Spring-Heeled Jack (11 page)

Atticus sat on the toilet, his hands
pressed to his face as he tried to think about happy things and not
sobbing uncontrollably. He did okay with the first park, thinking
about his parents and all the wonderful things they did together,
but sadly he sobbed loud and obnoxiously. He was so frazzled; he
didn’t realize he’d woken Brock up from his sleep coma.

“
Hey pal,” he mumbled,
“what’s the matter? What happened?”

Atticus tried to rub the tears from
his eyes and regain his composure, but more just came streaming
out. His eyes were red and puffy, and his nose was a fountain of
dribbling snot. He wanted to tell Brock about his dream, but just
the thought of reliving his nightmare made the tears flow
faster.

“
I-I had a bad dream,”
Atticus said.

“
A bad dream,” Brock
asked.

Atticus was sure that Brock was going
to make a joke and try to cheer him up that way, but that wasn’t
the case. Instead, Brock walked into the bathroom and sat on the
side of the bathtub next to him.

“
Tell me about it. Dreams
and psychology tend to go hand in hand.”

“
I-I can’t.” Atticus pressed
his eyes shut. “It shouldn’t be this bad, but I just-”

“
But nothing,” Brock
interrupted. “It’s only as bad as you let it be. You can tell me.
No worries. Nothing is gonna hurt you.”

Atticus shook his head, but decided
that telling Brock was the best thing he could do. He told him
everything from the Gray Man to Varnum and the Ghost. Just thinking
about the screams of the professor and the laugh of the Gray Man
made Atticus sick to his stomach.

Brock sat in silence and listened
closely. He wasn’t the best at puzzles, but he was confident in his
psychoanalytical skills to piece this one together. He was still
just a student, but he loved delving into the minds of others, and
dream analysis was his favorite. No one was as good with dreams and
nightmares as Brock.

“
Like any dream, there is no
right or wrong answer,” he said. “So, I believe that this Gray Man
represents your obsession with finding Mike’s killer. You said that
when he was around, you were frozen and couldn’t move, and I think
that could mean you don’t feel confident in your ability to help.
You feel like you’re trapped and not doing anything about the
situation.”

Atticus shrugged. “But what about
Varnum and the Ghost?”

“
The Ghost killed Varnum in
your dream. That could be your subconscious telling you that
Varnum’s not the killer.”

“
And the
Jack of Clubs
?”

Brock shrugged. “I don’t have a clue.
Do you even have any idea what that this is,” he asked?

Atticus shook his head.
“It’s so strange. One day, it was just there. I woke up and knew
how to use it, like instinct. You know how spiders have the innate
ability to know how to spin a web? Well, that’s how it felt with me
and the
Queen of Spades
.”

“
And there are
others?”

“
I guess there’d have to
be,” Atticus said. “There are fifty-four cards in a traditional
poker deck: forty basic cards, sixteen faces, and the two jokers.
Perhaps there’s one for each?”

Brock snickered and said, “You’re
asking the wrong guy.”

Atticus was starting to feel a bit
better. It was easier to think about his nightmare now that he
could think of them like how Brock explained, but that didn’t take
away the images and sounds.

“
I think I’ll just need to
get some air,” Atticus said.

Brock didn’t argue. The two got
already for the school day, Atticus taking a bit longer than
normal. When they were all dressed, groomed, and ready to go, Brock
told him that the only way to truly get over his fear is to face
it. By finding out what exactly it was that scared him, he’d have
no issue getting over his fear. Atticus wasn’t so sure about
that.

The two split their separate ways,
Brock heading for his first class of the day, But Atticus didn’t
want to head to class just then. He felt his stomach rumble and he
knew there was no way he’d be able to conquer his fears on an empty
stomach.

Atticus made his way to the cafeteria
for breakfast. Normally, he wasn’t that hungry in the morning. He
just knew he had to shovel something down or else he would regret
it later. However, his nightmare gave him a fear born appetite. He
figured that maybe if he ate something it’d help calm him
down.

The walk to the cafeteria was a
miserable one. He couldn’t take a step without thinking he heard
the Ghost sneaking up on him. Every crunch of leaves underfoot
sounded like someone was following him. He didn’t feel safe, and
Atticus figured this was how Mike felt when he was being hunted
down. There was no solace. There was no safe haven. Every person
who as much as looked at him made Atticus feel ill. But, if he was
in a heavily populated area, like the cafeteria, he figured he’d be
safe. Nobody would stab him in the back in public would
they?

The cafeteria was full, that was for
sure, but it didn’t feel safe. Despite all the people around him,
Atticus couldn’t be sure if any of them were people he could trust:
student, staff, or anything in between. He hated being so paranoid,
but he couldn’t shake it. Normally, he would never feel so in
danger at Fortuna Prep, but now a single nightmare had ruined
him.

He hobbled his way into the breakfast
line and slowly but surely he felt himself calming down. He tried
to talk some sense into himself, saying he was being completely
irrational and reminding himself what Brock had said. It helped,
but barely. The only thing giving him comfort was the smell of
freshly baked pastries at the end of the line.

When he got to the front of the line,
he picked up a plain glazed doughnut and a glass of milk and made
his way to an empty table. Any other day he would’ve just headed
off for class, but he needed to sit.

Atticus calmly ate his doughnut and
stared blankly down at the table. Whenever somebody walked past
him, he’d tense up like a cornered animal, but as he ate, the
thoughts of the nightmare slowly began to drift away. The Gray
Man’s smile and Varnum’s scream were almost distant memories.
Almost.

Slowly but surely, he was calming
down. He plopped the last bit of doughnut into his mouth and
decided that he’d just need to take a break for the day. Perhaps
after class he’d meet up with Brock and do something fun and
mindless. Something to take his mind off Mike.

