“I’m still not
satisfied,” said JP.
Patton pulled the van
into a distant parking lot and turned off the engine. “Can’t say I blame you there, son,” he said with
a slow shrug. “But right now, I’m
starting to think we’re running low on options.”
“Don’t remind me.” JP tapped his against the van’s floor with
arms folded; every so often, his foot would knock about a slim duffle bag. “I would have liked a little help here and
there -- but so far, nothing.” The tiny
tween shook his head and sighed. “What
was I thinking, expecting rational
thought from someone here in Porbeagle?”
“Mmmm. Can’t be helped.”
“That’s how it usually
goes, isn’t it?”
“Sadly.” JP started his second sweep. Sondheim Middle School -- the place he would
have been heading right about then, under normal circumstances -- stood in the
distance as a scorched and shambled mess.
Blackened chunks jutted up from the ground like abstract art; the
still-suffocating scent swirling around it drove off any would-be admirers. A few portables remained relatively intact, but
plenty of them bore some nasty holes. He
doubted he’d be having science class anytime soon.
“Too much going on in
this city all of a sudden,” said Patton.
“Schools burning down, kids getting shot at, and even big companies
getting involved. And I’ll bet dollars
to steaks that Gaston’s behind at least some of it.”
“It’s ‘dollars to
donuts’, Dad. But let’s say that he is
behind this. Let’s say that all of this
is Gaston’s fault.” He lowered the
binoculars and looked back at his dad.
“If that’s the case, then who’d want to help him out? And why?”
Patton shrugged. “Money?”
“Money would be enough
for me. But even so…”
“It’s not enough for
everyone.”
JP jerked out a nod,
and went back to investigating the school’s remains. Money should have been enough for
anyone. But if it wasn’t...
His lips
tightened. He probably didn’t want to
meet them.
*
The back side of L.
Bernstein High paled in comparison to its front. Cracked concrete and overflowing dumpsters
stretched from the doorways to the parking lots, the spaces in which would be
filled before the first bell even rang.
The paint on the doors remained chipped, and even a mole could have
spotted the hasty attempts to cover the graffiti sprayed atop the brick walls. The discoloration made it look as if a snake
stretched from one end of the teacher’s lot to the next, and threatened to take
a bite out of the breezeway. In spite of
that, a small smattering of students headed around and through the buildings,
looking to shoot the breeze before the second day of school (and the actual
learning) began in earnest.
If not for his
entourage -- one lanky blonde and one stout-bodied old (?) lady -- Lloyd might
have fit right in as a student. On the
other hand, a purple-haired loon dressed as if he had a court date might have
stuck out the most of the three. Still,
that didn’t stop him from heading toward one of the building’s back doors --
though he did so with the occasional glance across the grounds.
“Ya got a right to be a
little paranoid, pal,” said Trixie. “Ya
got expelled yesterday, right? Woulda
figured that you showin’ up here’d be a bad idea. Get spotted, and it’s all over.”
“I’m well aware of my
wanted status,” said Lloyd. “But then
again, it seems we’ve arrived early enough to dissuade suspicion.” He spotted a mohawk-haired punk in the
distance, but he seemed to show little care for Lloyd’s presence. “My intent is to be in and out of here
quickly enough. Once I have a chat with
the man I’m seeking, we’ll be well on our way.”
“And where would that
be?” Mrs. Overdose asked. “The
principal, so you can beg for him to let you back in?” She chomped on her reed and stared at her
hands -- empty, naturally. “Damn, I feel
so wrong without my guns. What am I supposed to do with my hands…?”
“Reasoning with Mr.
Hansen is…well, not something I plan to do at the moment. Not until more pressing objectives are taken
care of.” He raised three fingers. “There are three people who I’d like to lend
my aid, and my power. Once I manage to
finish my dealings with them, I’d like to think I’d be in a better place to
start negotiating with the principal.”
“Because…?”
“Because…” Lloyd stopped, and counted even further on
his fingers. “Because…because they’re
all fairly attractive people?”
“Oh ho, this is
rich. So your plan is to round up three
pretty ladies and line ‘em up in front of the principal?” Mrs. Overdose cocked her head. “I’ll give you this much, kid: you know how
to play the game. The key to a man’s
heart is through his pants.”
“Th-there’s no way
that’s Lloyd’s plan!” Trixie yelled.
“Actually, it just
might work. It was better than what I had planned, at least.”
“Dammit, Lloyd! Don’t encourage her!”
Lloyd smiled
sheepishly, but his grin gave way to a more serious look. “As I said, the dealings with Mr. Hansen can
wait. The reason why I want to focus on
those three is because I need to practice more with my power. If I can enhance my understanding of it while
simultaneously improving the lot of those I’ve wronged, then we may have a
better chance against Gaston and his no-doubt-mobilizing forces.” He held out a hand. “If the issue in the past was that I rushed
headlong into situations, then the remedy is to slow down my advance. And I should be able to, once I have what I
need; I’ll focus on each of them one at a time, and improve us all with one
step after another.”
Trixie and Mrs.
Overdose exchanged a look. “Ya really
put some thought into this, haven’t ya, pal?”
