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Chapter 6: Child's Slay
Pedro considered telling them off, but thought against it. Might as well, "Why not? I'll lead the way."
"That was the hope," she said curtly.
As they went, Fitz called after them, "You're leaving again?"
"So it appears."
"But what of us?"
"Tina's in charge."
"What?" demanded Fitz. Tina beamed at him, "Hear that, Golden Rod? I'm in charge."
-Theodora, Fitz and Tina
"I wouldn't trust you with a potato gun, Fitz," Teague called out right as they left the building, Pedro leading the way.
"I suppose you have other questions for me as well," Pedro said, walking ahead of them.
"An odious amount," said Theodora, "Mostly as to the convenient timing of your arrival here, but I can't weasel any sensible way out of that."
"I've been holed up here for three months," Pedro explained, "What more do you want to know?"
"Quite a bit. Like why your bosses want you dead."
That caused Pedro to stop. Had he told them that...Well, he had been honest with them so far. Why stop now?
"Because I was hired to do something that I refuse to do."
"How noble of you," said Theodora flatly, "Pardon if I don't start weeping."
"What'd they hire you to do?"
Pedro was quiet for a long time. Teague feared that he'd broken him.
"I don't kill women or children," was all Pedro said, finally.
"How noble of you," Theodora looked curiously at Teague, wondering just what he read into the statement.
"Why didn't you say the extra guns in your hideout were...those guns? I think you can understand neither of us were picturing military-style assault weapons."
"Honestly? I wasn't sure what you were picturing," Pedro said, not looking at her.
"With the kind of people I've worked with...frankly those are the norm."
"Then I suggest you broaden your worldview," said Theodora curtly, "You wandered into a high school retreat, not a meeting of the Five Families."
"And if you hadn't shown up, I would have cleared out in a few days," Pedro replied, "I was going to schedule a sit down to get me out of here."
"Oh really?" asked Teague. The plot thickens indeed.
"Really."
"How convenient," said Theodora.
After going some time more in silence, she prompted, "Well?"
"We're here," replied Pedro, nodding to the entrance.
Teague walked past him and opened the door. He called out, "Emma Duvall?"
Leslie watching Teague and VPK leave, she finally approached Fitz. Given that altercation, she might just have an angle. "Wow, talk about a dictator," she referred to Teague as she stepped towards her one-eyed ally.
"I should think you'd like dictators," Fitz turned to his sole friend in this miserable place, "Like Lenin and Mao and the Clintons."
He looked from her to her boy associate, "What's this? Some new boyfriend? You're as slippery as Tracy."
***
"Well..." Phyllis slowed as they reached their destination: the low paneled building that was the showers, "Here we are."
***
"Emma?" Theodora called loudly, lowering her head to enter the domed, underground structure, "Emma!"
She sighed, "No sign of her. Unless she's fallen in with Harold, wherever he's supposed to be."
She turned to Sanchez, "Yes. There's a corpse somewhere around your little rabbit warren. Isn't that something?"
-Fitz, Phyllis and Theodora
Pedro blinked several times. Before he asked with genuine surprise, "What?"
Leslie was repulsed by every single word of the bull that poured from Fitz's mouth. "I don't have boyfriends, Fitz," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm ace."
***
Stavo nodded, taking off her jacket. "Thanks," he said, his voice barely audible. He moved to enter before he remembered something. "Before I forget..." Stavo fished in his pocket and took out the piece of paper he found on Sawyer. "I guess it's evidence but I don't know how it could be. It looks like a poem. I didn't have time to read it and..." He sighed. "...I'll probably never have the time so..." Stavo pressed it in her hand. "Psychoanalyze it or something. It's more than I can do with it."
-Leslie and Stavo
"What's Ace mean?" asked Carl, before looking to the man, "I'm gay."
Ignorant whelp!" Fitz snapped, "I'm gay, he says, like it's his shoe size. Ace, fool, have none of you ever seen the A-Team?"
***
"A poem?" Phyllis mouthed the words, accepting the crumpled bit of paper and moving quickly to shield it from the rain, "For...for you, or..."
But she stopped herself.
"I don't think you're a killer Stavo," she told him at last, "I didn't then. I don't now. And I know...I know how it hurts to know someone loves you and...and find yourself unable to return the favor."
She folded up the paper, "Would you like me to wait out here, or..."
