This choice: "--we found a fall guy for the Stellae." • Go Back...Chapter #61Three Fakes by: Seuzz   "It means we've found a fall guy," you say. Rick's brow furrows. "Nate's plotting to take over Cuthbert. He figured out that there's masks and disguises around. He thinks that him and Will Shabbleman are going to make a copy of Grandmother--you know, the girl who looks like Rosalie--then get rid of the old bat and pretend to be her. Nate gets to play Grandmother, and Will gets to have sex with her as often as he wants."
"Kinky," Rick says dryly. Joe makes retching noises.
"So I figure we let him," you continue. "Though I should probably think it over using your brain, Rick. You've got all that experience figuring out insurance scams."
"But you're thinking of letting Nate win," Rick says. "He takes over for Grandmother, we let him think he's killed us--"
"Which would explain our disappearance."
"--and then the rest of the Stellae swoop in, decapitate the town, hold a big funeral for all the fallen heroes--"
"While we take off and do our own thing!" Joe whoops and jumps around, punching the air.
"Lotta angles to figure out," Rick sighs. He slips off his dirty sports coat, revealing an even grimier t-shirt beneath. "So you'll wanna get started on it." He lays in the middle of the sigils and closes his eyes.
* * * * *
"You gonna be able to handle ol' Jape?" You look into the rearview mirror, at Rick. The old gas station is now only a few hundred yards away.
"If you can do it, kid, I can," Rick snaps back. "We got the same stuff inside us."
"I guess," you laugh. "Though it's the differences that count."
"And shouldn't you be calling us by our aliases?" Frank says.
"Then let's hear you do the voices," Rick says.
"Fair 'nuff," Frank says, dipping into Zach Martin's warbling, Cuthbert yowl.
"Heh heh heh," you cackle in Sam Gibson's voice. "Yeah, ol' Frankie ain't so good at pertendin', even with hisself a mask." Frank--Zach--glares darkly over at you.
Your body is locked inside Grandmother's study; but your consciousness is inside Joe Durras, and Joe Durras is hiding inside a mask of fat, uncouth Sam Gibson. You shift restlessly in your seat, trying to get the roiling paunch to sit more comfortably. Frank is now disguised as lanky, bent-backed Zach Martin, the owner of a barbecue/fish fry (one of the town's few social centers) and overseer of the town's drug crops. Rick is still looking like himself, but that won't be for long.
The old gas station comes into view, and the balding tires of Sam's pickup squeal as you pull to a stop. You lean on the horn good and long, then you and "Zach" dismount. "Jape!" you call. "Jape! Getcher pimply ass out here!" Zach goes over to the service bay and leans against its side.
It feels like a long minute before the door to the station office opens and Jasper "Jape" Johnson staggers out. He's tall and thin and walks with a hobble; one of his shoulders is noticeably higher than the other, and his face is disfigured by a hideous crop of warts. He squints belligerently at you. "Where's the fire, Sam? It's cold out here."
"Got business wit'chya. Zach!"
Zach raises a clenched hand, and Jape goes rigid, then falls over hard to the ground. "Sumbitch!" he gasps.
"Tha's us, Jape," you cackle. "Gran'mother's got need of yew. Well, yer face. Gotta be the first time that's e'er happened!" Zach twitches his hand, and Jape slides roughly over the ground inside the service bay. You look back at the sound of a car door closing: Rick is advancing with the satchel of supplies.
Jape continues cursing at your trio until Rick puts a blank mask on him. Then he slips the open Libra under Jape's body and hands you a jar of sealant. After the mask reappears on Japes' face, you set to work coating its inner surface. Rick, meanwhile, sets another mask next to the still-unconscious Jape. Rick mutters in an inaudible tone, and lightning arcs discharge Jape's imago, essentia and anima into the mask, where they evaporate. Rick kicks that mask aside and lays a third next to Jape. He looks at you expectantly, but you grin: "You said you could do it all yerself, Rick." So with a grumble at the back of his throat, Rick straddles the golem, takes the sealant (which contains some of Rick's own essentia in it) and slathers a patch of it onto the golem's chest. He then rises and executes the last of the spells: When the last lightning show clears up, there's another Rick Bredon, this one lying on the ground, dressed in Jape's dirty long johns and overalls.
