Chapter Eleven
Devastation

There was a substitute in Elizabeth’s class because she was out. Her name was Rebecca Suarez, a pretty Hispanic woman who was only a few years older than Elizabeth. They had known each other in college, and became fast friends. She graduated before Elizabeth and had a couple years head start as a substitute teacher. She preferred teaching different classes of all ages at different schools over teaching a single class for years at a time as a way to keep things fresh and exciting. Today she was teaching Elizabeth’s fourth grade class, and was as excited as ever to be covering for an old friend.

Elizabeth had left lesson plans for Rebecca to follow, and she was going to follow them to a T, just as Elizabeth would expect of her. It was 11:00, which meant that it was time for art class. Rebecca instructed the class to paint a picture of their favorite activities to post on the bulletin board outside the room. Everything was going smoothly, so it seemed, as Rebecca walked around looking over the student’s shoulders and catching a glimpse of what they were painting. One kid painted a swimming pool, another one painted some woods with a tent and camp fire, and a little girl painted a picture of a ballerina dancing to ballet. Rebecca smiled as she took a look at each of the student’s paintings, until she came upon Caleb, with whose picture she was taken aback by.

“Caleb, what are you painting?” Rebecca asked, kneeling down beside him. She could very well tell what it was he was painting, but she wanted to hear it come from his mouth.

Caleb glowered up at her with an eerie grin on his face that sent chills down Rebecca’s spine. What the hell was with this kid?

“Caleb, why did you paint that? That’s not very appropriate,” Rebecca said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Caleb looked down at the painting, and then back up at Rebecca.

“You have pretty hair,” he said.

Rebecca suddenly jumped up, and backed away from him, a look of terror coming over her. Caleb looked up at her, ever smiling, and looked her in the eyes. Rebecca’s heart started to race, her mind, she couldn’t think straight. Suddenly she felt incredibly tranquil and peaceful, and started walking towards the door, grabbing a pair of scissors that lay on Elizabeth’s desk.

“I’m running a quick errand,” Rebecca said in a monotone voice devoid of all emotion. “Stay in your seats and keep painting. I’ll be right back.”

Rebecca left the room, and started down the hall with scissors in hand. She knew what she was doing, she didn’t want to do it, but something inside of her was making her do it. She couldn’t fight it. She couldn’t control her body at all. She went into a deserted bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Behind her, Caleb stood watching her with the same eerie, malevolent grin. She looked at him in the reflection of the mirror as he started nodding at her. Rebecca couldn’t resist. She nodded, lifted the scissors to her neck, and thrust them into her jugular. Blood sprayed across the mirror, the walls, the sink, and the floor until she hit the ground in a pool of blood. Caleb stood watching, laughing, and then, he was gone…

--

Dawson was on his way out to his truck leaving class when his cell phone started to ring. He dug the phone out of his pocket and looked to see who it was. Elizabeth’s name showed up on the ID, and he quickly answered.

“Elizabeth? Is everything okay?” he asked as he unlocked the door.

“Dawson… I… had a dream… I had a dream someone… someone died,” Elizabeth said all of a sudden in a distressed tone, as though she had been crying. Dawson froze in the middle of what he was doing, and looked up.

“What?” he asked.

“My dream… I saw someone dying. I don’t know who, I don’t know when or how or why but… oh God, Dawson I’m scared,” Elizabeth cried.

“Ssh ssh ssh, Elizabeth, just calm down, calm down, okay? Everything is going to be alright,” Dawson said, trying to settle Elizabeth down over the phone. “Remember what I told you about your dreams before? They’re just dreams. They can’t hurt you. Nothing is going to happen, I promise.”

“You don’t understand!” Elizabeth cried out. “This dream… it was so real, so vivid, just like all the others. I could see it so clearly.”

Dawson felt an unsettling feeling in his stomach, and swallowed hard.

“Alright, just try to settle down. I’m on my way home right now. I’ll be home shortly, okay? Everything’s going to be alright, I promise.”

