Book Nine, Chapter 50: Backseat Exposition

To call it a creature was a bit of an exaggeration. It was definitely human in shape, and shape was an apt word to describe it because it didn't seem to have any depth. But perhaps that was because of its absolute darkness that captured the light that hit it. When it stayed still, it almost looked like someone had painted the room white while a person was lying against the wall, leaving behind only one black silhouette.

Silhouette was another good word for it.

I had to come up with my own words because it had no name on the red wallpaper. In fact, it didn't have much of anything. I didn't know if this was because it was so high-level or because it had a trope for countering insight abilities. With the rats, I could focus in on an individual creature in order to beat it in the stat matchup and get a look at almost all their tropes, but this one didn't work out.

Plot Armor: 80

__________

Tropes

Share of the Night

This creature will have the same Plot Armor as the Big Bad even if it is not the principal antagonist.

It really wasn't much to go on. I had to hope that Camden and the NPC he had been assigned to had more information on it.

I could tell it was watching us because the tendril-like hair coming off its head moved as it shifted its gaze from one of us to the next. If I wasn't mistaken, it had chains connected to its neck and wrists.

For such a terrifying creature to look at, Dr. Meridian acted incredibly casual.

“This apparition used to manifest periodically. Approximately three years ago, it began showing up more regularly, and starting last week, it appeared and has not yet left,” he said. “Don't be afraid. So far, it has not shown itself to be violent.”

“I wouldn't be so sure about that, Doc,” Ace said.

“And why is that?” the doctor asked.

“That's the thing that pulled her out the window ten years ago at the cabin,” Sidney said. “That's the thing that did this to her. I don't understand. Why is it just sitting there?”

My question was why they thought a plastic cubicle was enough to protect them from it. Perhaps it was about establishing a safe perimeter.

“Observation alone has not been sufficient to explain the manifestation's behavior or motivations, if it indeed has any. Psychic phenomena rarely behave in a predictable or normal manner,” Meridian said. “All we know is what we see, and so far, the entity has allowed her to be cleaned and cared for without moving so much as a muscle. It appears to be awake and alert, though it has yet to make any attempt at communication.”

“What is this place?” Geneva asked. “How is it that you have her here? She was supposed to be in the state hospital. I looked for her. I wanted to see her. They even told me she was dead once, but then the story changed to her being transferred. I suppose that was your doing.”

“It was,” Meridian said. “One cannot devote their life to understanding the dark processes of the human mind without running into the occasional monster, but this, I confess, is outside even my area of expertise. You may be wondering why I went through the trouble of tracking you down, even so much as having one of my assistants monitoring police radios after certain recent events, listening for your names specifically.”

Carousel threw an explainer for how these people showed up at the exact right time to retrieve the main characters. I found it a bit funny, all the stitching that needed to be done to recover from the changes that my friends and I had made to the story.

“What's to wonder?” Ace said. “Sounds like you figured it all out.”

“Not nearly all of it,” Meridian said. “We have been tracking phenomena related to Ramona's condition for years now. It appears that whatever is happening is accelerating. My associate likens it to a spreading disease, but we can't quite figure out the vector. We know it has to do with the three of you. We have yet to locate most of the others involved.”

“We think it's just us left,” Geneva said. “I swear it's not what you seem to think. We didn't do anything wrong.”

“Miss Banks, I assure you, it is not my intention to assign blame. We simply need to understand this contagion.”

“I don't get it,” Sidney said.

She stared into the cubicle where Ramona and the silhouette were contained. She hadn't been paying much attention to Meridian. Her eyes were locked on Ramona.

“Her eyes are open. She's blinking,” she said.

Ramona was not in a coma under any definition that I was familiar with. It wasn't exactly against the rules. After all, the trope was called Restorative Catatonia.

“Yes, she woke from her coma approximately three weeks ago,” Meridian said. “Since then, she has mostly maintained a persistent vegetative state.”

As this conversation was going on, my friends and I could only watch. It was clear who the main characters were, and since we'd made the effort to be brought into the action, we wanted to make sure we learned what we could before we risked anything further.

“Can she hear us?” Sidney asked.

