Worm: She's Dead, Jim Part 4
DISCLAIMER: Worm, Parahumans, and the characters and settings of Earth Bet (and other places) were created by John "Wildbow" McCrae. I don't own them. Nor do I own the characters and situations of the Harry Potter franchise: they belong to JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. This story was written for my own amusement, not for profit. If you are enjoying it, please write and post a review.
ADVISORY: Foul Language. The setting is in Brockton Bay.
I never found out what Connors would have done to Julia. Neither did anybody else. Instead, a couple of the fire bells started ringing, the PA system came on and Ms. Blackwell's voice announced that we were to evacuate the school building and assemble on the athletic field. I didn't find out until later what caused the evacuation. All I knew at the time was that we got up and started heading for the doors and then the athletic fields. Almost everybody was frightened. This was not only Brockton Bay but also Winslow High School. Was it some mass shooter? A bomb threat? Or did some crazy Mover find a way to get into the school building without using the door?
Of course nobody said anything. Not Blackwell, not the Cops, nor the PRT. Instead, we stood around outside and shivered in the afternoon chill. Connor and some of the other teachers somehow managed to keep order and somehow kept most of us together enough to count heads and take roll. As we stood and waited, some of us saw the flashing red and blue lights of the BBPD and Emergency Services rolling down the street, followed by vehicles from the PRT. Eventually, Blackwell found a bullhorn from somewhere and told us that the school buildings were sealed and that nobody except the BBPD and the PRT would be allowed inside. The crowds began to disperse and we began to head off in different directions. I went home. It was in the low forties, my coat was in my locker and I was freezing my ass off. I promised myself a visit to PHO on my home computer-after I brewed some hot tea.
On the way home I wondered how my Dad would react once word of the evacuation hit the media. He'd definitely be upset, so I called him right after I dropped my books on my bed. I kept it short and simple. I wasn't home early because I'd cut classes. Something caused Blackwell to order the school to be evacuated and that we were all sent home. Dad reacted with relief that I was all right and told me to stay put.
I brewed my tea, then went upstairs and turned on my computer. I first went on-line to the PHO web site. The news forum had articles about Winslow being closed for some reason or other but didn't give the reason as to why it was closed. I did learn that the order to evacuate the school was given by the PRT, not by Blackwell. That got me worrying. Still, since there wasn't anything I could do to get my stuff back right then, I went looking through the forums for stuff about the skull-masked guy.
To my disappointment, there wasn't anything new about him. He hadn't been seen since his previous killing spree, so he was probably lying low somewhere. The cops and the PRT had some stats about his height and his shoe size, but not much else: nothing about his facial features, hair color, or where he was from.
I was still thinking about becoming a hero. Taking down Skull-Masked guy would be a great debut to my Cape career—at least if I could capture him. If I did decide to go looking for him, should I go after him myself or leave it to the professionals? What happened to Shadow Stalker gave me pause for reflection: she chose to confront him and look what happened to her. The only tactic that might work for me would be to observe him from a distance and go on the attack without any warning.
My dinner with Dad that evening was relatively quiet and peaceful. Dad was relieved that I came home safe and sound, but both of us wondered why Blackwell or the PRT hit the panic button and told us to evacuate the school building.
We chose to stay in and watch television that evening. We chose entertainment instead of sports: Winslow wasn't playing anyone and the way Blackwell treated us dampened any school spirit. Instead, we watched a show from the second season of The Travels of Jamie McPheeters, a television western imported from Earth Aleph. It would have been a pleasant evening except that the program got interrupted by a public service announcement saying that Julia Jankovic went missing. The announcement showed Julia's face, gave a description of her appearance, then said that she was last seen near Winslow High School. The PSA ended with a screen showing contact numbers for the PRT and the Brockton Bay Police Department. What the Hell happened to Julia? Did it have anything to do with the evacuation notice and the school being locked down?
Dad saw the announcement and frowned. "Someone you know?" he said.
"Yeah, another one of the girls in Emma's and Sophia's circle," I said. "This is getting weird."
Saturday:
After I ate breakfast I went upstairs and logged onto PHO. Nothing new about Sophia's killer except more speculation: whoever-it-was was still lying low. There were a couple of news threads about Winslow High School still being closed and that the campus was overrun with PRT troopers and the building itself was blocked off with barricades and yellow hazard tape.