She didn't believe he needed to be guarded. Edward Teague could bluster at her all he liked. She would not be convinced otherwise. But if he wanted some company...
***
"A man!" Theodora told him, "A former colleague of ours, dipped in some underground stream in some hole or other down here. Brooke Maddox described it perfectly, it's a hole behind..."
She popped open the appointed crate, "This."
The guns, to her relief, were still in the box. Theodora allowed a sigh, "Well, that's a good enough thing. These things in the wrong hands..."
She turned to Sanchez, "Are there any other firearms down here?"
-Fitz, Phyllis and Theodora
"I had no knowledge," replied Pedro, nodding to the guns, "Those are it, besides the one on me."
Carl shook his head.
Leslie closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. "No. It means I'm asexual."
***
Stavo smiled a small one, what felt like the first one in forever. "Thank you. I'm glad...I'm glad I'm not alone." He shook his head. "No, I'll, uh, I'll be in there for a while, so..." Stavo bit his lip, unsure of what to say. "...take care of yourself."
With that, he entered the showers and began to undress.
-Leslie and Stavo
"Oh," Fitz blinked, "Like a sponge."
***
"It's my pleasure," she smiled, "Take care of yourself, Stavo."
Seeing the poem safely back in her pocket, Phyllis turned on her heel and started off, into the rain.
***
"I'm sure you don't," said Theodora quietly, letting out a quiet sigh.
"Well, then. I think we know what must be done."
Spotting a sizable two-handed hammer on a nearby workbench, Theodora looked from the principal to the fugitive, "If you gentlemen will stand back..."
She heaved up the weapon, bringing it down with great force on the crate, and the guns inside them.
"NO..." she cried, between blows, "MORE...DAMN...GUNS!"
It took a deal longer than that. By the time she was finished, her face was sleek with sweat, and her arms felt like jelly. But the crate had been reduced to chips. And the guns to splintered, warped bits of metal.
Theodora rounded the hammer on Pedro, "You may keep the weapon you have on your person, but only because you never lied about having it, and you haven't yet raised it against of my charges. Don't give me an excuse."
-Fitz, Phyllis and Theodora
"NO! NOT LIKE A SPONGE! I..." Leslie realized she was shouting. Took a breath. Two. Three. And resumed. "Remember the knife you brought back?" She looked from Carl to Fitz. "We need you to find it."
"I wouldn't dream of it, Senora," replied Pedro, fingers tapping against his side, "Are we done here?"
"Knife?" asked Fitz, "Oh, yes! That knife, the one that did for that handsome singing boy," he turned to Carl, "Your little squeeze."
He shrugged, "Well, my dear, I'd love to be of help to you, but the truth is, I am so bogged down by chores at the moment. Already, I must..."
He paused, getting what the poets might have called a 'strike from Pallas'.
"Aha!" he held up his finger, "Yes, yes, I will fetch this knife for you. But I hope you'll be willing to do another favor for me in return. You were so...expeditious last time, no matter how the whole thing ended up."
And, anyway, if Leslie succeeded this time, Fitz wouldn't have to worry about anybody, anywhere ever seeing those vile pictures again. The whole thing would work, pretty as a poem.
***
"Don't take that tone with me," Theodora snapped, "Every moment we haven't turfed you out to fend off against the killer has been a gift. But my charity grows thin. We are done here. You are not."
-Fitz and Theodora
"Oh really?" asked Pedro.
"Yes, really, you sanctimonious cretin," Theodora snapped, "In case you haven't heard, we've another murderer on the loose. Kieran Wilcox has escaped, either aided by, or abducting his sister. He may still be lurking around somewhere, and the other killer, the masked maniac who's been stalking us all night, is most certainly still about."
She folded her arms, "You say your sport is killing? Indulge us, then. Find Kieran Wilcox and bring him back to us, dead or alive. And...just so your conscience doesn't bleed, know he's 18 years of age, and surrendered his childhood long before that. I wouldn't want to offend your sensibilities."
"That sounds fair," Leslie reasoned, yet nervous what favors some rich capitalist would ask of a teenage girl. This reeked of exploitation. "What's the favor?"
Without pausing for breath, Fitz proclaimed, "I need you to retrieve a bottle of Oxycontin from Vice Principal Kellerman and deliver them to my hands!"