Chapter 13
Author's Note: There's a real blend of old and new, as well as reworked content here. I'm excited about the additions and changes.
There's a lot of turning points here, let me know what you think!
Mr. Conductor's night was far from over after leaving Jasper's house. He had one last stop to make before he headed back to Sodor. Materializing, he took a deep, calming breath. Shining Time Station was completely empty this time of night, but he couldn't find comfort in that. His predecessor was apparently taken by surprise and removed from the station forcibly. There was no reason for him to see it coming and it was apparently the work of someone wielding dark magic. They didn't know if it was Paul, or someone else, but despite the risk there was something he had to do here.
He moved to Stacy's chair and sat down, letting his legs dangle over the edge. Exhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and waited.
Nothing happened and he allowed his eyes to flutter open. " Come on ," he thought to himself, " Where are you? "
He was waiting for the magic to reach out to him. In a place such as this it should be instantaneous, for good or for bad. He was taking a chance coming here but he had to know. Where was the station's magic, and had it already been corrupted?
But this? This just seemed like an empty, normal building. Nothing here spoke to him and as a magical being he should be able to feel something . He got up slowly. This was concerning, perhaps not quite as bad as coming to realize the magic had been turned, but still. To have no magic was alarming in itself. Where did it go?
And just as he turned to leave he suddenly felt it. Like a gentle knock at the back of his mind, something was reaching out. He paused and waited. It was faint, much fainter than it should be but he felt it. It was here and unturned, but it was so weak. As hard as he tried he couldn't get a good grasp on it. It was like every time he tried to make the connection it darted away. If he could just make true contact he could tap into its sources and become the official new Conductor here. But it kept eluding him. He stopped chasing it in defeat.
The feeling tapered off and he was left alone once more. However, as it disappeared he felt one fleeting message.
Help.
It needed his help. He understood now. It wasn't avoiding him out of mistrust, it was avoiding him because it was afraid. It had already lost one Conductor so he suspected it was going dormant to avoid corruption or risking another Conductor's life. This didn't fully put him at ease, but it did give him a renewed sense of justice. He would fix this, he had a duty.
The next morning at the station Paul approached Stacy at her desk. She would never again bring herself to smile or act familiar with him, but she had been doing well at minimizing her reactions when he approached her.
"Good morning Paul," she said neutrally.
He wasted no time with a greeting. "The day after the memorial, we need to move the boy. This has become more time sensitive. I'm upholding my side of the bargain, now it's your turn to help me," he spoke in a low and dangerous voice.
She blinked several times before finding her voice again. "Of course, that won't be a problem. I can draw him out."
If she didn't know any better she could've sworn that a look of relief washed across his face.
"Good," he said simply, before turning back to his office.
"Will you be attending?" she asked curiously at his retreating back.
He turned to her, one eyebrow raised.
"The townspeople… It'll be a good look for them to see you there. As I'm sure you plan to be here awhile?" she questioned.
He gave an indignant snort. "Sure, sounds good," he said flippantly as he continued his march back to his office.
Though she was expecting it again, the phone ringing cut through her nerves like a blade.
"H-hello?" she asked, with as much confidence as she could muster.
"Stacy?" Allcott asked.
"Yes. Yes, it's me," she confirmed, releasing the breath she was holding.
"Good. Are you well?"
"I suppose, as well as I can be," she tried, and failed, to say nonchalantly.
"Yes, well, it's an interesting time. I take it that you have the details planned?"
"Yes. Be prepared to receive him in five days. We have a memorial planned. There will be a scene, you'll know when it occurs… Are you going to be the one coming?"
"No, it won't be me. It'll be, you know, the other one."
It took her a moment to understand who he was speaking about. She nodded slowly as understanding dawned on her. "Oh… I see. I need you and him to know that Paul wants to take Schemee. I don't know what for but it can't be good, and he wants to get him the day after the memorial. Please be ready to act fast and we'll do whatever we can from our end."
"I'll convey the message. A thousand thanks my dear."
She hung up slowly, feeling more apprehensive than ever before.
The morning of the memorial Jasper caught the earliest available train to Shining Time. Between himself and Allcott it was decided that he should be the one to go convene with Schemee. This was not to Schemer's agreement or liking, but eventually he begrudgingly accepted their reasoning. Paul would presumably be looking for Allcott and it would be highly detrimental to their plan if he prevented the meet up by intercepting Allcott ahead of time.
