LV.
f i v e h a s b a d
n e w s a n d — n o ,
a c t u a l l y h e j u s t
h a s b a d n e w s
—"ALL RIGHT, THEN," said Five, "let's get down to business."
It was a council of war. Five, Luther, Diego, Allison, Vanya, Klaus, and Zara were sitting in Elliot's flat. A fire burned in the grate, and outside a restless gale whistled.
Five, as usual, took the lead.
"First off, I wanted to say I'm sorry," he began. "I know I really screwed the pooch on this whole going-back-in-time-and-getting-stuck thing. But the real kick in the pants here is that we brought the end of the world back with us."
"Oh my God, again?" said Klaus. He turned around with a bottle of tequila in one hand.
The rest of them exchanged knowing glances. Klaus groaned.
"You all knew? Why am I always the last one to find out about the—" He stopped, realization sweeping his features. "Oh—My cult is gonna be so pissed. Five! I told them we had until 2019!"
"We have until Monday," said Five. "We have six days." He added, after a minute: "Have we made any progress since last time?"
Zara and Luther answered the question simultaneously.
"No," said Luther.
"Yes," said Zara.
Five looked from one of them to the other. Luther indicated gracefully that the girl should speak first.
Zara was silent a moment or two, collecting her ideas.
"We are further on," she said at last. "We are further on because we haven't found out anything useful. That sounds like nonsense but it isn't. What I mean is that we had a few vague, sketchy ideas; we know now that certain of those ideas are definitely washouts. We are more prepared now than we were in the twenty-first century."
"Process by elimination," said Five.
"That's it."
Klaus leaned forward, his long curls falling over his face.
"Is it Vanya?" he asked. Then, at stern looks from the others: "What? It's usually Vanya."
"The point is," said Zara, "what are we going to do next—actually do, I mean. Are we going to sleuth people or what? Are we going to disguise ourselves in big hats and heavy trench coats and follow them?"
"There's no one to find," said Five meditatively. "We can't fight this apocalypse. We need to get out of here before it ever happens."
"Then what—?" began Zara, but she was interrupted.
From somewhere about his person Diego produced the photograph of Reginald standing on the grassy knoll with his umbrella.
Shocked murmurs went up from the rest of the Hargreeves siblings.
"Holy shit, is that Dad?" asked Allison. She turned the image over in her hands incredulously.
"Yeah." Five sighed. "Diego, Zara, and I have been trying to talk to Dad about what exactly this means. So far, we've got nothing."
Diego spoke quickly: "Not nothing. We know he's planning to kill Kennedy."
"Maybe," said Five begrudgingly. "But we don't know who or what sets doomsday in motion. Could be Kennedy. Could be something entirely different. If we know something changes the timeline, we have to make it right."
Vanya moved uneasily. "Yeah, but how do we fix it if we don't know what's broken?"
"Do the math," said Diego. "We know Dad's having shady-ass meetings with shady-ass people. We know he's on the grassy knoll in three days to kill the president. So I think we all know what we have to do."
"Find Dad," said Five, and at the very same moment Diego proudly declared: "Kill Dad."
Zara scrunched her nose. "Why must we involve your father in this at all? He belongs in the timeline. Anything he does—he's supposed to do."
"And none of us are meant to be here," agreed Vanya. "Has anyone here done something to change the timeline?"
The room fell silent.
Each was conscious, or thought they were conscious, of a veiled curiosity in the others' eyes. A reserve, something that was being thought but not expressed . . .
Luther spoke up heatedly: "Diego's being stalking Lee Harvey Oswald."
Immediately the curiosity ceased to be veiled. Interest leapt up avidly.
"And you've been working for Jack Ruby," countered Diego.
"Allison has been very involved in local politics . . ." Klaus observed, laying his head back against the couch cushions.
"Okay," said Allison, "that's true. But you started a cult. And Zara—what did Zara do?—Zara's always doing something."
"Zara's made a new friend," said Five coldly, before he could stop himself. The words came out unexpectedly resentful.
The others seemed to catch his meaning. They quailed before this show of suppressed adolescent hostility.
Zara only smiled vaguely. "What? Oh, yes. I suppose you mean Ralph. You guys should meet him sometime. He's a real good sport and just frightfully attractive."
"Is he?" Five's voice was now quite glacial—though Zara apparently noticed nothing. "You never mentioned it."
"And I really haven't got a clue what I should've done without him—floundered around a fair bit, I guess. I'm sure you and he could be great friends."
"I don't have friends."
She smiled. "Don't be ridiculous, Five. You have me. I'm your friend."
Five grunted. He could think of no suitable reply.
Vanya, feeling a little lost still as to the dynamics of this strange group, broke in hesitantly: "I'm just a nanny on a farm. I don't have anything to do with . . . any of that."
"Well, maybe you do," said Allison cryptically. "We just don't know it yet."
With a sharp clap of his hands, Diego commanded attention from the room.
