Frightened Boy

Chapter Thirteen - The Fall of Men

13. The Fall of Men

We jogged toward the makeshift base of operations for the Secret Society of Strangers. The exterior of the building was sweat-stained with dark moisture like a nervous fat kid. Whatever lettering crowned the tip of the office had long since fallen, save for two irregularly-spaced capital Os, which stared jealously in the direction of the modern buildings in the newer downtown area that swept northward.

The doors were locked, but someone cracked them open to usher us in. We stood, still mentally smashed from the shock of what we'd witnessed. I didn’t know where to stand or what do to. We had been successful, I assumed, but I didn’t feel like it.

Mainly, I'd learned that the Strangers were serious. There would be murder.

We didn’t catch sight of Escher or Whisper until later in the evening. During the few hours that passed, I had time to come to terms with what had happened in the newsroom; Erika, however, was distant and cold.

We knew Escher entered the building long before we saw him because every Stranger simultaneously began scrambling to get their things in order. They threw down their playing cards, stowed away their bottles, or reassembled the wide array of weapons they had been cleaning.

When he eventually stalked past the loading bays where Erika and I were sitting, he looked like he'd been at war—dressed in camouflage with a black bandana on his head and a black submachine gun bumping against his hip, dangling haphazardly from the strap on his shoulder. He marched past us and into his office, paying notice to no one. A line of Strangers piled up at his door.

For over an hour, the line diminished as men and women stepped into his office to deliver reports before exiting hurriedly with relieved looks on their faces. When at last the queue had cleared, I stood nervously outside his door; Erika was with me but facing the opposite direction, looking as little like she was standing in line as she possibly could.

At last I entered, Erika in tow.

Escher was hunched over a colored map of Banlo Bay, pushing pins into it and making notes. “It’s coming together splendidly,” he announced.

“What is, sir?” I asked.

Before anyone could say anything else, Erika rushed forward and leaned over his desk, until her face was inches from his. “How could you kill those people?”

Escher’s eyes narrowed, suddenly focused on Erika. “We were shooting bullets at each other. These things happen… and how do you know what I’ve been doing today?”

She backed up a few inches, confused.

“She means Mal,” I explained.

“Oh. I didn’t kill those people then, did I?” He shrugged off our confused looks. “Mal can be a bit …excessive. I’m sorry you had to see him work. Since he had to intervene, I take it you were unsuccessful?”

I looked down. Erika fumed, tried to talk but couldn't, then turned and stormed out of office. She tried to slam the door but I was standing in the way, and it only bounced off of the back of my foot. She turned around again, glared at me, and kept walking.

“It played,” I said. “We got it done… like you wanted.”

“Let’s give credit where credit is due,” Escher said. “Mal got it done, just like he always does, without fail. I ask for something to happen, and it happens. You can see why I keep him around—others too. I am building this movement with their help. They are parts of me, what I have found so far. Everyone is a part of me, but some are more important than others. Like Mal—my mind’s representation of the hunter in me. You might be able to be like him, you know. Not a killer like him, but just as effective.”