Chapter #57Confessions, Accidental and Otherwise by: Seuzz   "I don't wanna go home until you've settled Patterson's hash," you reply.
"You'll have to face him sometime," Joe says. "Is he really that bad?"
"It'd be like facing Frank," you say.
"Nothing's as bad as facing Frank," Joe says in a very serious voice.
"Maybe. But it's like the choice between being shot in the face with a gun or a cannon. You're dead either way."
"If you'd rather face Frank, that's your choice," Joe says. "We're supposed to catch up with him now."
* * * * *
You end up at a park. It's very dark, but you spot a car that you recognize as Patterson's. A head bobs up inside it, and the white face of your doppelganger peers out through the window before slouching down again. "Back here!" Frank calls from the other side of the car when Joe shouts his name.
He is sitting on a very angry looking Steve Patterson. "I thought you said you couldn't find him," you blurt out.
"This isn't him," Frank says. He pulls at Patterson's face, and a mask comes away. You lean in for a closer look.
It's Jonathan Straussler.
"Yeah," Frank says, though no one has spoken. "Ten to one the real Patterson is back at Straussler's pretending to be Jonathan."
And since you've filled him in on all of the afternoon's events, Joe chimes in. "And a hundred to one Curt Straussler's got the mask off him and locked him away." He grimaces. "Fat Eric will be mobile by now, and he's probably there too."
"But I don't understand," you stammer. "This afternoon Gordon told me that he wanted to replace Jonathan. That's why I went out there, so I could--"
Too late you realize you've said way too much about exactly the wrong thing. Frank turns his head fractionally in your direction. Joe puts his arm around you. "It was nice knowing you, Prescott," he sighs.
No one says anything for a very long time. Frank finally grunts. "We'll talk later. And this isn't a problem, I guess, except maybe for Patterson. We've got the Libra and the supplies, a lot of the masks--"
"But not all of them, Frank," Joe says. "And if Patterson gets a bunch to Fane for them to reverse engineer--"
"They've already got Monique's mask for research," Frank says.
"In the meantime, what do we do about tall, blonde and stinking, stinking rich?" Joe asks.
"Take him home. He's done nothing wrong, and Straussler will be wanting his son back. Besides, that's where we're likely to find Patterson. We still oughta question him."
* * * * *
They drop your truck and golem off at your house--where the latter will surely catch hell for being out so late--and the three of you take Patterson's car back out to Jonathan's. "Recon, Joe," Frank says when you park a hundred yards from the gate.
"Oh, I can eyeball the outsides," Joe retorts. "But I can't open doors. That's your department."
"Fuck. There's gonna be motion sensors all over the grounds. Well, let's do it. You--" He shoves a strong finger in your face. "Stay."
You huddle miserably as they drop Jonathan in a gulch by the tall wall that circles his estate. Then they disappear toward the gate.
As you wait, you try to blame Joe for your cock up. If he hadn't made you so relaxed, you wouldn't have let your guard down for that one fatal moment. He was treating you so decently that you-- It doesn't work. The fact that he was being so decent makes you feel guilty for even trying to be mad at him.
In the distance, lights go on, and alarms honk. Dogs bark. You sit up nervously and watch. Your hand goes to the ignition, but Frank has taken the keys. Tensely, you wait.
A dark figure sprints up, and Frank leaps in; without a word he jams the car into drive and roars off down the road at a breakneck pace. "What about Joe?" you cry.
"Joe's fine," he says. "That astral twin of his doesn't leave a scent or a footprint. It's already inside the house. Joe himself is way off over there, behind that screen of trees. He'll catch up to us later."
And find Frank picking his teeth over your headless corpse, you think glumly to yourself.
Frank drives for a couple of miles, until he's at the junction with the old highway, before he stops. He stares in the rearview mirror, and over his shoulder, long and hard before finally relaxing. "It'll be twenty minutes at least," he mutters. "Plenty of time."
"Time for what?" you ask in a small voice. "To kill me?"