"Listen to yourselves," he barked, "everything in our new lives is connected—to Kennedy! That can't be a coincidence. Luther works for Ruby, Allison is protesting the government, Dad is on the grassy knoll, Zara doesn't have an American passport and that makes her an illegal, Klaus is . . . doing something weird and pervy, but probably related. Clearly, we were all sent back here for one special reason: saving John Fitzgerald Kennedy."
Immediately a babble broke out.
Luther shouted: "Kennedy! It's always Kennedy with you, Diego!"
"I have a life!" Allison cried. Her breath came fast. "All of this is useless if we can't identify the problem. It's not the government!"
"I need more alcohol," Klaus said hoarsely.
Diego growled: "This is bigger than all of us!"
A sudden exclamation from Five calmed the tumult. "Shut up—all of you!"
All eyes turned to him. For once, his face lacked its usual steady assurance. His face was pale. He passed a tongue over dry lips.
"I . . . have something to get off my chest," he said. He straightened his tie.
Zara leaned over to Klaus and whispered: "Do you think it's his shirt? Please, God, let it be his shirt."
It was not, to Zara's dismay, his shirt.
Five said, picking his words with care: "Guys, you all die. I was there. I saw it. I wanna forget it, but I can't. I saw Russian nukes vaporize the world with all of you in it . . . in a war that never happened until we brought it here. And Hazel gave his life to save us, so you may need to shut up and just listen to me. I don't know if the things we've experienced here are all connected—I don't know if there's a reason for everything—but Dad will. We need to talk to him before everything and everyone we know is dead."
The whole thing sounded mad.
Because, of course, it was mad. All of it. Any sane person would have taken one look at Five and promptly checked him into the nearest mental facility for troubled youth.
Zara tilted her head thoughtfully. Her eyes consulted Five.
"Was I there? Did you see me die?" she asked.
"No, you were—" He faltered, broke off. He glanced momentarily at Diego. But Diego, of course, had nothing to tell him. "No, Zara. I didn't see you die."
She grinned, looking pleased with herself. "See? Shrew mode. I'm telling you, guys—reverse evolution is the only way out of this mess. And why stop at a primitive rodent? Why limit oneself? Perhaps I shall de-evolve so many times that I become nothing more than a feeble prokaryotic cell, floating aimlessly in a bowl of soup; my brain a single strand of DNA and my limbs reduced to simple flagellated projections. Good times ahead."
Everyone stared at her. She kicked her blinking Sketchers up onto the coffee table, full of admiration for her own ingenuity.
Five said: "I don't think the English language is advanced enough for me to fully express in words what a terrible idea that is, so I'm just gonna pretend I didn't hear any of that."
Luther, who had remained in contemplative silence, roused himself. Before he could consider the wisdom of the decision, he stood up, squaring his shoulders with resolution.
"Okay. I'm out."
The emotionless green eyes met his. In a clear, cold voice Five said: "Did you even hear me, Luther?"
Luther steeled himself. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. I heard a fifty-eight year old man who still wants his daddy to come and fix everything. Well, you can count me out. It's time we all grew the hell up."
He turned and went down the stairs.
Five was quick to intercept him.
"No one leaves," the boy said sternly. "Not until we figure this out."
Luther gave a sympathetic nod of his head, grabbed Five by the collar of his shirt, and tossed him aside with the swiftness of a poacher reprimanding his unruly terrier. It was most undignified. Five disappeared mid-air before hitting the ground.
They waited for him to return.
He didn't.
"Well, that's the end of him," said Zara, and checked her watch. "Beautiful soul, will be missed, etcetera, etcetera. Anyone got plans for the rest of the day? Those clouds are looking rather fickle."
"You know," said Klaus, "I could really go for some tacos right now."
"Shouldn't we wait?" asked Allison.
"Eh. You know those guys. I mean, it could take forever for them to . . . bro it out. Vanya? Zara? Either of you care for a taco?"
Vanya rubbed her forehead. "Is there any way tacos could cause the end of the world?"
"Only one way to find out. Zara, you coming?"
"No, I rather think I'll stay back." She yawned, then added with a slight change of voice: "I'm a little tired from yesterday. I'll probably go straight to bed. You guys have fun and maybe I'll join you later today."
It was clearly an exit line.
Zara went out of the living room and slipped halfway down the hallway. She watched the others leave, saw each of them descend the stairs, and heard the closing of the front door and the turning of the latch.
She nodded her head.
"That's all right," she muttered.
She went back into the living room. It was quiet. She looked around anxiously, as though she expected something to jump out at her from the shadows.
Kiki, sitting up on the rafters, flew down to her shoulder and pecked at her earring.
"Kiki, old thing, I have a feeling about today," said Zara. "Something's going to happen. I don't know what's going to happen, but I can feel it. Like how elephants can feel a storm brewing. What do you say to that?"
"What a pity!" said Kiki.
"Agreed. It is a pity. It is—certainly—a pity . . ."
Her meditations went off on another track. She reviewed the events of last night carefully and persistently. There was something there—something—something . . .
Her eyes lingered uncertainly on the fire in the grate. A sudden perplexed look transformed her face.
