Novels2Search
The Reclaimers
The Reclaimers Chapter 1

The Reclaimers Chapter 1

Bones knew of two truths. The first was that bastards and sons of bitches lived in every corner of the earth. The second was that Rawhead never missed.

If someone were to ask Bones why everything always went so well, Rawhead would be his answer. Bones made a snorting sound aloud and leaned back on the uncomfortable plastic seat, his tattered bomber jacket opening as he stretched an arm out to the empty spot beside him. People would think he was the president of the Rawhead fan club or something.

“What is it?” a soft female voice buzzed at his ear from the earphones he had plugged in. He played no music from them.

He took out his phone from his jacket pocket. Nothing, he messaged to Witch. Just thinking random shit.

“It’s almost time,” Witch said after a brief silence of reading his message. “Stop daydreaming and get ready.”

You’re worrying. He wrote this while grinning.

“As always, Rawhead is completely silent. Can you blame me?” Witch sounded pissed.

When has it not worked out?

Witch was silent. Bones knew the answer to his own question: it has never not worked out. The train came screaming down to the station, the ill maintained brakes making an ear splitting screech as it came to a halt. Bones hopped on and stood at the door while looking down on his phone. Everyone else was looking down at their phones. Nobody noticed how he only rode the train for a single stop.

The phone was returned to his jacket pocket when he stepped into Pacifist Mall station. A single transport card was slid out of his back jean pocket and he mashed it against the sensor of the exit gate, frowning slightly when it didn’t react. It finally let him through after a few second delay and he flashed a sheepish smile at the girl beside him suffering from the same lag and she smiled back with a blush.

Perhaps it wasn’t far-fetched for Witch to be concerned. Rawhead was the better half of their duo and while he exuded perfection, Bones knew the other half - his half - was far from it. But then again, her issue was always with Rawhead and not him. The plain gray floor of the train station turned into the glossy cream tiles of the Mall. Bones stopped in front of the polished window of the closest shop (a convenience store) and studied his reflection.

Maybe Witch liked him. He grinned at himself, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. He didn’t look too shabby. Maybe his jacket needed an upgrade. Some chicks dig the ‘old as shit’ style. ‘Retro’ they called it… or something like that.

“Bones,” Witch said warningly in his ear. “Focus. You’re also late.”

Bones rolled his eyes and glanced at his phone. He was only two minutes late. He shook off the thought that Witch had a crush on him. While she was hot, he could imagine screwing around with someone like that would be akin to fucking your boss in a normal job. Not that Bones knew anything about working a normal job.

He resisted the urge to break out into a little jog. He even slowed his steps when he reached the far side of the mall. Like the section leading up to the train station, foot traffic and store density lessened in this part of the building. It meant less popular stores and more esoteric shops that sold things nobody seemed to need. Think funny sock stores where the in-demand items were pairs of off-brand Spongebob compression socks. Bones pretended to be fascinated by the selection of novelty socks before moving on. Although he was stalling, Witch didn’t say anything. She knew this was his approach.

Two empty stores to the right of the sock store was the doorway to the Trumpets of Triumph.

It would have made an excellent music school. They were far enough away from the rest of the mall, people could toot their horn as loudly as they wanted. Bones stared up at the wood carving of two cherubs above the ornate wooden door, each fat faced baby angel holding a long trumpet in one hand. The frame of the door was lit at the edges by LED strips and gave off a deep red light. A tiny framed sign hung beside the door - at a distance, one could mistake it for a menu. Bones idly wondered what kind of food would be served if Trumpets of Triumph was a ritzy restaurant, the kind with a menu plastered at the entrance.

“NEW MEMBERS WELCOMED!!” The sign read instead of listing dishes. “OPEN SESSION EVERY TUESDAY AND THURSDAY, PLEASE CONTACT THE LEADER AHEAD OF TIME! MAY WE ALL HEAR THE NOTE OF JOY!!!”

Below that listed an email and a phone number. Of course, Witch already had all that information, but Bones still made a big show of taking out his phone and taking a picture of the sign. He very carefully made sure he didn’t look up to the cherubs above the door again. The first time he looked he thought he saw a dark glint under one of the cherubs.

