The Book of Masks (Vol. 1)

Location, Location, Location

Previously: "The Boy With Your Brain" 

by Nostrum

As much as you'd hate to admit it, Caleb's right. It wasn't all your fault that you lost access to the old hideout, but you do need a new one. "I'll think about it," you tell him.

"Think about what?" Caleb asks. "Having fun, or fixing your fuck-up?"

"Yes." Before he can make a retort, you ask, "So, how're we gonna work it tomorrow? You covering for me at school, I mean?"

"I was thinking you could come pick me up. I'll put on your face, then drop you off somewhere and drive to school as you."

"What if I want some movement?"

"I'll need the truck to pass myself off better as you. Besides, if you go as that girl, you can't have your truck. You don't know if she drives or not. God, are you even thinking straight?"

"Fine," you grunt. "Just as long as you leave me off someplace good. And I'll need your phone. Don't want to get lost and in trouble."

"Well-thought for a fuck up. How about I drop you at ... I dunno ... How 'bout at South Creek? You could probably catch the bus there."

Great, you think. Now I gotta take the bus too? But, it's the cheapest way to get around town, so you agree. Caleb shows his gratitude (such as it is) by agreeing to carve another of the mind-copying dinguses for you.

--

Monday morning. The alarm wakes you up nearly thirty minutes earlier than usual. After showering, you pick out an unflattering wardrobe for yourself: a slightly oversized shirt, tight skinny pants that you never wear when you can help it, and a pair of old and worn sneakers. You also make a point of packing your cap in the small satchel you intend to carry around town with you. This is your revenge on Caleb for hogging all the fun. For yourself to wear around town you pack a far more comfortable and more inconspicuous set of clothes: a hoodie, comfy jeans and better-looking sneakers, and spare underwear, all to go with your cap.

You eat a quick breakfast with your parents, and when your dad asks what made you wake up so early, you tell him that you have to pick up Caleb for school – the truth works here.

Caleb is waiting for you out front of his house when you pull up, and you slow down just enough that he can climb in. "Brought me a change of clothes?" he asks as slams the door shut. You're already accelerating into the street.

"What I'm wearing."

He glances you up and down, and makes a face. "I don't remember the last time you wore those jeans."

"Why would you?" you ask. When he snickers you glance over. Your face falls when you see his smug, shit-eating grin. "Yeah, have your fun," you snarl. "This is what you get to wear. Mom and Dad already saw me in it, so you're stuck with it."

"Pfft. I can just wear what I got on now, if I want to. It's not like I'm going to see your folks before we switch back. Or am I? Am I covering for you at supper?"

"No!"

"Then when am I going to see them? God!" He settles back in his seat. "Try using your brain more, Will. It's embarrassing that you have to leave up to me to get some use out of it." He taps his forehead meaningfully.

"Fuck you," you mutter.

"Hey, I'm just pulling your leg, bro. You're not dumb, just lazy and complacent."

"What makes you such an expert on me all of a—? Oh, fuck you!" you exclaim as Caleb bursts out laughing. To preempt his inevitable retort, you quickly change the subject. "Did you figure out the next spell?"

"You mean the one after the one I used to make this?" He taps his forehead again. "Yeah. And the one after that."

"So fast?" you exclaim.

"The next one was easy to make, and we had the ingredients. It makes a kind of paste so you can stick the metal bands onto the masks. But for the one after that, we're gonna need someplace to work. It looks pretty big and involved."

"What's it do?"

"Fuck if I know. Damn book never tells you what it does until after you do it! You know that. We'll need to hit the cemetery, too."

You yelp and touch the brake in surprise. "Whaddya mean, the cemetery?"

"The new spell calls for four hundred pounds of dirt. Taken from a grave. It's also gonna be a lot more expensive than any of the ones we've had to do so far."

Caleb tells you a little more about it – it sounds dangerous in a chemical sense, not only a magical sense, for it calls for some explosive ingredients – but then you arrive at South Creek Park for the exchange. As he slumps, unconscious, in the passenger side of the truck after putting on the mask of you, you change into the comfortable clothes that you brought. He's still asleep – but breathing; you make sure to check – as a bus pulls up, and you jog over to catch it after dropping your truck keys in his lap.

--

You spend the next three hours traveling the city by bus and foot, looking for places that might make good hideouts. You have a thin time of it until you notice the old State Theater on Adams Boulevard, and hop off the bus at the next stop to double back for a closer look. It's a withered, decrepit building of tan brick with a blank marquee over the front. It's entirely boarded up, and even the sign is gone – you know it was a movie theater only by the general shape and because your parents have told you about going to see midnight horror movies there back when they were dating. The side walls have been tagged with graffiti, and dirty and grime encrust the front. It's small, too – it can't have had more than one screen inside – but it would be bigger than your old hideout.

You mark the doors as you circle it, looking for a way in. The emergency exits have no handles, but there is one proper door. I should have brought a crowbar, you think as you grimace to yourself, and try the handle without much hope. To your amazement, though, the door pops right open. This ain't good, you tell yourself even as you step over the threshold into the darkness beyond. If I can get in, other people can get in. They might be in here already.

The door opens into a small space that must have once been an office: there are still some metal-frame cabinets in one corner. After propping the exterior door open you look behind the one interior door. A stench of old, dry mildew rolls out, and you gag and retch. It's almost pitch dark on the other side, and there's just enough light for you to make out a tattered red carpet on the floor. A rustle nearby warns you that there are probably rats in the place.

But you grin to yourself as you exit. You're not too handy with tools, but between you, you and Caleb should be able to install a strong metal latch on the outer door that you can use to padlock it. And that would give you the base you want and need.

--

"The old State Theater?" your double asks in disbelief. You nod. "On the bad side of town?"

"Well, where do you want to find an abandoned place to hang out?" you counter. "That ritzy shopping center behind the mall?"

"Did you look there?"

You make a face.

It's nearing supper time, but the other Will Prescott has only just now picked you up again at South Creek. You're parked there still, waiting to make the change back.

"Jesus, Will," he sighs. "How is it that you had the whole day to scour the city for a hideout, and you only found one, while I went to school and managed to find two possible places?"

Your face falls. "Where?" you demand.

"Top Shelf Storage, for a start."

"Where?" you repeat.

"It's storage complex over on Twentieth. Carlos Mendoza's family owns it. You know Mendoza. We have him in English."

"Where's the hideout there?"

"A storage unit. We rent a storage unit," he repeats when you gape at him. "There's security and everything there."

"It's not like we're swimming in money," you point out. "Where's the second place? An office up in the Mobley Building?" That's the city's only skyscraper, a ten-story place on the west side of town.

"Next to Argosy Furniture. Oh, I think I also got you a lead on a job, working for Stephanie Wyatt's dad."

"The fuck?" Stephanie Wyatt, as far as you're concerned, is the female equivalent of Gordon Black – a scary-as-fuck, basketball-playing jock who'd as soon punch you out as look at you.

"Look, I know how you feel," your double says. "Dur. But that's why I'm late, I helped her move some stuff at their furniture store – and got paid for it, too – and there's an abandoned storefront next to their place that we could probably use."

You and Caleb go round and round discussing the pros and cons of each choice. Yet your mind keeps reverting back to the community center that you've had to abandon. If there were some way of getting back into it without arousing suspicion or attention, that would be perfect. But how to do that? Gamble that the excitement has died down?

Or how about by impersonating the center's director, at least long enough to get the staff to stop paying attention to the old basement?

Next: "Intruders at the Old State Theater" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 1)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 1)"