Chapter Thirty: ‘No quarter...’

Hector was in shock.

He wanted to run from the room, but his legs refused to work. For a time, he could only stare at the red words in disbelief. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be.

But there was more. Horrifically, he saw another bloody message, this time on the sliding doors to his closet. Simply:

open -->

He didn’t want to. He dreaded what he would see in there. But he had to look. He had to know what Geoffrey had done. And when he slid the door back, he saw a second dead body.

This one was Nathan. The young man had surely come to offer Hector a ride to school. And Geoffrey had torn him to pieces.

And still another message was scrawled onto the rear wall of the closet:

See you at school, son.

Hector could hardly breathe. He wanted to cry. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream. But more than anything else--he wanted to kill Geoffrey. As the seconds passed, as he regained his mind, his breath, Hector soon decided that the only thing that mattered now was ensuring Geoffrey never hurt anyone ever again. All other concerns came second. His grief and disgust and shock, it would all have to wait.

Tears in his eyes, he bolted back downstairs. Geoffrey had already left, of course, but Hector checked the rest of the house to be sure. He still saw no sign of his mother.

Back on the motorcycle, he pressed the machine for all the speed it could give him. He tried to think. What would Garovel do? Probably try to assess the situation calmly. Hector didn’t know if he could do that right now. He’d never felt this kind of mind-numbing anger before, this unfiltered hatred. But Garovel wasn’t here to talk sense into him. And he could not afford to be stupid about this, or even more people would end up dead.

What’s more, Hector feared himself when he was this angry. Most of all, he feared that he might accidentally hurt someone innocent.

So he suppressed the fury, smothered it in his mind until it was only a vague heat, a passenger to his thoughts instead of the driver. And he focused. All that meditation had not just been for imaginary power. At the very least, he knew how to clear his mind.

Hector knew Geoffrey’s power had grown. That was simple enough to deduce. And without Garovel, Hector had no access to regeneration or enhanced strength. But he still had his iron. And he sure as fuck wasn’t about to run away. Iron alone would have to do.

He arrived at the school, taking the side entrance into the building. His helm drew strange looks as he rushed through the halls. There were not as many students as usual, but searching was still a chore. He tried to be both quick and thorough, eyeing people carefully, searching for the vacant expression of a puppet.

Then he heard a series of shrieks and ran toward them. A group of students were fleeing from a long streak of blood that snaked into the boy’s bathroom.

He walked in on a scene of three people crouching over another. Crimson stains were everywhere. Hector recognized the dead body on the floor. Micah Chamberlain. The three people on top of him looked up in unison. All obviously puppets. Bloodied, ripped flesh hung from their lips.

“There you are,” one of them said for Geoffrey, spitting out a red gob. “I’m in the teacher’s lounge. Come meet me, and then we can--”

And they were completely encased in iron, all three at once, thick enough to render them entirely immobilized.

Hector left them there to suffocate.

He paused as he came out of the bathroom. A crowd of students was staring at him, and he briefly lost concentration again. And Micah’s face flashed in his mind. ‘No,’ he told himself, squinting inside his helm. ‘Not yet...! Don’t think about it yet!’

He took a wavering breath and stepped forward. The crowd shied away from him, and he saw their terrified faces. They were scared of him, he suddenly realized. Of course they were.

But there was no time. Hector ran for the teacher’s lounge, as fast as his unenhanced legs would allow. He soon grew winded, but that wasn’t enough to slow him down. The sight of Sheryl, however, made him stop.

She was still alive. Geoffrey hadn’t gotten to her yet. Hector ran toward her. She seemed frightened of him, too--or of the helm at least--but she couldn’t see the puppets stalking her from behind.

Four of them. The closest one leapt at her. Hector tackled it to the ground.