Occupational hazard of knowing when cameras would be pointed at you. Even worse when you’ve picked up Rawhead’s ability to pick them out. It was like a sixth sense Bones didn’t really want. Normal people didn’t know when and where hidden cameras were and Bones spent a lot of time figuring out how to be a normal person.

The wooden door opened. An elderly couple stepped out, followed by a middle aged man. All three of them didn’t seem to notice Bones standing there and they were a few feet away from the door when Bones caught the door before it latched shut. He wasn’t sure if it would lock. After a slight pause, he let himself in.

“Remember there's a hidden room,” Witch whispered in his ear. “Use it to your advantage. Last reminder before I go dark.”

Bones let out a puff of air like a sigh, hoping she heard that.

A waft of incense greeted him in the dark hallway. He had to walk about ten steps through the very dimly lit hall before he could see steps leading upwards and light at the top of the stairs. When he climbed up into the light, he was inside a room that seemed to be in a different world.

It was octagonal shaped, six sides of the room were huge panels letting in what looked like natural light from the outside. The remaining two sides were the entrance Bones stood at and another doorway on the opposing side of the room. The ceiling sloped up and came together to a point and also seemed to be made of glass that showed a bright blue sky spotted with pleasant clouds. If Bones didn’t know better, he would have thought the room existed somewhere in the heavens.

But he did know better - for example, the room was only on the second floor of a four story building. Therefore, the ‘sky’ the windows were showing were from a screen. He also knew that UV lamps were installed alongside the screens to mimic real sunlight, including whatever psychological benefits it provides. The warm wooden floors, the orientation of comfortable seating, the slight raise in temperature, even the octagonal shape of the room was all curated to give anyone who entered the room a proverbial hug.

“You’re home,” the room told him.

Bones smiled up at the fake sky. He’s never had a home. He didn’t have the heart to tell the room that all of this was wasted on him. This clearly also wasn’t the room he was looking for.

His gaze fell to the other side of the octagon, just in front of the opposing door. Two people stood close, heads almost touching. Their backs were turned to him and didn’t seem to notice he was there. Walking silently was also something else he picked up from Rawhead. Curse or blessing? He felt he was about to find out.

The person standing on the right was a very tall man with wide shoulders and a head of gray hair. He had on a soft looking reddish sweater and dark slacks. Even from behind, he looked approachable - the whole get-up was giving Mr. Rogers. The person on the left was a young woman. The more Bones studied her, the younger he estimated her age to be.

The Mr. Rogers impostor shifted and Bones saw his face in profile. It broke into a smile and he reached to warmly grasp the woman’s shoulder. She recoiled at the touch. Bones quickly crossed his arms and pretended to look up at the ‘windows’ in awe, his jacket making a loud rustling sound. The two people quickly parted and turned to look at him. Bones gave them one of his signature sheepish smiles, acting like he just saw them.

“God, sorry, am I not supposed to be here?” he asked, awkwardly taking out his earbuds and pocketing them, as if he had wandered into a place where earbuds would be inappropriate to have on. Witch would still be able to hear their conversations. “Someone let me in when I said I wanted to look around…”

“No, no, we are all welcomed to hear the Trumpet’s soothing music,” the man said warmly. “Come in. You’re free to be here.” Every word from his mouth sounded welcoming, as if the man had been waiting for Bones all his life. But for a split second, Bones met the man’s steely blue eyes and knew the truth.

He had come at the most inconvenient time.

“I am the Leader but you can call me Frank. We don’t really do titles or anything around here,” the man said. “And you are…?”

“You can call me Blake,” Bones said. He used the ‘normal person’ name he was so fond of. He shook Frank’s hand. “Nice to meet you!”

“Blake? Hm, I’m sorry, I don’t seem to recall anyone asking for a tour or to observe…”

“And you?” Bones turned to the girl who ended up looking no older than twenty years old, giving her the most dazzling smile he could muster. “Didn’t catch your name.”

The girl looked almost terrified at his outstretched hand but shook it weakly while muttering: “I’m Hannah.”

“Hannah.” He beamed. “Maybe we can start our journey together! You new here?”

“Hannah is a long time member of Trumpets of Triumph,” Frank cut in sharply. Bones raised his brows at the curt words. Was the mask slipping so easily? “We can discuss our matter at a later date, dear. Right now I should show Blake around his new second home.”

