Wyatt exited the shed momentarily, finding Rachel sitting on the grass, her back against the outside, smoking a cigarette. He leaned beside her and she glanced up at him, then handed him her cigarette, but he smiled and shook his head. Rachel shrugged and went back to smoking. A cool breeze blew through the yard, and Wyatt exhaled, shaking the leaves in the tree overhead the shed.
"You know," Wyatt said, almost laughing, "I never expected to know any of you. In high school, none of us really talked. I think I spoke to Calvin once or twice, but only cause we had similar classes. But you and Celia? Nah. And certainly not Kelly." "You were too cool for losers like us," Rachel remarked, taking an offensively long drag. "I wasn't that kind of popular," Wyatt said, sounding defensive, "you know that. I didn't put anyone down, I wasn't a bully. I was a nice guy. I was popular because I wasn't like that. Regardless, I don't have to defend my teenage self, and we're all friends now." "Yeah but would we be otherwise?" Rachel asked, wiping her face on her sweatshirt sleeve before looking up at him, her messy ponytail swinging behind her as they locked eyes and she continued, "I mean, seriously, would be if we weren't involved in this situation? Think about it, before the reunion we weren't speaking. We all lived in the same town. We shopped at the same grocery store. You and Celia have children in the same school. And yet none of us ever took the initiative to approach one another and start up a friendship. So would we be friends now, if not for what we did? We're friends by proxy of crime, a lot of crime which wasn't even perpetrated by us, for the record." Wyatt nodded slowly. Rachel had a valid point. She looked away from him, breaking the gaze, and focusing back on her cigarette for a minute or two before putting it out in the grass and stuffing the remains in her shirt pocket, before struggling to stand up. Wyatt held his hand out, and she graciously took it as he helped her up. She brushed her pants off and then looked at him. "For what it's worth," Wyatt said, "...I'm glad we're friends. Who wants to have friends in high school anyway? It's all superficial. At least this is real." Rachel smiled weakly, nodding in agreement. "There's certainly nothing fake about this, you got that right," she said, and together they headed back into the shed. Inside, Calvin was pacing furiously while Celia sat on a stool, drinking a beer. Both stopped their actions upon Wyatt and Rachel's return, and watched Wyatt shut and bolt the door upon re-entry. After a moment, Calvin put his hands on the work table in the center of the shed and sighed. "...Brighton wasn't an idiot, but he wasn't a genius either," Calvin finally said, "and...and I think I found something linking him directly to Mr. Wattson outside of just the key I took from Leonard. It isn't anything concrete, perhaps nothing even substantial, but I do think it's enough to warrant discussion, even if I still think the connection is strenuous at best and deserves more research before jumping to conclusions." "How many former teachers are you friends with, Calvin?" Celia asked, "...cause it's not a common thing." "You keep saying you found something, but we've been here for like two hours and you ain't showed us shit yet," Wyatt said, starting to sound annoyed, "so if you really think you have something, put your money where your mouth is. Let's see it." "Like I said, it's not substantial, I don't think, but it's curious nonetheless," Calvin said, pulling a video tape from a shoebox and popping it into the tiny TV with the attached VCR before stepping back and pressing play. The screen fizzled to life, static and snow, color bars, and then finally a very blurry Oliver Brighton came into view as he adjusted the camera and then stepped back, waving and smiling into the lens before seating himself on a chair. He appeared to be in the storage unit, surrounded by his boxes of illicit smut. "Hello," Brighton said, "this is Oliver Brighton, making a sort of last will and video testament. Um, this video is for Leonard Wattson." "He looks like hell," Celia said. "Guys, look at the date," Rachel said, pointing with her finger at the screen to the date in the corner of the TV, "this was recorded the night he..." "Shit she's right," Celia whispered. "Leonard has been nothing but the best friend I could ever have, and has given me so many amazing opportunities, and that's why I'm taking this moment to thank him personally. He changed my life and allowed me to be who I really was, and for that I'll be forever grateful. But things have changed, and I must sort of tender my resignation at this point, and for that I apologize profusely. Together, Leonard and I made amazing work, and I'll always love what he allowed me to do, but I...I have to do something now that he's not going to be pleased with, so...Leonard, if you're watching this, I'm so so sorry. Please don't be upset with me." "Why didn't Leonard see this?" Celia asked, "wouldn't you think he'd have left it in a place he'd have easily found it?" "That's the thing," Calvin said, leaning against the table, arms crossed, "I think, in his disheveled state, he put it in whatever box he could in that moment before he went home and did his deed. I don't think he was in his right state of mind to think about where to properly put this thing for Leonard to see. Regardless, his lack of forethought is to our benefit." Brighton, on screen, started crying, burying his face in his hands, and for a split second, Rachel felt bad. There was the scared little geeky boy she remembered from school. The quiet, introverted nice boy who'd always helped her on coursework when she'd needed it, who'd even remembered her well enough to say hello to her the night of the reunion. She bit her lip and looked down. She couldn't watch any more of this. "I'm so