He tried to encase the other three in iron, but he was only able to seal their legs. The one below bit him above the elbow and tore out a chunk of flesh. Hector grit his teeth and made a metal knife. The puppet flailed, trying to throw him off, and he buried the blade into its eye socket. Blood spurted onto Hector’s helm and gloves as he held it there until the puppet stopped thrashing.

The other three had all fallen over without the use of their legs, but they still crawled toward the fleeing Sheryl. Hector finished encasing them and then ran after her.

“Wait!” he yelled. “Sheryl! It’s not safe!”

“Stay the fuck away from me!”

“It’s me! Hector! Please stop running!”

She did not seem interested in listening.

Another puppet sprung out at Sheryl as she passed an intersection. It grabbed her and dragged her to the ground as she shrieked and tried to pull herself away.

Hector coated the attacker’s face. The groove for its mouth bumped harmlessly against Sheryl’s neck, but the puppet still thrashed. Hector completed the coating and then shoved the iron statue off of her.

She tried to get up and flee again, but he grabbed her hand.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed.

“It’s okay!” He pulled up the jaw of his helm, revealing his face. “Sheryl, look at me!”

Her glance turned to a stare. “H-Hector!”

“That’s right.”

“But you! Y-you killed that other guy! And--and--”

“He would have killed you,” Hector said. “Or someone else.”

“Why?! Who was he?! What the fuck is going on here?!”

“It’s--agh--it’s really hard to explain,” he said. “Please, you have to stay close to me. I have to--” And he realized that he wasn’t sure what to do with her. Just getting her out of the building didn’t seem like it would be enough. As long as Geoffrey was alive, she would be in danger. And so would the others. “Where are Gregory and Janine?” he asked.

“W-why? Are they in danger, too?”

“Yes.” He tried to keep his voice calm, for her sake as much as his own. “Do you know where they are?”

“Well, I--ah--” Trembling, she took a moment, squinting as she thought. “We usually come to school together, but uh--today it was just me and Micah. I, uh--I figured it was because of the power outage last night. A lot of people d-didn’t come to school today, because, b-because of that. Or I th-thought that was why, but m-maybe--”

“That’s good,” said Hector. “They’re safer at home.”

“Oh, that won’t make much difference,” said another voice, belonging to yet another of Geoffrey’s minions as it approached them from the rear corridor.

Hector placed Sheryl behind him and pulled the helm’s jaw back down. He tried not to acknowledge the face of Geoffrey’s puppet, but he had known Jenny Friedman for years. He had never been friends with her, scarcely even acquaintances, but still. Seeing her like this, blank-faced and mindless, was enough to make his stomach turn.

“I already know where Gregory and Janine live,” she said for Geoffrey. “And you will not be able to reach them before my fetchers do.”

“You’re lying,” said Hector.

“How do you think I know who your friends are? Everything Nathan knew, I know. And Micah. And Samuel. Everyone I have taken has provided me with a wealth of knowledge.”

Sheryl flinched. “Nathan and Micah? What’s he talking about?”

Geoffrey ignored her. “I have learned some delightful things about you, Hector. And I would quite like to share. So please. Let us not drag this out any further. Come to the teacher’s lounge.”

“Stop attacking people, and I will.”

“Oh, very well. But bring Sheryl with you.”

“No. Let her go.”

“Honestly, Hector. Even if I agreed to do that, would you actually trust me to follow through? I would like to see her reactions, as well, so just make this easy and bring her with you. Refuse, and Ms. Trent will be dead before you get here.”

Hector scowled. “Fine.”

“Excellent. Follow me.”

They started walking, Jenny’s lifeless body leading the way.

“Hector,” Sheryl whispered. “What happened to Nathan and Micah?”

He couldn’t answer that. He couldn’t even look at her.

“A-are they... dead?”

His silence was answer enough.

“Oh, goddess...!” She started shaking even more violently than before.

“I...” He had to say it with confidence or she wouldn’t believe him. And he needed her to believe him. “I won’t let that happen to you.”

