Strong Edge was in an uproar the following day. It was a city in fear.
Bad things hardly ever occurred there and never murder—there had been that case with Dr. Omar some years back, but he'd been crazy, and everyone had known that.
Now, there had been a murder and in Serenity Park, a place of innocence. Who had been the victim and what could he possibly be guilty of that was worth killing for? And who had reported the murder? Did someone in the town have a guilty conscience?
It had to have been the work of a madman.
A special bureau of investigators was called upon to help with the investigation. Serenity Park was sealed off, and police officers guarded who entered and left. A CSI unit was present to document the crime scene in detail and collect physical evidence. District Attorney Howard Clayton was present, trying to make sense of the mess while talking to Dr. Wedlock, the medical examiner. His cell phone wouldn't stop ringing—the mayor of Strong Edge was on his back.
The people of Strong Edge demanded answers, and a town hall meeting was scheduled.
Sal and Carl both had their reasons for their lack of sleep, and they looked like a couple of wasted zombies. They were both exhausted, but they'd somehow found each other again.
Remarkably enough, Sal wasn’t sore from the previous day's events.
Sal followed Carl up the stairs and out into the kitchen. They sat down and gazed at the pancakes in front of them as if they didn't know what to do with them.
Their mom was chatting eagerly on her cell phone. It was about the guy in the park, that much Sal was able to tell. Apparently, the forensic pathologist on the case had called the hospital for assistance, and it was certain one of his parents would be assigned to the case.
“Someone's been watching The Walking Dead all night again!” Sal's father gave them a strict look.
“Yeah, and then we got tired of it and called for a couple of escorts,” Carl said without looking up. Sal bit his lip.
“Where did you go, since you needed to be escorted?” one of the twins asked.
“They didn’t go anywhere, and they aren't going anywhere anytime soon.” Sal’s father sounded annoyed.
“You're not out past seven until we've resolved some of this mess.” Sal knew his father wasn't only referring to the murder in the park, but also to Carl’s attitude along with other issues that gave his parents headaches.
“I’ll ride with Sal to school and back today. We’ll stay together, Scout's honor.” Carl made a peace sign with his fingers.
“And you're staying away from Alan Hanson. You're on thin ice.” His father kept at it. Sal sensed Carl’s muscles tighten with anger, and he began to dread the dangerous turn breakfast was taking. To his relief, Carl just sighed.
Sal excused himself and ran upstairs for a quick shower before taking Angel for a quick stroll before school. When he returned to the house, Carl was waiting for him by the minibus, smoking a cigarette.
Oh, yeah—Carl was pissed-off.
Sal let Angel inside the house and returned to Carl and the bus.
“Let’s go hunt some zombies, shall we.” Sal patted his brother on the shoulder.
Carl smiled and put out his cigarette. “Only if I get to be Daryl Dixon!”
The traffic was mad as a hatter on their way to Strong Edge High. “What the hell's going on?” Sal was stressed-out after a Volkswagen nearly hit them at a traffic junction when it ran a red light.
“The murder in the park's making people paranoid,” Carl answered. “Everyone's driving their kids to school.”
Carl and Sal arrived at the Strong Edge High parking lot thirty minutes after the bell. Despite their being late, there seemed to be people everywhere around the school's perimeter. No one seemed to be in class.
The atmosphere wasn’t its usual welcoming one, having been replaced by dark clouds of trembling concern. As Carl and Sal entered the main entrance, the hall, white ceiling, red brick wall, and grey and white checkered floor seemed out of harmony. There were a lot of students talking loudly about the murder in the park. It was a complicated, harrowing, frustrating matter, and it sparked a lot of speculation.
“It’s the work of a demon," someone said. "This is the outcome of demonic worship and sacrifices.”
“It must have been some sort of wild animal," another person said. "A bear or snake or something."
“Maybe he insulted Manfred Stone," a third one giggled.
“Maybe the dead guy who assassinated JFK and Lee Harvey Oswald came back from the dead to take revenge upon him for being framed for murder,” Carl said sarcastically.
