A Change in My Life, 8/?
Title: A Change in My Life, chapter eight
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 4,003
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry), Jeff, Greg, The Chief
Supporting Characters: Double Trouble, Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger; Mr. Gordon, Louie, Scott's imposter (OCs)
Summary: It's back to ACME Crimenet for the first time since Rockapella's memories were wiped....
Chapter Eight
I Prayed for Mercy
Greg sighed as he sat at his desk, sifting through the stack of files and folders that had grown more enormous with each passing day. The Chief had been telling him for weeks that he needed to take care of it, but he had continued to drag his feet on the matter. Taking care of cases was usually a satisfactory excuse for leaving the mess. When the desk had literally begun to groan under the weight, however, the Chief had put her foot down.
"If you have to stay after your shift is over, then you will stay after your shift is over!" she had declared. "You will not leave this office until your desk is free!"
And there had been no choice but to obey.
"You know, it'd be great if I had an assistant," he mused to himself. "Mrs. P. was hollering about some guy singing on the street corner. If he needs a job, we could sure use him here!" He set another folder on the pile, muttering when he spoke next. "He could do all of this kind of stuff."
With another sigh he rubbed his eyes and leaned back. The case load had been heavy over the last weeks; after all, V.I.L.E. did not rest. But what concerned the Chief most were the disappearances of several V.I.L.E. agents. If they had vanished on their own, they must be planning something dastardly. And if they had disappeared against their will, what had happened and who was responsible? Either way it was a concern.
The sudden, shrill cry of the neighbor from across the alley nearly made him jump out of his chair.
"You again!" Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger's voice rang out. "Didn't you have enough humiliation before?!"
An unfamiliar voice answered. "Actually, I sounded pretty good before. Even your nephew thought so. Isn't that right, Barry?"
"Nephew?!" Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger shrieked.
Greg had to raise an eyebrow. "What's going on out there?!" he muttered, getting up from his desk.
He blinked in surprise as he opened the door and stood looking into the alley. Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger's nephew was indeed there, along with several other men. And one of them Greg knew very well. His eyes widened in shock.
"Scotty?!" he said in disbelief.
Scott gave a small wave. "Hi Greg," he said.
Greg shook his head in amazement. "Scotty, what are you doing here?" he exclaimed.
"It's a long story," Scott said. "We need to talk to you. Inside," he pointedly added with a glance at Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger. She humphed in response.
"Uh . . . okay," Greg said, still reeling from what was happening. "Come inside . . . I guess. . . ." He gestured at his office, even as Scott and the others headed for the stairs.
"Wow," a tall man with bleached braids mused, running his hand up the railing. "It's strange, but it actually does feel like we've been here before."
"That's called deja vu," another tall man intoned, his expression deadpan.
"Don't you feel it too?" The Braids Guy turned to look at Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger's nephew, Mr. Deadpan, who averted his gaze and grunted in reply.
"I feel it," a short man with dark curls said quietly, almost in awe.
Scott stared off into the distance. "We were all here," he said. "This alley does feel like home somehow, some way."
"Scott, what is going on here?" Greg exclaimed. "We hardly ever see each other anymore, and suddenly you show up with three strangers who act like they've been here before?"
"Five strangers, actually," Scott said somewhat sheepishly.
A punk kid appeared who reminded Greg of himself long ago, in the company of an adult Greg actually did know from meeting on several baffling cases.
"Aaron Gordon?" Greg said in amazement.
"Hello, Greg." Aaron sighed. "This is my nephew Jeff."
"This is Jeff?" Greg stared while Jeff looked back, very unimpressed.
"I know I'm probably nothing like what you were expecting, but yeah, I'm Jeff," he said.
"Oh no," Greg stammered. "You're fine. I'm sorry. Please, come in."
"Yes," Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger growled, "please go in. And keep your horrid voices down!" She slammed the window with a bang, startling everyone except Barry and Greg.
"My upstairs neighbor," Greg explained to the group. "She hates noise."
"Wow," said Braids Guy. "I never would have guessed."
Everyone trouped inside and Greg shut the door behind them. "Okay," he said. "What's your explanation for this, Scott?"
Scott took a deep breath and looked around at the others in the room. "Well, Greg," he said at last, "I brought these people here because we all have a somewhat astonishing thing in common: we feel like we know each other, but we've forgotten for some reason. And we just talked to two guys who have backed us up all the way and claim they know you." He opened the door again. "Come in, twins."
Greg's jaw hit the floor when Double Trouble marched, smirking, into the office. "What is going on here?!" he cried, not even caring that he was repeating himself. "What kind of stories have you been telling these people?"
"Just the truth, Gumshoe," the first twin drawled, knowing the term would probably get Greg mad, considering his level was way above that.
"About how they're detectives and they work with you and help put us and the rest of V.I.L.E. behind bars," said the second twin.
"What?" Greg shot back. "That's ridiculous. Why don't any of us remember something big like that?"
"You've been wondering why some of V.I.L.E.'s disappeared, haven't you?" said the first twin.
