Chapter Twenty-Three
The Interview
Jason had been in an interview room two times in his life. The first was the first time he had a terrible drinking night and managed to fall asleep in his neighbours bed. The second was a bad-case of hit-and-run, though luckily the girl he had hit survived with a broken leg. That time was bad, Jason had found himself contemplating the rope more than he had liked. That time was when he first realised just how bad he got.
Drinking had always been a problem for him. Even since high-school, hell, before that. Drinking ruined his life, that much was certain. He was an addict. He knew it. Jennifer knew it. Anyone who knew him knew it. But he was looking for a cure, he was looking for aid, that's what this whole trip was for. Jennifer had arranged for a meeting, a program. Jennifer...
She was the only one who understood him. She didn't like it, but then again Jason didn't like it. When his friends left, Jennifer stayed. If it wasn't for Jennifer, Jason would almost certainly be homeless, living on the streets... living on the booze.
Now, though, none of that mattered. Now, it wasn't about the drink. This time... this was the worst. He wasn't drunk; he hadn't been for a while now. He had tried to save lives... and what was the response?
Arrest.
Suspected for murder, not only of attempted murder of Tyrone McRoux, but possibly of Jake Phillips and Dylan Kimberly. Possibly of everyone else on the bridge who died.
At the moment, Jason was alone in an interview room, handcuffed to the chair, unable to escape. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with the accusations thrust up against him. He didn't deserve this! It was clear he wasn't a killer!
But what if the girl died? You could easily be a killer if you were driving a bit faster, got more drunk.
Jason grit his teeth, his knuckles clenched. He hated being alone. Being alone made this happen. Made his thoughts run wild. He wanted to save Tyrone! He was next, he was next and he wanted to save him but he was accused of murder! Murder!
"I didn't do it..." Jason said, facing the desk, his voice echoing around the room. "I didn't do it. I wouldn't do it, I didn't do it, I'm not a murderer!" Jason looked up quickly, desperately. "I'm not a murderer! I didn't do it!" Suddenly realising what he was saying, Jason quickly shut up. Why was he so on edge? What was it that made him shout like that? The evidence wouldn't point to him, so why was he on edge?
The door suddenly opened, and in walked a tall man with slicked back hair and narrowed eyes. Closing the door behind him, he placed two glasses on the table.
"Care for a whiskey?" The man asked.
Anger suddenly coursed through him. Jason glared deeply into the man's eyes, but the man didn't respond in any way other than a chuckle.
"I see. I'm partial to the taste, myself." Taking a sip from his own glass, the man put it down on the table. "I am Agent Gerald Myers." Agent Myers paused, before reaching into the inside of his jacket and placing a thick file on the desk. "Jason Stark. Up until recently, not particularly well known. Disturbance due to alcohol, true, hit-and-run, yes." Agent Myers opened the file and showed two pictures, one of the car he was driving the day he hit the girl and of the girl herself on the hospital bed, sleeping with a cast on her leg and contusions on her face. "Carry Paige. Twelve years old. Suffered a broken femur. She still has to walk with a cane four years later."
"What do you want... Agent Myers." Jason asked; his voice slightly husky from shouting.
"Allow me to continue, Mr. Stark. You are not a remarkable fellow. A known drunk, banned from some bars, but not remarkable. One would have no reason to follow you. The police wouldn't, let alone the FBI." Another photo, this time of the destroyed bridge. "But... this happened. You came out of your car. You shouted warnings; you... predicted... the collapse. Why? What would drive you to see that?"
"I already told the Chief of Police back when it happened that it was a vision."
"A vision?" Agent Myers shook his head. "Visions are a product of fantasy, Mr. Stark. Or a product of hypnotism. Are you saying you were hypnotised?"
"No! It was just a vision."
"So you weren't hypnotised. You don't have any blank spots in your memory." Agent Myers leaned back in his chair. "So, you had a vision. You were not hypnotised. Do you want me to tell you what I think?"
"Please do." Jason said with distaste clear in his mouth.
"I think you felt guilt."
"What?"
"I think you felt guilt." Agent Myers repeated. "You realised that you didn't want people to die, so you claimed you had a vision."
"What? How would I destroy the bridge?" Jason looked incredulous. "It was the damn weather!"
"Then how do you explain this!" Agent Myers slapped another photo down. Shards of... something. "This, Mr. Stark, is a bomb. A bomb planted under the water on the poles of the bridge."
"A... bomb? It wasn't an accident..." Jason looked confused.
"No. It was not an accident. This was an intentional attack. Some would say a terrorist attack."
"But that doesn't have anything to do with me!"
"Oh? Is it coincidence that this bomb is home-made. Or should I say company-made. Fairday Corporations. The place you work. We tracked it back there. When your name came up when you were arrested for that bloody glass shard, we did a back search. You work at Fairday Corporations. As a goods transporter, you had easy access to the products used. Mr. Stark, please tell me why this all happens to relate back to you?"
"I-"
"Mr. Stark, you are our prime suspect. No-one else had access. You had the vision. You felt guilt, and you caused the deaths of over twenty-five people on the bridge. Mr. Stark, please explain to me why you aren't the murderer... no, why you aren't the terrorist!"
Jason felt his head burning. This wasn't right. This couldn't be right. "I... I wouldn't..." But what if it was right? What if I drank that night? What if I deliberately forgot about it? Am I guilty...? Jason blanched, doubt cast all over his mind. His memories were now foggy. Was that why he couldn't remember the whole scenario now? Were those drawings part of a guilt-ridden exercise? But how would that explain Dorothy? Was she in it too? Did they work together? Why would they work together? She was blind, that makes sense. No one would suspect a blind person. They must've met, they must have formulated a plan, but why? What reason? "I... I..." Jason looked up to Agent Myers, finding tears in his eyes. "Did I do it?"