In either case, neither of the twins had been back to Shining Time in many years, and Jasper had intended to keep it that way. However, the years had been unkind and he hoped he could fade into the background as a random distant family member. Jasper and Allcott might be twins but age had treated them differently such that Jasper wouldn't immediately alert Paul. However, he knew it was unlikely to go entirely unrecognized so he also hoped that people would just mind their own business. He grimaced, it would be unlikely in a small town. Nonetheless, the sooner this was done the sooner he could go back to his relatively peaceful life.
As he got into town he felt very tense. There was one stop he planned on making ahead of the memorial that was unknown to (and likely unapproved by) Allcott. The only person he thought he could trust was Sheriff Jones, and as such he was the only person that he intended to make himself known to outright.
Entering the precinct he spoke to reception and requested a brief meeting. When he was granted his request he was led back to Mason's office.
Mason looked up from his desk and Jasper watched his expression change from curiosity to regret.
"Oh my, Jasper? It has been a long time," he said carefully. Jasper understood his reserved attitude. The history with the Schemer family was messy and marred, and it was all due to Jasper's past actions.
Yes Sheriff, though I don't intend to stay long. I have some information for you, it's about my son."
"I'm deeply sorry about Horace," Mason said regretfully.
To his credit, he did look genuinely sorry. Jasper waved him off, feeling uncomfortable by the platitudes.
"Well, yes, but there is a rather large complication and I need your help. By now you know that Paul Miller is suspected to be behind the attempted murder and subsequent framing of his death?" Jasper questioned, looking at him intently.
Mason frowned. "I have received information that I'm looking into, but I can't comment on an open investigation."
"I don't expect you to but I do have a rather large bombshell. He is, in fact, alive. The details of the rescue are complicated and I won't be going into them on record here, but the important thing to note is that he will provide a statement to support the claims made against Paul. What I need for you to know right now is that there is a rather large plan for Paul to kidnap his nephew, my grandson. We need to remove Schemee by any means possible in order to get him to safety and to reunite him with his uncle. I need your help with that," Jasper explained carefully.
Mason looked aghast. "Alive?! Are you joking with me?"
Jasper gave a thin lipped smile. "I am not, while the attempted murder was very much real Paul failed to account for people watching out for my son."
Mason looked contemplative. "Are you absolutely sure that Paul intends to go after Schemee next?"
"I am, and we have it on good authority that Paul intends to take him the day after the memorial. We want to remove Schemee from the situation today. If he notices something is amiss here he may act out. I wanted you to know that so that you could be appropriately prepared."
Looking concerned, Mason got up suddenly.
"I will only ask this once. Are you being entirely honest with me?" he asked sternly, making direct and unblinking eye contact with Jasper.
"I am, and we're all willing to co-operate after this is behind us and Paul is safely removed."
He nodded, looking grim. "Okay, I've heard enough. I'll take a chance on this, but if you have led me astray I will not go lightly on you. This has been an incredibly complex and evolving case and there are a lot of emotionally involved parties. If you are lying, there are many people who stand to get hurt, do you understand?"
Jasper understood completely. His son and Mason's daughter had been involved, Mason had surely seen the devastation first hand.
"I understand. And I will take full responsibility if any information was falsely conveyed," Jasper said seriously.
"Good. Then in the meantime I need to gather my people-" Mason started to say but cut himself off. Frowning, he looked at the window across the room.
"Do you see that?" he demanded, pointing outside.
Jasper turned to see a shimmer of gold dust settling around the building.
He cursed and said "No!" loudly. Mason reached for his holster and was about to edge himself out the door when he started to stumble.
"What is that?!" he demanded, as Jasper felt himself lurch forward, his body growing weak.
"It's… it must be magic. They're using it to put us unconscious," Jasper managed to gasp out.
Mason never got a chance to question that as he slid to the ground, his head going limp. Jasper tried to fight it off but the feeling of being forced into a deep sleep took over and he too gave in as his head lolled onto his chest.
It seemed like everyone in town had turned out for the memorial. The town hall meeting room was packed, and Stacy watched the front podium carefully. She had seated herself and left an empty seat beside her for Paul. She knew he wouldn't miss this, despite his tense request of her several days ago. She suspected he would be the type to relish getting to watch public reactions to his actions. Billy was seated a few rows behind her.