Geoffrey overheard. “Oh, Hector. Don’t lie to the poor girl.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

They soon arrived. Jenny entered first and joined Geoffrey by his side.

As soon as he saw the aberration’s face--his father’s face--Hector had to hold himself back. The urge to attack immediately was so strong that it made every muscle in his body go taut. If it hadn’t been for Sheryl’s presence, for the notion that her safety trumped killing Geoffrey, then the fight would have already begun.

“You are bleeding,” Geoffrey observed. “Why have you not healed yet?”

He could hardly feel the wound on his arm, even though he was sure that it must’ve been throbbing like crazy. But instead of answering Geoffrey’s question, Hector chose to reassess the situation. Ms. Trent was pinned to the wall, covered from neck to toe in crimson shadow. Her mouth was covered, but according to her wide, panicked eyes, she was still herself.

Geoffrey smirked after a moment. “You have always been a difficult person to read, haven’t you? Even your father--well, your previous father--even he never really felt like he understood you. But then, he did not take a very active role in your life, did he? I am honestly curious as to what you thought of him. The whole reason I took his body was because I thought the two of you were close, but according to his memories, that does not seem to be the case. And yes, I know I said we should not drag things out, but I think we need to have a nice father-son chat before we finally settle matters here. Don’t you?”

Hector had no intention of responding. All he wanted was an opening.

“Ever the quiet one. Hmm. Then perhaps you will be interested in what I have to say. For instance, did you know that your father suffered from quite vivid hallucinations? Your parents never told you, right?”

Hector felt the fury bubbling up to the surface again. He didn’t even try to put it into words. That was probably what Geoffrey wanted him to do.

Geoffrey just kept talking. “They could be quite scary, these hallucinations. One time, when you were just a baby, he saw a bomb. Strange, right? Just this simple canister with a digital timer on it--very obviously reminiscent of his days spent defusing such things, not that he ever told you about that, either. The point, however, is that not only was it not a bomb, but it was actually you!” Geoffrey laughed. “He almost threw you out of a window! If you hadn’t started crying, he might not have snapped out of it in time. And he never told your mother about it.”

“...Why are you doing all this?” Hector finally asked. “Why do you enjoy seeing people suffer?”

“Hold on, I’m not finished with my story. See, your father used this condition of his as an excuse to keep you at arm’s length, under the pretense that he was afraid of hurting you or some such nonsense. He convinced himself that this was the case. But really, the truth of the matter--the thing he would never admit--was that you simply did not interest him. Because he didn’t love you. Isn’t that something?”

Hector’s chest trembled. “...Why would I believe anything you say?”

“Because it’s so surprising! I may not be human, but even I know what love feels like. And your father never felt it. Well, not for you, at least. Your mother, sure. He was fiercely in love with her. But you. You were always just. Sort of. There.”

Hector fell silent again. He tried to think. How to save Ms. Trent. How to keep Sheryl safe. Anger got in the way of every burgeoning idea.

“So that is why I’m curious. Was this mutual? Did I just waste my time? Or did you actually love him?” He laughed again. “Or maybe you hated him! Perhaps I did you a favor in killing him! How fantastic would that be?!”

Hector turned his head toward Sheryl, just enough so that he could still keep an eye on Geoffrey. “Please,” he whispered to her, “move to the corner there...”

“W-why?”

“I don’t want anyone sneaking up behind you while I’m... distracted...”

Sheryl nodded, and Hector stayed in front of her while they repositioned themselves away from the open door.

“Still refusing to answer me, I see,” said Geoffrey. “I will take that to mean you really did love your father, after all. Honestly, though, I cannot understand why. You know what the funniest thing is? I actually care more about you than he did.” He grinned with Samuel’s face. “And of course, I will be a much more attentive father.”

Hector clapped his hands together, and a wall of iron sprung up between him and Sheryl, as thick as he could make it from floor to ceiling. He took a step forward and then added a second layer, just as broad as the first.

“Ha. She will suffocate in there, you know.”