“Of course.” Hannah muttered this too, but Bones thought he heard a tinge of relief in her voice.

“See you around, Hannah!” Bones called cheerfully after her as she scurried out the room. She didn’t look back. When he turned back to Frank, the Leader’s expression was nearly frosty.

“If we could, ahem, step into my office?”

‘Blake’ wanted nothing more than to see the office. “Aw but it’s just so nice here,” Bones sighed. “Such great lighting. And nice spots just to lounge in. I feel so validated coming here.”

It apparently wasn’t a suggestion since Frank just started walking through the exit and led them through another dark, incense scented hall. However this hall was different from the first as huge framed photographed portraits of people lined the walls, lit up by specific lighting as if it was a museum displaying a painting.

“Got some nice pictures here,” Bones said.

“Yes, they are pictures of long time members,” Frank said. “I was a photographer before I started Trumpets of Triumph. Before I heard the notes of salvation. And I love taking portraits of my family.”

“The members are your family.” Bones made the connection. One portrait was of the couple he met on his way in.

“Of course.”

Bones studied each passing picture for as long as he dared. There was a report of pictures from Witch’s briefing but he didn’t know they would be displayed like this. There was something unsettling about each picture and he wondered if it was because they were in a long dark hall. Or perhaps it was usually the way portraits of people presented themselves when you walked by: they looked as if their eyes were moving and following you.

He entertained the thought that maybe more cameras were there, secreted away in the eyes of each picture. But then again the glare of the lighting on the portrait and the contrast to the dark hallway would make any camera that size useless.

No, the thing that was bothering him were the pictures themselves. He met the eyes of a man in one of the pictures, then looked away, not understanding why he felt like he had to look away. It was also strange to have such an elaborate set up to display such large pictures that looked professionally done in such a hall. It almost felt like a private collection of some sort.

“I take these pictures because I love each and every one of my members,” Frank said as they reached the end of the hall and went through a set of glass doors into an office. It was a plain looking office, with a wooden desk and very plain looking furniture. It reminded Bones of a principal’s office. There was a set of windows behind the office chair behind the desk showing a dense and vibrant nighttime scene of a city skyline he couldn’t recognize.

It was another screen pretending to be a window to another fictional world.

“However… Blake, I must inform you first and foremost I do not condone relationships between the members.” Frank perched at the edge of his desk and folded his hands in front of him like a disapproving father. “I do want to make that clear.”

The moment they stepped into the office and let the glass doors close behind them was the moment when Bones stopped pretending to not be interested in his surroundings. The moment Frank said ‘relationships’, Bones saw that one other picture hanging inside the rather plain office. It was a little less noticeable as it wasn't lit like the others and almost half the size of the other portraits. But Bones still noticed it by the door, facing the desk.

It was clearly a picture of Hannah - an extreme close-up of her face, her eyes huge and nearly luminous, drawing the attention right into her pupil. The detail was so extreme and sharp that he felt he could see her every pore. Beyond her face, most of the background was blurry and out of focus but he could see one of her shoulders just made it into the shot and it was bare.

“I hope we have an understanding of what your behavior should be if you join us,” Frank said.

Bones barely heard him. Looking at Hannah’s picture, he figured out what was wrong with each photograph.

They all looked scared.

Hannah looked more scared than the rest of them. It was deeper than her trepidation with shaking his hand earlier. “No I’m scared of him,” Hannah’s picture whispered to Bones.

And Frank had this particular picture hanging in his office. Sick bastard.

“Are you saying all this because you… love Hannah a little bit more?” Bones asked.

“I don’t like what you’re implying,” Frank said. He straightened up indignantly.

“Why is she naked in this picture?”

“She is most certainly not,” Frank spluttered.

“What do you hold over her head? Does she have money for you to extort?” Bones pinned him with a stare, but he wasn’t really looking at Frank. He was remembering the scarce moment he had with Hannah. “She had an ill fitting shirt from Walmart and worn sneakers with fraying laces. No makeup. Her purse was purely for carrying her things and not for show. No, you’re not using her for money like you are with the rest of your ‘family.’”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Frank’s facade finally fell and his face twisted in fury. “Who the fuck are you?” he hissed.