She steeled herself. This was hardly a memorial for her, she had memorialized Schemer already. The wounds were not yet healed, and perhaps never would, but today she had a job to do. Still, there were so many things she wished she could have said. So many things that she could have done differently, like putting her feelings for him ahead of her duty at the station. They never got to properly make up after their fight, as friends or as lovers. It seemed so long ago, and so insignificant now. She never got to tell him that she loved him back. That was her biggest regret.
Stacy scanned the hall, searching for Paul. She spotted the usual Shining Time Station crowd. The children were present with their parents. Stacy bit her lip as she took in the looks of sorrow on the children's faces in particular. Well, they weren't quite children anymore. They looked like a group of young adults now, especially Matt and Tanya, who had already graduated from high school. It wasn't any wonder that they were so upset. They might not have been raised by Schemer, like Schemee had, but they had grown up around him. Stacy, Schemer and Billy had been the adults they came to for help, advice or, more so in Schemer's case, a laugh. Regulars like Midge Smoot and Ginny were seated together, looking mournful. Felix Perez, the bus driver, sat with Winston Barlow. Schemer and Winston had frequently butted heads in the past, and there were tensions between them, but she supposed she wasn't surprised that he ultimately came to pay his respects here. Or at least for his image, such that nobody commented on his absence.
Stacy met Billy's eyes and he nodded in the direction of the entrance to the hall, and she turned to see Mr. King entering. He bore none of his usual grand personality. He was dressed in more plainclothes than she had ever seen him, seemingly distanced from the usual outfits he wore to the railroad. It struck her as odd, but then again these were odd times.
She frowned as she scanned the crowd once more. Without Paul, they could still carry out their plan, but there was someone else missing. Where was Schemer's father? Stacy had searched for someone who looked like Allcott, maybe a bit rougher around the edges, or disguised slightly. But saw no one except the usual townspeople. No one out of the ordinary was here.
Suddenly, Paul was lowering himself down into the seat beside her. She snapped out of her thoughts, barely registering him entering.
"Good day Ms. Jones," he said politely, sounding much calmer than he had this morning.
"Right," was all she could say before Mayor Flopdinger took the podium at the front. Her heart hammered in her chest. It was almost time. She just hoped Schemee was ready.
"Dear friends, tonight we are here to honour one of our own, Horace Schemer who tragically left us too soon." The mayor had begun droning, he would probably be at it for at least five minutes Stacy figured.
Stacy took one last cursory glance around the hall, looking for someone, anyone who might be here to get Schemee. Still, she did not see anyone, Jasper, Allcott, or otherwise. She turned to face the front of the room, pretending to be interested in the mayor's speech. After a few minutes, she snuck a sidelong glance at Paul. He seemed relaxed, content. He was staring straight ahead, looking intently at the mayor and seemingly enthralled by his words. Stacy felt her nostrils flare in response to the sudden anger she felt. She had known his ego would bring him here, but seeing it in person was much worse.
Finally, Mayor Flopdinger was about to introduce Schemee to say a few words. She jolted in surprise, heart pounding, when Paul leaned down to whisper in her ear.
"You played a good game Ms. Jones, but unfortunately I'm going to take the round."
Her blood ran cold. Lips parted slightly in shock, she barely registered that Schemee had taken the podium.
"Thank you everyone for coming, I know it would've meant a lot to my uncle."
It suddenly dawned on Stacy who else was absent from tonight. She had not yet seen her own father, the sheriff. Her eyes widened. It had to just be a coincidence, she hoped. But Paul's cryptic message ran through her head.
"My uncle had a difficult last few months, and I know you were all heartbroken to learn about his death."
"Call off whatever you have planned, and I'll consider letting you live," he murmured just loud enough for her to hear, "Give me the boy, peacefully."
She sneered in response and he grasped her knee in an uncomfortably tight grip. She jostled slightly, and saw Billy swivel his head to try and get a better look in her direction.
Schemee faltered slightly, noticing her subtle reaction. She looked hard at him, standing bravely at the podium, delivering a speech beyond his years. She gave a barely perceptible nod, ignoring Paul's tightening hold. He turned his eyes back to the crowd in response.
"Would it shock you to know that my uncle didn't commit suicide?" A murmur rose from the crowd.
"I know it sounds like I'm making it up, or that I'm in denial. But I am here to tell you that he was murdered in cold blood."
