Finding the Way


Part 4: the Locker Incident


3:17 PM


Director Emily Piggot of the Parahuman Response Teams steepled her fingers and observed the armoured man sitting on the other side of the desk.

"I understand there was an incident at Winslow High School this morning," she said to him. "I'll have your verbal report now."

Armsmaster cleared his throat. "We received a report at eight forty-five this morning, regarding criminal cape activity at Winslow."

"Shadow Stalker's school," Piggot put in, to show she was following matters.

Armsmaster nodded. "We attended the location. The first suspicious thing we found was a vehicle crashed into one of the school gates. The driver was nowhere around, but there was evidence suggesting that he had suffered a head injury in the accident. Running the plates gave us the name Daniel Hebert."


8:35 AM


Danny Hebert tapped at the keys of his computer, and frowned. More paperwork screwups, all done before the Christmas break, all coming to his attention now. He sighed. If they'd just paid attention to what they were doing, rather than watching the clock ...

But done was done. The screwups had happened, and fixing them was his job.

A beeping from his pocket made him frown again. Taylor? He didn't like mobile phones; one had featured rather too closely in his wife's death. But since Taylor was going to be running in the mornings, he had gotten them each one for Christmas, so she could call him if she needed help. Each was a throwaway with prepaid credit, either one blocked to all numbers but the other phone's.

He fished the phone from his pocket, accidentally dropped it, bent down to pick it up, and finally opened it. Pressing the green button, he held the device to his ear. "Taylor?" he said. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Daaaad!" she screamed, so loudly that he had to hold the phone away from his ear. "Dad! Help me, oh god, help me, please!"

She was sobbing and retching, and in the background, he could hear a metallic banging.

He was on his feet in an instant, phone pressed tightly to his ear. She sounded hysterical, panicked, terrified. "Taylor! I'm coming! Where are you?"

"Locker!" she sobbed. "Oh god Dad, get me out get me out get me OUTTTTTTTT!"

More crashing and banging, and suddenly there was a loud thump as if the phone had been dropped. Distantly he heard her panicked babbling, more retching, and much louder banging.

Taylor. Oh my god, Taylor.

"I'm coming!" he shouted into the phone as loudly as he could, in the hope that she would hear him. "I'm coming! Just hold on!"

Leaving the phone open, he dropped it into his pocket, and dashed from his office. The people in the outer office, startled by the shouting, stared at him as he ran through.

"Mr Hebert ...?" ventured one of them.

"No time!" he shouted. "Family emergency!". Crashing out through the outer door, he sprinted for his truck, feeling for his keys at the same time.

The old engine caught first time, and he crashed it into gear. Still putting on his seat belt, he made the old truck roar as he accelerated for the road.

Taylor. ... Oh god, what have they done to you?


3:19 PM


"We entered the school, and found everything in an uproar," continued Armsmaster imperturbably. " A school locker had been vandalised, the door pried open. The smell was quite bad; biological waste had been packed into it and was now strewn across the floor. The cleaning staff were attempting to deal with the mess, but hadn't done very much with it. Subsequent examination of records revealed that the locker had been assigned to one Taylor Hebert. Daniel Hebert's daughter," he added unnecessarily.

He paused. "In among the biological waste," he added, not going into details as to what the waste consisted of, "we found one interesting item.". He indicated one of the two bagged objects on the desk They both looked at it; it was a flute, which had been quite badly damaged, and had some vile-looking material smeared all over it.

"Now, what do you suppose that signifies?" pondered the Director.

"Ma'am, I have no idea," confessed Armsmaster. "I think we're going to have to ask Taylor Hebert."


8:24 AM


The bell was due to ring any minute now, and Taylor would have to go into class. First day back from Christmas Break.

She'd been loitering in the bathroom; despite her brave face at standing up to Emma and the others in the Weymouth mall, she really didn't want to confront them again this soon. But she had to get her stuff out of her locker, and so ...

Approaching her locker, she saw several other students hanging around. She hoped that it was just her imagination that made it seem that they were watching her. Just get my books and go.

There was a smell. A really bad smell. And it seemed to be hanging around her locker.

She started getting a really bad feeling about this. But she had to see.

What have they done?

She couldn't just back away, couldn't walk into class without her books. Besides, this was the new, confident, strong Taylor. A bad smell can't stop me.

She spun the combination lock, opened the locker.

The stench rolled out at her, enveloped her, suffocated her.

The locker was half full of … oh my god, tampons and pads. All blackened with semi-dried, rotted blood. Insects crawled in among them.

The smell was indescribable. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Everything in her locker was ruined. Involuntarily, she bent over to retch, to throw up.

And then she felt a shove, propelling her into the locker, into the filth. She felt it wrap around her legs, oozing, insect crawling, as she slammed into the back wall of the locker.

The door slammed behind her, cutting off the light. She heard excited voices outside, then the whirr of the combination lock being spun. She turned around in the tight confines, still retching, shoved at the door. It was locked.