“How does it feel using a girl about a third your age, Frank?” Bones asked.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Frank bellowed. He surged forward and reached to grab him but Bone easily stepped away from his grasp.

“That’s what your little secret room is for, isn’t it?” Bones continued, He kept his hands shoved in his pocket even though he wanted to wrap them around the other man’s neck. That wasn’t his job. He wasn’t very good at it either. No, best that he kept at the part he was good at. “A disgusting place to do a photo op for your victims.”

“Get out before I get security to throw you out,” Frank said. “Or the cops. Your choice.”

“Call them,” Bones said, jutting his chin to the phone on his desk. “Maybe they can help me find your photo room. Dig out all the blackmail you have on your ‘followers’. Air out your metric ton of dirty laundry. Maybe Hannah hasn’t left the building and she can see you get arrested in person. God, you’re making it easy for me to fantasize.”

Bones didn’t actually know if the police would help him. There was a good chance that Frank had connections to the police, seeing he was running a cult right in the middle of a mall. The trick was to act gleeful enough when you’re calling someone’s bluff. His smile usually got the job done.

“Fine. What do you want?” Frank finally said after stewing for a few seconds.

Bones lifted his chin.“I want you to redeem yourself,” he said. “Give those people all their money back. Turn yourself in. Compensate Hannah for whatever bullshit you put her through. Prostrate yourself in front of the public.”

Frank gave a loud, incredulous bark of laughter. “Anything else? Need me to fucking cure cancer while I’m at it?” he said.

“It would be quite immoral for you to not do that if you could,” Bones shrugged. “But then again, I don’t think you really grasp the concept of morality.”

Frank crossed his arms. It was incredible how the look on his face completely erased the Mr. Rogers vibe he had previously going on. “What happens if I refuse?”

“Something bad,” Bones said.

“I’m done playing games, son,” Frank spat back.

Bone smiled. “You die.”

“You’re threatening me.”

“I’m offering a chance for you to redeem yourself. To repent.,” Bones said. “You’re the one turning it down.”

“You can’t kill me,” Frank sneered back. “I admit to nothing. There’s nothing for me to repent.” The words sounded weak coming out of his mouth. Desperate.

Bones smiled, not because the older man was dead wrong but because he knew exactly what would happen two seconds after Frank said those words. Bones knew because he held two truths, the first being that bastards and sons of bitches lived in every corner of the earth.

And because Frank was very clearly one of those bastards or sons of bitches, he turned and ran.

For regular assassins, this would be a problem but Bones was standing right at the glass doors leading to the main exit out to the mall. That meant the cowardly way of running would be through the back door.  Frank staggered to the back of the room where the ‘window’ was and managed to fling a panel open to reveal a hidden door and disappeared behind it. The panel still pretended to be a window showing a fake night city skyline. The older man’s movements were slow and clumsy but Bones was sure in Frank’s head he had pulled a fast one and believed he was getting away.

It was important for your target to believe they were getting away with it. Bones even waited ten full seconds before moving towards the hidden door and casually strolled through it while replacing the earbud into his ear.

The doorway was directly connected to a room lit with a red light the same hue as the LED lighting at the front door. Photos hung on a string stretched across tubs of liquid on one side - each processed picture was yet another terrified looking person staring at the camera. The other side was half cordoned off by thick black curtains and a very modest set-up stood there. Powered off lights pointed at a plain dark backdrop. A single chair sat empty, waiting for its next victim.

Bones disdainfully stared around the darkroom. There was no obvious exit and he was about to move the partition curtains around when he heard a noise from the floor. He glanced down and at the back of the room there was a faint metallic outline of a trap door on the floor. He found the tile that doubled as a hidden latch, pulled it open and a dark hole greeted him.

Upon closer study, he saw faint glow-in-the-dark markings leading downwards and discovered they marked rungs to metal hand and foot holds. It was a ladder that led somewhere down below. He heard echoes of some unidentifiable sounds down below. Bones lowered himself down and found himself in a dark corner crowded back with pipes and vents. The smell of must and gasoline greeted him as he was finally free from the persistent fumes of incense. He welcomed it like fresh air. It’s what air - real air - should smell like.

