Spring-Heeled Jack (17 page)

It’s all a bad dream, he
thought.

Then, a piercing sound rang throughout
the machinarium. Metal scraping against metal. When he opened his
eyes, Atticus saw the EMI unit cleaved perfectly down the middle.
Detective McCloud stood in front of him, his sword at his
side.

“
Lad, what happened? Are you
alright?”

Atticus tried to nod his
head, but it was obvious that the use of his power had overexerted
him. The detective helped him up to his feet and held him up.
Atticus was afraid that the detective would see his
Queen of Spades
, but it
had already vanished.

“
Do you need to go to the
hospital?”

Atticus shook his head. “I’m okay,
just a bit worn out.”

McCloud didn’t look so sure, but he
didn’t argue. He helped carry Atticus out of the machinarium, out
of Zebulon headquarters, and assisted him in getting all the way
back to Fortuna Prep. He’d pulled some strings and got some of the
Zebulon workers to give them a ride.

The ride back wasn’t too long, but it
was very quiet. No one said a word except for when they finally
arrived back at the school. McCloud told the driver that he would
head back on foot after he knew Atticus was okay.

The two made their way to the school
fountain, where McCloud wanted to talk. “So tell me the truth, what
happened back in there?”

“
I don’t know,” Atticus said
shrugging. “The automaton just started up and attacked
me.”

McCloud shook his head. “That can’t
be. None of those machines were active.”

“
Well, that one sure was.”
Atticus stuck a hand in the fountain water and splashed his face.
“I think the Ghost may have been there, waiting for me.”

“
No, lad, that isn’t
possible,” McCloud said. “Zebulon security is top notch. No one
gets in or out without me knowing.”

“
But, what if he was hiding
for a while,” Atticus asked. “What if he knew I would be
there?”

McCloud wasn’t having any of it. “I’m
sorry, but like I said lad: It’s just not possible. Now, another
question: How did you get that other automaton to work?”

Atticus looked at his hands.
He didn’t want to say anything about his
Queen of Spades
to McCloud. “Maybe I
have a natural talent. Y’know, because of my parents?”

It was obvious that McCloud didn’t
believe that, but he didn’t pry, which Atticus appreciated. He knew
that with the detective’s skill, he’d have no problem weaseling the
truth out of him.

McCloud helped Atticus back to his
feet and the two made their way to the dorm. Atticus thanked the
detective for the tour, and McCloud apologized for such a rough
ending, and then the two exchanged farewells.

Atticus opened the door to his dorm,
preparing himself for a long night’s sleep. He didn’t expect to
find Brock sitting on his bed waiting for him.

While Atticus was with McCloud at
Zebulon HQ, Brock decided to do a little investigation of his own.
He wanted to figure out what happened between Atticus and Camila.
He’d said he screwed up, but he didn’t want to say what he did.
Brock decided that he’d get to the bottom of it and ask Camila
herself.

He found her studying alone in the
school library, her nose crammed in a book like usual. It didn’t
surprise him that the class valedictorian would be studying on a
Saturday. She looked so gentle. Before he left, Atticus had said
she got pretty upset with him. He didn’t put it past her; the sweet
ones were always the deadliest.

As he approached her table, Camila’s
expression shifted. She went from calm and collected to stern and
frustrated without ever looking up from her book.

Can she smell me, Brock
thought?

“
Hey,” he said, “how’s it
going?”

“
Did Atticus ask you to talk
to me?”

Brock shook his head. “I came here on
my own. I want to know what happened.”

“
Well, I don’t want to talk
about it.”

“
Talking about it always
helps.” Brock tried to cheer her up, but she wasn’t having any of
it. She was incredibly hurt. It wasn’t just rage, but something
much deeper. “If you’d like,” he said, “I promise that nothing will
leave this table.”

Camila slammed the book shut, but her
eyes remained averted. “I said I don’t want to talk about
it!”

“
If that’s the case, why’d
you slam your book,” he said. “Why not just ignore me?”

She closed her eyes and said, “Because
guys like you just don’t get the hint.” Brock could hear a feint
whimper in her voice. He was afraid at any moment she’d start
crying, and he was not ready to handle that in school’s
library.

Brock decided that he’d have to ease
his way into the situation. He had to let her know that he really
did care. As he thought about it, he noticed she had a bandage
wrapped around her right hand.

“
Hey, what
happened?”

He pointed at the bandage and Camila
instantly hid her hand under the table. “I-I burnt it last night
after I got back. I was being careless.”

“
Is it okay?”

“
Of course it’s okay,” she
snapped. “It’s not like it melted off or anything. It’s just a dumb
little burn!”

She wasn’t making it easy for him, but
Brock couldn’t give up. “Was it because of Atticus,” he asked. “The
reason why you were so careless? Were you angry or sad?”

“
Why are you so persistent
about this?”

“
Because I know Atticus,” he
said, “and he would never want to see you hurt like
this.”

Camila didn’t say a word.

“
Y’know, I don’t think
Atticus meant to upset you so badly. He was so anxious to be with
you that he couldn’t decide what to wear. Whatever happened, it had
to have been an accident.”

For a minute, Camila didn’t want to
answer.

Finally, she took a deep breath and
said, “He just left me.”

“
What do you mean he just
left?”

Camila averted her eyes. “Just what I
said. He went to the bathroom and didn’t come back,” she said. “He
started acting a bit skittish, and I assumed it was just nerves.
But, when he didn’t come back, I got scared that something bad
happened to him. When I went out go check on him, he was gone. And
then this morning, I see him up and about perfectly fine!” She
tightly shut her eyes. “He said he was afraid of something, and
that’s why he left.”

