Authors: Owen Matthews
The Fixes (34 page)
Eric calls home with his cell phone. Gets the machine.
(
Damn it. Pick up.
)
He calls his dad's cell phone instead. His dad answers. “Senator Connelly.”
“Dad
.
”
Eric realizes he's yelling. Tries to keep his voice calm. “Dad, it's me. Dad, you need to stay home today.”
“Eric? Where are you?”
“It doesn't matter. I just need you to listen to me. You can't be at the gala today, okay? You have to get out of there. Mom, too.”
Eric's dad laughs, scornful. “Your mother is with her sister in San Francisco, Eric.
You
drove her there, and after all of the planning she put into this event. Though I'm certain San Francisco's not far enough to escape the shame.”
(Eric checks the time on his Omega. It's already twelve fifteen. The gala starts at six.)
“Dad, there's a bomb,” Eric says. “Jordan's going to blow up the gala. You can't be there when it happens.”
“Is this some kind of a joke? Are you on drugs?” Eric's dad's voice is hard. “You need to come home before you damage your future anyâ”
“Fuck my future,” Eric says. “Just stay home, okay?
Please
. Go somewhere and hide out until this is over.”
“I
will not
stay home,” his dad replies.
(Click.)
“Well?” Liam says.
Eric puts down the phone. “He basically told me to go fuck myself.”
“So what do we do now?”
Eric looks around. Looks at his watch. “I guess we find out if the police believed me.”
Ambleside Park is situated by the water on the west side of town. The symphony does performances there every Sunday in the summer. People get married with a view of the ocean.
(It's
Capilano's crown jewel
, if you believe the brochures.)
Eric and Liam park a couple blocks over from the west end of the parkâ
(the most isolated entrance).
They can hear music wafting through the trees, the string quartet rehearsing
(or something).
(Rich-people stuff.)
“You don't have to come with me,” Eric tells Liam. “It will probably get crazy in there. You should probably walk away.”
Liam stares out the window. “What if I drive away from here and the police don't defuse the bombs?”
“I mean, I can still probably stop him.”
“But what if you can't?” Liam shakes his head. “People could die. I can't just bail now.”
Eric looks at him. “Well, thanks.”
“You don't have to thank me.” Liam kind of laughs. “It's not like I
want
to be here.”
Eric and Liam sneak into the park. Creep toward the gala, the red carpet, a big tent, and the aforementioned string quartet. There's a valet stand out front, a parking lot.
(There's an army of police officers, too. They're everywhere.)
Eric and Liam hide in the trees at the edge of the parking lot. They hide for a long time. They watch the cops guarding the tent, and the workers scurrying in and out, and they listen to the string quartet rehearse the same goddamn Vivaldi number, like, eight million times.
And as the afternoon turns to evening, the party begins. Luxury cars fill the valet parking lot. Rich people in designer clothes line up outside the tent, posing for pictures on the red carpet.
Eric and Liam scan the arriving guests for any sign of Jordan. Search the valet lot for Jordan's dad's Tesla.
They don't see Jordan.
(But they do see . . .)
Eric grabs Liam's arm.
“Over there,”
he says, pointing.
“That's Paige.”
Liam frowns. “Oka-ay?” he says. “Who's Paige again?”
Eric gives him a look.
“Oh,”
Liam says. “One of the girls. You think she's here with Jordan?”
Eric doesn't know why Paige is here at all. He doesn't know why Paige isn't, like, a thousand miles away from here.
“You need to get her out of here,” he tells Liam. “Take her somewhere safe until this is over. I'll watch the tent.”
“You want
me
to talk to her?” Liam says.
“I can't go out there. What if the police know about me? I can't take the chance.”
Liam just watches as Paige crosses the lot to the line outside the tent. She looks around the park, once, and then joins the line.
“Go,”
Eric says. “Before she's inside.”
Liam pauses another beat. Then he swears and climbs out of the bushes, shaking his head.
Eric watches as Liam hurries across the valet lot to the line. He watches Liam approach Paige, tap her on the shoulder. He watches Paige frown as she turns and sees Liam. Watches her features darken as Liam says something.
Paige shakes her head.
She gestures emphatically.