It took two steps beyond the maintenance corner to verify he was in the parking lot. Despite how quietly he walked he could still hear his own steps echo through the empty cement space.

Yes, the lots were all empty of cars even at the busiest time during mall hours. He heard the echo of someone else’s steps beating a frantic beat like a terrified heart. Bones smiled. The old man had noticed all the cars were gone and the entrances mysteriously sealed and was now trying to escape.

Lacking access to his car (which had also mysteriously disappeared) and an exit from the parking lot, the next thing Frank would do would be to try to go back up the hidden ladder into his twisted darkroom and try to escape through the front of Trumpets of Triumph. All Bones had to do was wait near the ladder for the old man to show again.

Frank swallowed visibly when he saw Bones just leaning on a cement pillar. His forehead glistened with sweat. “You have no right to do this,” Frank said. It was one last bit of bravado. “Let me through and you won’t suffer any repercussions. None at all. I’ll think of this like a stupid prank and we can all just live our lives.”

“Second last chance, Frank,” Bones said. “Confess your sins and make amends or die. It’s really simple.”

“I didn’t take anything that wasn’t offered,” Frank suddenly spat out. “It was all offered to me on a plate. Because they love me. Because they know what I can give them.”

“Delusional reasoning wasn’t one of the options,” Bones said. “Your third and final chance. Will you confess and right your wrongs?”

Sweat poured out from the old man now shaking with indignation. “I have nothing to confess. The notes of truth and love come from me. I showed them what it was to have a family. A place to belong.” One of Frank’s eyes twitched. “Which one of them sent you? Which of them are snakes in our Garden of Paradise? Is it Hannah?”

“He’s refused,” Bones said loudly and clearly. There was a pause. Nothing happened.

Frank’s face twisted further in fury. “It was Hannah wasn’t it,” he snarled. “That bitch could never keep her mouth shut. Never knew what was good for her. I give her everything and this is how she repays me.”

Bones tried side stepping to the right, forcing Frank to move a little left. Still nothing. He balled his left hand into a fist to stop it from shaking.

“All she had to do was see me twice a week and just stay still,” Frank continued to rant. “That’s all she had to do. And that useless bitch couldn’t even take that. Completely worthless in every way and now I have to deal with you.”

Bones was trying to think of another position that would perhaps bring this ordeal to an end, but the things Frank said made him snap. The picture of Hannah’s huge terrified eyes was still branded in his mind. “In what universe can you deal with me?” he asked. By reflex, he smiled but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Be careful of his face,” Witch warned in his ear. Bones barely gave a shit what she had to say since he had already lurched forward, ducked down and landed a hard blow to the softest part of the older man’s torso.

Frank doubled over and collapsed on the ground, then quickly turned to try to crawl away from him while sputtering and coughing after he failed to get up to his feet. Bones wordlessly reached into the other pocket of his jacket and pulled out a length of thin rope. He may be bad at this part but it was quickly feeling like he had to do it anyway. Too bad he couldn’t slam the old man’s face into the ground a few times - a broken nose hurt like hell. Instead he quickly caught up to Frank’s crawling figure, stepped above him and with the rope stretched between his two fists he looped it around his neck and started mercilessly pulling.

“This damages his face too much,” Witch hissed in his ear but Bones barely heard her. He couldn’t care less about this bastard’s face.

There was one quick, high pitched ‘pfft’ sound that echoed very briefly in the empty parking lot. A stinging pain bloomed at Bone’s right cheek. He looked down and saw a bleeding bullet wound at the back of Frank’s head. The same bullet had grazed his cheek.

Whatever blood thirst that filled him moments ago was drained away and he let the rope run slack and let Frank’s dead body just lie there. He got up and turned to see Rawhead standing just behind him holding a gun with a silencer at its nozzle.

“You got emotional,” Rawhead said. Solemn brown eyes stared at him under a perfectly styled head of black hair.

“I mean, you did take your sweet time,” Bones snapped back.

“I took the time I needed for the right shot. You of all people should know that.”

Bones rolled his eyes. The problem was that he did know that. How quickly he forgot the second truth. “Well did you hear the bullshit the guy was spewing? Not a shred of remorse. And I gave you about three whole angles to shoot him and there was nothing. Can you blame me?”