As he got up to leave, Atticus saw
Camila and some of her friends just walking in. Suddenly, all of
his fears about the Ghost and the Gray Man were transferred into
not making himself look like an idiot in front of her. He wanted to
wave, say hello, or something. But he couldn’t. Just seeing her
made his legs feel wobbly.

He lowered his head as he walked past,
but it was no good. Instantly, she spotted him and gave a giddy
wave. He decided to return the favor. She abandoned her friends and
quickly made her way to Atticus, the blood rushing to his
cheeks.

“
H-Hi, Camila,” he said.
“Good morning.”

“
Good morning to you too.”
She had a big smile on her face that made Atticus even more
nervous. “So, how did your detective work go yesterday?”

“
My detective work? It was,
uh, how should I put it?” Atticus wasn’t sure what to say. Should
he have told her about his accusations? About the Ghost? “It went
well.”

“
That’s good. What did you
learn?”

“
Not much,” he said. “Hey,
I’m really sorry about just up and leaving yesterday. It’s just, I
really-”

“
Don’t be sorry,” she said
smiling. “I can see how important this is to you.”

“
Y-You do?”

Camila nodded. “I wish you the best of
luck, Mr. Inspector.”

“
I’m not a detective yet,”
he said bashfully.

“
Exactly! Not yet. But, you
will be.”

“
Well,” he said, “thank you
very much.”

Atticus was pleased to know how
confident Camila was in his abilities. He was always so afraid and
would get so embarrassed when he told people about what he wanted
to do. He wasn’t going into the sciences or mathematics, the things
most Fortuna Prep students were going into. He always felt like an
oddball. But around Camila, he didn’t feel so different. Here was
this girl who took him just as serious, if not more so, as he took
himself and she barely knew him.

“
Say, I was wondering,” she
said, “if you were busy tonight?”

Atticus shook his head
nervously.

“
So, since we didn’t get to
study yesterday, would you like to tonight?”

He nodded and said, “Certainly. That
would be perfect.”

“
Wonderful!” Camila’s face
beamed with delight. But, then she got quiet. “Would it be alright
if it was just the two of us this time?”

Atticus blushed. “O-Of
course.”

“
It’s nothing against your
friend,” she said. “It’s just that, I would really like to, you
know, get some studying done.”

“
Y-Yeah, don’t worry.”
Atticus felt his heart racing.

“
Also, since it’s Friday, if
you’d like, we could go see a movie together.”

Atticus wanted to say yes in a
heartbeat, but he had to play it cool. What would Brock say, he
asked himself.

“
Y’know, a movie sounds like
a blast.”

Nailed it, he thought.

For the first time, Atticus saw Camila
blus. Behind heroval glasses, her cheeks began to turn a bright red
that Atticus figured matched his own.

The two agreed to meet after class,
and Camila went off to join her other friends who were giggling all
the way to the breakfast line.

*****

Atticus decided to make his way to the
faculty office before class started. Now that he’d calmed down, he
had to confront Varnum about the ring, the Nelsons, and even the
Ghost.

He made his way through the building
to the English and History department. When he arrived at the
Professor’s desk, he was shocked to find the professor wasn’t
there. Now, Professor Varnum wasn’t one of Atticus’ favorite
teachers obviously, even before this whole series of events, but
he’d known that Varnum was always at his desk before classes
started. Every time previous when he’d stop by to drop off an
assignment or deliver something, Atticus always knew that Varnum
would be at his desk preparing for the day.

Atticus waited for a minute, thinking
maybe he just went to the washroom. However, he waited for quite a
while, and unless the professor had some sort of horrible digestion
problem, he would’ve been back already.

An unsettling feeling began to
overtake him. Atticus felt like perhaps the professor really was
attacked last night. Perhaps, he was killed by the
Ghost.

He hobbled up to Varnum’s desk and
looked all around for something that could maybe give him an
answer. It was a stretch, but he was a detective-in-training. An
empty desk wasn’t enough to get worked up over. Atticus mentally
smacked himself upside the head and told himself to get to
work.

After making a quick peek for any
prying eyes, Atticus snuck behind the professor’s desk and snooped
around for clues. He discovered numerous small notes that reminded
the professor to grade papers, piles upon piles of history notes,
and dozens of unmarked exams. This man certainly wasn’t teacher of
the year. But, sadly nothing that pointed him in the direction
Atticus wanted. He couldn’t find anything to help him.

Atticus made sure to keep a keen ear
open to make sure nobody would see him rummaging ar0und the
professor’s belongings. He had dozens of excuses running through
his head in case anybody caught him, but actually remembering to
use them was another thing. Plus, he wasn’t sure if somebody would
believe him if he said he was just trying to help keep the
professor organized or just looking for the cheat sheet on the next
exam.

Just as he was getting ready to give
up, Atticus took a deep breath and went looking through the desk
one more time. Again, he found all the same books, notes, and
ungraded exams. It seemed that there was nothing for him. But, as
Atticus was putting everything back in its original place, he saw a
small side drawer he’d completely overlooked. He tried to pull it
open, but it’s lock was broken, effectively permanently sealing it.
The only way to open the drawer would be to tear down the desk or
fix the lock, and Atticus knew he had the ability to do one of
those.

He smiled a mischievous
smile placed his hands over the lock. The
Queen of Spades
appeared on his right
hand and he felt the lock slowly get warmer. Under his hands,
Atticus could feel the lock restoring itself. With a sudden click,
Atticus knew that everything was done, and the drawer was ready to
be opened. He took a long deep breath and slowly pulled the drawer
out. Much to his surprise, the only thing inside was a small manila
folder.