"Well, yes," Greg admitted.
"It's because we all got caught up in this weird plan somebody's enacted," said the second twin.
"It all fits, Greg," Scott said quietly. "Please listen to us."
Greg sat down at his desk and laced his fingers. "Okay. I'm listening."
It took the better part of an hour to go through the entire story. Before they were finished, the Chief came out to find out what was going on and stayed to listen to the rest. By the end, Greg was floored.
"I just . . . don't know what to think," he said, shaking his head. "It all sounds so incredible and bizarre. And I have a hard time believing that Double Trouble would ever tell the truth about anything."
"Hey, we're bored of this game," the first twin said. "We just want things to get back to normal so we can party again!"
"And I want my scholarship back from you two undeserving and ungrateful twerps!" Braids Guy, Sean, exclaimed as he pointed a forefinger at them.
Greg sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What do you think, Chief?" he asked.
The Chief sighed too. "Well, I don't know. You have to admit, it's unusual how all of these boys felt like they knew each other long before Double Trouble spoke to them. And it's even more unusual that Double Trouble has a scholarship to anywhere!" She frowned. "I'm going to call the university and verify that information, but honestly, at this point I don't see any reason to doubt it. That alone makes me believe this story is true. They wouldn't joke about something like that."
"Of course we wouldn't," the second twin said. "Not being able to party is serious business."
"So where does that leave us?" Sean wondered. "Do we get rehired and see what kind of music we can make together and if it's second nature to us?"
"We need to figure out what happened and why," Scott said. "If all of this is correct, and we feel it is, then someone is deliberately doing it to us. Who would hate us that much?"
"Not to mention, who would even have the resources to cause people to forget the truth and think they're living other lives," Greg exclaimed. "It would take some serious brainwashing to do that!"
"Or technology," the Chief worried.
"Come on, Chief, what kind of technology could do something like this?" Greg retorted.
"What kind of anything could do something like this?" the Chief shot back. "Complete strangers have been dragged into it as well, such as this Louie person and the crowds that gather to hear Scott and Barry sing! Greg, if this is true, it's one of the most frightening things that's ever happened!"
"I can't argue with that, Chief," Greg conceded. "I just don't know how we're ever going to find out the truth. That's one thing that's definitely been erased from all our minds."
"Maybe not entirely," the Chief mused. "Maybe subconsciously, one or more of these boys remembers the who and the why." She looked to them. "Is there anything that you're afraid of? Anything at all, even something that seems completely insignificant?"
They all looked at each other.
"I'm afraid of not making up the rent," Sean offered.
"I'm afraid of a rubber fish being planted on me while I'm in the middle of a serious opera solo," Barry grunted.
Elliott looked down, going red.
Scott gave him a sympathetic look. "El's afraid of interacting with girls," he offered. "Me, I can't think of anything I'm afraid of, except the thought of being separated from all these guys now that we've met again. And . . . oh." He swallowed hard.
"What is it?" Greg asked.
"I'm afraid of Charlestown," Scott admitted quietly. "I don't know why, but for as long as I can remember, I haven't wanted anything to do with it."
"Charleston, South Carolina?" Greg blinked. "I never knew you were afraid of that."
"No, not South Carolina. Massachusetts." Scott shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense to me or to Louie, but he knows not to schedule any concerts there. I just won't go there. For some reason, I just can't."
"That could be it!" the Chief exclaimed. "The secret might be in Charlestown, Massachusetts!"
Scott's stomach dropped. "But then . . . that would mean we'd have to go there," he gasped.
Elliott laid a hand on Scott's shoulder. "Yeah, it would," he said quietly. "But we have to find out the truth. . . ."
Scott jerked away. "No!" he cried. "No, I won't go there. There has to be another way. There has to be!"
"It's the only lead we've got," the Chief said. "Scott, I'm sorry, but you'll have to pull yourself together. This has to be done, not just for us, but for the entire world. For someone to have this much power, there's no limit to the horrors they can create!"
Scott fell back, shaking his head. "No . . ." He knew he was being illogical. He was even angry at himself for it. But the terror coming over him at the very thought of going to that town was almost paralyzing. He couldn't, he couldn't!
But . . . if the others went without him, he wouldn't be able to stand that, either. They could all be hurt by whatever made the place so horrifying to him. He had to go, to look after them if nothing else. And that was everything.
Still, he hated the thought. He ran a hand over his face and turned away. "There isn't any other way?" he said quietly.
"Not on what we've got," the Chief replied, softening slightly.
Scott's shoulders rose and fell in his resignation. "Do we have to leave right now?" He looked to Elliott. "I need some time."
Elliott smiled in sympathy. "We shouldn't take too long," he said. "But I don't see why it has to be this minute."
Scott's expression changed to gratitude. "Thanks, El."
****
For a while they sat in the alley in the strange banana chairs, staring off into space and thinking, trying to remember, trying to understand. They didn't need words right now, nor would they even be sure what words to use. They knew what they felt and they knew they all felt it. What they didn't know was how they would ever remember the rest again.
