I was walking to class when my phone chimed to indicate that I had an e-mail. It was a reply from the Hay-town Supernatural Society.
Shorty,
I talked to one of our consultants about your problem. It’s apparently possible to do memory wipes, but they’re difficult to get completely right and you sound like somepony who would object to having that kind of magic used on them anyway.
We’re here for you, though. The whole purpose of starting this website was to make the supernatural community more understandable and less frightening. If you want to talk, Hickory or I will get back to you.
Sincerely,
Transmitter
Well, that was encouraging. I would have liked to have more time to think about it, and maybe send a reply, but unfortunately I had a class to go to.
It was an English class required by my major, one of those classes taught by a young TA who makes the work harder than necessary because they think their class actually matters. That day, the TA assigned us a research assignment that would require checking books out of the library.
Not having a class the next hour, I decided to go to the library to get the assignment done as early as possible to free up some time later. I located the book I wanted on the top shelf, picked it out, and took it to a study table.
I was making notes when a stallion walked up to the table. He asked, “Pardon me, can I use that book after you’re done?”
I looked at him. He was tall unicorn, and athletic looking. Kind of cute for a pony, too.
“Sure, I said. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Do you mind if I sit and wait?” he asked.
“No.”
He took a seat across from me. “Are you working on an English class?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve probably taken it. I’m majoring in English.”
“I’m in Journalism, but this is required.”
“Maybe I can help.”
I noticed how friendly and polite he was being. He knew the material, too. Somehow, we both migrated around the table to sit side by side.
When I was finished making notes, I offered him the book. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m Kicker, by the way.”
“Tammy.”
He stood up with the book. “I’ll see you around.” He started to turn away but stopped. “Actually…would you like to join me for lunch?”
“Um, sure,” I said.
Kicker had a gorgeous smile. He offered me his hoof. I took it and stood up. Kicker’s eyebrows lifted as he realized exactly how tall I was, but he said nothing.
I slouched a little, trying not to tower over him. “Let’s get that lunch.”
Alone, I had no problem with people crowding me. Kicker was nice enough to act like he wasn’t following in my wake.
I got to know Kicker a little better while we ate. Like me, he was a junior. He wanted to teach high school. I tried to keep him talking so I could eat fast enough to finish my larger pile of food in the same time he took.
As we talked, I realized that I might be attracted to him. I never thought I’d fall for a pony, but it wasn’t like that was wrong or anything. Was I really so interested in him? One way to be sure.
“Could we meet again?” I asked as we were leaving the cafeteria.
He showed me that amazing smile once more. “Sure. Let’s trade numbers.”
I went back to my room feeling almost giddy. Knowing Cherub, she would probably make a big deal of it.
“Yay! Tammy has a friend! Let’s go celebrate,” she cheered.
“It’s Wednesday.”
“A party waits for no one,” she said sagely, and pulled me out the door. Like every college, there were bars nearby. Cherub had a favorite.
I couldn’t really afford to imbibe on a regular basis, lacking both time and money, but after the first couple of drinks I had relaxed to the point that I agreed with Cherub’s opinion that I deserved it this time. It had been a long dry spell since I’d dated.
I kept enough wits about me to realize that if I matched Cherub drink for drink, she would be plastered long before I was. When she began slurring her speech too badly, I decided it was time to go. It was past midnight by the time we got back to the dorm.
Cherub was in no condition to fly, and not really even to walk. It was no problem to carry her in my arms, even if I was a little tipsy myself. We were giggling like crazy.
“You really should stop being so uptight,” she said. “Take some risks. Live a little.” It took her a couple of tries to get the key into the door lock.
“Maybe,” I agreed. I hoisted Cherub to the top bunk and made sure she wouldn’t fall out of bed before laying down myself. I fell asleep with a smile on my muzzle.
Following Cherub’s advice, I sat down to write another e-mail to HSS in the morning. I felt like talking.
When I had awakened, there a faint twinge behind my eyes. It was barely noticeable when I was sitting still, so I didn’t bother with pain relievers.
Cherub was in worse shape. She knew I wasn’t going to drink any more than her, so she had pretty much volunteered for a hangover to make sure I had a good time. I appreciated it.
When she stumbled off to the bathroom, I began typing. I could have written the e-mail the night before, but I was wary that I might say something stupid if I was drunk.
