Chapter 128 – Infiltration and Contact – Silver Brooks

The Killing Cat set me up in a cruel and manipulative way. She didn't give me any say in the mission before sending me off, and I feared what she would do if I outright refused. There was no way I should've been happy with the arrangement, yet I couldn't bring myself to hate it.

It was Wednesday morning, about an hour before noon, and I was taking another day off school. This extra day off wasn't related to my suspension. I was excused from class to tour the Women's Institute for Art and Humanities. This was my very first time visiting a college campus and I was somehow enjoying it.

My mother arranged the entire thing after Ms. Emilia left our house. She called Ms. Sampson about it. She called the college about it. She called my father about it. Then she called me into the living room about it to monologue about what a great opportunity this was and how I better not muck it up.

I didn't disagree with her, although I thought she was overreacting. There were other colleges out there even if this one didn't work out. Maybe her expectations of me were so low that she thought this was my only real opportunity. In fairness, we hadn't discussed my college plans together extensively so I could see how she would come to that conclusion.

She personally picked out my clothes and dropped me off to look around the campus. She gave me a generous amount of money for lunch and practically begged me to make a good impression on anyone I talked to. I didn't really expect to talk to anyone since I was just looking around. In the end I turned out to be wrong about that.

The members of the teaching staff and students I passed by were all very friendly. The campus population was small enough that people could generally recognize someone that wasn't a student here. Everyone I talked to asked me about where I was from and how I was doing. It made the school atmosphere feel warm and close, unlike my high school.

As unexpected as it was, I was enjoying myself! I could vividly imagine myself going to school here in the near future. The thing that soured this experience, the thing that I dreaded, was the fact that it was the damned Killing Cat that set this up. Without her vengeful mission I wouldn't have even entertained the idea of visiting this place.

Was it wrong of me to be grateful to a vicious serial killer for setting this up? She still wanted me to investigate someone for her, but I no longer saw that as such a bad thing. I wasn't ignorant of what the Killing Cat planned to do to this person, but my thoughts were squarely focused on my future.

Was I selfish for thinking this way? This was such a unique and novel experience for me that I had difficulty determining right from wrong here. If this person really was a killer like the Killing Cat said, then did I even need to feel so guilty for being involved in this?

Maybe I was trying to justify things to myself. Maybe this was me trying to see the silver-linings in the clouds. All that I really saw while visiting this college campus was that a door had been thrown open for me. The person that opened it for me had done so for their own vile reasons, but I couldn't deny the fact that an opportunity was given to me.

One of the school art teachers, Mrs. Gordon, noticed me wandering around the campus alone at lunch. She invited me to have lunch with her in one of the staff break rooms, offering to pay for it herself. Not only that, she patiently listened to me as I talked about my meeting with Ms. Emilia and showed her some of my art.

"You're a little rough around the edges, but better than most your age. Do you devote a lot of time to practicing?" She asked.

"Yes, I'm the head of the art club at my school."

"I think you'll make a good addition here. Will the school tuition fee be a problem for your family? We have reduced payment plans depending on your household income."

"My mother says it won't be an issue. She's been hiring additional school tutors for me for years."

"Great... You said your name was Sylvie Brooks, right? I'll talk to the enrollment office about having you in my class next fall."

"Thanks, that sounds awesome." I said. "Can I ask about what I'll study in your class?"

"Of course! My class may be one of the most relevant to your skillset. My lessons are designed to help students improve their foundations and..."

Another teacher loudly entered the staff break room we were sitting in. I froze the moment this person looked at us. I hardly recognized her because she looked so exhausted, but this was Cora Wells, the Killing Cat's target. She gave us a puzzled look but quickly dismissed us. She stumbled over to the coffee machine like a zombie.

“Good morning Ms. Wells… Or should I say afternoon?” Mrs. Gordon said cheerily.

“Yeah… Hey…” Ms. Wells said in little more than a whisper.

“Is Ms. Wells another art teacher?” I asked innocently, probing for information on this person.

Ms. Wells jumped in place as I asked my question. She almost spilled the coffee that she was pouring into her mug.

“Not exactly,” Mrs. Gordon said, “She’s one of the assistants that help the teaching staff. We have a few of them at this college. I believe she’s a graduate of the school that you currently attend. You say you came from that Meredith alternative school?”