A hush descended on the crowd then. Even Paul seemed taken aback, his grip loosened ever so slightly. Stacy knew that they had minimal options, and the danger was growing every second they sat here, so she decided to go off script. With a powerful jerk, she thrashed out of Paul's grip and slapped him hard across the face. The element of surprise was all they had at this point, that and a crowd.
She whipped around, hair askew and cheeks tinged pink. "He did it!" she hollered as loud as she could, "He confessed it to me!"
Paul lurched forward to grab her wrists, however Billy had moved faster. He grabbed Paul and ripped him backwards, both tumbling backwards into a sea of chairs. The crowd became riotous. There were screams, people leaping to their feet. Some making their way towards the exits but most circling in on Paul and Billy who were tussling on the floor.
"Stacy, RUN!" Billy shouted over the din.
She ran towards the podium, grabbing Schemee who stood in shock watching the events unfold. The two of them made their way through the halls and towards the back exit. Stacy silently hoped that everyone managed to remain safe from Paul's wrath. She'd come back with help, she just needed to get Schemee out of there first. She would find her father as soon as she could. At this point she assumed something had happened to him and Jasper, so she figured the sooner she was done here the sooner she could regroup with Billy, or anyone left on their side.
"Where did you park?" Schemee asked hurriedly as they tumbled into a back alley out of a fire exit.
"Around the corner, we'll drive without stopping and call for help along the way," she responded breathlessly, running towards the direction of her parked car.
They had just made it, she had her keys at the ready and was about to throw the door open when she was tossed backwards. She landed hard, hitting her head off the pavement. Seeing stars and feeling winded, she tried to see her assailant and was only met with the sight of pure black eyes. The scream never left her lips, as she found herself sprinkled in a shower of gold dust, before everything went entirely black.
"We should have heard something by now!" Schemer exclaimed for the fourth time that hour, pacing back and forth through the kitchen.
Allcott did not want to add to his distress but he was beginning to believe that himself. It was now evening and more time had passed than was anticipated. He wasn't sure if he should make contact with the emergency number Mr. Conductor had provided.
He wasn't sure of a lot of things at the moment.
He did know that right now his nephew was safe at least and risking potentially revealing that fact could be detrimental to all the other plans. No, regardless of what was happening at Shining Time they had to continue with their end of the plan. Worst case scenario, removing Schemer and getting him to the safety of whoever Mr. Conductor was working with would at least give them the ability to follow up with Paul. Surely they had eyes on the situation already.
"Horace, I promise you, it will be okay," Allcott said gently.
"How can you promise that?" Schemer demanded, not unkindly.
"Well, call it a hunch, but I think if they're dealing with a delay it's probably best if we just stick to our plan. I can't let you go running off into potential danger.
Schemer continued to look stricken with worry but ceased his frantic pacing. "I guess so, but I can't let any of them risk their lives for this. There's so many people involved. Schemee, who's going to get the shock of his life when he sees me. My friends. Even… even my father, I suppose."
Allcott raised an eyebrow but said nothing on the topic. "They all will be fine. They do have help and I need you to try and remain calm. If they don't make it here tonight we will follow up in the morning but I think we need to stick to the plan."
Schemer sat down, looked hard at his hands and said nothing.
Schemee slowly opened his eyes, not quite knowing where he was. He blinked a few times in confusion as the memories came back. He had been moments away from getting into Stacy's car, and then remembered the ambush and the dust. His eyes flew open in horror as he realized that he was in Paul's office. It was dark, but some natural light filtered in through the interior window. He guessed it was late at night or very early in the morning. He tried to move only to find that his hands were bound behind his back. He twisted himself slowly into an upright position when he kicked his leg against something warm.
Stacy gave a soft groan from beside him. He felt a deep sense of relief at not being alone. But it didn't help their situation. She was also bound, and groggily opened her eyes.
"Uhh, my head," she breathed softly.
"Stacy!" he hissed quietly.
She slowly lifted her gaze to him. He felt a pang of grief to see that she had a mottled bruise on her forehead.
"I'm sorry," she whispered desperately, looking up from her position on the floor, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"It's okay, we're still here, we can get out of this," he said fiercely.
Tears rolled down her face, all the fight having left her. "I failed, I couldn't…. I couldn't stop him. I failed everyone." She breathed in deep gasps, trying to remain quiet.
"No, you did everything you could," he said, but it couldn't stop the same desperation from infecting him. It welled up in his chest, leaving a cold sensation in its wake.
