Chapter 5 Noon at Midnight
NOON AT MIDNIGHT
TUNEDYL WAS SEVERAL days away. On day four they reached Carver’s cliff’s outside of the seaside town.
Ella basked in the familiarity of the cliffs.
It had famous beauty with the roaring spray of the ocean to the right and misty green plains to their left.
The forest was barely in sight, nestled in a valley between two mountains and coated in fog.
They’d traveled to Tunedyl before when Kay had aided their team and so the journey had a strange air of familiarity.
The conversation had been familiar too, Ella frequently steering Kay from spontaneous class-like lectures that burst out of him almost on impulse.
They’d been punishing when the team had traveled together on long trips.
Alex had started smoking again just to have an excuse to walk off for an extended period of time in silence.
Meanwhile, Jade clung on every word of each lecture as if information itself was new, fingers combing dreamily through her long black hair as Ella and Crow rolled their eyes nearby.
Ella caught the first waft of fish in the air as the wind rolled toward them over the Tunedyl docks. Her return to the present stung her with sadness, as if she’d forgotten her team was gone.
Kay hopped off his horse as they entered town, both of them quieting as the buildings huddled in around them.
They tied their horses up at the town bullpen before walking in. A small fire burned in a fireplace in the corner, keeping the brisk air at bay.
“Well, look at that. If it’s not Stitches,” a man said from the bar, cleaning out a glass with a washrag before squinting through the haze of late afternoon lighting.
Ella smiled back at the less than illustrious nickname, earned during her training years as a medic.
“Enjoying retirement?” she said, scanning the enclosure. She saw several bookcases in the corner and tables with a few guests.
He shrugged. “Things have been alright. What happened to you?”
“Just a rough end to the last mission,” she said, pulling her sleeves down over her bruised forearms.
“We’re looking for information on Tunedyl Forest,” Kay interjected, leaning over the bar. “We’re up to date on the tall tales about the Strike and the cursed man, but want to hear the facts from a veteran.”
Ella rolled her back against the bar, watching the windows as Kay carried on the conversation. Lamplighters were lighting the lamps as dusk settled outside.
Mark returned to cleaning his glasses. “I wish I had more facts than I do,” he said. “My guess is that someone caught a pretty bad mutation. Terrible luck.”
“So the part about the man is true? That the mutation has lasted for a while?” Ella chimed in.
“It hasn’t been verified by the capital.
People like to write it off as a ghost story, and it’s an old one.
People around here are raised on it, and no one who has disappeared so far has been important enough to force an investigation at government level.
Way I see it, the capital has turned a blind eye to the hearsay, and no one goes into the woods.
A disappearance every five years or so keeps people on edge enough to hang back. ”
“Okay, well what do you think?” Kay prodded.
“Seen it myself,” he replied, which surprised them both.
He nodded, continuing to polish glasses.
“I didn’t go in close, but sure as the morning I saw a figure in the woods, moving around.
There is something there. Not sure if it’s human though.
Could be some kind of mutated monkey. Has a strange face that doesn’t look like either though. ”
Ella and Kay exchanged glances.
“A strange face? What did it look like?” Ella asked.
Mark nodded across the bar and they both spotted a painting over the fireplace. “A lot like that,” he explained as Ella examined the white painting with black, angular lines marked over it in the vaguest shape of monstrous eyes and a mouth.
Kay seemed hypnotized by it, approaching the painting as if it might jump out at him.
“Mark,” Kay said. “There’s a library across the way, right?”
“Few houses down, a small little cottage. Not sure you should call it a library. Probably closed for the day.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said to Ella and Mark before rushing out.
“He’s still as restless as a cat in a hailstorm,” Mark whispered, before nudging Ella. “Why all your questions about the woods? You aren’t thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?”
Ella sighed. “Between us Mark, you probably shouldn’t know what I’m thinking.”
Mark set a glass down and picked up another. After cleaning a few more, he rested the rag across his shoulder. “Mutations been on those woods for as long as we know and if it is a man, and he’s not dead–well, I’d rather believe it a ghost, like many of the folk here.”
“Yeah,” Ella replied, sensing the warning and leaving the statement where it was.
“You know why they call them curses and not mutations when they’re stable for this long?”
