Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Standing Outside the Fire ❯ 14 ( Chapter 14 )

14

 

The Eye was rimmed with fire, but was itself glazed, yellow as a cat's,
watchful and intent, and the black slit of its pupil opened on a pit,
a window into nothing.

 

“Here.” Konnor handed me three pieces of paper.

 

I blinked stupidly at them for a moment, the vision of the eye lingering too long for my liking. Then I focused on the first page and saw it was a medical pass. My skin went cold. “What's this for?” I asked through numb lips. For some reason, the thought of going into the medical facility scared the crap out of me.

 

“You are to have a few days off, due to exhaustion,” Konnor stated. “All you need do is report to medical first thing in the morning, show them that note, and they will take care of the details. You are to rest, and get current on your coursework. Your new schedule will begin next Wednesday.”

 

“What will they do to me?” I whispered, dreading I-don't-know-what.

 

Konnor raised an eyebrow. “I expect they will verify the exhaustion and send you back to your dorm. Why do you ask?”

 

“No reason,” I murmured, trying not to remember the MRI chamber. I shuffled the papers and looked at the next one down - my newest schedule. This one didn't look so bad. There was actually time enough in between the classes to get from one building to the next without running. There was even time to use a bathroom while enough other guys would be in there to provide cover; I'd learned real fast not to enter a seemingly empty bathroom, or one with only a couple of guys in it. Safety in numbers, as they say; it couldn't be more true.

 

I still had extra classes with Frau Sheffield, though the three-hour block was now gone, replaced by three hour-long evening sessions. On the other nights, I'd be seeing Mr. Grant at the usual time; I found this oddly reassuring.

 

In addition to the self-defense class, I now had an hour a day set aside for exercise. I wasn't too sure about that, but I figured it couldn't hurt to try it. Besides, the third note was a request for an open pass to the gym, and as someone had once told me, open passes were like gold here.

 

Konnor placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “Now, I would suggest you return to your dorm and get some rest. I will be unavailable for a few hours, I trust you will be all right?”

 

“Yes, I'll be okay,” I told him. “Am I supposed to see Mr. Grant tomorrow night?”

 

“Ah, no, Bradley. Not until next Thursday. Remember, I'm giving you a few days off, and that includes your language sessions.”

 

“Oh, right.” I fidgeted a little, not sure if I should do this but thinking it was more right than not. “If you see him first, would you tell him I said thank you?”

 

Konnor smiled, but it wasn't the warm smile anymore. This looked like a mask, all cool and proper. “It isn't really your place, but I'm certain he would appreciate the sentiment.” Without further ado, he herded me toward the door. “Good evening, Bradley. I'll check on your progress over the weekend.”

 

As I turned my toes dormward, my mind whirled, trying to figure out how the heck I'd managed to offend him so fast. He'd gone from too nice to ice cold in the blink of an eye.

 

The eye…

 

I realized all of a sudden that Konnor hadn't been offended, he'd been scared, afraid I'd blurt out something that could get him in trouble. He was being watched, too; and, like Shelley, he knew it.

 

I paused, leaning against the wall as comprehension threatened to drop me at the knees. Konnor knew he was being spied on, and he hadn't warned me. Of course, why would he? I was just a kid; that's as good as property to these people. But that wasn't the worst of it. Each time he'd done things to me it had started on that sofa. The first time he'd been crazy drunk, and carried me off to his bedroom. But he'd stopped before doing anything really bad to me. I'd thought it was because he drank too much and couldn't, but now it didn't make sense.

 

This time he was cold sober. If he wanted me so much, why didn't he just go ahead and do it? We both knew I couldn't fight him off no matter how hard I tried, all he had to do was stake his claim and be done with it.

 

But he hadn't…why?

 

Then it hit me: tonight had been staged. Hell, maybe it had all been just for show right from the start.

 

As for tonight, maybe Konnor wanted it to look like he was having fun with me, but he wasn't really into it. If he had been, I don't think he would have abandoned me to take care of things by himself in the bathroom. I forced my feet to move as I continued mulling this over, revisiting the moments of the evening one by one.

 

Smythe had called Grant, basically washed his hands of the situation. Grant tipped me off that he was being watched, and then called Konnor. Konnor…

 

If whoever was watching them was also listening in on their phone calls, they'd have known that I was on my way to Konnor for help. And I've been here long enough to know that help doesn't come for free. So to keep everything looking right, Konnor took payment for his assistance, and in return I had time off and an open hall pass.

 

I'd have to play it real careful about that pass, so no one started thinking that I'd gotten it too cheaply. Because if Grant and Konnor were being watched, then so was I.

 

Then again, this could all be a bunch of paranoid bullcrap.

 

But that feeling of being watched, it had happened too many times, and now it showed up with visions that were downright ominous. No, Konnor had played his part, and led me through my own steps without faltering, though I couldn't guess the audience we had performed for.

 

“Can't you?”