“You’d slip through any air holes.”

“I will just have to break it down, then.” The red shade shot toward him.

Hector made a shield--a crude slab of metal over his arm--and the shadow splashed against it, spraying outward before swirling around to Hector’s backside. He slashed with a focused dagger, but more red was already on the way. Within seconds, it had him entirely enveloped.

The shadow faltered against the iron wall, however, cutting into it but not nearly deep enough. “Eh. Too much hassle. I am not interested in Sheryl, anyway.”

Hector struggled, but without his undead strength, he couldn’t even move.

Ms. Trent popped off the wall, suspended in midair. “How about a bargain?” said Geoffrey. “Tell your reaper to show himself, and I will allow this woman to live.”

Hector coated his own body, focusing the iron with his soul. From his chest, a metal spike tore through the red shade, but a moment later, the shadow cut it off and filled the hole back in. He could feel it tightening around his body, digging through metal and scratching his flesh.

“How dull,” said Geoffrey. “I am so much stronger than you now. But we both know that killing you alone is useless. So come on. Bring your reaper here.”

“I can’t,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You would let this poor woman die to protect someone who is already dead?”

“No... I mean I can’t contact him right now.”

Geoffrey frowned. “Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. Perhaps we will try again later, then.”

Hector tensed, knowing that wasn’t all.

“I have had quite enough of waiting, however, so this teacher of yours will have to die in the meantime.”

“No!” He thrashed, creating metal frantically, fighting vainly with the red again. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

“Then stop me,” said Geoffrey. “Give me a real fight, at least. Amuse me. Fail, and this will not end with Ms. Trent. When we are done here, we will go visit your mother at work and try again. Hopefully, your reaper will be ready by then.”

He needed more. Burdened under panic, he could barely keep focus. This feeling, this desperation, he knew it well. He just had to make that same mental leap again. So why was it taking him so long? Why wouldn’t it just fucking work already? So many people had died. This stupid metal power. It had to evolve again. There was no other option. With every ounce of pressure in his mind, he demanded more. A growling scream exploded out of his mouth. His throat shredded itself.

And finally. He felt it there. The response.

A metal coat enveloped Hector in a flash. Massive spikes shot out all over his body, ripping dozens of holes into the shadow.

The lacerated crimson sunk back to Geoffrey, and he recoiled away from Hector. The shadow retained its grip on Ms. Trent, however, pulling her closer to his body. He started laughing as he looked at Hector. “Well done! But now I have to kill your teacher, of course.”

Ms. Trent let out a muffled scream as the red tightened around her. And then the metal coat was there for her as well. Unlike Hector’s, the spikes around Ms. Trent could not tear the shadow. Instead, they merely pushed it out, like taffy stretched across a bed of needles.

Geoffrey’s brow lowered. “Now that is just unfair.”

Hector had to annihilate his own coating in order to move again, but he kept iron around his chest, shins, and forearms. He put a gloved fist out to his side, and it shook as he concentrated on what he wanted. Around the fist grew fresh metal, but it did not stop with mere coating. It extended out, half a meter, until it reached a sharpened tip, and suddenly, instead of a right hand, he had a thick blade--a full sword with crude, jagged edges. It was heavy, weighing his arm down at first, but adrenaline helped him lift it.

He ran forward, sword held wide, and met the next wave of red with a spiked shield. He tore a path toward Geoffrey, who backed away; and instead of pursuing, Hector diverted toward Ms. Trent and slashed clean through the shadow. Her spiked cage clattered heavily to the floor as the shade retreated to Geoffrey. He freed the teacher from her metal bindings. She rolled over on the floor, gasping for breath.

“Aha, wow! How scary!” And a brief silence fell as the sound of nearby sirens filled the room. Geoffrey’s grin only broadened. “I think we need some more playmates.” He fled into the hallway with Jenny.

Hector freed Sheryl, told her to barricade the door, and then gave chase.