She lowered her head slowly to the ground and sobbed, hair partially obscurring her face. He felt devastated. If he had just gone with Paul, been brave enough to face the monster alone, perhaps the rest of the innocent people in this town would have been left alone. " Goodness ," he thought in horror as he remembered the townspeople; Billy, his friends, their families. Were they safe? The question made him feel sick.
He didn't have very long to ponder this before the door slowly opened. Paul stood in the doorway, expressionless.
"So," he said slowly, dangerously, "It's come to this."
Stacy barely stirred in response to him. It scared Schemee to see her so defeated, even more so than Paul's presence. Schemee couldn't blame her, he almost had no fight left in him.
"Ms. Jones, I do not take this betrayal lightly," he said dangerously, "I thought we had an agreement."
She finally looked up, trying to muster up any defiance. "I'd do it again, I'd do it a hundred times-" she was cut off as he viciously slapped her across the face.
Schemee bellowed in fury. "Do not touch her!"
Paul shook his head with disgust. "I got rid of Schemer, we removed Twofeathers and that fool King from the station, and yet I can't break down the power that surrounds this place. I think it lies with you Ms. Jones, I think you're the reason it won't give itself up to me."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she hissed as blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth where she was struck.
"Maybe, maybe not. At this point I don't care. We have bigger issues, but I will have its power." Paul beckoned at someone in the main foyer of the station. "Take the boy, put him in the car. Put Jones in the front of the engine with me."
Two of his henchmen, the men with the black eyes, moved wordlessly. One yanked Schemee to his feet and began to walk him out of the office. Stacy jerked her head upwards, finding her voice.
"No, Schemee. Schemee!" she cried, fighting back at the hands that now grasped her and forced her upright.
He felt his sense of fight suddenly come back to him and tried to wrench himself free of his captor's grasp. They were too big, too strong and he couldn't wriggle free, but he kicked as wildly as he could, seeing Stacy doing the same.
Paul turned to face him, pulling a gun from inside his suit jacket and pointing it at her head. "Shut up, and go quietly. I swear I will kill her in front of you if you don't go with them right now."
Schemee fell silent, tears streaming down his face, contorting into a look of pure grief. When he made no further move, Paul returned his gun to his concealed holster.
"How like your uncle you look right now, fortunately for you I don't get to kill you. However, it's probably for the best if we put you back to sleep for a while. I would still consider you a flight risk, you're probably more competent than he was."
Schemee snarled at the mention of his uncle. "You-," he began to say before Paul threw a small handful of gold dust at him. Once again he felt the darkness wash over him, and the last thing he heard was Stacy calling his name.
Schemer crept out of Jasper's house in the middle of the night. He was careful not to make any noise and slipped out the front door easily. He relocked it with a key he had lifted from the house when Allcott wasn't looking. He had felt bad for leaving without warning but he didn't want to leave it to chance any longer. No one else should suffer for the target on his back. He knew that staying in that house put everyone in it at risk. He'd go to the secondary rendezvous point after he completed something first. While he desperately hoped that something had merely delayed Schemee and Jasper, he was paranoid that wasn't the true case. He needed to find a police station and beg them to go investigate Shining Time; there was no one left to rely on in the Indian Valley. Once Allcott could call for their allies, they should be able to make a coordinated response.
Once he was six blocks away he located the nearest pay phone, which was outside a gas station. After finding the local cab number, he gave his location and waited. Though everyone agreed that train travel wasn't safe for either Schemee or Schemer to take, Schemer had a plan. The cab would take him to the next nearest train station, located a city over, which effectively brought him out of the Indian Valley Railroad's boundaries. He could safely buy a ticket from an automated booth and get on an early morning train. Something that would take him far away, where he could ask for outside help. Nothing about this would sound reasonable when he made a report, but someone who was supposed to be dead would surely make them listen.
Headlights lit up the road and pulled into the parking lot where he was waiting. Schemer entered the cab, gave his destination and sat in silence as he began the journey to nowhere. He felt dead inside, he felt like he was abandoning his nephew, his friends, Stacy, everyone, at their darkest moment. He had no idea what was happening there, and he was moving in the opposite direction from them.
"Hey man, do you mind if I turn on the radio? I wanted to keep up with the news," the cab driver asked, breaking him away from his thoughts.
