach the car.
I hear a voice- a roboticized voice I know, which makes my blood icy cold. Even worse is what she says. "Where's Anja?"
"Fuck you," Ashley spits, followed by a wretch from her as the Dark Trooper steps on her torso.
"You told me, months ago, that you wanted me to kill you,” she says. “Well, sorry for being tardy.” I hear the low sound of her gun charging up, when my mind springs into action.
I jump to my feet and spring on top of the car, shooting a gust of wind at her. When it doesn’t do anything more than ruffle her hair, I dive on top of her, knocking her down and away from Ashley.
She reacts swiftly, and rolls over to pin me down. "Ah, there you are," she says. And then, she screams as Ashley bludgeons her sword right into the side of her neck.
Instead of her head coming off, she is simply knocked off of me. She again swiftly rolls over to put some distance between Ashley and I, and gets back on her feet.
Ashley offers a hand to help me up. As she pulls me, I briefly look into her eyes and see a savage bloodlust. But for once, I don't find it frightening. Instead, I feel a charge in my own blood, and I feel as if we understand each other.
"I warned you both to stay out of our way," she growls at us, holding the side of her neck.
"And I chopped off one of your fucking legs," Ashley bites back. "I had hoped the same trick would work on your head."
"Enough of this,” she says. “Now that I have your attention, I want to talk to you.”
"We don't have to listen to anything you say," I spit at her.
"Anja," she says, and something about the way she says it makes me pause. "I have no wish to hurt you at all."
"You just shot the only one who tried to help us in cold blood," Ashley retorts. "You were seconds away from frying me too. What kind of pathetic lie is that?”
" You , I have no problem gutting," she says, pointing her gun at Ashley. "But I'm bound by oath to protect you, Anja."
Something jams in my brain at this. “WHAT?” I shout. It’s complete nonsense. I must have misheard her…
"You're very, very bad at taking hints," she tells me. "So my only option left, to get you to quit already, is to tell you a truth that will destroy you."
A truth that will destroy me...? I'm stunned for just a moment. My moment of clarity is gone, and now I am once again very afraid.
"First thing's first," she says. She reaches up...
She grabs the rim of her mask...
And she takes it off...
And...
Oh shit...
Oh no...
It's her...
My pounding heart just stops right there…
Behind the mask is a face I know. A woman with short, dyed black hair.
No.
It's her.
It's my Aunt Kierstyn.