Monstrous—yet she could see no other possibility . . .
Very quickly, she went to her room and dressed, choosing a jacket and gloves. It was a gloomy day and no one would think her odd for dressing so warmly.
She hurried down the stairs and out of the house. The key turned in the lock.
She had to be quick. It was a risky move on its own, and she had to be quick if she had even the slightest hope of success.
Quickly . . . quickly . . .
She ran down the street. Too quickly, perhaps. One moment it was an empty sidewalk in front of her, and the next moment, Five had appeared. She stopped short and nearly fell over.
"Why are you running?" asked Five.
"Maybe I like running."
He said doubtfully: "You've never intentionally exercised in your life, have you?"
"Not by choice. It's a principle of mine." She paused, then said: "Which is why I wasn't running. I was speed-walking. I've . . . decided to take up competitive speed-walking."
"Since when?"
"Since right now. Fitness is my passion."
She clasped her hands to stop from fidgeting. A taxi—that was it. She needed a taxi.
"You were shot last night. You're supposed to be back at Elliot's, not attempting a hundred-yard sprint."
"I didn't feel like staying back. What are you doing standing around outside? I thought you had disintegrated into thin air when Luther chucked you off a staircase."
"I was looking for—" He stopped, looking at her more closely now. "You're going somewhere. Why? Is it to help us stop the apocalypse?"
"Not really. It's for—er, recreational purposes. I'll be back by tonight."
"Then I should go with you," decided Five.
"No!" said Zara.
There was a moment's silence. The sharp negative had taken her listener aback. It had come out with almost explosive force.
Trying to mitigate its effect, she said awkwardly: "I—I'm sorry. I feel much better now. I'm going out. I won't be too long. Don't wait up for me."
"Oh." Five seemed to consider. "You look . . . nice."
She was dressed in a black jumper and skirt beneath a heavy tweed jacket and wore satin gloves. Her face looked young and eager; indeed it was in the poignancy of youth that tragedy had its very essence. The deep brown of the eyes, the faint shadow round them, the up-springing dark hair, the dynamic beauty of the bones of the skull and the glistening white scar marring the cheek . . .
She did look nice. But somehow Five supposed his opinion didn't really count for much. He would've thought Zara looked nice if she dyed her hair neon yellow and wore nothing but a paper bag.
Again, he said with a hint of teenage ineptitude in his tone: "You look nice, Zara. You always look nice."
"Thanks." She smiled politely and checked her watch. "I must really be going now."
This seemed to puzzle him. "Where? What could be more important than stopping the world from ending?"
"I—I'm going—" Ah! There it was—a taxi heading right toward her. Without thinking, the words slipped out of her mouth: "I'm going . . . on a date."
If Five looked confused before, it was nothing compared to the look on his face right now.
"But I don't remember asking you on a date," said Five.
He wondered, for a moment, if this was her strange way of asking him on a date. Zara could be very peculiar sometimes.
"Huh? No, of course you didn't ask me on a date, Five. I'm going on a date with—with Ralph. See, there's my taxi right now. I've got to go. Good luck with whatever you're doing. I'll be back soon. Try not to kill anybody if you can help it. Taxi! Hey, taxi!"
And then she really did go—brushing past him, hailing a cab, jumping in, and speeding off without even the slightest glance back.
Five half turned, staring at the taxi as it sped off with a new expression—sullen, resentful, indignant. Mostly, though, he was frustrated—immensely frustrated.
He went out into the alleyway and stood there, leaning against the brick wall and frowning to himself . . .
. . .
—OVERHEAD, THE CLOUDS had been gathering dark and thick. As Hoyt Hillenkoetter buttoned up his cardigan and peered out through the window, the first big drops began to fall. The lawyer was supposed to come soon. Hopefully the weather would clear.
In an agitated fashion, Hillenkoetter took his cane and hobbled across to a line of string on which the housekeeper had, some hours previously, hung out a couple of jumpers and a pair of woollen combinations to dry.
He was murmuring under his breath: "Useless . . . pitifully useless. Where's the damn help when you need them? Useless! I shall never get these down in time . . . and they were nearly dry."
He struggled feebly with a recalcitrant clothes peg, then turned his head as he heard someone approaching.
His thin lips stretched into a smile.
"You—of course. Go inside. No use standing out in the rain like an idiot."
"Let me help you."
"Help . . . hmph! I shan't need to be helped. There—let down the line. No, not like that. There, yes. That's right."
"Here's your scarf. Should I put it around your neck?"
"H'm? Oh, yes . . . perhaps, if I could just reach this goddamn peg . . ."
The thick wool was slipped around his neck and then, suddenly, pulled tight . . .
Hoyt Hillenkoetter's mouth opened, but no sound came except a small bloody cough. His face contorted, turned purple.
And the scarf was pulled tighter still . . .
. . .
AUTHOR'S NOTE.
i know i don't do a lot of author's notes, but this book just hit 100k reads and i wanted to say thank you all so much! to the readers, the ghost readers, and the commenters, thanks for sticking around!! 💕