"I feel like I should play with a yo-yo," Sean said at last.
"I have an urge to go read those magazines," Barry grunted.
"I want to write on the street with chalk," Scott remarked.
Elliott was silent.
"What do you want, El?" Scott asked.
"I'm not sure," Elliott said slowly. "I think I want to glue some wooden blocks together like a pyramid."
Sean raised an eyebrow. "Weird."
"It's all weird," Barry said. "But we've accepted that there's something to it, haven't we?"
Murmurs of assent answered him.
"Aaron Gordon and Jeff are still in there with Greg," Scott said, looking to the door. "I wonder if they're having any better luck."
"With their problems, I'd doubt it," Sean frowned.
"At least Mr. Gordon calmed down enough to consider that what we were told is the truth," Barry said. "He's not an unreasonable man."
"True," Sean relented.
"I think he and Jeff will be able to get past their problems," said Scott. "Jeff really wants to and so does Mr. Gordon. As strange as it probably sounds, I think Mr. Gordon telling the twins to shut up when they started mocking was a good sign."
"Maybe so," Sean mused. "He did seem too strait-laced to say something as colloquial as 'shut up' before." He leaned back. "I just don't want to be exposed to even more Gordon family dirty laundry all the way to Charlestown. I'm not a fan of soap operas, especially being involved in them."
Scott cringed at the reminder of having to go to the dreaded place. Glancing at him, Elliott determined to change the subject.
"And Double Trouble actually agreed to stay in a holding cell while everything gets sorted out," he said in disbelief. "They really are serious about wanting us to remember everything."
Scott looked down, appreciating Elliott's attempt to alter the subject but feeling he needed to say what he was about to. "I know we have to go to Charlestown," he said quietly. "We should be leaving right now. But every time I try to bring myself to do it, I freeze up. I don't know how I'm ever going to feel ready to go there."
Elliott hesitated. "You wouldn't have to go," he said at last. "The rest of us could check it out."
That brought Scott up again with a jerk. "If I'm so freaked out at the thought of going there, it must be because something's really wrong with the place," he said. "I couldn't sit back and let the rest of you go without me."
Elliott smiled wanly, touched. "And I don't like to think of making you feel like you have to go somewhere that terrifies you," he said.
Scott slammed his fist into his palm. "The answers must be there," he said. "Maybe if we go right now . . ." He leaped up, the chair rocking behind him.
"Hey," Sean said, slowly pulling himself to his feet, "what about Louie? Isn't he going to start wondering where you are pretty soon?"
Scott cringed, guilt striking him at the realization he had forgot about Louie. "Yeah, he will." He frowned. "He'll worry if I don't tell him anything and just drop out of sight."
"But on the other hand, won't he try to stop you if you tell him?" Sean asked, folding his arms. "From what you and Elliott told us, it seems like he would."
"Maybe. He'll sure wonder why I'm suddenly willing to go to Charlestown." Scott took out his phone. "Uh oh. I've had it on Silent and he's been trying to call." He started to tap out the number. "I'll have to call him back. He might be about ready to call the police."
Elliott winced. He could sympathize with Louie being so worried, really. After all, in Louie's mind he had known Scott a lot longer, while Elliott had only consciously known him for a few hours.
Had all of this really taken place over a few hours? It seemed so much longer.
"An eternity can last mere seconds," a chilling voice whispered in his ear. "Maybe you've known Scott that long. Maybe not." Unlike before, when the spirit had only implanted suggestions, now he was choosing to make his presence absolutely known. Elliott could fully hear him.
And Elliott jumped a mile. "Who's there?" he demanded, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Scott. Sean and Barry, both focused on Scott's conversation, didn't notice.
"Maybe I gave you the memories of knowing each other. Maybe that's all just a cruel fantasy and the reality is that you are all alone. You can't accept that deep down, so you grasped my false world hook, line, and sinker."
Elliott got to his feet, angry now. "Or maybe you gave us the false memories of not having known each other!" he retorted. "I know we really know each other. That's real, not fake!"
A strange mist began to curl around him as part of it formed the outline of a spirit in Revolutionary War clothes. Elliott gasped. He looked just like Scott, only hateful and cruel.
"Very well," he snarled. "If that's the way you want it."
"Hey! What the heck?!" Now Sean had noticed. "What's going on here?"
Scott spun around to look. Seeing the spirit had a frightful effect; he dropped the phone as he screamed in horror.
The spirit sneered at him. "Oh, do you remember me?"
"I remember how you made me feel," Scott shot back. "I remember that you're the reason I can't stand Charleston! That's all I remember, but that's enough. Get away from Elliott!"
"I don't think so." The spirit drew closer to Elliott instead, the tendrils of fog curling around his legs and waist. Elliott stared, frozen in horror. Even though he tried to move, he could not. Sneering more, the spirit brought his translucent arms around Elliott in a cruel imitation of a hug. "Elliott's coming with me."
