Secrets, Lies and Dragonflies

Chapter 46

The sun spills over the mountain range in the distance when the scent of fresh Alyssum blooms float in on a light breeze. I breathe in the sweet aroma and run my hand along the smooth surface of the bench I'm sitting on. The teacher it was devoted to died like a gazillion years ago, but the pictures of the dedication ceremony still hang in the hallway. Varying degrees of reds and yellows and orange cover the surrounding rooftops and rolling woodlands in the distance. It's dusk and for some reason, I've forgotten what I'm doing here.

"Hello, Mackenzie!" A shout from the parking lot startles me. "You're early, dear! I hope you haven't been waiting long!"

Quickly approaching are two women dressed in outdated flight suits, the kind pilots wore in those old black and white war movies. I know I know them, but my foggy brain isn't registering how.

"The poor girl's been sitting out here all alone," says the older one with oversized goggles snuggled against her forehead. "We should have left sooner. I don't know why I let you talk me into doing such crazy stunts."

The other woman bounces alongside her and scoffs, "Oh, you can't fool me. You know you loved every minute of that mission."

"Don't worry. She just arrived." Mr. Jordan stiffly emerges out of the administrative entrance of the school. "I've been watching her."

"That's a relief," replies the older, poised woman. "We would have been here sooner, but this last mission took a little longer than planned. There were a number of highly skilled Invaders."

"Of course." He folds his arms, looking all imposing. "That's understandable. We must protect the Targets at all costs."

The shorter, slightly plump woman pulls the leather cap off her head and shakes her wild brown hair. "Yes, yes. Well, you see, we've been working with this particular Target, and well, he's errr...let me see...yes...I believe he's eighty eight years old now...and anyway, Peter..." Her eyes grow big. "He finally returned fire. And with just one fly-by, shot those Invaders down. The Shillelaghs of course, took care of the rest. Oh, they were wonderful." She winks at me. "And now? He's free at last."

The details of how I know them are fuzzy, but I can't shake the feeling that something is off. Wait. Did she call him Peter?

The two women walk right past me and just before going through the double glass entrance doors, the gray haired one says, "Aren't you coming, Mackenzie? Hustle along. We have a lot to do." She disappears into the building.

I'm frozen on the poor dead teacher's bench, slowly remembering how Mr. Jordan's Art History Class is really a front for his doppelgänger's whole strange setup. And I think those women are part of his covert operation. As pieces of memories trickle in, a flash of deformed creatures hits me. I remember there were monsters after someone. I rise with plans to bolt, but it suddenly dawns on me: It was Spencer. They were after Spencer! Are they after him again? Is that why I'm here? Was any of that even real? If I run, I won't get answers. And I need answers.

"Time is of the essence," Mr. Peter calls, with the door propped open.

I'll play along, at least until I make sure Spencer is safe. Or maybe I even have to come to terms with the fact that I'm going mad. But either way, I'll be out of here as soon as I have answers. I trudge by the sign on the school building and notice the name mounted on the wall: Shillelagh High School. I let out a small chuckle. "Let me guess. This isn't Landry High? And you're not Mr. Jordan?"

He tilts his head down and peers over his glasses at me. "Welcome back, Ms. Temple."

We pass the Principal's office suite where the dead teacher's pictures are normally hung, but they're not out today. In silence, I keep pace behind him down the empty hallways, pass the gym, pass my row of lockers and stop when we reach his room, or at least the space Mr. Jordan's class occupies. He opens the door and flicks on the lights.