Zero Regrets

(October 8, 2017)


20: Refugees

Ford called Mabel. "Are they there?"

He heard Mabel say, "Oh, hi. Just a second." After a brief silence, she said softly, "Got 'em both at the table. Allie's really on the edge. I'm gonna tell them you're my boyfriend. I'm afraid that if I say one word wrong, Allie's gonna run."

"Can you and Miss Yarrow persuade Miss Therrol to come to the Administration Buil—just a second." The dean was tugging his elbow. "What?"

"Let me walk out and speak to them," Carla said. "I'll bring them both back."

"Tread carefully," Ford said.

"You wait here. They're-?"

"At a table on the Student Center patio."

"I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

He waited on the sofa. It was more than two minutes, but not by much, before the door opened. "Dr. Pines," Carla said softly, "let's talk in the conference room next door."

He followed her. Walking in the conference room, his first impression was a twinge of nausea. One of the three girls at the table—to be absolutely honest—stank. Sour body odor, compounded of sweat and fear, hung over the girl half-slumped between Mabel and Brandi.

She looked oddly familiar at first, and then Ford's memory clicked. Allie Therrol was almost recognizable not because he had seen her before, not because he knew anyone who resembled her. In her stained yellow top, with her light brown hair hanging stringy and lank, her cheekbones gaunt, her eyes huge, Allie looked like one of those Depression-era waifs photographed in stark black and white by Dorothea Lange. Her dulled eyes looked into hopelessness, and her face had gone slack from exhaustion.

"She's worn out," Mabel said softly.

"Allie?" Carla asked. "Allie, dear, can you hear me?"

She didn't answer, but Ford saw her chin dip and rise in a slow nod.

"Dr. Canova," Brandi said, "Mabel's offered to let us both stay at her house at least until Wednesday. I think Allie wants to drop out, though. To go home."

"No," Ford said. He touched Carla's arm and jerked his head toward the door.

She said, "Excuse me for a moment." She and Ford stepped outside. "I think perhaps this would be the best—"

"No," Ford said. "Trust me. This—this force, this thing, it would follow her home. That's happened at least once before. The victim killed herself even though she had returned home. The thing is influencing her thoughts. There's a psychic connection that distance can't weaken, and I think sending her back would be extraordinarily dangerous for the girl—and from what her roommate has told us, her parents aren't sympathetic toward her claims of being persecuted by some occult force or entity."

"Will Allie be safe?"

"It's the house my niece, nephew, and nephew's wife share. I know this sounds mad, but it has occult protections that I myself supervised. I think for the time being, it may be the safest place for her."

"Is she ill?"

"Are you asking because of her poor hygiene? I'm fairly certain she isn't ill in the organic sense, Dr. Canova. But psychologically, she's desperately sick. At the house she'll be at least partly shielded from this thing's influence. She'll be able to clean up, we'll feed her well, and I think she'll recover some lost ground. Listen, though. This is imperative. You should evacuate the entire fourth floor of Colby Residence Hall."

"We don't have any space for the students," Carla said. "The dorms are packed. But—I don't know."

"Declare an emergency," Ford said. "There's a motel not far from here—I'm staying there, in fact—and it has at least twenty vacancies. Put the students there until Wednesday."

"The cost—"

"—is nothing compared to lives," Ford said. "Think of this thing as a contagion. It grows stronger as it drives young minds to such desperation that the students kill themselves just to escape from the terror. If the students in 439 are away, unreachable, then it will seek others. I strongly suspect that there's a reason for the—call it a haunting—to be localized to that one room. The phenomenon seems to be anchored just above that room, up in the attic. Tell me, were any of the other suicide victims residents of Colby Hall?"

"Just those four."

"And all from the same room. I don't think the force is strong enough to reach down to the third floor, not right now—but it could conceivably extend into room 440 or 437, if not further. To be safe, get the students out. I have a source of funding that could pay for the rooms for tonight, Monday, and Tuesday nights. The University won't have to reimburse the money. The students will probably have to be housed four to a room."

"Probably not," Carla said. "About half of our students have gone home for the fall break. Do you think the returning ones might be able to sleep on the fourth floor on Tuesday night?"

"I can't say for certain. If not, we'll need to intercept them as they return to campus."

"We can do that," she said. "How soon should we evacuate?"

"Now. Do it today. Give the girls an hour to pack necessities and any study materials they need—just for a short stay—and—oh, can you arrange transportation to and from campus?"

"We have two buses. Is this the Tekoa Motel?"

"Yes, that's right."

"I can arrange for a bus to take them to the motel, and for it or van to be available on call if the students need to get back to campus before Monday morning."