 

I bit back a yell as Herr Sonndheim materialized out of the shadows. For a moment I thought he'd been following me.

 

He took a raspy breath and whispered, “I asked you a question, boy.” He scowled, making his eyebrows merge into one shaggy line of peppered gray. “Or have you misplaced your line of thought?”

 

“No, sir,” I gasped, not sure which question I was supposed to be answering but figuring it fit both just as well.

 

Sonndheim smiled, his eyes narrowing into steely needles edged in frost. “You should be more careful, Herr Crawford. We are most often judged by the company we keep. There are those here who are more beneficial than others, especially for one in your…position. Loyalty should never be a question, should it, Herr Crawford?”

 

My skin crawled as I replied, “No, sir, it should not.” Was he calling Konnor a traitor? But why?

 

“Why indeed.” Sonndheim turned and walked away, calling back over his shoulder, “Good evening, Herr Crawford.”

 

I nearly ran back to the dorm. He'd pulled those thoughts right out of my head! Had I betrayed Konnor somehow without my even knowing? Damn it! If I wasn't worried enough about going crazy from my Sight, now I had to have that creepy bastard fingering around inside my brain!

 

When I flung open the door, my looming hysteria vanished in a rush of dread - Julian's bunk was empty. “No!” I moaned. “Not you too!”

 

“Whoa, hey, it's all right!” Donley jumped down from his bunk and gripped my shoulders. “Julian's in with Smythe. He puked in his bed, we had to strip it. He's trying to talk his way out of going to medical.”

 

The mixed smells of vomit and disinfectant spray hit me then, and I reeled, clutching at Donley's skinny shoulder to keep from falling.

 

“Are you okay, Crawford?” he asked, steering me toward the empty bunk next to Julian's. “You look worse off than before you left!”

 

“Where are the others?” I asked back, feeling suddenly very wrong. It was like my internal gyroscope tipped without my wanting it to, leaving me off-center and more than a little scared.

 

“In the showers.” He blushed a little as he added, “They got stuff on them when Julian got sick; I ran outside and barfed in a trash can. I don't do well watching other people vomit.”

 

In spite of myself I laughed, and this seemed to bring the whole night back to reality. “Yeah, I guess I'm okay. My mentor set me up with a new schedule, told me to get a medical pass for a few days off.” I debated telling him about the watching thing and my run-in with Sonndheim, but I really didn't want to bring anyone else into this mess. I felt bad enough involving Mr. Grant and David Smythe.

 

The door opened. Frettchen and Georgiev trudged in, visibly weary and a little sick themselves, though they both spared me a smile.

 

“Well, at least we got one of them back tonight,” Frettchen said as he flopped onto his bunk. “How'd it go, Kentucky?”

 

“It went, I guess.”

 

Frettchen gave me one of those looks like he knew I was bullshitting or hiding something, but didn't say anything.

 

“How's Jules?” Donley asked, cupping a cigarette in his hands and lighting it.

 

“He's still talking with Smythe,” Georgiev replied. He shook his head and said, “It doesn't look good. He's been having too many problems lately.”

 

And I'd missed it all. One of my few friends was spiraling out of control, and I'd missed all the signs. Not that I could have done much to help, but it still made me feel rotten. I swallowed. “Anything I can do?”

 

“Find him a better future,” Georgie said, his voice flat.

 

A better future? My overworked mind took that and ran with it, right into the danger zone. I clamped down on it right fast, hopefully before anyone caught a glimpse of it. How could one skinny farmkid change the world like that?

 

The room spun, and I saw myself through a mirror: all grown up, looking just like Konnor imagined I would. My older eyes gleamed like polished stone.

 

The vision faded, leaving me gasping. I pushed the memory of it way to the back of my head; I had the feeling that this was another thing I didn't want found.

 

Voices outside brought everything to a standstill. The four of us turned toward the door, each laying his own odds on our fifth roommate.

 

Smythe escorted Julian into the room, sparing a brief glare at Donley's incriminating smoke cloud, and shut the door. Julian looked pale, the kind of pale that has a frog-belly green underneath the white. He sagged onto his bare bunk and leaned back against the cold wall, his eyes closed. He looked like he was already dead.

 

“Watch him,” Smythe instructed. “I'm taking a chance, here. I don't want him to collapse because of my negligence, but…” He shook his head and bummed a cigarette from Donley. “I won't send any of my boys to medical until it's the last resort. I'm going to trust Julian on this one.” Smythe glanced skyward as though praying, then stated, “If he dies in his sleep, one of you come and tell me immediately; the others, drag him to the showers. Understood?”

 

I felt my eyes go wide. If he dies? In his sleep? Showers? This couldn't be happening! But, looking at Julian, I could see why Smythe was worried. He looked horrible, as if death was the only peace he'd ever find.

 

Find him a better future…

 

“Understood, David,” Donley whispered.

 

This had happened before. Donley and Georgie, and maybe Frettchen too, had covered for Smythe by hiding a dead body in the showers. Someone who maybe should have gone to medical, but would have faced something worse than just dying if he had.