The event I had been mixed up in years ago had involved several others. All of them would probably prefer that I didn’t talk about it.
Now that someone from HSS was listening, however, I felt like I had to get it off my chest.
I wrote briefly about what I understood of the ancient magic that had been inadvertently uncovered and the resulting near-disaster. More importantly, I emphasized how many people had worked to get it covered back up again. They’d made sure to tell me it wasn’t something to talk about to just anyone. Up until this point I hadn’t mentioned it to a single soul, not even to my parents. Now that I had found a group that might understand, it was hard to keep it bottled up.
I slowly laid out a few of my experiences and my reactions to them, while concealing as many unnecessary details as possible. Again, I asked if they knew any way to help me.
When I turned on my phone, I found that I had a voicemail from Kicker. He asked me out to lunch again. Unfortunately, the time he was available didn’t coincide with the time I was free. I had too much in my schedule. I called him back to tell him.
“Too bad,” he said. He waited a moment. “How about dinner? Someplace nicer than a campus cafeteria.”
It was a big step. I wavered on the decision, but apparently my reserves of courage had run out with typing the e-mail earlier.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t.”
“How about lunch tomorrow?”
“I can do that.”
We made plans. During the conversation, my phone beeped. When I hung up, I checked my inbox to find out what I had received. It was the reply from HSS. They must have someone watching the computer round the clock.
Shorty,
Are you talking about the Moose Island incident? Were you there? We’d love to interview you for the website.
Hickory
My breath caught and I felt like I was having a heart attack. They knew? How was that possible? Had I been hiding something that wasn’t secret at all?
I decided to wait. I hoped I would either come up with a decent reply later, or at least decide to never talk to them again.
I went to a boring lecture that helped me calm down. It was not anything I was going to need later, so I tried to sneak in a little time to think about my own project. In reviewing what I knew about Dealmaker, I decided that I needed to work on that issue a little harder. It might help me focus on the future instead of the past.
After I finished classes that day, I got in my truck. It took a couple of tries to get it started and I went across town to Dealmaker’s reelection campaign headquarters. It was a converted house in an older neighborhood that was slowly moving from homes to commercial buildings. On the next block, several houses had been knocked down and a sleek glass office building was going up.
I had occasionally staked out Dealmaker’s house. That had produced decent results, including the photos I had taken a few days earlier, but I didn’t want to overdo it and make someone suspicious.
Although I knew Dealmaker went there occasionally, I had only watched the headquarters on one other occasion. I had my borrowed camera again and also something caffeinated to drink.
The secretary, or whoever she was, seemed to work late. Like the last time I had been there, she walked out the front door at seven thirty in the evening. Tonight was the same story.
The days were still long enough in September, but the sun was nearly down. I watched as the mare closed the front door and walked to her car. I took her picture out of habit.
A thought came to me. She had just closed the door? She didn’t lock it? I played the scene back in my mind and realized it was true. I also remembered that the last time I had been there, she’d also taken the time to punch in a code on the alarm panel next to the door before leaving. She hadn’t done that tonight, either.
I waited as she got in her car and drove away. Was she only leaving for a few minutes? Had she forgotten to lock up? If yes to either of the previous two questions, if and when was she coming back?
I occupied myself with these thoughts for half an hour. When the mare still hadn’t returned, I decided to do something very, very stupid.
I slipped out of the truck and crossed the street quickly. Night was falling, and I instinctively bent over to appear smaller. There was no traffic, and I hoped I hadn’t been seen.
I got to the door and took a look around. I didn’t see anyone, so I used the neck strap of the camera as a barrier on the doorknob to avoid leaving my fingerprints. I didn’t know if pony police were used to dusting for those, but like I said, this whole idea was stupid.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Down the hall from the front door was what appeared to be the former living room. A few powered-down computers were there and a filing cabinet sat next to them. There were banners and signs promoting Dealmaker everywhere.
I suddenly realized the full idiocy of what I was doing. I was trespassing for nothing. Why would Dealmaker leave something incriminating in his campaign headquarters, which was open to the public? Even if he did, how long would it take me to comb through all the paperwork and computers to find it?