“Yes.”

“Just… how does it feel like to be a fucking robot all the time?” Bones gestured exasperatedly at his partner. “Would it kill you to have some empathy?”

“It’s less than optimal for the jobs we do.” Rawhead looked down at Frank’s body without expression. Blood was starting to seep onto the floor around it.

“Not for him,” Bones scoffed. “I mean for - “The image of Hannah’s face returned to him, eyes wide and scared. He swallowed his anger. “Never mind.”

Rawhead studied him for a moment, then dismantled the silencer from his gun and slipped both somewhere inside his dark felt coat. “Tell Witch that the Reclaimers can come in now,” he said. “Unless you’re not finished with your tantrum.”

“I can hear you,” Witch said loudly in Bone’s ear. “YOU CAN SPEAK DIRECTLY TO ME.”

“Just send in the fucking van,” Bones muttered.

He wiped at his bleed cheek and stared down at his hands reddened with his blood. The wound on his face stopped hurting.

A week later, Bones didn’t even bother taking the train to the mall and went directly there on his bike. He parked at the outermost fringes of the outside parking lot and unwrapped a granola bar to snack on while he watched the opening that led to underground parking on the side of the mall.

It would be the parking area for Trumpets of Triumph - or what was previously Trumpets of Triumph. The founder and Leader of the self proclaimed ‘help group’ had a rather public meltdown a few days ago that spread on Youtube like wildfire and made it to national news. The film already tore apart the cult’s headquarters and made a big show over the secret darkroom full of gross pictures.

Perhaps now the whole interior would have been dismantled and ready to be refurbished for something else. Maybe a new sock store. Bones took a big bite of his granola bar.

A few minutes into staring at the side of the mall, a black colored sedan pulled up into the parking lot and pulled into the closest available spot. Rawhead got out, shut the door and locked the car. It didn’t make a beep. He was habitual about not making too much noise.

“What are you doing here?” Bones grabbed another granola bar from his bag and offered it to his partner. Rawhead simply glanced down disdainfully at the offered packaged food and turned towards the mall. Bones shrugged and opened the granola bar for himself.

“The same reason you’re here.”

“You never cared about what happened to people after reclamation,” Bones snorted.

Rawhead didn’t respond. To be fair, it wasn’t a question, just an observation. Neither of them knew what happened to people during a reclamation. It was apparently a process above their pay grade. While it was a burning question for Bones, Rawhead treated it like anything else he thought unworthy of his time and attention. 

After an hour of waiting, they finally saw something come out of the dark parking garage. It was Frank. He no longer had a sweater on - it was replaced by a dirty t-shirt and sweatpants. Bones straightened when he saw that the old man was chasing after Hannah. Frank reached out to grab her wrist and Bones was about to run across the parking lot to stop him but Rawhead stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

They kept watching and Frank quickly let go of the girl’s arm. They were talking, both obviously upset. Eventually Frank sank to his knees and seemed to beg her while reaching for her hand again. A look of fury crossed Hannah’s face and she shoved him away. Bones relaxed.

“Don’t put your guard down too fast,” Rawhead murmured.

Bones was about to crack out a smartass retort about Rawhead lecturing him, but then he looked back across the lot to see that Hannah had spotted him. Their eyes met. While Frank wallowed to himself on the sidewalk next to the mall, Hannah purposefully strode to where Bones leaned on his bike.

Rawhead drifted to the side and looked away, unwilling to let Hannah get a proper look at his face up close. Bones smirked at him, wanting to tell him his face wasn’t particularly great to look at or memorable. His face broke into a genuine smile when Hannah approached and was close enough to speak. Her expression told him she recognized him.

“It’s you. Did you do this to him?” she asked as soon as she thought he could hear her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bones replied cheerfully. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“It can’t be a coincidence. You were there the day he disappeared. Then he came back… different.” Her brows furrowed, then she glanced at Rawhead whose back was still turned.

“Don’t mind him,” Bones said dismissively. “He’s shy.”

“What did you do to convince him to stop?” she asked. “You know he’s selling everything to give back everything he stole? All the blackmail, all the pictures… he’s confessed to everything and given it all back. It’s crazy.”

