A/N: (Updated April 2, 2022)

Disclaimer: Me no own ASOUE.

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Chapter 8:
Hell To Pay
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Days drug on, all of them blurring together. Every day it was the same: get up, read, go to bed. Frankly, I was getting tired of it. Tired of Jacques so obsessed with a piece of china. Tired of reading and taking notes. Tired of this nightmare I was living in. I just wanted my old life back. To be reunited with Duncan and Isadora. And Jacques couldn't even give me that. Why should I even bother with this anymore? I could've found a ride to Prufrock Preparatory School and brought them back to the city by now. I wouldn't know where to go or what to do, but at least I'd be with them. But no, here I was in the house of a dead herpetologist, looking for some access codes to get inside a secret organization's headquarters. Do these codes even exist? Or was it just some concocted excuse to keep me here and out of his way?

"Quigley?" Jacques called, followed by a door slamming. "Can you help me with the groceries?"

Great. He was back from the market. Hope he got food other than canned peaches. I've ate enough of those. I couldn't bear to eat them again.

"Coming!" I shouted, putting down the book I was reading. I hurried out of the giant glass room, out the front door, and around the house to Jacques's taxi. The whole backseat with filled with bags. It took me three trips but I finally managed to lug all the stuff inside. "What's all this stuff?" I asked, looking around at what he bought.

"Supplies for our trip to V.F.D. Headquarters," Jacques replied. He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a dark brown backpack. "Here," he said, tossing it to me. "For you. I packed what you need to survive in case we get separated."

I examined the bag. Hmm. Lightweight, durable, huge main pocket, several other pockets. This bag is nice. Must've cost Jacques a pretty penny. I opened up the bag and took inventory of its contents. A knife, a ferrocerium rod, a five by seven foot tarp, a stainless steel water bottle, a hundred foot roll of bankline, fifty feet of rope, a water filter, a flashlight, a compass, a roll of duct tape, a sewing kit, a poncho, a dark blue commonplace book, silverware, a wool blanket, a bag of carrots, a big bag of salted almonds, a first-aid kit, and a box of Verdant Flammable Devices. My eyebrows rose in astonishment. This was some setup. This definitely set him back a few dollars.

"Wilderness survival skills are very important when you're in the field," Jacques said. "Once we put these groceries away, we'll go out back and I'll teach you how to use your equipment."

I nodded. I better take notes on this, too. This could save my life one day.

/

"Any questions?" Jacques asked.

I finished jotting down a note in my notebook. My hand was beginning to cramp from all the writing I'd done in the past few hours. Thankfully, his seminar on wilderness survival was over. I didn't have it in me to write down another note. "Nope, I got it," I assured him, putting my notebook back in my pocket. It was a mouthful of information to swallow, but I got the most important things down––shelter building, fire starting, and water purifying.

"Good. You never know when you'll need to survive in the wild, especially if you're on the lam," Jacques said. "Now come on. We got some searching to do." He led me back inside. Judging by the position of the sun, it had to be early to mid afternoon. Two, three o'clock maybe? I wasn't sure. We were about to head through the front door when Jacques looked down the driveway. "Oh, the paper's here. Quigley, could you go grab it for me, please?"

"Sure," I said. I strode down the cobblestone drive until I reached Lousy Lane. The pungent smell of horseradish was quick to greet me and immediately I felt like throwing up. Ugh, how could Dr. Montgomery willingly live down here? I've only been here for a couple days and I can't take it anymore. I bent down, picked up the most recent issue of The Daily Punctilio, and read the headline:

.

DUNCAN AND ISADORA KIDNAPPED ! ! !

.

My eyes bulged, my heart stopping. Oh no. Me knees went soft, Lousy Lane began to spin. Someone abducted my brother and my sister. Oh God! I fought to breathe. This…this can't be happening! Haven't I been through enough? Did fate have to kick me while I was down? I managed to get a grip on myself, then, taking a deep, but quivery breath, I read what The Daily Punctilio had to say:

.

Duncan and Isadora Quagmire have been

kidnapped from Prufrock Preparatory School

around 12:37p.m. this afternoon by Count Olaf

and a few of his accomplices. They were last seen

in a dark gray 1969 Oldsmobile Toronado driving

downtown on Pearce Hwy.. Authorities are currently

looking into the case. If you have any information

about the Quagmire twins, please call the city's

police department: 999-667-1313.

.

Count Olaf took them? The sick, twisted man Jacques told me about days ago? The one after the Baudelaires? I glared vengefully out at the gnarled trees, The Daily Punctilio suffocating in my grasp. Ohh, he was going to pay for this. He already tortured the Baudelaires enough, but my family? No. He crossed a line. A very big line. And I was going to let him have it when I saw him. By the way, twins? Seriously? Just because I'm "dead" doesn't mean it changes our birth status. Ugh, where's Duncan when you need him? He'd fact-check this embarrassment of a newspaper.

Adrenaline racing through me, I bolted back up to the house. I had to find the Baudelaires now. Wherever they were, Count Olaf was. If I can find them, I can find him. If I can find him, he won't hurt anyone ever again.

"Jacques!" I cried, racing through the house into the giant glass room.

Jacques stood up from Dr. Montgomery's desk, worried. "What is it?"

"Duncan and Isadora have been kidnapped!" I panted, handing him the newspaper.

"Kidnapped?" Jacques took the paper from me and began reading. After a moment, his eyes turned serious. "I'm going to look for them," he said, setting the paper on the desk. "I'll be gone for a few days." He grabbed his notebook and pencil and headed for the door. "I need you to find those codes to open the Vernacularly Fastened Door. When you find them and I get back with Duncan and Isadora, we'll all head to V.F.D. Headquarters to secure the sugar bowl."

"No, I'm coming with you," I said, following him. "I need to help them."

"No." Jacques turned to face me. "It's much too dangerous for you to come with me. I need you to find those codes. That's your top priority."

"No, I'm going with you!" I insisted. "I can handle it!"

"No, Quigley." He sighed, pondering what to say next. "If something were to happen to me, I need to know that you can carry on without me. To have the codes to get inside V.F.D. Headquarters and secure the sugar bowl. To find and protect the Baudelaires. To bring Count Olaf to justice. To make the world safe and quiet. To succeed where I fail. That's what I need. That's why you can't come with me."

I scowled at him, my fingernails digging deep into my palms. With as much as I wanted to go out and look for Duncan and Isadora, he had a point––there were other important missions that needed my attention right now. Jacques was going to take care of my siblings. I needed to secure the sugar bowl. I needed to find and protect the Baudelaires. I needed to bring Count Olaf to justice. I needed to make the world safe and quiet.

I needed to stay here.

"Alright," I said finally. "Be careful."

"I will. You too." With that, Jacques gave me a warm smile, then walked out of the giant glass room and out the front door.

I walked over to the glass wall and watched him climb into his taxi, start it, and drive off. When he was out of sight, I leaned forward on the glass and stared at the floor. Duncan and Isadora's fate was in Jacques's hands now, and there was nothing I could do about it. In fact, it was because of him that they were kidnapped. He could've brought them back with him after he went to save his associate, but he didn't. And now my siblings were at the mercy of Count Olaf and his accomplices. They were probably beaten, starved, and frightened. Red creeped into my vision again.

It was all Jacques's fault.

With an enraged scream, I picked up the book I was currently reading and chucked it as hard as I could across the room. It knocked a large, elegant cage off the table and it crashed to the floor, shattering the heavy silence. I glared at the book, daring it to move. My family was in danger and it all could've been avoided if Jacques would've just listened to me. Now I don't know if I'll ever see Duncan and Isadora again.

And for that, I'll never forgive him.