Chapter 30: Tell Me a Story (Part II)

Frog caught a glimpse of Roger, he was out of place.

Elaine got it wrong, she mused, one of their impromptu cadre had been indoctrinated and she kept her bets on Roger. She kept one eye on Elaine, who still spoke into her phone, and one eye on Roger. In her peripheral vision, she noticed the people from the concert stage walk to the edge and leap down. They vanished into the crowd and began to move in their direction. I really hope you know what you’re doing, she thought at Elaine, but if the other girl had suddenly developed telepathy, she didn’t show it.

Then Frog realized, she’d lost track of both Howie and Andrew. Howie should have been extremely easy to track—he made a show of not letting her out of his sight, moreso than Elaine, he’d become so deeply enamored with her she wondered when he’d finally make a move. She didn’t mind playing with him for Elaine’s sake, but he didn’t do it for her. A little bit smart under a slacker exterior, still hung up on girls in the physical manner but without the sense to explore his own interests; at first glance, Howie reminded her a little bit of a much sloppier version of Zane. (Someone she wouldn’t date in a million years, not because he wasn’t her type—he had all the attributes she looked for in her peers—but because of Elaine it made it feel somehow incestuous.)

“Girl,” Frog said, “I’ve lost track of all the boys. I don’t know how much more time you have. The bruisers up on the stage seem to be moving as well. Make your move soon.”

Frog checked her canister and saw that it was almost entirely empty. She dropped that one and primed the next one

Roger stepped out of the crowd in front of Elaine and she turned her head slightly. “Roger, you’re out of position. You should be fifteen meters to our south right now. Why aren’t you following your map?”

He surged forward and grabbed her by the arm. She didn’t resist as he turned her around and grabbed her other arm, holding her in place.

“I have her!” Roger shouted. “She’s over here!”

“I should have guessed it would be you,” Frog said. “Elaine owes me some pocky.”

“You can’t stop this from happening. Just let this happen peacefully and I won’t hurt her. Please don’t punch me, either, you don’t understand what’s at stake,” Roger said. Frog turned and pushed through the crowd behind her, disappearing from his sight. “Dammit.”

Kimberly, Christian, and the other members of Emily Early’s campaign staff arrived from all sides, lead by Andrew. Once they formed a perimeter around Elaine—who stood absolutely rigid in Roger’s grip—they looked around at the scores of people churning around them.

“Hey, dude, do we have a problem?” Howie asked as he pushed his way past Kimberly and the crowd pushed in behind him. Two of the others from Emily’s staff grabbed him by the arms and held on, both telling him not to interfere. “That’s a friend of mine you’ve got there. Let us go, or you’ll be eating your hand for breakfast. You hear me, dudes?”

The tall, lanky blonde apparent leader of the group ignored him as he struggled against his captors. He turned towards Elaine and shook his head. “You only need to wait and then everything will be as it should be,” Christian said.

He reached up and pulled the black hoodie down from Elaine’s head revealing—not Elaine—but some other girl with large eyes and dark hair. Roger released her, balking at Christian and the other Early staff as they glanced around in confusion.

“This isn’t her,” he said. “Where is she?”

“Excuse me,” the girl said. “Can I help you?”

Frog materialized from the crowd behind Christian, wordlessly her arm snaked around his throat and her other hand crushed a vial of smelling-salts beneath his nose.

“Now, Hadaly!” Frog said. She squeezed her eyes shut, pinched her nose, and covered her mouth. She dropped, bringing Christian down with her. He choked and sputtered all the way to the ground. His eyes probably watered from the smelling salts, but he didn’t resist.

Hadaly—wearing the black hoodie with the phone near her ear—lowered her hand from her head and revealed a thumb-trigger connected to a belt pouch sporting multiple nozzles.

“Goodnight, boys,” she said. Her pale finger depressed the trigger.