"Good. I'm going to call an agency and have it reserve the rooms. You call in your staff and—oh, give them the excuse that there's an insect problem, I don't know. And make sure the girls in the dorm aren't given the option to stay. Lock the fourth-floor stairwell doors. If possible, don't allow the elevators to open on the fourth floor."

"I'll see if that's possible. But how—"

"I'll need a key," Ford said. "Someone has to go up there to deal with this thing. I have a team, but we'll have to prepare and be more than careful, because when we go—it's going to be dangerous."


From the Journals of Dipper Pines: The bridge is finished. It took over two hours to space and fasten the treads. I walked across and back again, and they felt solid underfoot. Tripper pranced across to the far side and stood looking around him like Alexander the Great thinking, "I have a new world to conquer!"

"Let's go back, boy," I said.

He's such a smart dog. He took a deep breath, looked at me, and I swear, nodded. Then he strolled across the bridge as if I'd built it just for him and led the way back. I carried the cordless drill, the little case of drill bits and screwdriver bits, and the few remaining exterior screws in a plastic bag. Tripper led the way beside the fence, up to the back gate, and waited until I opened it for him. In the yard, he ran laps around the inside of the fence—it's a routine of his—while I went in, stored the drill and the spare screws in the back of the garage, and then showered and changed. By the time I came out into the living room again, Tripper was up on the sofa.

He grinned at me and hopped down. Lucky he hardly sheds at all. The house seemed so empty. Then my phone rang: Wendy.

"We're about to take off," she said. "We should land in Crescent City right around three."

"How'd it go?"

"We talked to the first victim's sister. Got some information. We think we know how it all started—tell you about that when I see you."

"Bridge is finished. Got a call from Grunkle Ford half an hour ago. We're gonna have those two girls as house guests tonight. Mabel wants to give them our bedroom, we'll take her room, and she'll sack out on the couch. Ford says it's important."

"OK. We'll have to figure out something for dinner."

"I'll ask them when they get here. Grunkle Ford's taking Mabel and the girls shopping, because Ford doesn't want them to go to their dorm room even to pack. We're supposed to plan out our attack tonight."

"Gotcha. I'll tell Amy. We'll be ready."

"OK. Tell Hazard I said to fly you safely home."

"I think she'll get us back in one piece. Gotta go. Love you, man."

"Love you too, Magic Girl."

I didn't want lunch. Nervous stomach, I suppose. I drank a Pitt's Cola, making a mental note that we were running low. Mabel had planned to pick up some more over the Columbus Day break, but—well, maybe I could get Soos to ship us a couple of cases.

Just heard the garage door open, so more later.


"Hey, Broseph!" Mabel said as she came in from the garage. "Look, quick, we're gonna take Allie into your bathroom. She's gotta have a shower, don't embarrass her."

"No," Dipper said.

Brandi came in, half-leading a thin, bedraggled girl. "Which way?" she asked.

Mabel waved from the master bedroom door. "Right here! Dip, Grunkle Ford needs a little help."

"Hi," Dipper said, but the new girl—presumably Allie Therrol—only looked at him vaguely as Brandi helped her to where Mabel waited. Tripper didn't rush up for a pat, but sat and watched and whined softly.

Dipper went into the garage. Ford was spraying the interior of his Land Runner with an air freshener. "Sorry," he said, straightening. "Miss Therrol has been sleeping in her car or just walking the campus all night for three or four nights. She's neglected to clean up. If you'll take this bag, I'll get the other."

"What are these?" Dipper asked, hefting a big plastic bag with the Sprawl-Mart logo on it.

"Underwear, clothes, and toiletries for the two roommates," Ford said. "Mabel got their sizes and bought them all."

"Where did she get the money?"

"I let her use my credit card," Ford said.

The two bags looked as thought they held enough clothing and supplies for six months. "That might have been a mistake."

"No, not if it saves a life," Ford said. They took the bags to the master bedroom and left them on the bed. They could hear the shower running.

"Come with me," Ford said. "I want to show you something."

They went to the front door, Ford opened it, and then he said, "It's difficult to see, but look toward the mailbox and concentrate on your peripheral vision."

Dipper did as requested. He thought he saw the faintest flicker of color. Squinted his eyes. Oh, yes. He knew what it was. "Purple," he said aloud. "The protective field."

"I'd hoped it would never be activated," Ford said. "But I'm so glad that I installed it."

"Thanks, man," Dipper said. "I think you might have saved our butts. But did the monster follow you?"

"I don't believe that's even possible," Ford said. "But the . . . call it the evil influence—that, I think, has latched onto Allie Therrol. I hope that here inside the house she's shielded from it. I'm hoping she'll recover."

