Chapter 21: Lights Out

Navigating the corridors, Milo took a peek outside through the curtains. A slim woman waited on the outer side of the gate, the bars slicing what she held into narrow strips.

Mr. Thwaite approached the gate, Grace trailing behind him. Layla kept stepping into the secretary’s line of sight.

What is she even doing with them?

The principal fumbled the keys out and opened the gate for the woman, quickly closing it again behind her. Her dress was long, a gradient of purple going black at the ends. In her hands were two paper bags.

Milo’s plan was to linger around the staircase of the second floor to track Henry and Mr. Cald from behind a few lockers.

Whether the woman had brought testing kits or not, he couldn’t stay behind them now. Too many people were moving through the building.

That was Aldous’ wife.

Aldous Rolt was the Parish Warden of Jence and the neighboring villages. With no oversight or peers, the church called it the loneliest honor. Really, it was a small kingdom. He controlled the relic armory, the evacuation orders, and the account of what had happened.

Milo never liked the man. Too theatrical. The job meant risking his life, certainly, but Milo would have liked somebody else to count his Turnings. No one could accuse him of fraud.

Following a short greeting, the four of them headed back into the building.

Milo descended in the same direction and stopped a few steps down the staircase leading to the ground floor.

As the sun faded over the horizon, the outside submerged in darkness, and the main lights of the school spilled over the whole building. The sudden glare stung his eyes.

"How many classrooms can we clear tonight?" a troubled, masculine voice asked. That was Mr. Thwaite.

"W-We have to escort everyone out..." Grace had gotten ever more panicked since the run.

"Is that a burnt-top Basque cheesecake?" a feminine voice he hadn’t heard before asked, pitch high. That was Miss Rolt.

"Yes. Grace, please move the cake..."

"May I taste it?"

"W-What if the Plague is in it?!"

"Use gloves."

"Gloves applied to one’s oral cavity?"

"I was speaking to Grace, Miss Rolt."

With every exchange, Milo squinted harder and leaned closer to the group, unable to accept they would debate the placement of a cheesecake in a locked facility.

"J-Just testing kits?" Grace asked.

"The government has no treatment crew to spare," Miss Rolt said. "Direct Calamity exposures outside containment take precedence. They say ours should run its course."

Testing would work its way up from the ground floor. Tonight they hoped to clear that floor and half the first, enough to put roughly six hundred students on the school grounds. No one would go home, in case the tests were faulty.

And faulty they were, because by the last ground-floor classroom, everyone tested had been given a green light.

That was not possible.

The kits must’ve been missing people who weren’t symptomatic yet. Anyone still healthy would have to spend the night among them.

Milo raised his fist to the wall. A door opened below him. He lowered it without making a sound.

Overhearing Miss Rolt’s assurances only made it worse.

"Each person will be taken care of."

"The impending Calamity is a Misprint."

"After my husband’s Turning, everyone will be well."

The coming Calamity hadn’t caused this outbreak. They could die waiting for its Turning to cure them.

Milo went up to the staircase between the first and second floors. After making sure no one was yet approaching, he turned back.

"The Calamity Tree," he whispered. "Can it stop the Plague?"

[ The Calamity Tree ]

[ Sections: None ]

[ A claimed Calamity takes root as a section of the Tree. At rooting, several branches emerge. One may be chosen. The chosen branch is primary, and permanent. ] 𓂃🖋

Milo rubbed both hands over his face. "And the branches I don’t choose?"

[ Pruned. ] 𓂃🖋

"What does the primary one do?"

[ It shapes all growth that follows. Its Trait answers the holder without being called. ] 𓂃🖋

"Without being called. So it does something on its own? What?"

...

"Show me the branches."

[ Unavailable. No section exists. ] 𓂃🖋

A Trait that answered without being called sounded like passive control. Perhaps Milo could steer the Plague away from its next victim. Or force it out of someone it had infected.

"Authorship."

[ Authorship is the right to claim a Calamity. A defeated Host may be claimed. ] 𓂃🖋

"You mean Turned?"

[ No. ] 𓂃🖋

"Then what counts as defeated?"

[ A Host is defeated when beaten to the point of retreat. Under the blessing, it cannot recede. ] 𓂃🖋

"...And then?"

[ Communion. The Calamity is consumed, and takes root. ] 𓂃🖋

"Consumed by me?"

[ Yes. ] 𓂃🖋

Milo leaned against the wall, gazed at the ceiling, and blew out a long breath.

"Nothing defeats a Calamity."

[ Authorship does. ] 𓂃🖋

Maybe the iron fire-hook could get him out of the building. After that, he would follow Aldous and discover what make it cease to exist would require of him.

"I couldn’t even kill myself. But a Calamity, sure."

Footsteps below cut his questions short.

In spite of the shock, Milo managed a few strides up the stairs and drew the sheet against his chest.

Miss Rolt wished the last class a pleasant evening and headed for the staircase, her high heels loud on every step.

She stopped.

Fabric rustled as she turned to the people following her.

"Aldous is here."

She spoke the words in the tone of answering a question.

The lights went out.

═══════════════════

⋆˚࿔ Coming right up: "Aldous’ Weapon" ... ⤵︎ [!]