Schemer told him that he didn't mind and the ride was once again silent, save for the sound on the radio. He stared out the window, feeling like a coward. He did his best to push the feelings from his mind, but every effort was in vain. His friends and family were mourning his death and instead of putting that pain behind them, he was running away again. He didn't feel like himself at all. He was scared. When he looked in the bathroom mirror that morning he couldn't even recognize himself. His complexion had an unhealthy pallor and his eyes carried a haunted look. His normally dark and wavy hair seemed duller in colour and hung limply and lifelessly. And his curl... He had never bothered to try and curl it back up. He had searched his face for some amount of mirth or joy and found none. He felt like he couldn't bring himself to go back home. Somebody had tried to kill him. Though they failed, he felt like they had succeeded in changing who he was. They had successfully taken away all his defining qualities. Closing his eyes, he tried to get some sleep. Again, his efforts were in vain.
" The search for the body of Shining Time resident, Horace Schemer, has commenced once more- ", the staticky sounding female voice on the news station said.
His eyes shot open. "What was that?" he asked aloud to no one in particular.
The cab driver turned it up so that his passenger could listen. Schemer lifted his body slightly as he took in the news delivered by the radio.
" -originally called off due to an inconclusive initial search. However, several unnamed people have stepped forward with information on a potential suspect. Neither parties can be named but we can say with certainty that foul play was involved- "
Schemer's heart felt like it stopped in his chest. Someone had managed to make his death look suspicious. He felt a small flutter of relief, they knew, his family and friends knew that it wasn't a suicide. However, a deeper feeling conflicted with this one. This was like writing his fate in stone. He could never be Horace Schemer again because Horace Schemer was dead and gone and someone was most likely going to jail for killing him. If he went back, would Paul walk free? The thought chilled him. He felt slightly light-headed; like he could've fainted if the cab driver hadn't spoken up.
"It's a shame about that guy. A lot of evil people in this world today," he said with a shake of his head.
"Yeah... Tell me about it," Schemer said dryly. He might've made a joke about the irony if he weren't feeling so depressed about it.
This revelation only made him worry more about his friends back at the station. Stacy and Billy; somehow they knew that Paul was the killer. And that put them in an exceedingly dangerous situation. Furthermore, based on what Allcott and Jasper had told him, they had been helping to shield and protect Schemee. They were risking everything, including their lives. Schemer suddenly felt ill.
He hadn't realized how long that they had been driving for until the cab driver pulled up to the station. He thanked and paid him, and made his way inside, heading straight for the mens' room. Making his way over to the sinks, he splashed his face with water, trying to clear his head. He slowly looked up to his reflection, water dripping from his face and released a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Minus facial recognition, he really couldn't recognize his own reflection. He didn't have to worry about anybody else recognizing him, from the news or otherwise, because he wouldn't be able to pick himself out as Horace Schemer in public. Even his clothes made him look completely different, the colourful suits that formerly matched his personality so well were replaced with a plain white t-shirt, jeans and a dark jacket. He averted his eyes to avoid this new look as he washed his hands.
He heard a sound and jumped. It sounded like a train whistle, but it sounded like it was coming from this very room. He turned around suddenly, looking back and forth. Having worked in a train station for years, he figured he could place the sound of what a nearby train whistle sounded like and it certainly never sounded like it was coming from inside any building. He turned back around slowly and was once again met with his reflection in the mirror. This time, however, he did recognize himself and promptly jumped back in shock.
His reflection stared back at him. Though it wasn't so much staring as it was frowning. And unless he was going crazy, he definitely was not wearing a green plaid suit. At least, he wasn't ten seconds ago, and looking down at his body confirmed that fact. His reflection had his arms folded across his chest and his head cocked to one side. The curl was very much in place and his hair was well groomed once more.
"I must be losing it," he commented aloud.
"Where do you think you're going, Horace?" his reflection asked him, under a scrutinizing glare.
"Yup, definitely losing it. So, when did reflections start talking? I missed that memo."
The mirror-Schemer gave an indignant sniff. "I'm not just a reflection. I am you. The REAL you. The one you've so ingloriously buried beneath your self-pity," he explained, looking unimpressed.
"Self-pity? You're one to talk. If you're me then you'd know about everything happening at the moment. It's dangerous, and I need to get out of here as soon as possible," he retorted hotly.
"Yes, but you're alive aren't you? And you're a heck of a lot better off than everyone you hold dear if you don't get back to Shining Time," the mirror-Schemer explained.
