Christa Faust: Fringe The Zodiac Paradox

When they circled around the back of the building, they spotted a large slit cut into the chain-link.

Bell put one hand on the fence, eyebrow raised.

“He must have beat us here,” Nina said.

“Could have been kids,” Bell said. “Or vagrants.”

“Should we go in?” Walter asked. “Or...”

A scrawny black kid about sixteen years old sidled up to them. He had an impressive Afro, sunglasses and an orange leather jacket that he had clearly borrowed from a much bigger friend.

“Hey, man,” he said. “You from Reiden Lake?”

Walter and Bell exchanged a look.

“Who are you?” Bell asked.

“Your friend said you’d be here,” he said, instead of answering. “He gave me five bucks and asked me to give you this note.”

The kid held out a slip of paper. Walter frowned, scanning the tree line. No one. The deep sense of unease in his belly twisted like a knife.

“You want the damn note or not?” the kid asked.

Walter took it.

“Did he say anything else to you?” Walter asked.

“Nope.”

The kid strolled away, uninterested now that his job had been fulfilled.

“Well,” Nina said. “What does it say?”

Walter unfolded the note. It was written in code.

“God dammit,” Walter said. “We don’t have time for this. We’re going to start tripping any second now!”

“Look,” Bell said, pulling a pen from an inner pocket. “He’s obviously using Reiden again as the key. He wants us to read this.” He drew up a quick Vigenère cipher and started laying out the key on the back side of the note. The message was short, and once the key was established it translated swiftly.

My dearest friends,

I have taken a hostage, but I am growing tired of this world. Leave Miss Nina Sharp behind and come to me so we can talk. Come around to the north side of the house. If I see that redheaded bitch I will kill the hostage. If you come alone, I will let the hostage go.

I want to go home.

Again, the note was signed with the infamous cross hair symbol.

“I don’t trust him,” Nina said immediately.

As Walter stared at the cross hair symbol, it seemed to swell and welt up on the paper like a fresh brand on raw flesh.

The acid was starting to kick in.

“Belly?” Walter asked.

“Yeah,” Bell replied. “Me, too.”

Nina rolled her eyes.

“Oh, this is just great,” she said.

“What are we going to do?” Bell asked.

“Look,” Nina said. “Here’s the plan. I’ll go into the building from this side, set up the central biofeedback rig, and then I’ll come through to the north end from the inside, and cover you two with Lulu. Agreed?”

“We don’t seem to have much of a choice,” Bell said.

“You have the extra walkie-talkie?” Nina asked Walter.

He checked inside the bag that contained the chloroform and handcuffs. The extra unit was there, right we’re he’d left it. He turned it on.

“Good,” Nina said. “If you get into trouble, use it.”

“Seems like a probable outcome at this point,” Bell said.

“Maybe he really does want to go home,” Walter suggested.

Nina turned away from them and squeezed through the slit in the chain-link fence.

“Go find out,” she said.

46

Nina followed the tan stone wall around the corner of the building, and slid alongside one of the boarded-up windows. The lowest board had been pried loose on one end and if she got down on her hands and knees, she could just wiggle through.

She looked around to see if anyone was watching. The sound of the carousel was clear, but from this angle she couldn’t see it. That meant all the people there and in the neighboring playground couldn’t see her, either. She pushed the canvas messenger bag in through the window frame ahead of her, and then squeezed in after it, loose nails scratching at her skin like metal claws.

Inside, the building was dim and redolent of char. Nina could see the cloudy sky through the hole in the roof, reflected in tarry puddles on the ruined floor. She remembered reading about the fire in the paper, something to do with glass blowing or kilns or something, but whatever the cause, the devastation was extensive. The interior had been burned down to the bones, nothing left intact but the exterior stone walls.

She could still hear that happy organ music from the carousel, an eerie counterpoint to the lonely, haunted house feeling inside the burnt-out building. She had never been a superstitious person, but found herself wondering if anyone had been killed in the fire, and shuddering at the thought.

Shrugging off the childish willies, she surveyed her surroundings and selected a spot near a descending staircase that seemed close enough to the exact center of the building, She unloaded the biofeedback rig and set it up, thumbing the power switch. Satisfied that it was working at maximum capacity, she drew Lulu from her purse and, barrel pointed at the damp floor, made her cautious way toward the north side, to check on Walter and Bell.

The big open space echoed her footfalls back at her, multiplying them and making it sound as if someone was following her. She paused for a moment, scanning the hazy corners and archways around her as the echo died off. Her eyes strained to separate the dim, sooty shadows. Pale ash kicked up by her feet swirled in what little light managed to find its way in.

Nothing. No one.

She continued, skirting another large black puddle and making her way toward a window on the north wall—a window with a single missing board.

* * *

Walter and Bell stood on the north side of the fence that surrounded the burnt-out building. The acid was really starting to make itself known, and shadowy figures seemed to lurk at the far edges of Walter’s peripheral vision. But if the killer was there, he didn’t make himself known.

“What should we do, Belly?” he asked, gripping his friend’s upper arm to steady himself. “We can’t wait here forever. The synchronization must begin in less than a minute!”

“I don’t know,” Bell replied, staring intently at the ground between his shoes. “I simply don’t know.”

That’s when Walter noticed the folded note tucked under the edge of the chain-link fence. He bent to pick it up, almost reluctant to unfold it. The paper seemed to pulse with a feverish infection in Walter’s hands.

“Do you see this?” he asked Bell.

“Yes,” Bell said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s real.”

He opened the note and found a message in plain, uncoded English.

I never had a hostage. But I do now.

The cross hair symbol winked at Walter like an eye. He dropped the note, wiping his hand on his pant legs as if it had touched something rotten.

“My God,” Walter said. “He’s got Nina!”

* * *

Nina reached the window with the missing board, and peered out. She could see Walter and Bell on the other side of the fence, waving their arms and having some kind of intense debate. No sign of the killer.

She checked her watch. Time was running out.

She was about to call out to them when she heard a stealthy, sliding footstep behind her. She spun, gun raised. The dappled shadows taunted her with a dozen hiding places, but she couldn’t see anyone.

“Show yourself!” she called.

Her echoing voice disrupted a brooding pigeon, who took off through the hole in the roof with a noisy flutter. A single white feather seesawed down from the ceiling and landed at her feet.

She waited.

Nothing.

No one.

Her ears rang with listening, eyes wide in the dim, shadowy building. Outside, the carousel started up again, taking a new batch of excited children for a ride with a burst of jaunty music.