She doesn't look like she wants to go anywhere.
Liam glances back at the bushes. Eric screams at him telepathically.
Do not. Let her. Go into that tent.
Liam turns back around to Paige. He says something else. Paige looks past Liam. She looks directly at the bushes where Eric's hiding.
She steps out of the line, and starts walking toward Eric.
Paige is in the bushes before Eric can react.
(She's tearing her Badgley Mischka, but she doesn't seem to care.)
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the cops,” she says. “I'm sick of this bullshit, Eric. I'm done.”
“I know,” Eric says. “I'm sorry. You were right, about everything. But you can't be here right now, Paige. It's too dangerous.”
“Yeah, I
know
. Haley said you and Jordan went crazy. She said you're going to destroy Anonymous-9 before he can tell them about us tonight.”
There's so much to unpack in that statement that Eric short-circuits for a moment. “Wait . . . Haley?”
“She texted me just after Anonymous dropped his last message. Told me to meet her at the gala.” Paige glares at him. “We're ending this, Eric. This
Pack
bullshit is like a million miles out of bounds already, andâ”
“Haley's dead,” Eric says.
Paige blinks. “What?”
“Haley didn't text you this morning. I saw Jordan kill her last night. She's dead, and she doesn't know anything about the gala, Paige. That was Jordan texting you from her phone.”
“Butâ” Paige's face goes slack. “How do you know?”
“Jordan has three more bombs,” Eric tells her. “He wants as many people here as possible before he sets them off. So he
invented Anonymous-9 to make sure they all came.”
Paige's mouth moves. She doesn't make any sounds, though. She looks down at the ground and plays Eric's words back.
“Haley's dead,” she says.
“Yeah,” Eric says. “I'm so sorry, Paige. I totally fucked this all up.”
Paige looks ready to reply. She doesn't get the chance. Because just as she starts to speak, the first bomb explodes.
The explosion doesn't come from the gala. It sounds like it came from far away, the other end of downtown probably, by the mall. It's muffled, but it's for sure a bomb blast. It sounds just like the bomb that destroyed the Côte d'Azur, the first bombâ
(Jordan's bomb)
(
E's
bomb).
“What the hell?” Liam says. “I thought you said Jordan's target was the gala.”
Eric's mind is racing. He's trying to figure this out. Outside the bushes, the Capilano PD is mobilizing. Cops are running to their cruisers. They're hollering into radios. They're slamming doors and whooping sirens, peeling rubber toward downtown.
“What's over there?” Paige says. “What would Jordan want to target?”
“The St. Regis. The marina. Tory Burch.” Liam thinks. “Anthropologie? Nordstrom Rack?
Starbucks?
”
The last of the police cars screams out of the parking lot. Its siren fades into the distance. A stillness descends. Dead quiet.
(And then Eric gets it.)
“It's just a diversion,” he tells Liam and Paige. “He's getting the police out of the way.”
Liam peers out of the bushes at the line of confused rich people and handful of rent-a-cops who are lingering in the wake of the PD's mass exodus.
“Looks like it worked,” he says.
KIK -- CAPILANO HIGH PRIVATE MESSAGE GROUP â 08/27/16 â 06:08 PM
USERNAME: Anonymous-9
MESSAGE: If you're not at the gala, kiddies, you're missing one epic party. Who's ready to know THE TRUTH???
Across the parking lot, outside the tent, everyone under the age of nineteen checks their phone at the same time.
          Â
(Eric can literally
see
the moment when Jordan's message hits.)
Kids start texting. Typing. They look up and chatter to the person next to them. Everyone's excited. Everyone's trying to get back in the tent.
The cops are forgotten.
The Pack's more important.
Eric has one focusâfind Jordan.
“I'm going to stop him,” Eric says. “Liam, come with me. Paige, you stay here.”
“Wait, what?” Paige frowns at Liam. “I don't even know this guy. How come he gets to go and I don't?”
“It's too dangerous,” Eric says. “Stay back here where it's safe.”
Paige shakes her head. “Screw you and your gender-normative bullshit. This is my fault, too. I'm going.”
From the look in her eyes, Eric knows he's not changing her mind. So he turns to Liam instead.