“We don't know,” Meridian said. “Our tests were inconclusive, though given the nature of her circumstances, it isn't clear whether we have tests to monitor what she is going through.”

“We tried to help her,” Sidney said. “We didn't know what to do.”

“I understand that,” Meridian said. “You cannot be blamed for events of this nature, though I hope now I might convince you to explain to me exactly what it is that happened ten years ago. We have been tracking events around the city for years at this point, events that can be traced back to the six people Ramona Mercer went on that lake trip with.”

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“Traced back to us?” Ace asked. “What do you mean by that? Are you talking about all the stuff that's been happening around town? The monsters?”

For the first time, Meridian seemed taken aback.

“Monsters?” he asked. “What exactly do you think we've been tracking? Have you seen more apparitions like this one?”

“Not like this one,” Ace said. “We've seen a lot of freaky stuff in the last few days. You wouldn't believe.”

“You would be shocked at what I would believe. My colleague and I, Dr. Mentes, have been tracking this phenomenon for years, attempting to ascertain its source and to understand it.”

The name Mentes seemed to catch in his throat.

“Dr. Mentes knew?” Sidney asked. “How is that possible? He was my therapist.”

“Yes,” Meridian said. “And your previous therapist referred you to him, did they not?”

“Yes,” Sidney said. “You're not saying that he sought me out?”

“He hoped to learn what you knew about Ramona's condition. There are many lives at stake. I'm sure if you take the time to consider his position, you will understand his choice.”

This seemed like it might have been a rewrite. I wasn’t certain.

“That isn't exactly ethical,” Geneva said.

“No,” Meridian said. “But we're past that.”

They kept talking, but I could tell they were in a cycle, trying to find the best phrasing to transition to the next part of the story. It was On-Screen, but it was repetitive.

And it would have gone on that way until the next beat, except something strange happened, and Cassie was completely to blame for it.

Unlike us, she wasn't prevented from getting closer to Ramona because of the clear plastic construct that separated her from the rest of the room. Cassie was wandering around, a spirit separate from her body, and could walk right through it.

I only noticed when I caught a glimpse of her in the direction of Ramona.

Terrifyingly, it was clear that the silhouette could see her too, but it did nothing. It simply watched her like a hawk as she stepped closer toward Ramona.

Interestingly enough, Cassie was On-Screen.

It seemed that was the real reason the main characters started talking in circles, because they were only providing background noise as the camera watched Cassie's spirit step closer to wide-eyed Ramona lying in bed.

It was at that moment, as Cassie got close, that I saw Ramona's Grit jump up two points. Their characters weren't quite connected. Somehow, her boost was even less than the ones the rest of us got. Almost as soon as I noticed the buff, Ramona spoke.

“Don't come further,” she said.

Her voice was stressed and cracked from disuse, but the words were clear. She repeated them.

“Don't come further.”

Then she looked in the direction of Cassie.

But, of course, Cassie was invisible, so it looked like she was looking right through her in the direction she had come from, which was our direction, where we were standing. And more specifically, it looked like she was looking at Kimberly.

Not willing to miss an opportunity, Kimberly stepped toward the barrier and placed her hand on it, as if interfacing with Ramona on some sort of spiritual level, looking from Cassie to Ramona and back again.

She was On-Screen.

“We're not alone,” Kimberly said. “There's someone here with us. There's someone right there next to Ramona. Another spirit.”

Meridian stepped forward toward Kimberly, examining her as best he could as an academic and not a psychic detective.

“What are you experiencing?” he asked.

“I see her,” Kimberly said. “She's standing at the foot of the bed. It's a woman. Brown hair, tattoos. Her clothes are ragged, an older style. I don't understand.”

Kimberly never liked Cassie’s grunge look.

At best, all Kimberly could actually see was a blip on the red wallpaper, but it was enough, and she totally sold it.

I wasn't sure what she sold, but it was a very intense moment.

“Go,” Ramona said.

Cassie must have been spooked because she immediately backed away from the foot of the bed and ran back toward the barrier the way she had come. As she did, she had to pass right through Kimberly.

I wasn't sure if Kimberly actually felt something or if she was just playing it up. There was a remarkable amount of overlap between those two possibilities in Carousel. Either way, Kimberly fell backward onto the ground as Cassie passed through her, and Carousel rewarded the performance by making the lights flicker.

