The accusations had been terrifying and impossible to disapprove. But I found them even more terrifying a year later.
“That could be true,” I admitted. “But it might not be. And it’s the doubt, as much as the violence itself, that makes the situation so dangerous. If people don’t believe this is real, they won’t fight it. If theydobelieve it’s real, they’ll start looking for monsters in the faces of people they see every day. That’s how the surrogates got us the first time. Kids couldn’t trust their parents. Parents couldn’t trust themselves or their children. They made us afraid to go to bed in our own homes.”
“And now—maybe—they’ve found a new way to get to us,” Lenore said. “To make us suspicious of the people we should trust the most.”
“If we start seeing soldiers shooting civilians, I think it’ll be safe to say we’ve identified a second wave. And Zy could be right. Maybe this time they’re disposing of their weapons to keep from exposing themselves. But that’s a big maybe.”
“Well, thanks to that cop, if that’s what they’re doing, it’s no longer working.” Lenore tapped the half of the article that was still visible on my lap. Then she frowned and grabbed the paper, squinting at the small print. “You guys, people are starting to blameusfor this.” She traced a circle in the air, to include all our cabin’s occupants. “Not just cryptids in general. I mean us, specifically.”
“What?” I took the paper from her and scanned the lower half of the article. “They’re saying that all of the police incidents have happened in this area, and all in the past nine months—since we escaped the Spectacle. Which is also true for the teacher and the nurse killings, though they haven’t made that connection. At least, not in this article.” I folded the paper again and rubbed my temples, fighting a serious headache. “People don’t just think we’re in the onset of another reaping.They’re starting to thinkwe’rebehind the second wave.”
October 1988
“Becca!”
Rebecca Essig turned to see Sara Cooper waving to her from the front steps of the school, clutching her backpack strap at her shoulder with one hand. “Wait! What about debate team! You said you’d give it a chance!”
“I can’t today!” Rebecca walked backward across the school’s front lawn, her own bag balanced on both shoulders. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” She turned around again and jogged toward the sidewalk, pretending she didn’t hear Sara’s objection.
Debate team was stupid. All they ever did was eat junk from the vending machine and argue with their mouths full. They’d never even placed at the district level.
Rebecca had much more important things to do.
Half a mile from the school, she turned left into the parking lot of a convenience store, where she dug a dime from her pocket and dropped it into the pay phone. She dialed the number by heart, and her palms began to sweat while she listened to the phone ring.
When no one answered, she hung up, retrieved her coin from the return and started walking.
At the next convenience store, Rebecca stopped and dialed the same number. This time someone answered on the second ring.
“Kubric and Crowe Law Firm, this is Tara speaking.”
“Hi, Tara, this is Rebecca Essig. Is Keith in?”
“Sure thing, hon. Just a sec.” The receptionist transferred Rebecca’s call to another line, and she listened for several seconds while cheesy music played in her ear.
“Hi, Rebecca, this is Keith. Sorry for the wait. It’s been crazy around here today.”
“Does that mean there’s news?” She’d been calling her parents’ attorney after school every day for nearly a week, and so far there’d been nothing to report.
“Yes. And it’s bad, I’m afraid. The appellate court upheld the lower court’s decision.”
“Okay.” Rebecca took a moment to absorb the new information. She’d kind of been expecting it. Then she sucked in a deep breath and nodded to herself, mentally shoving the disappointment behind her. “So what’s the next step?”
Silence met her over the line. Then Keith Crowe, attorney at law, exhaled into her ear. “There is no next step. I’m so sorry, Rebecca. If you want, I can try to arrange a visit before they transfer your parents to the federal penitentiary.”
“Wait, I—” The graffiti scrawled inside the phone booth blurred in front of her as she tried to process what she was hearing. “You’ve been fighting for my parents for two years. You can’t give up now!”
“Rebecca, it’s not that I’m giving up. There’s literally nothing left for me to do with your parents’ case. They’ve been convicted, and we lost the appeal.”
“Isn’t there another court? Another judge? Another appeal? How can this be over? They didn’t do it!” They hadn’t meant to do it, anyway. “Everyone knows the surrogates were responsible. That’s why the government rounded them all up. That’s why they arrested every cryptid in the country. If they know who was really responsible, how can they keep my parents in prison?”
Keith Crowe sighed. “What the federal government unofficially knows is both technically and legally unrelated to what we were able to prove in state court.”
“I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
Springs creaked over the line as the attorney sank into the chair behind the massive oak desk that had impressed Rebecca so thoroughly the first time she’d met with him in his office. “That means—Okay, we appealed your parents’ guilty verdict based on the fact that the federal government knows that the surrogates were actually responsible.Everyoneknows the surrogates were responsible. But what everyone knows isn’t the same as what we can prove. The Cryptid Containment Bureau denied our request for test results from the surrogate that was removed from your family. Every judge we appealed to refused to grant us a subpoena. So even though we all know your parents weren’t responsible for their actions that night, we have no way of proving that. Thus, no grounds for an appeal, according to the district court judge.”
“But you said the burden of proof is on the prosecution.”