She was shut in with the filth.

She drew a deep breath, vomited all over herself, warm puke all down her front. Drew another breath. "Let me out!" she tried to scream. It came out as a strangled gargle. She cleared her throat, clawed vomitus from her mouth with her fingers, screamed again. "LET ME OUT!"

Dim laughter from outside.

She banged at the locker door, her thoughts spiralling toward panic. The smell, the insects, the darkness.

"Oh god oh god let me out please please please!" she screamed, the begging tone evident in her voice.

She threw up again. It did not appreciably change the smell in the locker.

Oozing, sticky biological waste surged around her thighs. Insects, disturbed by the movement, crawled out of the pile and up her body, up the sides of the locker, into her hair, running across her face.

She screamed, pounded on the door, threw herself at the sides of the locker, clawed at her own face and eyes.

More cruel laughter from outside.

The bell rang.

Maybe they'll let me out now.

But they didn't.

They left her there.

Screaming, retching, struggling, banging on the door, throwing herself around inside the locker, she tried to get out. Failed. Her mind started spiralling in tighter and tighter turns, toward madness.

She recalled the phone Dad had given her. It was in her back pocket. She clawed for it. Found it. Nearly dropped it. Slumped against the side of the locker, clawed it open, pressed dial. Only one number.

It rang. She sobbed, retched again.

And rang. Dad, Dad, answer me, Dad.

His voice. Normal, vaguely annoyed. The most wonderful, wonderful sound in the world.

"Taylor? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Daaaad!" she screamed, so loudly that her voice reverberated inside the locker. "Dad! Help me, oh god, help me, please!"

She sobbed and retched, and kicked at the locker door.

"Taylor! I'm coming! Where are you?"

"Locker!" she sobbed. "Oh god Dad, get me out get me out get me OUTTTTTTTT!" An insect ran over her eyeball; she screamed and flinched her whole body; the phone dropped out of her vomit-slick hand, into the ... stuff.

She didn't want to delve her hand into that stuff. The very thought made her retch again. She could vaguely hear his voice, tinny, distant. Couldn't hear what he was saying. Reached for the phone. Accidentally pushed it farther down into the mess. Lost touch with it.

"Dad!" she screamed, banging at the locker door. "Help me! Oh god, get me out of here!" She plunged her hands into the stinking mess, searching for the phone. It was her only lifeline, her only hope. I have to find it.


8:37 AM


Danny weaved through traffic, foot flat to the floorboards, intent on only one thing. I have to get to Taylor. The heel of his hand blared the horn, startling other drivers out of the way. The engine of the old truck, unused to such demands, still responded gamely, even as the temperature needle crept into the red.


3:20 PM


"It was at this point," continued Armsmaster, "that we received a police report about an incident involving a vehicle matching the description of the one belonging to Daniel Hebert."


8:38:23 AM


Taylor scrabbled frantically through the horrid detritus, sobbing and retching. I have to find it.

Danny downshifted, powered through a gap. Saw lights up ahead. Stay green, he prayed. I have to get to Taylor.


The world went away.

Taylor and Danny hung in the void, side by side.

Around them, the vastness of empty space. In the far, far distance, stars and what may have been planets. Nearer, great bloated forms undulated through the cosmos. Something like worms, something like whales, quite unlike either. They brushed together, shedding bright spicules of matter, fragments, shards.

One of these ranged toward where Danny and Taylor hung, barely aware of each other, unable to speak, unable to even comprehend fully what was happening. It cracked, split, came apart. One fragment daggered into Danny, the other into Taylor.


The world came back.

Taylor was still trapped in the locker, still assaulted by that horrifying stench, still had bugs crawling over her. She was panicked, terrified, nauseated, overwhelmed. But in the small part of her brain that still had the capacity for rational thought, she knew where her phone was.

Plunging her hand into the muck, she closed her fingers over it, clung to it like a lifeline.

Dad's coming.


Danny was still in the cab of his truck, horn blaring, engine thundering. Ahead, the lights turned red. The intersection rushed toward him. He wasn't even really aware of making the decision not to slow down, not to stop. I have to save my little girl.

He rocketed into the intersection.

At the same time, a semi-truck, which had been downshifting for the red, changed up and accelerated. Danny was right in his path. There was not a thing either one of them could do.

He saw it coming from the corner of his eye, knew he was dead.

His last thought was one of simple regret.

I'll never see Taylor grow up now.


The driver of the semi-truck slammed on his brakes. He knew it wouldn't do a damn bit of good, but he tried anyway.

In the instant before he would have ploughed into the driver's side of the pickup truck, it disappeared in a cloud of brownish-purple smoke. Which his truck blasted right through. No tearing crunch. No impact at all. There was just the dissipating cloud of smoke.

The truck driver pulled over, put his face in his hands, and shook. After a while, he pulled out his phone and dialled the police. They should know about this, he figured. Besides, he wan't up to driving a Dodgem car, right at that moment.