Afraid of something, Brock
thought?

“
Afraid of what? Did he
say?”

Camila shrugged. “I don’t know,
something about being followed.”

Brock thought about all of the things
he’d gone through with Atticus lately. He thought about the
criminal group, Mekanile, and if there was something going on with
them. Atticus was afraid his parents may have been involved with
them in some way. Maybe they didn’t like the fact that he was
getting involved with their affairs and were now trying to scare
him out of it. Brock didn’t know, but he knew well enough that
Atticus wouldn’t lie about that, especially if involved him missing
his date with Camila.

“
Hey, I don’t think he was
lying to you,” he said. “This whole week, Atticus has just been
really caught up and-”

“
I know,” Camila
interrupted, “his detective junk.” Camila’s face shifted again,
back to an angry expression. “You tell him that when I’m ready to
talk, I’ll find him.”

She packed up her things and abruptly
left the library, leaving Brock alone at the table. He figured from
an outsider’s perspective, he looked like a huge jerk.

He sat at the table alone for a long
while in silence. Brock knew that Camila still liked Atticus. It
was thicker than peanut butter, but he knew there was nothing more
he could do. He did what he set out to do, figure out what happened
between them, and while Atticus chickening out and running home
sounded like him, he didn’t buy that with Camila. He liked her just
as much as she liked him. He wouldn’t have just left her because he
got date anxiety. Something wasn’t right.

When Atticus arrived back at the dorm,
he was surprised to see Brock waiting for him so patiently. It was
a bit unsettling.

“
H-Hey, Brock. What’s going
on?”

Brock’s stare was unwavering. “We need
to talk.”

Brock sat Atticus down and told him
about his talk Camila. He demanded that Atticus tell him the whole
truth about the evening. Atticus knew not hold anything back, so he
spilled the beans. He told him about bumping into the Ghost at the
theater, about his meeting with McCloud, the dream with his
parents, and then he told him about the Zebulon tour and how he’d
almost become automaton chow.

“
Y’know,” Brock said, “this
whole debacle with you and this
Jack
character seems awfully
familiar.”

“
What do you mean,” Atticus
asked.

“
What Mike said in his
note,” he said. “Being followed. Never feeling safe when you
leave.”

“
And trying to make the
murders look self-inflicted or accidental!”

Brock agreed.

The two wanted to go on talking more
and more about what they’d learn, bouncing ideas off one another,
but Atticus was far too exhausted. He told Brock that he needed
sleep, but that he felt more confident than ever. He promised that
together they’d solve the case, and now he was even closer to
solving the puzzle.

When Atticus got to his bed,
he collapsed. His body felt sore, and his mind numb. He looked at
his right hand and wondered even more about the
Queen of Spades
and where it’d came
from. For years, he could just control it naturally, but he
couldn’t remember when it first appeared or why. He just accepted
it.

As he closed his eyes, the
words of his mother rang in his ears: “
The
Jack
lies to you.”

And then, he fell asleep.

*****

The next week passed by
quickly. The days passed one by one with Atticus and Brock going to
class like always, trying to dig up ideas about the identity
of
The Jack
. They
picked up newspaper articles and books from the school library,
trying to find any information about the Mekanile group. Sadly,
they couldn’t find much. They found a few articles from the paper
about the group taking down a Zebulon Carrier Airship or robbing
thousands of dollars from Zebulon affiliates across the country,
but no names of members were listed.

When Monday came around, Professor
Varnum returned to class. He claimed that he was just having some
digestive problems that came with old age, but Atticus knew better.
The professor wasn’t the same after that day. He was quieter and
more restrained. During class, he was even more reclusive in his
text books, almost as if he didn’t want to meet eyes with his
students. Every so often, he would cease to speak and grip his
chest in pain. It only ever lasted a second or two, but it did
concern most of the students. Nobody liked Varnum, but it wasn’t
enjoyable to see an old man in pain like that.

One day after class, Varnum announced
to the class that a memorial service would be held for their
recently passed classmate, Michael Nelson, that upcoming Saturday.
He’d said that any students willing to help with the event would be
granted extra credit in addition to it being very much appreciated.
Not many students seemed eager to jump to the task, but several did
for the extra points.

As Atticus was leaving class, Varnum
yanked him aside and told him that since he skipped his class,
hewould be forced to attend in order to make up for the missed
time. Atticus didn’t argue. He planned on attending anyways, so
getting some extra points wasn’t a bad bonus. Brock also jumped on
the free points wagon. Camila, on the other hand, did
not.

Camila was another obstacle Atticus
was trying to overcome that week. She didn’t seem angry at him
anymore, but she ignored him at every chance she was given. Atticus
was heartbroken. He wished she would give him a chance and let say
something, but whenever he got close, she just shut him down and
left.

Brock assured him that she’d be
fine.

“
She’ll talk to you when
she’s ready,” he said.

Atticus didn’t like that, but if that
was the case, he’d be patient. Still, he thought, hearing her voice
at least might help take the pain away.

Friday, after class, was Mike’s
funeral service. All sorts of people attended: Friends and family,
as well as some of the students and faculty. His parents, Dr. and
Mrs. Nelson, were there obviously, as was Detective McCloud. Oddly
enough, Professor Varnum attended. That was a mystery to
everyone.

Atticus went by himself. He told Brock
that he wanted to go alone. He didn’t know why, he just felt better
going by himself. Maybe it was because he and Mike never really
hung out with anybody else. Occasionally Brock would join them, but
not often, and the same went with some of Mike’s friends. Normally,
it was just the two of them, and that’s how Atticus felt it should
be. Just him and no one else.