 

I felt faint.

 

Smythe extinguished his cigarette and left.

 

No one spoke. It was like Jules was already gone.

 

The curfew alarm sounded. As the others had already done their cleaning up for the night, no one moved toward the showers, and I wasn't about to go alone. Julian settled down on the bed next to his, using what clean clothes he had left as a pillow. I watched him for a few long moments, then dug in my belongings until my fingers closed on a narrow strip of fabric. I'd memorized the poem months ago; I didn't need the physical reminder. Besides, maybe it would give Julian some comfort that I'd never found in it.

 

I waited till the lights went out, then climbed down from my bunk, blanket in one hand, bookmark in the other.

 

Now if anyone was listening it was my soft footfalls that padded from my bed to another's, though unlike Trevor I wasn't seeking comfort but offering it.

 

“Hey, Jules,” I whispered, not wanting to startle him, “you awake?”

 

“Come to sing me a lullaby, Elvis?” Julian's voice sounded raspy and soft as a ghost's.

 

I sat on the bunk and draped my blanket over him. “Something like that.” Moved by a vision or something else, I said, “Give me your hand.”

 

Julian didn't move for a long while. I couldn't tell if he was scared or just in too much pain. But finally I felt him shift next to me, and there was a rustle of fabric as he brought an arm over top of the blanket. His bare hand glimmered faintly in the dim windowlight.

 

My breath caught in my throat as I comprehended the amount of trust he showed in that gesture. “Here, I want you to have this.” And, very gently, I set the bookmark in his hand.

 

He gasped, a soft, startled sound, and his fingers closed reflexively around the fabric. I could barely make out his features, eyes closed not with pain but with wonder. I could almost see my grandmother in his face, and something shook loose in my chest to flood my eyes with hot tears.

 

“Where did you get this?” Julian hissed, teeth clamped against his own voice. The words sounded like weeping.

 

“It was my grandmother's,” I told him, using a corner of the blanket to wipe at my face. “She loves God very much, though I don't know Him myself. I thought it might make you feel better.” In that moment I knew that she was still among the living, and not a day went by that she didn't whisper a prayer for me. Though I couldn't understand her faith, the reality of her conviction kept my tears fresh, coursing down my face like a baptism of salt.

 

I could tell by his breathing that Julian was crying too, though he'd long ago mastered the art of doing it without sound. Slowly he calmed himself, and I could see distilled moonlight reflecting from his eyes as he said, “You can't possibly know what this means to me. I'll never forget this, Elvis. Or you.”

 

“Hide it safe,” I told him. “Memorize the poem, and hide it safe.” Inspired, I added, “And when you're feeling better, pass it along to someone else who's crying, okay? Keep the poem in your head, and pass it on.”

 

As I climbed back into my bunk, I made up my mind to have a look at tomorrow, if I could get one. I needed to know if Jules would be okay. I lay in my bed, using my jacket for a blanket, and I stared at what I knew was now, pushing it back, looking past it. Only a few hours, that's all I needed.

 

I Saw Julian, but it wasn't tomorrow; he was much older, with a narrow beard and mustache, and he was dressed like a teacher. The vision faded back into the mirror view of me, older as well, wearing a fancy white suit.

 

The older me winked at his reflection as if he knew I was looking.

 

 

 

A/N:

The Eye was rimmed with fire, but was itself glazed, yellow as a cat's,
watchful and intent, and the black slit of its pupil opened on a pit,
a window into nothing.

The Lord of the Rings (Book One: The Fellowship of the Ring) - J.R.R. Tolkien

 

When Frodo gazed into the Mirror of Galadriel, he Saw things that frightened him, things that were not yet but may soon come to pass. There are many things that Bradley Crawford does not know, things that he catches glimpses of only enough to hint at darkness behind the curtain of time. Has he divined the identity of the Dark Lord himself? And, like Frodo, is he still small enough to slide under the evil one's radar?

 

Only time will tell.

 

For Julian Gray, the poem on Grandma's bookmark:

 

“Footprints” by Mary Stevenson

 

One night I had a dream -

I dreamed I was walking along the beach

with the Lord

and across the sky flashed scenes from my life.

For each scene I noticed two sets of footprints,

one belonged to me

and the other to the Lord.

When the last scene of my life flashed before me,

I looked back at the footprints in the sand.

I noticed that many times along the path of my life,

there was only one set of footprints.

I also noticed that it happened at the very lowest

and saddest times in my life.

This really bothered me and

I questioned the Lord about it.

“Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you,

you would walk with me all the way,

but I have noticed that

during the most troublesome times in my life

there is only one set of footprints.

“I don't understand why

in times when I needed you most,

you should leave me.”

The Lord replied, “My precious, precious child,

I love you and I would never, never leave you

during your times of trial and suffering.

“When you saw only one set of footprints,

it was then

that I carried you.”