"Agent—I mean Deputy Director Hazard and Wendy are on their way back. They should be here in an hour or a little more. When they come through the barrier—"

"Nothing should harm them," Ford said. "Text message Wendy and I'll do the same with Hazard. Just say that they must be aware that the protection field is up. Have them pull the car as close to the garage door as possible before disembarking. That will put them well within the sphere of protection."

Twenty minutes later, Mabel hustled in. "Listen, Allie hasn't eaten anything for two days. I'm gonna cook her a breakfast, OK?"

Dipper got up. "I'll help."

They cooked a stack of pancakes, scrambled a couple of eggs, and poured a glass of orange juice. When Allie and Brandi came in, Mabel said, "You look like you feel a hundred per cent better!"

"A little," Allie said in a rusty voice, hoarse and edgy. She couldn't meet Dipper's gaze. "I'm so much trouble."

"No, not at all," Ford said.

"My wife's on her way home," Dipper said. "We're happy to have you and Brandi as our guests. Here, we've made you some breakfast."

"Hey, Brandi," Mabel said, "I'm gonna have some of this. How about joining us?"

"I shouldn't," Brandi said, "but it does smell good."

"What do you want to drink? OJ, coffee, milk?"

"Milk, I guess. OJ and syrup don't mix well with me," Brandi said.

Allie expressed no preference, but sat and immediately drained her big glass of juice. "I was so thirsty!" she said. "Brandi, it—it's not here. I don't feel it here."

"You're safe," Ford said.

Dipper scrambled more eggs, made a note on the shopping list held by magnets to the fridge to pick up more on the next grocery run, and served Mabel and Brandi, refilling Allie's juice glass as he did so. He toasted four slices of bread, sliced a tomato, and fried some bacon, and he and Ford had a late lunch of BLT sandwiches and chips.

Allie ate, beginning slowly, and then eagerly. "You'll feel better now," Mabel assured her.

Brandi and Dipper washed up. Allie acted as if she were waking up from a daze. "What's happening to me?" she asked plaintively.

"We'll talk about that later," Mabel said firmly. Right now, you should try to have a nap. You can't have slept very well in a car."

"I—I'm not sure I've slept in days," Allie said.

"Come on. Great big bed. Brandi and you can share. Gonna be a slumber party!" Mabel announced. "Guys, she's gonna rest a little. Keep it down in here."

"We'll try our best," Ford said.

Brandi, nearly as sleep-deprived as her roommate, went into the bedroom to stretch out next to her. After a few minutes, Mabel tiptoed out. Tripper came to her and she bent to pat him. "You're feeling down, aren't you, boy?"

"I believe he senses the tension," Ford said. "Dogs are remarkably sensitive."

The three of them sat on the sofa, the TV on but the sound turned low. It was tuned to a movie channel showing some romantic comedy, set in France (you could tell because the Eiffel Tower was visible from every window in every building) and involving an American woman on vacation and a French tour guide gradually falling in love with her.

Ford discouraged conversation about the threat. "We'll have to go through it all again when everyone's here," he said. "However, I will say that with Dean Canova's help, we've cleared the top floor of the dormitory. I want to confront this thing as soon as we can—but not tonight."

Dipper felt as if his spring had been wound too tight. This was the hardest part—the waiting.

And then his phone chimed, and checking it, he said, "Wendy got the text, Grunkle Ford. She and Deputy Director Hazard have landed. They'll be here in a few minutes. They understand that they need to park in the drive, close to the garage."

"Good," Ford said. He got up. "I'm going to stand in the garage with the door open, just in case." He pulled back his jacket and revealed that he carried a pistol quantum destabilizer. "I want to be there when they come in to park. I don't anticipate trouble, but—well, I'm prepared."

"Should we-?"

"Thank you, Mason, but no. Between Hazard and me—I think we've got it covered."

Dipper rose and went to the front window and stood there staring out. Mabel came to stand beside him. "Brobro, I got a feeling this is bad," she said. "I mean, Xanthar bad, almost."

"Mystery Twins," Dipper said, holding up his fist.

She bumped it with her own fist. "Yeah. Mystery Twins! Uh, Brobro?"

"Yeah, Sis?"

"I don't say it enough. Love you, Dipper."

"Love you, too, Mabel. There's the car." He opened the front door. Replying to Mabel's unspoken question, he said, "Just in case. If something gets after them when they park, I'm going to drag Wendy to safety."

"Or vice-versa," Mabel said. "Here they are. Whoa! What was that?"

"The flash of light? That's the unicorn-hair protection dome. They're through now."

"But it only activates when—"

"Right, Sis," Dipper said. "When there's danger."