Ella chuckled. “I know, I know. You think a Strike created it, that it was designed.”
“Nah, nah,” Mark laughed. “I think it’s very, very, very bad luck, and when you have very, very, very bad luck, chances are you deserved it.”
Ella was surprised and relieved Mark offered an alternative explanation so easily. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” she replied. “Not the most forgiving way.”
“You’re either looking at an awfully dangerous mutated animal, a rare mutated person–either way a beast, or a ghost that you can’t kill anyway,” he jested and then his expression grew serious. “Whatever is waiting in those woods, it’s not going to be a pretty sight.”
“Mark might be right about that one.”
Ella jolted hard, causing Mark to jump with her as she turned to see Kay standing near the door.
“You scared me!” Mark said, gesturing to Ella. “I’ve never seen you jump before!”
Ella rubbed her forehead, exchanging a knowing look with Kay who understood her nerves were still raw from the trauma of her last mission.
He looked her over with an analytical eye before putting a book down on the counter, and opening to a page with a row of masks that had black and white patterns similar to the one over the mantle.
“This?” he pointed to one specific mask most similar to the pattern on the wall. Each mask had a label of an emotion beneath it. Beneath this one was the word, Rage.
“That, yeah, that,” Mark shoved a bulbous, calloused finger onto the page. “That’s quick Kay. You have a memory like a trap.”
“It’s history. This is a ROSE mask. That isn’t its face. It’s actually a mask. The ROSE would wear them to imitate certain emotions. It could hypnotize newer Strike and make them easier to kill.”
“ROSE?” Mark said.
“You’re serious?” Kay asked, looking between them. “The Riders of Saint East? The radicals responsible for the Burning of the Strike?”
Ella and Mark both exchanged glances.
“That and an entire list of war crimes,” Kay said. “They disappeared after the war ended.”
They both simultaneously offered half-hearted explanations on why the mask pattern had seemed somewhat familiar.
“Yeah,” Kay said with a resigned sigh as he shut the book.
“Ella, you clearly weren’t listening for the last few hours of our ride, were you?
Honestly, the lack of understanding about history among the rest of the population amazes me.
It’s like everyone is intentionally trying to forget learning about it. Let’s go.”
“Now?” Ella replied.
“Yes. Thanks Mark!” He walked out the door. As soon as it closed behind them, he snapped back toward her. “That’s not the weird part about all of this.”
“What?”
“You don’t get it? The ROSE?” he said, throwing his hands out with clear exasperation.
At this point, she almost felt sorry for him. “What about them?”
“You can’t tell me you don’t know about them,” Kay pushed.
“Apparently not enough. I thought we established that in there, alright? Get to the point,” she replied, crossing her arms.
“They were Strike hunters.”
“Yeah, sure. And?”
Kay ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t have time to give you a history lesson,” he said, but then explained what would have otherwise been a full lecture.
Ella was relieved he seemed so rushed.
“Their actions and brutality ultimately cost thousands of people their lives. They’re war criminals, but all that aside, don’t you see what this is?
Someone must be trying to keep people out of those woods and creating this tall tale to do it.
Something is going on. A ROSE apparently cursed by a Strike?
I mean, come on. It’s theater. The capital should be paying more attention to this.
It may not even just be one person in those woods.
It could be a group, all just using the masks. ”
“Well according to Samual, the capital is helping to bury it, so it’s us that needs to figure this out. It might be the capital that’s doing this in the first place. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve taken advantage of people’s superstitions,” Ella said.
“Ella,” Kay said seriously. “I know you and Crow were always skeptical of the government, but let’s be realistic here.”
“I’m joking,” she replied with an unapologetic flatness.
“Well, we’re going in blind and now it’s not just because we don’t have a Listener. I mean a capital certified Listener. Your natural abilities don’t count.”
“Hey, I never said they did. And look, you can’t buy into this ghost story, Kay. Come on.” She turned off the side of the porch, hopping down onto the road.
“I’m not,” Kay said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Something about this just doesn’t feel right, though.”
Though she teased, Ella ignored the same nagging sense. She just didn’t want to find out what would happen if they both admitted they had it.
They paid a horse tend to care for the horses and started to cross the street.
“Hey, Stitches!” Mark called behind them.