"N-no," Elliott choked out. "You can't . . . Scott can't stand it there!"
"Typical," the spirit mocked. "I'm taking you to Charlestown and all you can think about is Scott. Well, rest assured, you're right that he can't stand it there. He won't come for you, will you, Scott? You've only known each other a few hours. That's not worth risking a trip to a place Scott hasn't set foot in for ages."
Indeed, Scott seemed paralyzed now as well. But Sean and Barry were not. Furious, they ran forward, desperately trying to grab for Elliott. But the fog whirled around him before they could. They only snatched air. Sean nearly tumbled to the ground. Barry only barely caught him in time.
The disappearance snapped Scott out of his daze. "Elliott!" he screamed, running forward to the empty space. It still felt far too cold from the spirit's presence there. "ELLIOTT!" He stood shaking, looking to Sean and Barry in heart-rending horror and anguish. "I couldn't make myself move. I was facing my worst fear . . . or at least, I thought I was. And now because of me, Elliott's gone!" He dug a hand into his hair. "Now I know my worst fear isn't Charlestown. It's the spirit from Charlestown hurting any of you! And he has Elliott!"
"We'll get him back," Sean determined, gripping Scott's shoulder. "We'll leave right now."
"If we'd left in the first place, this wouldn't have happened," Scott said forlornly.
"Don't think about that now," Barry encouraged. "Just think about how we're going to save Elliott."
"Hey! What's going on?!" a new voice suddenly yelled.
Scott groaned. "Oh no. I forgot about Louie. He heard everything!" He ran over and grabbed the phone. "I'm sorry, Louie, I can't explain now. Something horrible happened to Elliott and we have to save him!"
Scotty, you're a singer! You won't know what you're doing; this is a matter for the police!" Louie sounded close to hysterics. "That guy that took Elliott sounded like a real lunatic!"
Scott bit his lip. He didn't like for Louie to be in turmoil, but he knew what he had to do. "You're wrong, Louie," he said quietly. "About what I am, I mean. I am a singer, that's true. But I will know what I'm doing, because I'm also a detective. And more importantly, I'm a worried friend. The police can't save Elliott where he is right now, but maybe I can."
"Oh yeah? And where's that?!"
Scott drew a deep breath. "Charlestown, Massachusetts."
Louie fell silent for a long moment. "Scotty, in all the time I've known you, you've never been willing to go there for anything," he said. "I just gave up even trying. And now you're going to face your terror to save Elliott?"
"Yes," Scott said firmly and without hesitation, even as his stomach tied in knots.
"Then maybe you're right," Louie said. "Maybe you really do know him in some world you've both forgotten. I don't think even crazy fantasies could get you to set one foot in that place."
"We remember enough," Scott said. "But does this mean you're not going to try to stop me?"
"I don't know how I could." Louie sounded resigned. "I knew you were slipping away as soon as you ran into that Elliott. Of course I thought it was all baloney and that he was putting one over on you. But now, hearing what you're willing to do for him, I just don't know anymore."
"It's real, Louie. It's all real." Scott spoke with desperation and passion. "The answers to everything are with that spirit in Charlestown."
"Then I hope you get them," Louie said sincerely. "You know your own mind, Scott. I say you're really growing up."
Scott had to smile. Louie had only called him "Scott" a handful of times. To hear it now, Scott could also clearly hear the newfound respect in his manager's voice.
"Goodbye, Louie. I'll let you know when we get back."
"If you get back." Louie sounded gruff but concerned. "Goodbye, Kid."
"We're coming back," Scott insisted. "With Elliott." He hung up, biting his lip. He was still angry at himself for not simply agreeing to go to Charlestown in the first place. But, he realized with an ever-sinking heart, if the spirit had been hanging around and knew of their plans, then apparently he wanted them to go to Charlestown. That was why he had taken Elliott. He knew that Scott would come, in spite of what he had told Elliott. And that only made Scott worry all the more about what they would find when they got there.
Voices at the doorway brought his attention up. Greg, Jeff, and Aaron Gordon were standing at the top of the stairs, talking with Sean and Barry about what had happened. Shoving his phone in his pocket, Scott went over to join them.
"Did you get things settled with Louie?" Sean asked.
"About as much as I could," Scott said. "He was . . . surprisingly supportive, when he realized just how much I'm willing to risk for Elliott." He gave a weak smile. "Louie's a good guy. I'm glad I met him, even though I wish it hadn't been like this."
"Okay then," Sean said. "Let's go to Charlestown and rescue Elliott!"
Jeff gave a firm nod and hurried down the stairs, followed by Mr. Gordon. Greg hesitated, then went with them.
Scott regarded him in surprise. "Can you leave, Greg? Aren't you needed here?"
"The Chief said we need to find out what's caused all these weird disappearances and lapses of memory," Greg told him. "And I don't want to stay behind while you go plunging into whatever weirdness you're going to find in Charlestown."
Scott started to smile. "Then let's go!" he declared.