Sal was trying to think of something clever to say as Carl sprinted down the hall. He spotted Louise in the distance and couldn't decide if he should follow Carl. In the middle of his indecision, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He hoped it would be Robin, telling him what a big mistake it was to let him go as a tutor. Sal was disappointed when he turned and saw Alan Hanson’s ruddy face.
“Hey, Sal, you and me, we’re cool and all, but what the hell's up with your brother? Why was he attacking me like that yesterday?” Alan kept talking, but Sal didn’t hear a word leaving his rosy lips.
Sal’s head filled with images and sounds as if he were watching a movie. It felt like he was in another reality. It was just like the time he and Carl had been playing Think of a Number Between One and One Hundred. They had to take turns thinking of a number, and the other would have to guess it. They'd been in the treehouse, taking a break from hunting zombies. Every time Carl thought of a number, it entered Sal’s mind, like a movie rolling over a screen. After guessing the correct number three times in a row, Sal could tell Carl had started to get freaked out.
Sal stopped guessing after that.
“You never slept with her!” Sal said, looking Alan straight in the eyes.
“Uh, what?” Who?” Alan replied, thrown off balance.
“I’m still a virgin.” This, Alan did not say out loud.
“Why would she lie, then?” Sal asked himself.
“Sal, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about? Are you having a stroke or something?”
Sal placed his hands on Alan’s shoulders and gazed at him. "Alan, thank you. I’ll get Carl to apologize to you, but now, I really have to go. You've been a really big help.” Sal dashed down the hall, leaving Alan behind.
He found Carl standing in front of the girls’ restroom with a determined look on his face. Some girls were trying to explain to him that Louise wasn’t interested in talking to him, that she wasn’t feeling good. Carl didn’t care. He was patient. Louise had to come out of there sooner or later. Either that, or he'd simply barge in there.
“Carl!” Sal yelled from afar. “It wasn’t him!”
Carl squinted at him, looking dismayed.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Sal? Are you liquored up?” He held up his hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
Sal lowered his voice when he noticed the attention they were attracting. “Carl, something's off. We seriously need to talk. Let’s head to The Diner.”
“Are you breaking up with me, Sal?” Carl looked at Sal in amazement. “Okay, Sal,” Carl said mildly, probably having clued into the fact that Sal wasn’t joking around.
Principal Johnson's voice echoes from the hallway speaker as they started to walk to the main entrance: “All students must find their way to the school assembly…I repeat: all students must find their way to the school assembly, and now, please.”
As if by a magic touch, the hallway began to empty. They looked like zombies staggering toward fresh meat as the hall took the form of a one way street with Sal and Carl going in the wrong direction.
When they made it to the main entrance, a herculean individual stepped out in front of them. “Perhaps you two are hard of hearing, but the principal told all of the students to go to the school assembly.” Manfred looked at them disapprovingly.
“If you’re here, then who’s guarding the prisoners?” Carl asked in a neutral tone of voice.
Manfred looked as if he'd swallowed a lemon. Even Carl knew not to push his luck with him, so Sal and he marched down to the school assembly with Manfred behind them, looking like a cartoon rooster standing over his chickens.
The thousand-seat assembly room was situated at the heart of the school and had set the stage for countless events from plays and talent shows to orchestral performances. It was large and bright with a stage at one end.
As they entered, Manfred started to round up students like a border collie would round up sheep.
Principal Johnson stood on stage, waiting patiently for everyone to be seated. The rest of the faculty were scattered around the room, rubbing their hands nervously together. It was hot as hell in the school assembly, and students waved school books in front of their faces with the hope of generating a cold breeze. The atmosphere was thick with excitement and confusion. Some students were laughing while others sat still, staring out into nothingness as if Hell were a destination finally tangible.
Jack signaled from across the room for Sal to join him, looking like a bird trying to take off from the ground. “The Williams brothers!” He smiled and hugged them when they went over to him.
“It’s like a Scream movie with all the mayhem,” Jack continued.