"We'll give yew a little privacy, Rick," you chortle as the two Ricks start to disrobe. "C'mon, Zach."
"Any idea how long we're gonna have to go around like this?" your brother asks as you get back into the truck--scant protection from the cold.
"Wha'chew grousin' about? Zach's a good-lookin' feller. For these parts." It's true. Zach Martin's face is twisted up sourly, but it's the expression of personality, not genes. He's probably some near cousin of yours, and the Martins have, for the most part, been able to steer clear of the Shabbleman entanglements, so everyone in that branch is relatively normal looking.
"I just want to get out of here," he mutters. "Will said anything to you about how long it's gonna take?"
Frank and Rick don't know that you're riding around inside Joe, and you've not told them. Not that you mean to spy on them, but it's something to do. You spent the afternoon making up a bunch of masks to handle the complicated impostures: Joe was the first, taking over the role of Sam Gibson while Sam himself got erased and had Joe's imago set over the remains. Then Zach Martin went to Frank. With Rick stepping in for Jasper Johnson, you'll have hidden your three alter egos in key Cuthbert naties, and left three fakes behind for Nate to destroy.
No, you don't mean to spy on them, but you're curious to see how they'll act. So you lift yourself out of Joe, and put yourself inside Frank; there's a brief moment of hiatus until the scene inside the cab switches. "Depends on how long it takes Nate," Sam says after a brief pause. He looks a trifle uneasy, then shakes it off. "He's the one supposedly runnin' the conspiracy against 'Grandmother'." He says the latter word so you can hear the scare quotes. "Faster he moves against her, faster we'll be outta here."
"We should light a fire under Prescott, get him to light one under Nate," you say.
"Leave it to Prescott," Sam retorts. "He's got things movin'."
"How do you know?"
"Jus' a gut feeling I got." He looks over at you. "We're all of us Will Prescott, right? If yer impatient, I'm sure he is too."
You grunt and fall silent until the new fakes of Rick Bredon and Jape Johnson--each now appropriately attired--come back out. Jape--that's really Rick--gives a sour wave before heading into the station; Rick comes over. But you lock the door and roll down the window. "Gimme the sack," you tell him. "Yew can hoof it inta town. Sam, let's go. I'll treat ya ta some spare ribs back at the Shack.
"You forget I know where yew get yer supplies," Sam retorts.
"Them gummint men ain't smoked enough," you say. "Feed ya real pork, I will. 'Nother reason to beat it outta town," you add.
* * * * *
You close the front door, clap some feeling back into your arms, and stamp your booted feet. "Aunt Sarah?" you call. "Charity? Anyone?" There's no answer.
Nor should there be. You'd dismissed the staff earlier in the day, and made sure Aunt Sarah was busy in back running little Sally. You trudge down the hallway, briefly catching your reflection--Will Shabbleman's--in the large mirror. The door to the work room is unlocked. A catatonic Will Prescott slouches in Grandmother's chair. From his elbow you pick up the mask. This one is for Nate: It has Rosalie's body but no attached mind. You smirk lightly to yourself before stepping back into the hallway.
But your noises have attracted attention. Aunt Sarah is standing there, with that permanently spooked expression on her face. "Will!" she gasps. "What are you--? Grandmother's in there!"
"I know, Aunt Sarah," you reply. "She called me over. Had an errand for me."
"She didn't tell me."
"She didn't have to, did she?"
"I didn't hear any phone calls," Aunt Sarah says. She's craned her neck to peer at the door behind you.
"Grandmother's got lots of ways of contacting people," you say. "She also says not to bother her."
Aunt Sarah wrings her hands. "If you say so, Will," she says doubtfully.
You brush past the bony old woman, and she scrambles away. You feel a slight twinge of worry: She might turn out to be a loose end. Her job is to spy on the town through the eyes of her idiot daughter, Sally, and you can't be sure what she's seen. It was enough of a shock to discover that Nate had seen more than you'd intended; and you'd briefly given thought to putting one of your confederates in for Sarah. But it seemed wiser to replace three of the other key people.
Unless Aunt Sarah has seen something, and shares it with Nate. She's very sweet on him.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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