He was still afraid. Now, however, his fear was over what Elliott's state might be when they got there.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 4,003
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry), Jeff, Greg, The Chief
Supporting Characters: Double Trouble, Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger; Mr. Gordon, Louie, Scott's imposter (OCs)
Summary: It's back to ACME Crimenet for the first time since Rockapella's memories were wiped....
Chapter Eight
I Prayed for Mercy
Greg sighed as he sat at his desk, sifting through the stack of files and folders that had grown more enormous with each passing day. The Chief had been telling him for weeks that he needed to take care of it, but he had continued to drag his feet on the matter. Taking care of cases was usually a satisfactory excuse for leaving the mess. When the desk had literally begun to groan under the weight, however, the Chief had put her foot down.
"If you have to stay after your shift is over, then you will stay after your shift is over!" she had declared. "You will not leave this office until your desk is free!"
And there had been no choice but to obey.
"You know, it'd be great if I had an assistant," he mused to himself. "Mrs. P. was hollering about some guy singing on the street corner. If he needs a job, we could sure use him here!" He set another folder on the pile, muttering when he spoke next. "He could do all of this kind of stuff."
With another sigh he rubbed his eyes and leaned back. The case load had been heavy over the last weeks; after all, V.I.L.E. did not rest. But what concerned the Chief most were the disappearances of several V.I.L.E. agents. If they had vanished on their own, they must be planning something dastardly. And if they had disappeared against their will, what had happened and who was responsible? Either way it was a concern.
The sudden, shrill cry of the neighbor from across the alley nearly made him jump out of his chair.
"You again!" Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger's voice rang out. "Didn't you have enough humiliation before?!"
An unfamiliar voice answered. "Actually, I sounded pretty good before. Even your nephew thought so. Isn't that right, Barry?"
"Nephew?!" Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger shrieked.
Greg had to raise an eyebrow. "What's going on out there?!" he muttered, getting up from his desk.
He blinked in surprise as he opened the door and stood looking into the alley. Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger's nephew was indeed there, along with several other men. And one of them Greg knew very well. His eyes widened in shock.
"Scotty?!" he said in disbelief.
Scott gave a small wave. "Hi Greg," he said.
Greg shook his head in amazement. "Scotty, what are you doing here?" he exclaimed.
"It's a long story," Scott said. "We need to talk to you. Inside," he pointedly added with a glance at Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger. She humphed in response.
"Uh . . . okay," Greg said, still reeling from what was happening. "Come inside . . . I guess. . . ." He gestured at his office, even as Scott and the others headed for the stairs.
"Wow," a tall man with bleached braids mused, running his hand up the railing. "It's strange, but it actually does feel like we've been here before."
"That's called deja vu," another tall man intoned, his expression deadpan.
"Don't you feel it too?" The Braids Guy turned to look at Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger's nephew, Mr. Deadpan, who averted his gaze and grunted in reply.
"I feel it," a short man with dark curls said quietly, almost in awe.
Scott stared off into the distance. "We were all here," he said. "This alley does feel like home somehow, some way."
"Scott, what is going on here?" Greg exclaimed. "We hardly ever see each other anymore, and suddenly you show up with three strangers who act like they've been here before?"
"Five strangers, actually," Scott said somewhat sheepishly.
A punk kid appeared who reminded Greg of himself long ago, in the company of an adult Greg actually did know from meeting on several baffling cases.
"Aaron Gordon?" Greg said in amazement.
"Hello, Greg." Aaron sighed. "This is my nephew Jeff."
"This is Jeff?" Greg stared while Jeff looked back, very unimpressed.
"I know I'm probably nothing like what you were expecting, but yeah, I'm Jeff," he said.
"Oh no," Greg stammered. "You're fine. I'm sorry. Please, come in."
"Yes," Mrs. Pumpkin-Klanger growled, "please go in. And keep your horrid voices down!" She slammed the window with a bang, startling everyone except Barry and Greg.
"My upstairs neighbor," Greg explained to the group. "She hates noise."
"Wow," said Braids Guy. "I never would have guessed."
Everyone trouped inside and Greg shut the door behind them. "Okay," he said. "What's your explanation for this, Scott?"
Scott took a deep breath and looked around at the others in the room. "Well, Greg," he said at last, "I brought these people here because we all have a somewhat astonishing thing in common: we feel like we know each other, but we've forgotten for some reason. And we just talked to two guys who have backed us up all the way and claim they know you." He opened the door again. "Come in, twins."
Greg's jaw hit the floor when Double Trouble marched, smirking, into the office. "What is going on here?!" he cried, not even caring that he was repeating himself. "What kind of stories have you been telling these people?"
"Just the truth, Gumshoe," the first twin drawled, knowing the term would probably get Greg mad, considering his level was way above that.
"About how they're detectives and they work with you and help put us and the rest of V.I.L.E. behind bars," said the second twin.
"What?" Greg shot back. "That's ridiculous. Why don't any of us remember something big like that?"
"You've been wondering why some of V.I.L.E.'s disappeared, haven't you?" said the first twin.