In for a penny, in for a pound. I began shuffling a few papers on a desk with my knuckles. I came across a list of employees who worked at the headquarters. It wasn’t particularly interesting, but I popped off the lens cap and took a picture anyway.
I sorted the pages a little more and suddenly heard the front door open. My heart leaped into my throat and I dashed around the corner into what used to be the kitchen as quietly as I could.
I heard several pairs of hooves coming down the hall. It sounded like they stopped and spread out in the living room. I glanced behind me. The back door was located in the kitchen, but it was padlocked shut.
I had heard of the fight or flight response when faced with danger. My options for flight were unfortunately limited. I heard whispering from the next room like they were talking amongst themselves about what they were going to do. I figured that might distract them enough to give me an edge, so I ducked out from the kitchen doorway, rapidly stabbing the shutter button of the camera.
The flashes nearly blinded me, and I was behind them. In the brief busts of light, I saw four ponies. From their masks to their shoes they were dressed all in black.
I had almost made it across the room to the hallway when one of them grabbed at me. I instinctively punched him in the chest and he fell back against the wall. I ran for the door.
I avoided going for my truck immediately, in the likely event that it wouldn’t start. Instead, I went for the backyards of the houses in the neighborhood. In the darkness, I almost ran into a chain link fence, but I managed to hurdle it and kept going. I didn’t see any sign of pursuit.
After about a block, I doubled back and walked casually up the sidewalk. I could see that the front door of the house hung open, but there was no sign of anyone around it. I got in the truck and headed back.
As I drove, I tried to make sense of it. Obviously, it was no coincidence that the front door had been left unlocked and someone (besides me) had broken in. The question was, had they been watching like I had, or was it planned and the mare who left the door open was an accomplice?
If they had been watching, it meant they had seen me go inside. They knew what I looked like, and probably had gotten a description of my truck. If it was a planned job, then someone besides me was after Dealmaker and had a plant in his headquarters.
Both scenarios raised a whole host of other questions. If they saw me go in, how come they had come in after me instead of calling the police? Was there something to hide after all? If it had been planned and I had stumbled into it, what would they think of that? Despite the flashing camera, did anyone see me close up?
I sensed I wasn’t going to get a lot of sleep that night.
I had been keeping Cherub updated whenever I learned something about Dealmaker, but I decided not to tell her about this. If she didn’t know, she couldn’t tell anyone. Not that I expected her to, but it isn’t a secret if too many people know. Journalists have to protect their sources.
Speaking of that, I sat down with my computer and went to my favorite search engine. I set it to only check the HSS website and searched for the phrase “Moose Island.”
There was only one result. It was a forum thread that was nearly two years old. Transmitter had made the first post, asking for information.
TransAdmin: Has anyone heard about something mysterious that happened on Moose Island? I was told that it happened about a year ago. Anything you can tell us would be helpful.
BiggsBaby: I know a guy out there. I can ask him to check newspaper archives for anything suspicious.
roro87: Were the Shades involved?
Flooww: what r shades?
Perce: Flooww, shades are one of those mares in black type groups that ponies talk about. If it’s a conspiracy, they’re in on it lol
BiggsBaby: My friend found a report of a break in at the Moose Island park but nothing else.
Wicked_Windigo: my coven has been to some cool places in lake haycago. maybe it’s got a power like that
None of the people replying to the topic seemed to have anything to add. I went to my e-mail and sent a message to HSS. If they knew enough about the incident to recognize it when I described it, then why hadn’t it ever come up on the site?
Again, the reply was near-instantaneous
Shorty,
We wouldn’t want to publish something that we don’t know for sure about. Our information came from a friend of a friend. If you can confirm what we’ve heard before, we might have enough to talk about it.
Transmitter
I was conflicted. I wanted to tell someone about it to make the burden of carrying the secret lighter, but at the same time I had to look out for everyone else that was there. They might not like being talked about online. I had to find out how much HSS knew before I started talking.
I figured the best way to communicate was face to face. I set up a meeting for the next day at nine p.m. in the food court of the nearest mall. I waited for a few minutes before the reply came. I figured Transmitter and Hickory were debating. They eventually agreed to be there.
To make the meeting the next day, I had to spend extra time on homework that evening. By the time I went to bed, I had almost completely forgotten the break in at Dealmaker’s place. Unfortunately, it was because I had something else to think about.