“I’ve had a bit of
time, yes. But I suspect I’ve thought
about it a bit too hard.” He folded his arms. “I wonder if the inherent flaws will be a
factor…”
“Inherent…flaws?” Trixie looked to Mrs. Overdose, but the
gunwoman just gave a sharp laugh.
Lloyd waved a hand
through the air, and gestured toward the door.
“The details can be sorted out later.
For now, our next venture awaits.”
He held the door open for the two of them, and offered a knightly
bow. Mrs. Overdose walked in first,
followed by Trixie, and Lloyd brought up the rear. “The classroom we need should be nearby --
assuming he’s taken to using the same room as before. Given his nature, I’d say that’s a definite
possibility.”
Trixie nodded, and
folded her arms as she walked through the halls. “Rather funny, isn’t it?” Lloyd asked with a
laugh. “First you visit a middle school,
then a high school… all you need is an elementary school, and you’ll have a
bingo.” But to his dismay, she didn’t
share his optimism -- likely because of the spiders that drew her eye.
“So what exactly did
you need the two of us for?” Mrs. Overdose asked. “’Cause the way I see it, you’re just takin’
us on a little tour.”
“Well, I was expecting
the worst-case scenario. So I assumed
that I would need two women skilled in combative arts to guard me, should the
need arise. Or given the circumstances,
a distraction.” He gestured toward
Trixie. “For example, the intent was to
have Miss Walters strut about in her underwear, so that eagle-eyed students
would --”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, back
the hell up! What kinda plan has me
struttin’ around in my underwear?!” Trixie yelled, with her face now a healthy
shade of red.
“Well, given the
choice, wouldn’t you prefer to see a college-aged young woman in her
underwear? Neither I nor Lady Overdose
could handle the task, and you’d certainly make for a prime draw of the
eye. Misdirection, as they say.”
Trixie bit her
lip. “I miss gettin’ respect.”
“When did anyone ever
respect you?” Mrs. Overdose asked. Lloyd
glanced at her, but she just threw up her hands. “Sorry, sorry. I just get really testy when I don’t have any
guns on hand.”
As they came to another
classroom door, Lloyd jumped to the head of the group and waved his hands. “Aha!
This is the one. Excellent; things
are proceeding better than I expected.”
He pointed to a pair of bathrooms across the hall. “You ladies have done well thus far. But this will only take a moment; feel free
to lay low, and relieve yourselves in the meantime, while I see a man about a
horse. Or trio of horses, as it were.”
“Lloyd, yer sure ya --”
Mrs. Overdose had
already started for the bathroom. “Friggin’
finally, some rest. I’ve been holdin’ in
a big one for the past half hour.” She
disappeared into the bathroom, leaving behind little more than raised eyebrows
from Lloyd and Trixie.
“Is that a womanly
thing?” Lloyd asked.
“I sure hope it ain’t
-- otherwise gettin’ old is gonna be hell.”
Trixie let loose a sigh, but headed for the bathroom in kind. “Yer sure you’ll be okay, Lloyd?”
“It’s merely a visit to
an old friend. What could possibly go
--?”
“Don’t, Lloyd. Just don’t.” She shook her head and slid into the
bathroom.
“Feel free to come out
in your skivvies, Miss Walters! I’ll
withhold my objections!” With his
partners gone, Lloyd took a deep breath.
“Now then. Let us see if this
plan will proceed swimmingly, or if I’m destined to flounder. Historical precedents -- and my own non-ability
to swim -- suggest disaster awaits, but I suppose time will tell.”
He headed into the
classroom with a bright smile -- one that wasn’t returned by anyone eyeing
him. Two dozen eyes turned to him, and
would have shot literal daggers at him if they could. He preferred to think they weren’t just
glaring at him because he was…well, him…but rather because they’d all failed to
get a good night’s sleep. The room’s
bland interior certainly wasn’t much to speak of, and the tables they used lent
themselves toward catching forty winks.
“Ah, so this is this
year’s student council.” Lloyd waved
cheerily. “Salutations! I trust you’re planning to make this year L.
Bernstein’s finest yet, yes?”
A slew of mummy-like
groans followed his words, and more than a few heads slammed against the
tables. But of course, one of the
students remained fully alert -- the one standing at the head of the room.
“Student Council
President Arjuna Alles,” said Lloyd.
“Did you have an exciting summer?
Lots of fond memories forged, I hope.”
He didn’t get an answer
-- and even if he did, he’d never get a coherent one. Arjuna stood at the head of the room, but he
hardly looked like a fitting leader, or even a mediocre one; for one thing, he
stood a half-foot shorter than Lloyd, and his slumped posture made him look
both shorter and shifty. Seaweed-styled
hair slapped against his cheeks with each quiver he made, and outside of an
over-large head he looked to be made of cinnamon sticks. He looked up at Lloyd with massive-yet-beady
brown eyes, with his T-shirt and shorts (both baggy, and inexplicably trimmed
with fish) soaked in coats of sweat old and new. And as the coup de grace, he’d taken to
wearing socks with sandals.
But Lloyd had more
important things to take note of -- like the crossbow Arjuna aimed at his head.
TO BE HEARTINUED…
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