Cora Wells spun around in place the moment she heard that name. Before, she was ignoring us as she prepared her coffee, but now her interest was written all over her face. Mrs. Gordon and I both noticed this obvious change in behavior, but Ms. Wells turned back to her coffee and pretended to act disinterested.

“Yes,” I said. “I heard that since this is an all-women college you have a few students from schools like mine.”

“That’s true, although less and less each year.” Mrs. Gordon said. “Most of our students come from coed schools. The concept of an all-girl school seems to be falling by the wayside.”

Ms. Wells came over and sat down at the same table we were sitting at. She tried acting casual about it, but I could see some stiffness in her movements. There was obviously something she wanted to talk to me about.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Your vice principal…” She started out by saying, splitting her comment with a sip from her coffee mug. “She and I used to be good friends.”

“I’m aware that she was a student at my school as well.” I said. “I’ve seen her picture in an old year book.”

“Really…?” She asked flatly, “Say, can you tell me how she’s doing these days?”

“You two don’t talk anymore?” I asked.

She spat some of her coffee back into her mug in an awkward laugh.

“Talk…?” She asked, “I haven’t talked to her since… Man, when was the last time I talked to her… Maybe graduation…?”

“Graduation…?” I asked, “I thought you said you were good friends?”

“We were! It’s just… Well… Some things came up. I was hoping that you could put in a good word for me.” Ms. Wells said.

Mrs. Gordon slapped Ms. Wells on the back good-naturedly.

“Oh come now, Ms. Wells… Surely you can’t be asking such a personal request of a student? She’s here to tour our facilities, not reunite old friends.” Mrs. Gordon said.

“I know… I just… Well… I mean…”

“I’ll do it.” I said. “I just have one condition though.”

Both Mrs. Gordon and Ms. Wells gave me curious looks.

“I’d like for you to properly show me around the school yourself. So far my tour has been sort of random, bouncing around from building to building. I’d like some insights from someone that works here professionally.”

Ms. Wells exhaled softly and looked off to the side.

“I don’t know, that sounds like a massive drag...” She said drearily.

“Now hold on a minute,” Mrs. Gordon said. “This sounds like an excellent job for you, Ms. Wells. You’re not working with any of the other teachers right now, are you?”

“Well, not really… There were some boxes I was supposed to put away for the history wing, but other than that…”

“I’ll help.” I said. “I haven’t been to the history section yet and I’d love to check it out.”

Ms. Wells didn’t say anything back. She just gave me a tired look.

“That’s perfectly reasonable.” Mrs. Gordon said. “Ms. Wells will show you around whenever she’s finished with her coffee. I’ve got to go get ready for a meeting. If you ever want to talk to me I check my school email regularly. You can find it on the college website.”

“Thank you for your help.” I said as Mrs. Gordon got up from her seat.

“Thank you for showing me your artwork. I hope to see you in class someday, Ms. Brooks.” She said.

Mrs. Gordon put her things away and quickly left the break room, leaving me alone with Ms. Wells. Ms. Wells didn’t spare me a glance after Mrs. Gordon left. By the way she was drinking her coffee she looked content to stay in this room for as long as possible. She seemed completely aloof and apathetic, unlike anyone else I met here thus far.

“Listen kid, I’ve just got two rules. Number one, don’t annoy me. Number two, don’t ask questions.”

“What if there’s something about the college that I need to know prior to enrollment?”

“What did I just say? You’re breaking both of my rules right now. I can’t believe that old lady dumped you off on me. I’m just a part-timer here. Man…”

She went over to the coffee maker to refill her mug and I felt like we might be here a while. If she was planning on getting me to leave by waiting me out then she was going to be dissapointed. My mother was so desperate for me to make a mark here that she wouldn’t be picking me up until late in the afternoon. I had plenty of time to burn.

"Alright, let's get this over with." She said irritably.

She didn't hesitate to drag me across campus to immediately start moving boxes. We loaded them onto carts and ferried them over to the history facility. The work didn't end there. We went through what I could only describe as her morning routine. It made me realized that she was arriving at school late. Mrs. Gordon’s earlier comment wishing her good afternoon was meant as a jab.