That didn't stop me from going over there anyway. I wanted my stuff back. After my experiences I didn't want to leave anything in my locker that I didn't have to.
I put on one of my pullovers and my Mom's jacket and walked over to Winslow. I wasn't the only one: not only were there students who wanted their stuff back, but so was the media and a lot of gawkers. I walked up to what looked like the entryway through the barriers and tape and got in line to ask if I could get into my locker. I didn't even have to make my way to the front of the line to get my answer: the building was still closed and they weren't letting anybody in.
I turned away and set off for home, telling myself that for nobody was likely to break into my locker this time, not when the hallways were crawling with PRT techs and troopers. Partway there, I had a better idea: I'd visit the main public library. I walked to one of the bus stops that would take me downtown, waited for the bus, then rode it downtown. I got off the bus, then walked through the library doors, wishing that I had been able to do some homework. No such luck. I was able to go through the book shelves and find some stuff on insects: I wanted more information about the bugs I was using in my swarms.
I took a seat at one of the tables across from a man who looked like he had money but also looked like he'd been going through a recent rough patch. He had reading material of his own: books about the history and geography of Brockton Bay. I opened one of my own books and started reading. When I looked up I saw that he was staring at me. I started to feel uncomfortable. In addition to Parahuman and non-powered crooks and psychos, Brockton Bay has a lot of stock-model creeps, weirdos and nut-cases.
"You're staring at me," I said.
"I'm sorry," he said. I noted that he had a British accent. "You look like someone I knew a long time ago."
It must have been a very long time ago. He looked like he was in his late thirties or early forties.
"Can I ask you for your Mother's name?" he said.
"Annette," I replied.
"Are you a local girl?" he said.
"Born and raised here," I replied. "So was my Dad." This conversation was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. I wondered if he might be a slasher tourist. I wished I was better at identifying British accents.
"I see," he said dismissively.
Asshole, I thought but didn't say.
I found a loose bug that had taken refuge from the outside chill and sent it towards the Brit. I quickly learned that he'd drunk coffee that morning, that he used cologne but not deodorant, that some of his underwear needed washing, but that he didn't seem to be carrying a gun. The Brit noticed my bug, swatted at it in annoyance, and missed.
Something, not my Power, told me that he was trouble. I closed my books and took them over to a book cart for reshelving. I kept the bug near him to see if he might follow me. He didn't, although I tried to keep track of him until I was outdoors again. I hoped that I wouldn't see him again.
I left the library. It was warmer now, and that made me think about visiting Lord's Market. I found another bus, got on and left.
-xxx—xxx—xxx—
He left the library and went back to the apartment where he was staying. He tried to be careful: he'd learned that he needed to be better aware of his surroundings than he had back in Britain. This place was dangerous: not only because of the ordinary vermin, but also the so-called Capes. As if a Muggle was a match for any middling-competent wizard, if the one he'd encountered and dealt with was any mark to go by.
This city, this world was so distressing. Magic there was: magic aplenty. But there were no wizards, no witches, and no goblins. Where were they? Had something happened to them.
He mused about the girl. It was rare to find doppelgangers outside wizarding circles, especially in rabble-filled Muggle American cities. He pursed his lips. The girl at his table had a striking resemblance to Brigthwyna Croft, a girl he'd known back in school. She'd died during the First War, not because she opposed or supported the restoration of the Old Ways, but because she'd had the misfortune to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd thought about courting her before her death and regretted that he'd never see her again after she died. He supposed that he'd gotten his wish, but it was hollow.
He returned to the apartment he shared with the Muggle woman he'd put under the Imperious curse. He pulled out his notepad and started writing down his thoughts. His experiences thus far had convinced him that Brockton Bay badly needed setting to rights and that in the absence of the Dark Lord's presence, he could be the wizard to do it. He'd start out by staking out a territory of his own, then start pushing outward.
He dreamed of the girl that night: first seeing her face, then watching it transform into a cloud of insects that flew towards his face.
-xxx—xxx—xxx—
Author's Comments:
I thought to keep this story entirely centered around Taylor but decided to give into temptation. I decided to write about the aftermath of the displaced Death Eater's encounter with Taylor Hebert from his point of view. I also thought that it would be fun to make Taylor a dead-ringer for someone the wizard knew back in Magical Britain. It's an indulgence I plan to make only this once.
SPOILER: Winslow High School will re-open.