"Well, yes," Greg admitted.
"It's because we all got caught up in this weird plan somebody's enacted," said the second twin.
"It all fits, Greg," Scott said quietly. "Please listen to us."
Greg sat down at his desk and laced his fingers. "Okay. I'm listening."
It took the better part of an hour to go through the entire story. Before they were finished, the Chief came out to find out what was going on and stayed to listen to the rest. By the end, Greg was floored.
"I just . . . don't know what to think," he said, shaking his head. "It all sounds so incredible and bizarre. And I have a hard time believing that Double Trouble would ever tell the truth about anything."
"Hey, we're bored of this game," the first twin said. "We just want things to get back to normal so we can party again!"
"And I want my scholarship back from you two undeserving and ungrateful twerps!" Braids Guy, Sean, exclaimed as he pointed a forefinger at them.
Greg sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What do you think, Chief?" he asked.
The Chief sighed too. "Well, I don't know. You have to admit, it's unusual how all of these boys felt like they knew each other long before Double Trouble spoke to them. And it's even more unusual that Double Trouble has a scholarship to anywhere!" She frowned. "I'm going to call the university and verify that information, but honestly, at this point I don't see any reason to doubt it. That alone makes me believe this story is true. They wouldn't joke about something like that."
"Of course we wouldn't," the second twin said. "Not being able to party is serious business."
"So where does that leave us?" Sean wondered. "Do we get rehired and see what kind of music we can make together and if it's second nature to us?"
"We need to figure out what happened and why," Scott said. "If all of this is correct, and we feel it is, then someone is deliberately doing it to us. Who would hate us that much?"
"Not to mention, who would even have the resources to cause people to forget the truth and think they're living other lives," Greg exclaimed. "It would take some serious brainwashing to do that!"
"Or technology," the Chief worried.
"Come on, Chief, what kind of technology could do something like this?" Greg retorted.
"What kind of anything could do something like this?" the Chief shot back. "Complete strangers have been dragged into it as well, such as this Louie person and the crowds that gather to hear Scott and Barry sing! Greg, if this is true, it's one of the most frightening things that's ever happened!"
"I can't argue with that, Chief," Greg conceded. "I just don't know how we're ever going to find out the truth. That's one thing that's definitely been erased from all our minds."
"Maybe not entirely," the Chief mused. "Maybe subconsciously, one or more of these boys remembers the who and the why." She looked to them. "Is there anything that you're afraid of? Anything at all, even something that seems completely insignificant?"
They all looked at each other.
"I'm afraid of not making up the rent," Sean offered.
"I'm afraid of a rubber fish being planted on me while I'm in the middle of a serious opera solo," Barry grunted.
Elliott looked down, going red.
Scott gave him a sympathetic look. "El's afraid of interacting with girls," he offered. "Me, I can't think of anything I'm afraid of, except the thought of being separated from all these guys now that we've met again. And . . . oh." He swallowed hard.
"What is it?" Greg asked.
"I'm afraid of Charlestown," Scott admitted quietly. "I don't know why, but for as long as I can remember, I haven't wanted anything to do with it."
"Charleston, South Carolina?" Greg blinked. "I never knew you were afraid of that."
"No, not South Carolina. Massachusetts." Scott shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense to me or to Louie, but he knows not to schedule any concerts there. I just won't go there. For some reason, I just can't."
"That could be it!" the Chief exclaimed. "The secret might be in Charlestown, Massachusetts!"
Scott's stomach dropped. "But then . . . that would mean we'd have to go there," he gasped.
Elliott laid a hand on Scott's shoulder. "Yeah, it would," he said quietly. "But we have to find out the truth. . . ."
Scott jerked away. "No!" he cried. "No, I won't go there. There has to be another way. There has to be!"
"It's the only lead we've got," the Chief said. "Scott, I'm sorry, but you'll have to pull yourself together. This has to be done, not just for us, but for the entire world. For someone to have this much power, there's no limit to the horrors they can create!"
Scott fell back, shaking his head. "No . . ." He knew he was being illogical. He was even angry at himself for it. But the terror coming over him at the very thought of going to that town was almost paralyzing. He couldn't, he couldn't!
But . . . if the others went without him, he wouldn't be able to stand that, either. They could all be hurt by whatever made the place so horrifying to him. He had to go, to look after them if nothing else. And that was everything.
Still, he hated the thought. He ran a hand over his face and turned away. "There isn't any other way?" he said quietly.
"Not on what we've got," the Chief replied, softening slightly.
Scott's shoulders rose and fell in his resignation. "Do we have to leave right now?" He looked to Elliott. "I need some time."
Elliott smiled in sympathy. "We shouldn't take too long," he said. "But I don't see why it has to be this minute."
Scott's expression changed to gratitude. "Thanks, El."
****
For a while they sat in the alley in the strange banana chairs, staring off into space and thinking, trying to remember, trying to understand. They didn't need words right now, nor would they even be sure what words to use. They knew what they felt and they knew they all felt it. What they didn't know was how they would ever remember the rest again.