“Isn’t it great?” Bones said. “He’s repentant.”

“You did something to him.” Her huge eyes, no longer scared, pinned him with a look.

Bones smiled warmly at her and stepped a little closer. “You should take everything you deserve from him,” he said quietly. “And don’t feel any remorse for doing it. It’s what’s right.”

“He said he saw actual angels and they told him what he did was wrong. And that evil had taken root in him and drove him to do those things,” she whispered. She swallowed. “Now he wants to spend the rest of his life righting the wrongs. Only then would he hear the notes of truth again.”

“Isn’t it great,” Bones repeated. “He’s doing the right thing.”

“It was all made up,” Hannah hissed. “He made it up like some stupid religion. None of us bought into it - he didn’t buy into it but now he’s talking about it like it’s true. Like he’s actually going through some journey. He’s begging for forgiveness that way, it’s just…” She made a frustrated sound. 

Bones understood. Frank had brought them into this mess with a lie, and now he wanted to clean the mess up with the same lie. It still felt fake like a panel pretending to be a window showing a sunny blue sky.

“You don’t need to believe him. You just need to take back what’s yours and abandon him. That’s it.”

Hannah stood there and seemed to absorb what he said for a few moments. She cast her eyes down to the ground. “He took my dignity. I can’t imagine I can ever get that back.” She sighed. “I supposed… if no one else has to go through that, it’s good enough for me.”

He wished there was more he could do. He wished Frank could be reclaimed harder, as if it was a process that wrung sinners out like a washcloth. He wished life was more fair. Instead all he had was empty platitudes for the young woman in front of him. “Take care of yourself, Hannah. Things will get better soon.”

She gave him a small smile then glanced at the taped gauze on his face. “You’re hurt?”

“Cut myself shaving,” Bones easily said.

“I see.” She didn’t sound like she believed him in the slightest. “Goodbye then. Take care of yourself too.”

Bones watched her walk away towards the train station. Rawhead returned to his side when she was far enough away. Frank could still be seen at a distance, sitting slumped over on the ground next to the parking garage. Mall goers gave him a wide berth when they had to walk by him.

“Interesting that the target turned back to his original delusions that existed prior to reclamation,” Rawhead said. He said this dryly, like a scientist making observations of bacterial blooms in a petri dish. “Only now he’s gone deeper into it and fully believes it.”

“I mean does it matter?” Bones said. “S’long as he’s fixing the shit he caused. Who cares if he’s making up a story to justify it?”

“You’ve observed more reclaimed people than I have. Do they all do this?”

Bones thought for a moment. “I suppose so. They usually spin a tale about how they’ve been wronged or led astray and found some calling that changes them. Sometimes they just tell everyone they’ve been greedy or coveted something. What, you’re saying their repentance isn’t genuine?”

“There may be truth behind their ‘story’ of why they have a change of heart but we will never really know if the Reclaimed can truly feel remorse,” Rawhead said. “Or feel anything at all, for that matter.”

“Ooooh, are you finally admitting you share my undying curiosity over the magic that happens behind our super secret organization?” Bones said with mocking excitement. That earned him an annoyed glare and he laughed. “At the very least they tell the story after reclamation. None of them would admit to any of it if they had the choice.”

“Yes,” Rawhead said. “Dead men do tell the best tales.”

“That was almost poetic.” Bones leaned forward to lightly punch Rawhead on the shoulder. “Did something happen? It’s strange enough you would even want to spend your spare time doing something other than lurk in the shadows like you usually do. Now you’re dropping one liner wisdoms. Have I been reclaimed and this is some strange afterlife?”

Rawhead shot him another annoyed look. But it quickly fell and he looked away back to the mall. “No. You are my partner and I am attempting to have a little more empathy. I realized you meant empathy to people we are trying to help with our work, like that girl. She affected you somehow and instead of asking, I accused you of being too emotional.  That was inappropriate of me. I apologize.”

Bones stared at his partner, but then couldn’t help a smile spread across his face. It moved the skin at his cheek where the wound was held together by stitches under the gauze. It startled him at how much it hurt again.

Not everyone needed reclamation to change. Rawhead was proof of that.

Previous Chapter
Next Chapter