Danny became aware of ticking and creaking. He could also hear Taylor's voice, tinny and far away, calling for him. He was slumped over the steering wheel of his truck, the engine stopped or stalled. There was a massive star in the windshield directly in front of him, with a little blood smeared around it. His left knee ached abominably. He couldn't see out of his right eye at all, and his left was fuzzy. He had no idea where his glasses were.

I have to get to Taylor. I have to save her.

He wrenched the truck door open, half-fell out, climbed painfully to his feet.

The truck was crunched up against one of the concrete posts that held up the gates outside Winslow High. He didn't question how he came to be there; he just started staggering toward the school.


He must have blacked out for a moment, because he found himself in the school hallway, next to a row of lockers. And Taylor's voice, hysterical and terrified, was coming from one of them, along with loud banging.

"Taylor!" he shouted, stumbling over to the locker. His head ached abominably; he ignored it. His fingers scrabbled at the door. "Taylor! I'm here! I'll get you out!"


Inside the locker, she heard him. "Dad? Dad? DAAAAAAD!"


The sheer need and anguish in her voice tore his heart in two, right down the middle. He twirled the combination lock uselessly; he couldn't even see the numbers. I have to get her out.

Pry bar. I have a pry bar, in the truck. He knew exactly where it was, could visualise it, behind the seat. "I'll get a pry bar from the truck!" he shouted. "I'll be right back!"


He's going away. No. He can't leave me here.

"Dad! No! Please don't go!" she screamed hysterically.


Danny stared at what he held in his right hand. Must've blacked out again, he thought dully. For he was holding the pry bar, but for the life of him, he could not recall going to the truck and getting it out.

He vaguely supposed that he should be concerned. Blackouts were not a good thing. But right now he had other things to worry about. Such as getting this door open.

Setting the pry bar in the door crack, he heaved. It gave, a little. He set it deeper, heaved again. Abruptly, the lock gave, and the door sprang open. Taylor fell out, into his arms. He clasped her tightly; she clung to him desperately. She stank abominably, was covered in vomit, and had small horrible blackened things clinging to her legs and arms; his face and chest were half covered in gore from a badly bleeding scalp wound. Neither of them cared; they were together.


3:22 PM


"The principal's statement indicated that Daniel and Taylor appeared in her office in a cloud of smoke at approximately eight forty-one AM," continued Armsmaster. "He shouted at her, swung a weapon at her, made a threat, and then disappeared again."

They both looked at the other item on the desk. A metal pry-bar, old and scuffed. It was also contained in a plastic bag.


8:41 AM


I'm taking this to the principal. Give her a piece of my mind.

Danny could not recall staggering to the principal's office, half-carrying Taylor. But he must have, because there she was, right in front of him. She started up out of her chair.

"Mr Hebert!" she snapped. "What is the meaning of this?"

A couple of the horrid items from the locker peeled from Taylor's leg, fell to the carpet. All of the calm, reasoned words Danny had been going to use just went out of his head.

"You fucking did this!" he shouted. "You let this happen!"

He brought the pry bar up and over, down on to the desk; the sharp tip smashed through a desk calculator and embedded itself in the wood beneath. When he let the metal bar go, it quivered slightly, and stayed where it was.

"Dad ...". Taylor's voice was barely a whimper. She bent forward and threw up bile on the carpet.

"Don't worry, kiddo, I'll get you to the hospital," he promised. He pointed one shaking finger at the principal. "I'll be fucking back," he promised.

Scooping his daughter into his arms, he turned to leave ... and found himself stumbling in through the emergency room doors. The nurse on duty looked up from her crossword puzzle, her eyes widening in shock. Danny was at the end of his strength; he crumpled to the floor, in his last extremity twisting so that he took the impact and not Taylor.

He never heard the shouts of alarm, the running feet. Never felt himself being lifted on to a stretcher.


3:24 PM


"We checked the hospitals, of course," Armsmaster stated. "They were checked in under their own names. Daniel Hebert, suffering from trauma consistent with a car crash, Taylor with numerous minor cuts and bruises, plus infectious materials all over her. It's fairly obvious that she was locked into that locker by person or persons unknown, along with the biohazard waste. She contacted him to get her out, and he triggered in his anxiety to reach her."

Director Piggot considered this. "You will have turned over all your gathered evidence to the police, of course. This sort of thing is deeply disturbing."

He nodded. "Already done, ma'am."

"And the Heberts? Have you spoken to them yet?"

He shook his head. "We have guards on them, but he's still unconscious from his injuries, and she's been sedated until they could assess her condition.". He grimaced. "They had to burn her clothes.". He paused. "I have contacted New Wave and asked them if Panacea can help. She should be getting to the hospital fairly soon, and meeting Miss Militia there. If Hebert can teleport reliably across the city, carrying someone, even while injured, we could definitely use him in the Protectorate."

The Director nodded. "Keep me informed."

He rose and saluted. "Will do, ma'am."


End of Part 4