"For Joe to search that place," Frank says. "If Patterson's there, we'll go back, and I'll bust in to get him. It'll make an unholy racket, but I don't care by this point. I need something to hit.
"And I'm not going to hit you, Prescott," he continues after you say nothing. "I already knew the story that got fed me was bullshit. Patterson--and his golem, neither--wasn't home when I first went by there, so I went to see Gordon Black. He thought I was you, and I let him, until he'd spilled a lot. Then I beat the rest out of him, got leads on where to find a bunch of other victims. Got most of them turned loose before I went back to Patterson's. So yeah, I was waiting for you to step in it." He looks over at you. "I'm just glad to know it was Joe lying to me, not you to both of us. He was always a softer touch than me."
"You didn't see him at the comic book shop this afternoon," you murmur. "He threatened to beat me to death with my own arm."
Frank chortles softly. "He always says he's got nothing to learn from me, but I know he's been picking up tricks. Like I pick up some from him. Knowing when to keep quiet and when to talk." He pauses. "When to keep my temper in check and let people beat on themselves."
It sounds like a pointed invitation for further confessions and apologies. "I'm really sorry, Frank," you say. "I knew what I was doing was wrong. But I was afraid of Patterson, when we were back at Westside, so I went along with it. And after I got over to Eastman--"
Your tongue turns very thick, but you have to continue, for Frank is saying nothing.
"I got a mask of Joe. I went back to your place, pretending to be him. I should have told you what was going on, got your help in stopping Patterson then, and freed Joe. But I fucked up. Because I am a fuck up. I know I'm a fuck up, and I didn't--"
Your breathing becomes labored. Frank is still utterly silent.
"It's because you and Joe are the opposite of fuck ups, Frank. I didn't have any of that special stuff you and Joe have, but even without it, you guys make Patterson and Black look like kindergarteners. And I'm way worse even than them. So--"
You grind the heel of your hand into your eye socket. "Do you have any idea how awesome it felt to be you guys? To be so smart, and so good at doing things? I had Eastman so totally-- So freaking wired. I had those girls eating out of my hand, and I had the guys-- This one guy, Lynch, who's like a psycho bully? I only had to look at him while I was being you, and he totally shat himself. I mean, I just looked at him, and he knew I could make him cry like a little girl. I didn't want to give that up, I wanted to keep it forever." Your voice turns very hoarse, for your throat is tight and your mouth very dry. "It's like the way some people would want all of Straussler's money--"
"Okay, you can shut up now," Frank says. "This is getting embarrassing."
"I don't want you to think I'm gay--"
"No, I get it. I know what you mean. Everyone knows what you mean, Prescott."
He turns to gaze out the window.
"All of us, we all see someone who's got more of something we want," he says. "If it's money, we want their money. If it's their car, we want their wheels." A pause. "If he knows how to talk to girls, how to be free and easy with them-- Well, we want that talent he's got. So if it's not one of their possessions, if it's something that they are, then we want to be them. In some way or other, even if it's just to ape them, ape their style. You guys just took it a little farther, because you could."
You suck on your cheek. "I don't mean to narc on your brother, but he told me this evening that he thought the masks were really tempting."
"Did he? I'm not surprised. Joe likes playacting. If I don't stop him, he'll put some of those masks on before we leave, swan around the house pretending to be those people, just for kicks." His face turns grim. "Me? I'm not tempted."
You wonder, but say nothing, and neither of you speak until a breathless Joe leaps from the dark. "Place is empty," he gasps. "Not a trace of anyone."
* * * * *
"I don't know why you won't let me do this!" Joe shouts, yanking the mask from his brother.
"Because you'll goof off and not get it done!" Frank yanks it back. "I'll have it done before lunch!"
"Let Prescott decide," Joe says. "It's his face!"
It's the next morning, and you've agreed to let one of them go in to school as you, to free the last of the golemized people at Westside. It'll be faster than waiting for after school.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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