Antoine and I rushed to help pick Kimberly up.

She was never going to be satisfied on the sidelines. What a diva.

-

We gathered in a different room, one with expensive leather furniture and bookshelves filled with hundreds, if not thousands, of books.

Ace, Geneva, and Sidney didn't explain what actually happened. In fact, they refused.

What they did tell us was what happened after.

“You don't understand,” Geneva said. “I could have lost my scholarship, gotten kicked out of college. I didn't even do any of the illegal stuff, but just the association would have ruined me, so we didn't tell them anything.”

“Didn't tell them what, exactly?” Meridian asked.

“There were drugs at the beach,” Sidney said. “We didn't know what happened, but the last thing we wanted was to tell people we had seen that thing and then for them to test us for drugs.”

It’s not like the police would believe the truth anyway.

“Tell me, did Ramona ingest any of these illicit substances? And can you list out exactly what it was you took?”

“Buddy, at this point, I couldn't even tell you what color the pills were,” Ace said. “And we didn't know if Ramona took any. She sort of kept to herself. I don't know. Tommy was talking to her more than anyone else, and he was the guy we got them from. I assume she must have taken something. We figured if we didn’t say anything, maybe no one would find out.”

“Tommy? That would be Tommy Carter, wouldn't it?” Camden asked.

He was a side character like us, but he could speak with the authority of his mentor and boss, Dr. Meridian, though he rarely had a chance because Meridian was always ready with an answer.

“Yes,” Ace said. “But he goes by different names sometimes. I don't know. He's a drug dealer. We weren't exactly close, but he seemed friendly enough.”

“Do you know Mr. Carter's current whereabouts?” Meridian asked.

“I assume he still lives on his parents' property on Dyer's Lake,” Sidney said. “These days, though, who knows, especially with what's been happening?”

They continued talking more, covering all the bases, getting footage that could explain almost anything except, of course, what happened to Ramona, because, again, the paragons refused to say. It seemed like they were waiting for a big moment where it would have more impact.

“Now that you've been honest with me, I'll be honest with you,” Meridian said. “Camden, can you please hand me the list?”

Camden was holding a clipboard in his hands the whole time, and he reached over and handed it to Meridian.

Meridian turned the clipboard around and held it out for the paragons to look at. The three of them closed in and squinted. To me, it looked like a list of names, dates, and locations. There were dozens of entries. I didn't get a close look.

“Do you recognize any of the names on this list?” Meridian asked.

“No. Should I?” Ace asked. But half a second later, he seemed to see a name that clicked for him. “Why are you asking?”

“These names are how we found you,” Meridian said. “These are all the people that we've confirmed have been connected to this contagion, whatever it may be. All of them are connected to each of you by at most two degrees of separation. They are your former coworkers, ex-girlfriends, neighbors. Each one of them interacted with one of the six people at that cabin with Ramona at some point in time in the last ten years, and each of them is now either dead or, well, otherwise worse for wear.”

“What do you mean, otherwise worse for wear?” Geneva asked.

“You may have noticed that the room Ramona was kept in is being outfitted for more guests,” Meridian said. “Follow me.”

And so we did. It felt like I was watching a play in real time, set in real locations, where we had to walk from place to place with the actors. I was used to being a side character, but this was ridiculous. We figured we would let the paragons have their moment in the sun because they were going to die soon, one way or another.

Dr. Meridian led us down a hallway in the secret section of the institute. Then he opened the door and let us into a room with over a dozen patients lying on beds like Ramona's, and, like her, their eyes were open as they stared at the ceiling.

They didn't have any silhouettes around them, but some had notable scars or even more recent injuries.

“You see, three weeks ago,” Meridian said, “something strange happened. This group of patients, some here, some spread to other hospitals, woke up, and they all said the same words. It was a strange phenomenon. Even Ramona, who we've been monitoring for years, joined in.”

“What did they say?” Sidney asked.

“They said, ‘Now presenting sincerely, the Ringmaster, Highbrow Hew.’”

Camden looked over at me, and we nodded to each other as we saw the shape of the story was forming.