Schemer narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?" he asked, frowning.
The mirror-Schemer raised his eyebrows while wearing a concerned expression. "Well, I think there's someone who can better explain this. Schemer, meet Mr. Conductor," he said while sweeping his arm forward. With a plume of gold dust, a twelve inch man appeared in front of Schemer, balancing precariously on the tap before jumping down to the counter with a bow.
Schemer looked on, dumbfounded. "Why is that doll bowing at me?" he asked.
Mirror-Schemer scoffed. "Will you just listen? We don't have much time, you can ponder the impossibilities of this later!" he said impatiently, before dissolving back into his real life reflection.
"Your reflection is right," Mr. Conductor said regretfully, "I'm Mr. Conductor, well, one of them anyways. And I've been looking for you for a while now."
"How did you find me?" Schemer asked.
"I figured you'd somehow be drawn to a train station. I had been working with Allcott and Jasper, and had just relayed the news to Allcott when we realized you were gone. Paul has done it, he's managed to take Schemee and a large number of people are in grave danger. The magic of Shining Time Station is almost done for, it's only just holding on. Once it falls, it will be completely vulnerable to Paul and whoever else he's working with. They'll have that power at their disposal and it will be all the more difficult to stop them," he explained gravely.
"I don't know anything about magic. But Schemee is taken? And everyone else?" Schemer questioned, looking sick.
Mr. Conductor nodded slowly. "You and I are the only ones available to help stop this all."
Schemer looked on incredulously. "What could I possibly do? We need to get Schemee, we need to help everyone else, but we need help and fast. Why can't we call the police, the national guard, anyone?!" he asked desperately.
"It would take far too long, and by the time anyone bothered to listen it would be too late. Your friends and in great danger. We don't even know why they're targeting Schemee, but at present more or less everyone is under Paul's watch or control," Mr. Conductor explained hurriedly.
Schemer's heart dropped to his stomach. "What about this magic business? You seem like you might be… magical?" he asked, sounding hopeful. "Isn't there something you can do?"
Mr. Conductor nodded. "I am magical, and even I have limits. I need your help, we need to do this together."
Schemer looked up, feeling the hopelessness rising in his chest. "But, what can I do? How can I possibly help anybody? Paul already beat me once." he said, sounding anxious and miserable.
Schemer looked back up, taking in his current reflection in the mirror. The downhearted look was worn all over his face. He suddenly felt a wave of disgust, and frowned angrily at the mirror.
"What am I doing?" he cried aloud, angrily. Suddenly feeling like his voice was his own again. "What am I doing?"
Mr. Conductor looked on, a small smile spreading across his face.
"Everyone is in danger because of that madman! Why am I here, looking like this? I have to go back... I have to help them!" he exclaimed, feeling like a fire had been rekindled inside of him.
When he looked back up and saw his reflection, he realized it had changed. It was the same as the previous "inner" reflection he had spoken to, except it was actually him. He looked down to see that he was wearing the same green plaid suit, and gave a small genuine smile.
"I take it you believe me, and in the magic, now?" Mr. Conductor asked carefully.
He grinned in response. "Let's go," he declared with certainty.
They rushed outside into the chilly early morning air. It was about one in the morning, he could be back at Shining Time by about four, maybe three if he drove fast. If he only had a car.
Mr. Conductor reappeared beside him. "I won't be able to get a cab that could take me back quickly enough," he said with a panic rising in his voice.
Mr. Conductor looked contemplative for a moment. "I have a feeling I may be breaking some rule somewhere, but I think these are extenuating circumstances." He removed a whistle from his pocket and blew. A shower of gold dust rained down in front of the two and before Schemer's eyes a car appeared.
But not just any car.
It was his car, the very same make, model and year. The black Cadillac gleamed before him. His face broke out into a grin. The key was already in the ignition and he turned the engine over gleefully. The roar sent a feeling of hope through him. Mr. Conductor momentarily appeared on the dashboard.
"I'm going to go on ahead and scope things out. I'll be in contact closer to your arrival so that I can guide you through the safest way in. Safe travels," he said hopefully.
Schemer gave him a grin, his true grin. "You too. Don't worry about it Mr. C, Schemer's on it."
Mr. Conductor gave him a smile before disappearing.
With a grin he put both hands on either side of his head. "Genius time," he said aloud.