Elizabeth snorted and wiped her nose as she tried settling herself down enough to speak.

“A-Alright. Just… please hurry,” she said.

“I will,” Dawson said. “See you soon.” He hung up his phone, and squeezed it in his hand. The tone of Elizabeth’s voice was intense, more so than it had ever been before. He had never heard her sound more afraid before in his life, not over one of her dreams. This time Dawson believed her. The sinking feeling in his stomach was all the proof that he needed.

--

On his way home Dawson passed by the school Elizabeth taught at, and was stopped by a major traffic jam. There were cars back up for as far as he could see. He tried looking out of his window to see what the holdup was, but couldn’t see far enough to tell. Curious as to what was going on Dawson got out of the truck and started down the street at a slow jog. He saw police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances parked out front of the school, blocking traffic and keeping anyone and everyone from getting through. Students and teachers were crowded out front, lined up single file as cops and paramedics rushed around to assess the situation. Barricades were set up around the scene to keep onlookers from getting through. As Dawson approached a crowd of curious bystanders, Dawson spotted a body bag being brought out on a stretcher from inside the school.

“What the hell happened here?” Dawson asked a woman who had been there since before he showed up.

“I’m not sure. From what I’ve heard some teacher killed herself with a pair of scissors in the bathroom, but I don’t know if that’s true or not,” the woman replied.

A cold, icy feeling washed over Dawson, causing his blood to curdle. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach, and he quickly dug his phone out of his pocket. He had a feeling something strange was going on, and he was hoping he knew someone that might have some idea of what was going on.

--

Elizabeth sat curled up into a ball on the living room couch watching the news with a box of tissues resting beside her. She knew… she knew this was coming. She knew someone was going to die, and yet she did nothing. Why didn’t she do something? Why didn’t she try to save their life? How could she have? She didn’t know who they were, so how could he have saved their life if she didn’t even know who it was that was supposed to die?

The phone ringing startled Elizabeth, making her jump and yelp loudly. She put a hand on her chest, and grabbed the phone, answering it.

“H-hello?”

“Lizzie, it’s me,” Dawson said.

“Dawson? Where are you? I thought you were on your way home?”

“I was, but I got held up in traffic. Turns out someone was killed at your school. There are cops and paramedics everywhere. The entire school’s been evacuated. It’s a madhouse out here,” Dawson stated.

Something flashed before Elizabeth’s eyes all of a sudden. An eye, a face, a brief, fleeting image appeared before her. There was blood, so much blood. She gasped for breath, unable to breathe as her neck gaped open, crimson red gushing out. There was someone else, a child… a boy…

Caleb.

“Elizabeth? Elizabeth, are you alright?” Dawson asked when Elizabeth hadn’t said anything for a while.

Elizabeth’s face turned completely white, as pale as a grim reaper’s. She covered her mouth with her hand, the image of a picture, a painting flashing before her eyes. Red, so much red, blood…

“Elizabeth!” Dawson shouted.

Elizabeth shook, startled by Dawson’s outburst. Her entire body began to shake, to shiver.

“Oh my God…” she whispered.

“Elizabeth? What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”

Elizabeth pointed at the TV as the face of the woman who killed herself was shown on the screen.

“It’s her…” Elizabeth said with quivering hands. “It’s her… it’s Rebecca. She… she killed herself. She… she stabbed herself in the neck with… with scissors! Caleb… Caleb made her! He drew… he drew a picture! He drew a painting of her dying! He made her do it!”

Dawson was silent for a long while before he finally responded again.

“Elizabeth, I’m going to be a little later getting home. I’ll be home as soon as I can. I have something I have to do. If you need me, please don’t hesitate to call me, okay?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“O-okay,” she said.

“I love you,” Dawson said before hanging up. Elizabeth hung up the phone, dropping it down beside her as she stared blankly at the TV, the image of her best and closest friend, now dead.

“Rebecca…” she sobbed.