"I don't know. You tell me."
"I... I think I did it..."
XXX
Jason suddenly coughed heavily, his head directed to the table. He was shaking, he was cold, and was that blood on the table? Wiping his mouth, Jason saw blood on his sleeve. His mind was in turmoil. He had just confessed, he knew it to be true, he had done it! Agent Myers was right. Everything slotted into place. Jason looked up to continue when he realised that Agent Myers wasn't there.
The glasses weren't there. The seat was in exactly the same place as before the interview. Sweating, Jason looked to the clock. It was when he was just taken in. The cops had left. He glanced down to his hands. The red marks from the handcuffs hadn't appeared yet.
"What...?"
The door opened, and Jason's head bolted sideways. In walked Agent Myers with two glasses. Jason could hardly breath. What was happening?
Agent Myers sat down, took a sip of Whiskey, and placed it back on the table.
He smirked.
"Mr. Stark. Tell me what you just saw."
Jason's lip twitched. He was scared... he was really, really scared...
"Did you just have a conversation with an Agent Myers?"
Jason twitched again, looking into the Agent's eyes.
"Did you and Agent Myers converse about the bomb on the bridge? How everything connected to you."
Sweat was on his brow, his upper lip. Jason was shaking now, his handcuffs rattling.
"Did you... confess to Agent Myers?" The Agent smirked.
Jason found himself suddenly shouting, "Who are you!"
"Me? I am a scientist, a psychologist, an intelligent man. Myers is my real name, that much is true." Myers leaned forward. "It appears my experiment was a success."
"Ex... what?"
"My experiment, Mr. Stark. My experiment in drugs that directly affect the brain. Drugs that allow us to control what you think and when you think it."
Jason couldn't reply. The situation was so... sudden, it made no sense.
"Do you see, Mr. Stark? Your visions... your writing on the walls. Your fit in the hotel room against David Trayce. All implemented by me."
"What...?"
"Yes, Mr. Stark. I, Gerald Myers, have successfully found that my drug had worked. You see, many situations have arisen of... people having visions. Saving people. Survivors. I have been very interested in these visions. I wanted to create my own. And voila. You are that experiment, and I have to say, it's been so very fun." Myers took a sip of his whisky.
"How!" Jason blurted out, trying to find even one iota of sense in this.
"How? Well, the drug had to have a key to activate. Much like hypnotism has a word. The key was simple." Myers reached into his jacket and pulled out, not a file, but a mask. A mask with a bloody red skull on it. "Tell me, Mr. Stark. Do you recognise this?"
Jason's eyes widened, the scene coming very clearly in his mind.
XXX
He looked away to grab his new shirt, and looked back to see a bloody skull looking out at him from behind his shoulder.
Jason let out a strangled cry, turning around quickly. His still wet foot slipped on the tile and he stumbled forward, tripping up and into the shower curtain. Jason grabbed it wildly, but it tore down and tightened around his neck. As he struggled, the curtain grew tighter and tighter, cutting off his air. It felt as if his lungs were about to burst when-
Jason gasped, staring into the mirror and his newly sweating face. He touched his neck, but it was still slightly wet from the shower. He panted hard, confused and scared. He took a few minutes to calm down, before getting out of the room as quickly as possible, putting the incident down to an over-active imagination.
XXX
"Oh yes. You saw me in the mirror. At that time, the key was inserted, and I was free to implement your vision. We blew up the bridge, but it was a means to the end. You did exactly what we wanted. You rescued survivors. We... experimented. Allowed two of them to die. Persuade you of a list. We worked you like a violin and-" Smirking still, Myers simulated scissors. "-cut your strings."
"What... so..."
"Oh yes, Mr. Stark. Everything you have known in the last week is fake. The vision. The collapse. The list. Fake."
"Why... I don't... why?"
"I told you. People have had so called visions, and my organization, we believe it was due to what I performed on you. We are that closer to solving those five mysteries. Sam Lawton, Alex Browning, Kimberly Corman, Wendy Christenson and Nick O'Bannon. Victims who we are convinced had what I performed on you performed on them."
"Who... are you then?" Jason had turned to slight shock at this information. His brain was processing and it was disorientating.
"We are an organization who... investigate the paranormal. So far, everything has turned out to be not supernatural, but very natural indeed. Mr. Stark, as a result of our investigation, we wish to ask you for co-operation. Help us catch this sick killer, this extremist terrorist who has killed hundreds, perhaps even thousands."
"No, I don't want a part in-"
Laughing, Myers put on the mask. Jason instantly froze, his eyes turning completely white, as if they were rolled into the back of his head.
"You will not remember this conversation, Jason Stark. You will know what you have to do. Your sub-conscious will tell you. We will continue to enact 'accidents'. Deaths. A list. We will draw out the killer. So, Jason Stark, you will have a normal interview in a moment. You will act as you have always acted. This conversation is to be forgotten."
A/N: Wait, wait, wait, don't kill me just yet! Okay?
Thanks to Guest, LocalTalent53, Gabe's-Girl-Forever, Bookreader2010 and A Mosaic Masterpiece for your reviews! Holy cow, quick update!
Okay. I said there was going to be a vision. I said it was to do with a natural disaster. And I wasn't lying.
Here's the fact. The vision? The proper one, not the organized one? Death's vision. It hasn't happened yet.
This is a story which combines supernatural, paranormal, reality and thriller. Trust me. Supernatural is most definitely a theme of this story. Here's a bit of dramatic irony. Death? It's most definitely real. He just... hasn't actually performed in Revelations as of yet. In due time, my friends, in due time.
On that lovely note, I'll leave you 'till my next chapter.