“Find Jordan's car,” he says. “It's a Tesla, probably hidden somewhere nearby. Disable it, if you can. And if he tries to escapeâ”
“He's not going anywhere,” Liam tells Eric. “I'll make sure of it.”
“Two bombs,” Eric tells Paige, as they scan the tentâ
(There's a stage for the speeches, close to where they're standing. A dance floor and that goddamn string quartet. Banquet seating, and aâ
crowded
âbar table.)
“Probably situated in a way to cause the most damage.”
“I'll take the far side. You take the near side,” Paige says. “What do we do when we find the bombs?”
“I'll get them out of here,” Eric tells her. “Get them into the forest, as far away from civilization as possible.”
Paige looks skeptical. “Those are live explosives. What if Jordan blows you up?”
Eric forces a smile. “I kind of deserve it. Better me than those old people, right? Even if they are godless hypocrites.”
Paige doesn't smile back.
Paige doesn't think it's funny.
“Hey,” Eric says, just before they disperse. “I'm sorry I flaked out so hard junior year. I know that was rotten of me. I should have, like, told you what was going on in my life.”
Paige stares at him like she doesn't understand. Then she kind of laughs. “You're doing this
now
? All the freaking time you had to apologize, and you choose
this moment
, Eric?”
“I mean,” Eric says. “It just felt like an appropriate time.”
“You watch too many movies. Apologize when this is over. Then maybe I'll listen.”
“Fine,” Eric says. “But I'm sorry anyway.”
Now Paige smiles. Just a little, but it's there.
It's a bonding moment.
It lightens the mood.
Paige and Eric enjoy it for a minute.
Then they make their move for the bombs.
Eric hurries through the rows of tables toward the stage, where the string quartet is just finishing up. He's bumping people as he passes them. They're complaining. He's causing a scene.
Eric doesn't have time to care right now.
(His phone buzzes.)
A text message from Liam.
Found J's car. This in the center console.
There's an image attached. A picture of a piece of paper. Blank, except for three lines, written in Jordan's neat, steady hand.
Three lines.
Three phone numbers, all nearly sequential.
(Eric gets it.)
These are the numbers to Jordan's burner phones.
These are the phone numbers that will set off Jordan's bombs.
(Eric enters them into his contacts.)
Eric's phone buzzes again.
He checks the screen, thinking it's Liam.
It's not.
KIK -- CAPILANO HIGH PRIVATE MESSAGE GROUP â 08/27/16 â 06:15 PM
USERNAME: Anonymous-9
MESSAGE: Confession time: One member of the SUICIDE PACK couldn't be here tonight. She had a tragic boating accident, and now she's dead.
KIK -- CAPILANO HIGH PRIVATE MESSAGE GROUP â 08/27/16 â 06:16 PM
USERNAME: Anonymous-9
MESSAGE: [A picture of HALEY KEEFER on Jordan's boat. She's smoking a cigarette and shooting the camera the finger.]
Around the tent, hundreds of smartphones light up.
(Audible gasps from the audience.)
KIK -- CAPILANO HIGH PRIVATE MESSAGE GROUP â 08/27/16 â 06:17 PM
USERNAME: Anonymous-9
MESSAGE: Two other PACK members should be here shortly. You'll recognize them. He's Cap High's nerdy but lovable STUDENT OF THE YEAR and she was in ITALIAN VOGUE.
A murmur from the crowd. Around Eric, heads start to turn. Eric can feel people looking at him.
There's no time for this game.
He scans the room, looking for a logical place to plant a bomb. Looking for Jordan's duffel bag.
Then he spots it.
The bag is sitting under a table by the cocktail bar. It's mostly hidden by an ornate tablecloth. Above it, the table is piled high with an elaborate pyramid of crystal champagne flutes.
Eric can see immediately why Jordan chose this spot.
(Shrapnel.)
(Plus the bar is swarming with people.)
His phone's buzzing again. Eric doesn't bother to check it. He sticks to the edge of the tent. Tries to stay inconspicuous. Hurries as fast as he dares toward the champagne table, his eyes scanning the crowd, expecting any second to see Jordan.
Expecting any second to,
well,
                 Â
(you know)
     Â
kablamo.
