Chapter Thirty: ‘No quarter...’
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Hector was in shock.
He wanted to run from the room, but his legs refused to work. For a time, he could only stare at the red words in disbelief. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be.
But there was more. Horrifically, he saw another bloody message, this time on the sliding doors to his closet. Simply:
open -->
He didn’t want to. He dreaded what he would see in there. But he had to look. He had to know what Geoffrey had done. And when he slid the door back, he saw a second dead body.
This one was Nathan. The young man had surely come to offer Hector a ride to school. And Geoffrey had torn him to pieces.
And still another message was scrawled onto the rear wall of the closet:
See you at school, son.
Hector could hardly breathe. He wanted to cry. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream. But more than anything else--he wanted to kill Geoffrey. As the seconds passed, as he regained his mind, his breath, Hector soon decided that the only thing that mattered now was ensuring Geoffrey never hurt anyone ever again. All other concerns came second. His grief and disgust and shock, it would all have to wait.
Tears in his eyes, he bolted back downstairs. Geoffrey had already left, of course, but Hector checked the rest of the house to be sure. He still saw no sign of his mother.
Back on the motorcycle, he pressed the machine for all the speed it could give him. He tried to think. What would Garovel do? Probably try to assess the situation calmly. Hector didn’t know if he could do that right now. He’d never felt this kind of mind-numbing anger before, this unfiltered hatred. But Garovel wasn’t here to talk sense into him. And he could not afford to be stupid about this, or even more people would end up dead.
“Oh, you know the one,” said his father. “The kid who’s been taking you to school in the morning.”
“...Did he tell you his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dad, this is important. Was it Nathan? Or Geoffrey?”
The man smirked. “Son, I honestly couldn’t tell you.”
Hector’s jaw clenched.
“I think he went up to your room.”
He eyed the staircase just beyond the kitchen door.
His father walked around him. “I have to go to work now, but I will be stopping by your school today.”
“What?”
“You have been skipping class, haven’t you? Your school has called several times, already, and I think I should follow up.”
“Uh, that’s not, ah... I mean--”
“Anyway, I will see you later.”
“Dad, wait--uh.”
The man stopped and turned.
“Please, just. Stay there for a minute.” He moved toward the staircase. “I gotta check on something in my room first, but... just... give me one minute, okay? D-don’t go anywhere.”
He folded his arms. “Fine. Just don’t keep me waiting.”
Hector scaled the steps in a hurry, making iron around his forearms as soon as his father was out of sight.
And there was the door to his room. It was closed. He had not left it that way. He opened it.
The first thing he noticed was the stench. And then he saw the body. It was human, limp and mounted on the wall. It had been eviscerated. Blood and entrails spilled onto Hector’s bed.
And perhaps it was because he was too appalled and disgusted, but at first, he didn’t realize who it was. It just looked like a mutilated corpse. But then the face registered.
It was Geoffrey.
He didn’t understand. Geoffrey was already dead? Hector’s head spun, trying to figure out how. Or why. Or anything at all. What the hell had happened here?
And then he noticed the message scrawled next to the body in blood. It read:
~For Hector~
I finally got myself a new body. You can have my old one. ~Love, Dad
“What’s the matter?” said Hector.
“When Geoffrey killed me, I lost my phone,” said Colt. “And I think he must have taken it and sent you those text messages.”
Hector squinted, still confused and looking between Colt and Bohwanox. “What’re you...? But then...”
Colt reread the messages. “Did Geoffrey not attack you?”
“N-no, I...” And then he, too, understood. The sudden horror was a lightning bolt through his chest. He could only whisper his next words. “He followed me home...!”
Hector ran for the bike.
“I’ll go with you,” said Colt.
“No!” Hector yelled as the engine roared to life. “Geoffrey would kill all of you!”
“I can help--”
“No, you can’t!” Hector had no patience for the man. “Just! Get out of the city! I’ll call you when it’s safe!” He punched the throttle, and the bike tore down the street with screeching tires.
The sun had already risen. Traffic was growing, but he still had enough room to weave between cars without much trouble.
‘Garovel, if you can hear me... I think Geoffrey knows where I live. I think he might be there right now.’
He reached the house. He let the bike fall on its side and ran through the front door.
His father was in the kitchen, washing his hands in the sink. The man stood facing the small window, whistling calmly, as if nothing were wrong at all.
Hector looked around. Everything seemed normal. He’d expected the worst--blood, destruction, hostages or even dead bodies--but there was none of that. No sign of violence that he could see. No sign of Geoffrey, either.
Hesitant, uncertain, he slowly approached his father. “...Dad?”
The man turned and saw him. “Whoa there. Um. Hector? You’re...” He dried his hands with a towel. “Hmm. What’s that on your head?”
He decided to ignore that question for now. “Dad, is... is everything okay?”
“What do you mean?”
He stared at his father’s face. It wasn’t vacant and lifeless like one of Geoffrey’s puppets, and Hector was silently relieved. “Did, uh... did anyone come to the house?”
“Just your friend.”
He stiffened. “Which friend?”