"I feel like I should play with a yo-yo," Sean said at last.
"I have an urge to go read those magazines," Barry grunted.
"I want to write on the street with chalk," Scott remarked.
Elliott was silent.
"What do you want, El?" Scott asked.
"I'm not sure," Elliott said slowly. "I think I want to glue some wooden blocks together like a pyramid."
Sean raised an eyebrow. "Weird."
"It's all weird," Barry said. "But we've accepted that there's something to it, haven't we?"
Murmurs of assent answered him.
"Aaron Gordon and Jeff are still in there with Greg," Scott said, looking to the door. "I wonder if they're having any better luck."
"With their problems, I'd doubt it," Sean frowned.
"At least Mr. Gordon calmed down enough to consider that what we were told is the truth," Barry said. "He's not an unreasonable man."
"True," Sean relented.
"I think he and Jeff will be able to get past their problems," said Scott. "Jeff really wants to and so does Mr. Gordon. As strange as it probably sounds, I think Mr. Gordon telling the twins to shut up when they started mocking was a good sign."
"Maybe so," Sean mused. "He did seem too strait-laced to say something as colloquial as 'shut up' before." He leaned back. "I just don't want to be exposed to even more Gordon family dirty laundry all the way to Charlestown. I'm not a fan of soap operas, especially being involved in them."
Scott cringed at the reminder of having to go to the dreaded place. Glancing at him, Elliott determined to change the subject.
"And Double Trouble actually agreed to stay in a holding cell while everything gets sorted out," he said in disbelief. "They really are serious about wanting us to remember everything."
Scott looked down, appreciating Elliott's attempt to alter the subject but feeling he needed to say what he was about to. "I know we have to go to Charlestown," he said quietly. "We should be leaving right now. But every time I try to bring myself to do it, I freeze up. I don't know how I'm ever going to feel ready to go there."
Elliott hesitated. "You wouldn't have to go," he said at last. "The rest of us could check it out."
That brought Scott up again with a jerk. "If I'm so freaked out at the thought of going there, it must be because something's really wrong with the place," he said. "I couldn't sit back and let the rest of you go without me."
Elliott smiled wanly, touched. "And I don't like to think of making you feel like you have to go somewhere that terrifies you," he said.
Scott slammed his fist into his palm. "The answers must be there," he said. "Maybe if we go right now . . ." He leaped up, the chair rocking behind him.
"Hey," Sean said, slowly pulling himself to his feet, "what about Louie? Isn't he going to start wondering where you are pretty soon?"
Scott cringed, guilt striking him at the realization he had forgot about Louie. "Yeah, he will." He frowned. "He'll worry if I don't tell him anything and just drop out of sight."
"But on the other hand, won't he try to stop you if you tell him?" Sean asked, folding his arms. "From what you and Elliott told us, it seems like he would."
"Maybe. He'll sure wonder why I'm suddenly willing to go to Charlestown." Scott took out his phone. "Uh oh. I've had it on Silent and he's been trying to call." He started to tap out the number. "I'll have to call him back. He might be about ready to call the police."
Elliott winced. He could sympathize with Louie being so worried, really. After all, in Louie's mind he had known Scott a lot longer, while Elliott had only consciously known him for a few hours.
Had all of this really taken place over a few hours? It seemed so much longer.
"An eternity can last mere seconds," a chilling voice whispered in his ear. "Maybe you've known Scott that long. Maybe not." Unlike before, when the spirit had only implanted suggestions, now he was choosing to make his presence absolutely known. Elliott could fully hear him.
And Elliott jumped a mile. "Who's there?" he demanded, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Scott. Sean and Barry, both focused on Scott's conversation, didn't notice.
"Maybe I gave you the memories of knowing each other. Maybe that's all just a cruel fantasy and the reality is that you are all alone. You can't accept that deep down, so you grasped my false world hook, line, and sinker."
Elliott got to his feet, angry now. "Or maybe you gave us the false memories of not having known each other!" he retorted. "I know we really know each other. That's real, not fake!"
A strange mist began to curl around him as part of it formed the outline of a spirit in Revolutionary War clothes. Elliott gasped. He looked just like Scott, only hateful and cruel.
"Very well," he snarled. "If that's the way you want it."
"Hey! What the heck?!" Now Sean had noticed. "What's going on here?"
Scott spun around to look. Seeing the spirit had a frightful effect; he dropped the phone as he screamed in horror.
The spirit sneered at him. "Oh, do you remember me?"
"I remember how you made me feel," Scott shot back. "I remember that you're the reason I can't stand Charleston! That's all I remember, but that's enough. Get away from Elliott!"
"I don't think so." The spirit drew closer to Elliott instead, the tendrils of fog curling around his legs and waist. Elliott stared, frozen in horror. Even though he tried to move, he could not. Sneering more, the spirit brought his translucent arms around Elliott in a cruel imitation of a hug. "Elliott's coming with me."