It wasn’t long before Rosie sat down next to them. “Oh, God, we’re not here for some talent show, are we? I still have sleepless nights from the one last year. I can still hear Nancy Freeman yodel ‘Let it go’ from Frozen. That song haunts my dreams.”
“It wasn’t pretty, that's for sure. There are more pleasant ways to damage one’s hearing,” Jack responded.
Principal Johnson tapped the microphone, and the school’s guidance counselors showed up behind him like a couple of vultures creeping up a dead carcass, awaiting their turn to feed. Mr. Markham and Mrs. Jackson were their names. Their aliases were Mr. and Mrs. Mackey, even though they bore no resemblance to the guy from South Park.
Mr. Markham was a tall, slender guy in his forties, with reading glasses and a penchant for football. He always wore a suit to work.
Mrs. Jackson was an Afro-American woman in her thirties with a penchant for yoga and green smoothies. She wore all sorts of colorful clothes.
Mr. and Mrs. Mackey helped students assess their skills and interests, in addition to helping them develop academic and career goals. They typically evaluated students through counseling sessions, interviews, and aptitude tests. They also helped students with social and behavioral problems. For Mr. and Mrs. Mackey, it was reward enough when they observed students' accomplishments.
They loved their jobs.
Carl and Sal had sat across from them several times. Carl had to because it was believed he had social and behavioral problems. Sal had to because he was intelligent and seemed to have a Fuck Boy’s attitude when it came to the people around him. The bottom line was that both he and Carl needed tabs kept on them. How the hell they came up with that crap was oblivious to Sal, but their behavior was not healthy, according to the Mackeys.
A typical counseling session consisted of a thirty-minute monologue about responsibility in life and why Alex DeLarge, from A Clockwork Orange, was a lousy, unacceptable fella, and how important it was to make healthy decisions in life. This was followed by an aptitude and personality test to get a clear picture of them as individuals.
Carl was diagnosed with a Commander personality. Commanders were natural-born leaders. If there’s anything Commanders love, it's a good challenge, big or small. Emotional expression isn't the strong suit of this personality.
Sal turned out to have a Campaigner personality. Campaigners were true free spirits. They're often the lives of the party. Campaigners are fiercely independent. Much more than stability and security, they crave creativity and freedom.
The brothers weren’t sure about their diagnoses, but whatever made the Mackeys happy.
It wasn’t until a more urgent matter—like Hank Robson’s obesity or Selma Wilkins' anger toward men—surfaced that the Mackeys released their iron lock on Sal and Carl. Those counselor clowns wouldn’t survive a zombie apocalypse, that was for sure. Or, as Jack had pointed out; they could put an end to the apocalypse by analyzing everyone to death.
Principal Johnson got straight to the point: the murder in Serenity Park. “This is not some teen-slasher movie,” he said with great authority in his voice, "but we do need to take some precautions.
"I am sure this is a one-time happening, and that the police will apprehend whoever is responsible and things will get back to normal.
"Always stay together after dark and never walk home alone. "Always tell someone where you are going.
"Report anything out of the ordinary to the school, your parents or the police.
"Strong Edge is a great town, and we will do whatever we can to keep it safe. If you see something, say something."
The Mackeys nodded as he went along.
"If any of you should need help in processing the matter, the school guidance counselors are available. Extra staff will be provided, if necessary.
"You can take the rest of the day off to do what’s necessary to get control of your thoughts and emotions.”
“What about the basketball game on Friday?” someone yelled.
“The faculty and I will discuss the matter later today,” Principal Johnson said with a tone indicating he'd have a stressful day ahead of him.
“Wow, this was a waste of time,” Rosie said as they prepared to leave the school assembly.
“High school is a failed experiment when it comes to preparing young people for the adult world," Jack responded.
“Carl and I are headed for The Diner—come with us,” Sal told Rosie and Jack.
“I thought you'd never ask," Jack said happily.
“Well, I was planning on robbing the gas station with a chainsaw and only a flowerpot to conceal my identity, but okay," Rosie said, studying her nails.
They hurried out to the minibus before they could fall prey to the Mackeys.