--

Alex, somehow Alex figured in to everything that was going on and Dawson knew it. From the moment he showed up, strange things had been happening one after the other. He had somehow developed the ability to read people’s minds, get inside their heads, and move things simply by focusing and willing them to move. Elizabeth’s dreams, her visions, they had become more frequent, more intense, and not only was she starting to have them, but Dawson was as well. He knew Alex was coming before he ever even saw him. Somehow he knew he saw it coming for a reason, a purpose. There was a reason he felt such a strong draw to him, such a bond, a connection. Dawson couldn’t explain or figure out why he felt the way he did or how he even came to that conclusion. All he knew was that somehow, some way, Alex was more deeply involved in it all than he realized, and if anyone would or could have any answers, then he would be the best likely candidate.

Dawson drove without knowing where he was going or why he was going there. All he had on his mind was finding Alex, and something inside of him was guiding him in his direction. He could feel Alex getting closer and closer with each passing moment. Dawson gnawed on his right thumb anxiously, nervously trying to wrack his brain figuring out what the hell was happening, why so many strange and outrageous things were going down. He pulled up outside of a small apartment complex, and quickly threw the truck door opened and got out. His body, his mind was on autopilot. He was using senses he didn’t even know he had, senses he never did have until he gained his gift, his abilities, his powers…

Dawson ran up two flights of stairs, two steps at a time, and walked at a brisk pace past door after door after door until he finally arrived outside a door with the number 317 on it. As soon as he arrived, it suddenly hit him where he was at, what he was doing. He realized that somehow or another he had lost all track of what he was doing and where he was going, and was now standing outside someone’s apartment. He felt as though he had lost track of the past several minutes, uncertain of where he had been or what he had been doing. But there he stood outside someone’s apartment without knowing for certain just whose it was. He knew he was looking for Alex, but how could he be certain this was where he was at, that this was where he lived? Especially since he didn’t even really remember how he had gotten to where he was at, just another strange occurrence in a growing string of strange coincidences.

Dawson raised his hand up to knock, and hesitated. He took a deep breath, and sighed. He knocked on the door, three raps, and waited, counting the seconds as they passed.

One… two… three…

He heard someone just inside at the door. Were they looking out through the peephole to see who it was? Would they open the door to see what he wanted?

Four… five… six…

Someone unchained the lock inside, and the knob began to turn. Dawson held his breath as the door began to open.

Seven… eight… nine… ten.

There before him… stood Alex.

“Dawson?”

Dawson swallowed, almost as surprised as Alex was to see him as he was to find that Alex did in fact live there.

“Alex…” Dawson said, finally exhaling. The two of them stood there for a long while without saying anything, until finally, Dawson spoke up. “We need to talk.”

Alex hesitated, swallowed, and opened the door.

“Alright,” he said. “Come in.”

--

Jonas sat down outside his favorite coffee shop to enjoy a cup of coffee and smoke a cigarette as he read the newspaper. He hadn’t heard or seen Sophia since the morning prior, and at that moment, she was the last person he felt like seeing. He was still pissed about the night before, his ruined coat and his fight with that intriguing shadow shifter whose name he could barely remember. Antoine? Anthony? Whatever. The bitch was dead now, so it didn’t matter anymore.

As Jonas sat reading the paper and smoking a cigarette, he suddenly felt somebody walk up to him. He hesitated a moment, expecting them to say something, but didn’t. Without lowering the newspaper to look at them, he merely breathed a disgruntled sigh, and rolled his eyes.

“Can I help you?” Jonas asked.

“Why yes, you most certainly can,” a man said.

“Well, are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to tell me what the fuck you want?”

The man chuckled.

“I want you, Mr. McConnell,” he said.

Jonas suddenly paused, and slowly looked up, lowering the paper. Before him stood a tall man dressed in a suit with short white hair combed back with gel. He had never seen this man before in his life, but something about him told Jonas he wasn’t just another somebody.

“Who… are you?” Jonas asked.

The man grinned, and slid his hands in his pockets.

“The name’s Gerard Hawkes,” the man said, handing Jonas a business card. “But you can just call me… Hawke.”