"N-no," Elliott choked out. "You can't . . . Scott can't stand it there!"
"Typical," the spirit mocked. "I'm taking you to Charlestown and all you can think about is Scott. Well, rest assured, you're right that he can't stand it there. He won't come for you, will you, Scott? You've only known each other a few hours. That's not worth risking a trip to a place Scott hasn't set foot in for ages."
Indeed, Scott seemed paralyzed now as well. But Sean and Barry were not. Furious, they ran forward, desperately trying to grab for Elliott. But the fog whirled around him before they could. They only snatched air. Sean nearly tumbled to the ground. Barry only barely caught him in time.
The disappearance snapped Scott out of his daze. "Elliott!" he screamed, running forward to the empty space. It still felt far too cold from the spirit's presence there. "ELLIOTT!" He stood shaking, looking to Sean and Barry in heart-rending horror and anguish. "I couldn't make myself move. I was facing my worst fear . . . or at least, I thought I was. And now because of me, Elliott's gone!" He dug a hand into his hair. "Now I know my worst fear isn't Charlestown. It's the spirit from Charlestown hurting any of you! And he has Elliott!"
"We'll get him back," Sean determined, gripping Scott's shoulder. "We'll leave right now."
"If we'd left in the first place, this wouldn't have happened," Scott said forlornly.
"Don't think about that now," Barry encouraged. "Just think about how we're going to save Elliott."
"Hey! What's going on?!" a new voice suddenly yelled.
Scott groaned. "Oh no. I forgot about Louie. He heard everything!" He ran over and grabbed the phone. "I'm sorry, Louie, I can't explain now. Something horrible happened to Elliott and we have to save him!"
Scotty, you're a singer! You won't know what you're doing; this is a matter for the police!" Louie sounded close to hysterics. "That guy that took Elliott sounded like a real lunatic!"
Scott bit his lip. He didn't like for Louie to be in turmoil, but he knew what he had to do. "You're wrong, Louie," he said quietly. "About what I am, I mean. I am a singer, that's true. But I will know what I'm doing, because I'm also a detective. And more importantly, I'm a worried friend. The police can't save Elliott where he is right now, but maybe I can."
"Oh yeah? And where's that?!"
Scott drew a deep breath. "Charlestown, Massachusetts."
Louie fell silent for a long moment. "Scotty, in all the time I've known you, you've never been willing to go there for anything," he said. "I just gave up even trying. And now you're going to face your terror to save Elliott?"
"Yes," Scott said firmly and without hesitation, even as his stomach tied in knots.
"Then maybe you're right," Louie said. "Maybe you really do know him in some world you've both forgotten. I don't think even crazy fantasies could get you to set one foot in that place."
"We remember enough," Scott said. "But does this mean you're not going to try to stop me?"
"I don't know how I could." Louie sounded resigned. "I knew you were slipping away as soon as you ran into that Elliott. Of course I thought it was all baloney and that he was putting one over on you. But now, hearing what you're willing to do for him, I just don't know anymore."
"It's real, Louie. It's all real." Scott spoke with desperation and passion. "The answers to everything are with that spirit in Charlestown."
"Then I hope you get them," Louie said sincerely. "You know your own mind, Scott. I say you're really growing up."
Scott had to smile. Louie had only called him "Scott" a handful of times. To hear it now, Scott could also clearly hear the newfound respect in his manager's voice.
"Goodbye, Louie. I'll let you know when we get back."
"If you get back." Louie sounded gruff but concerned. "Goodbye, Kid."
"We're coming back," Scott insisted. "With Elliott." He hung up, biting his lip. He was still angry at himself for not simply agreeing to go to Charlestown in the first place. But, he realized with an ever-sinking heart, if the spirit had been hanging around and knew of their plans, then apparently he wanted them to go to Charlestown. That was why he had taken Elliott. He knew that Scott would come, in spite of what he had told Elliott. And that only made Scott worry all the more about what they would find when they got there.
Voices at the doorway brought his attention up. Greg, Jeff, and Aaron Gordon were standing at the top of the stairs, talking with Sean and Barry about what had happened. Shoving his phone in his pocket, Scott went over to join them.
"Did you get things settled with Louie?" Sean asked.
"About as much as I could," Scott said. "He was . . . surprisingly supportive, when he realized just how much I'm willing to risk for Elliott." He gave a weak smile. "Louie's a good guy. I'm glad I met him, even though I wish it hadn't been like this."
"Okay then," Sean said. "Let's go to Charlestown and rescue Elliott!"
Jeff gave a firm nod and hurried down the stairs, followed by Mr. Gordon. Greg hesitated, then went with them.
Scott regarded him in surprise. "Can you leave, Greg? Aren't you needed here?"
"The Chief said we need to find out what's caused all these weird disappearances and lapses of memory," Greg told him. "And I don't want to stay behind while you go plunging into whatever weirdness you're going to find in Charlestown."
Scott started to smile. "Then let's go!" he declared.
He was still afraid. Now, however, his fear was over what Elliott's state might be when they got there.