Her job here was multi-faceted. She wasn't a mere teacher’s assistant. She was a janitor, a groundskeeper, an organizer, and a maintenance tinkerer. She had zero qualms about handing me an extra broom, having me get my hands dirty pulling up weeds, having me help her file papers, or having me hold a flashlight while she repaired a closet door hinge.

At first I thought she was trying to scare me off with constant work. My assessment changed midway. She wanted to use me to help her complete as many of her tasks as possible. At first she saw me as a nuisance, but now she saw me as free labor. We flew from one job to the next, going all over campus in a seemingly random order.

It was amazing that she could shamelessly impose this on me, but I didn’t complain. It gave me time to talk to and interact with her. I wanted to see if she would betray any secret or any insight as to why she was the Killing Cat’s target. My mental image of a killer was something along the lines of the Killing Cat. Needless to say, this woman didn’t match that description.

She was normal. Maybe she was slightly more gloomy than average, but otherwise completely normal. It made it morally difficult for me to go through with the Killing Cat’s plan. She wanted the entry code to this person’s digital apartment lock. The lock was complicated enough that she couldn’t bypass it without setting off an alarm, something that she presumably already tried.

Maybe the Killing Cat was cold-blooded enough to go around offing people she barely knew, but I wasn’t. Whatever Cora Wells did in her past to wind up on the Killing Cat’s list, was it still part of her? Was she still condemned for being involved with murder in the past? Could a person come back from that?

This, like many other questions I had, felt like something that I wasn’t fit to answer. The Killing Cat probably wasn’t fit to answer either, but she carried out her executions regardless of the circumstance. This type of eye-for-an-eye justice was unforgiving. I once again had to retract my criticisms of the student council. At least their ‘slow’ method didn’t come with such moral qualms.

Then again, the Killing Cat was producing results. Maybe I was just too much of an empathetic softie to fully appreciate that. Having interacted with this woman, I didn’t want any harm befalling her, or anyone at this school for that matter. It was hard looking her in the eye, knowing the things I knew. How would she react to learning that a killer was after her?

Restocking the main science lab was the last task we carried out. Once that was finished we went behind the building to put the empty boxes in the recycling bin. All the while I spent some time telling her about the new changes at my school. She listened intently and urged me to elaborate, but offered little commentary herself.

“Hmm… This Valentina person sounds like a real catch if her group managed to turn school culture around.”

“It wasn’t just her. It was Holly, Lilith, Jay, and even my friend Sam. To a lesser extent it’s been a school-wide phenomenon.”

Ms. Wells let out a mocking chuckle.

“Ha, I bet Jackie has her hands full these days, in more ways than one… Listen, kid, about that message I needed you to send for me. Do you think you could deliver a letter?”

“Sure.” I shrugged, “Although, the vice principal doesn’t really care for me or my group. She might immediately dismiss me the moment she sees me.”

“As long as the letter lands in her hands or on her desk it’s fine.”

“I don’t have much time. My mother just texted me and told me she’s pulling up.”

“That’s fine… I wrote it while you were organizing papers earlier. Here…”

She reached into her pocket and handed me the folded letter. I unfolded it and looked over its contents. Then I looked back up at her in confusion.

“Is this written in Chinese?”

“No. It looks like it though, doesn’t it? We took inspiration from their writing system, along with a few others.”

“I don’t understand, what is this?”

“It’s called a constructed language. There are only a handful of people in the world capable of reading that letter and Jackie’s one of them.”

“You… You made your own language?”

“It’s not as hard as it sounds once you have some basic rules down. This is less of an independent language system and more like an encrypted version of English.”

“This is over the top…” I said, “But sure, I’ll give it to her.”

“Good. Thank you.” She said. “You aren’t as much as a brat as I thought you’d be. It’s been a long time since I talked to a student that felt so real.”

The phrasing of her ‘compliment’ made me smile a little. I leaned forward to hug her and she threw her hands up in surprise. She slowly put her hands on me to pat me lightly.

“Alright, alright, I’m not your grandma, kid. Now get off of me. Don’t make me take back the nice things I said about you.”

I let go of her, but didn’t look at her again before walking away. The Killing Cat wanted this woman dead and I was here acting as her agent. I didn’t get the information she wanted but this letter could be valuable to her. Maybe the Killing Cat could decipher it?