sorry, Leonard. I didn't do anything wrong, but I fear I'm going to be the scapegoat for everything, including what we do," Brighton finally said after regaining a small sense of composure, "and I refuse to be used the way you let me use others. Call me selfish, I don't care. I'm selfish. I know that. There's nothing you could say to me, about me, that would make me feel worse than I already feel about myself. I didn't wanna be this way. To like...these kinds of things. So thank you for at least letting me express that outlet, but also fuck you for doing so instead of trying to make me get help. Fuck you Mr. Wattson." And with that Brighton leaned forward and shut the camera off again, leaving everyone to stand and stew in silence momentarily before Celia crushed her beer can and tossed it into the nearby trash can and belching. "Nice," Wyatt said, making her laugh. "I don't think Brighton being a weepy little bitch, and trying to grow a conscience an hour before he murdered his family, is going to do much for his public image. He's trying to alleviate himself of guilt for his part in horrific crimes, and it isn't working. The man had literally an entire storage unit full of, you know what, and trying to act like he's the victim here is just a disgusting power play. If he'd really wanted help, he'd have gotten help. He wants Leonard to feel guilty, that's all, end of story," Celia said. "How do you not see this as pure straight evidence, Cal?" Wyatt asked, "Brighton literally spelled it out for you! He thanked Wattson directly for his involvement in their 'projects'. I mean what more proof do you need?" "I just," Calvin said, groaning, running a hand through his hair, "I just wanna make sure, because if we're wrong, we could do a lot of damage. Mr. Wattson is a well respected man, and I don't want to fuck up the life of a man who's not only been a pillar of various communities, but also given me ample opportunity myself. He came back into town and the first thing he did upon seeing me was offer me work and-" "He's doing the same thing to you that he did to Oliver, dude!" Rachel said, shouting, getting up in Calvin's face, "he's literally buying you off and you don't even know it! He's paying for your silence! By having you close, trusting him, you'll be far less likely to turn on him if and when the time comes, because you'll be so fucking loyal! I thought you were smarter than this, Calvin. I thought you had a moral compass. Wasn't that the entire point behind murdering Grudin? As a crusade for nobility? Because he killed your wife and daughter? But now you're willing to turn a blind eye to a man who helped hurt dozens of kids, and why? Because you trust him? Get fucking real." Nobody said anything for a moment, but Calvin couldn't help but notice Rachel had made the same point Wyatt had made recently. That he sounded selfish, like he only cared about his own children. In fact, maybe he was, he admitted, but he didn't want to be. He wanted to protect any and all kids from harm. "Alright, let's all calm down," Wyatt said, "we're not going to solve anything by getting irrational and emotional, okay? Let's just think about this for a moment." "Think about what, dude?!" Rachel shouted as Wyatt inserted himself in between her and Calvin, "think about how he's a hypocrite? Cause I feel like that's been pretty well established, no need to think about that!" "Rachel, cool it!" Wyatt said sternly, "I'm talking more about thinking in regards to Wattson's involvement. Yeah, this is...incriminating as hell, honestly, but it's not an outright admission. He never once says, on tape, what he did and who he did it with. For all anyone could know, he could be talking about the same work that Calvin's doing right now, just helping him with his teaching." "He wasn't even in the city," Rachel said quietly, "remember? How's he gonna help Wattson with his work if he's in another city?" "She's right, he flew in," Calvin said. "So now you're on the side of condemning?" Wyatt asked, "after the fight we had in the store, you're finally open to putting blame on him? I'm not saying we shouldn't, but Calvin might be right, maybe we should be one hundred percent certain. We got lucky with Grudin, okay? We got so very lucky. But that level of luck isn't guaranteed again and again, alright? If we're going to do this, it's going to have to be concrete. We have to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he's connected, and then, and only then, if he is do we do something about it. But no bombs. I suggested a bomb, but I wasn't in my right head." "When...when did you suggest a bomb?" Celia asked, sounding shocked. "Right after we discovered the unit," Wyatt said, looking across the work table at her, chewing his lip, "yeah, I told Calvin we should blow Wattson up too, but I realize now that's a stupid idea. That was risky to begin with, and the only reason nobody realized how stupid it was to connect Brighton to Grudin is because Grudin's wife publicly said she didn't want to put her daughter through that." "It isn't outside the realm of possibility that Brighton wouldn't know how to build a bomb though," Calvin said, "I had science with him, and he was good. He would do a lot of electrical projects for extra credit. I think the man could've built one if he'd put in the effort, so even if someone did look into that, I think they'd realize he couldn't be full excused." "Okay, fair enough," Wyatt said, "but he's dead now, and that connection to Grudin is tenuous at best. We won't get lucky this time if we do something to Wattson. They'll come looking for another culprit, especially if it's the same kind of bomb. And then, and only then, will they likely realize the connection between the bomb that blew up Grudin and the one that potentially would blow up Wattson." "I cannot believe we're even discussing this," Rachel said, walking away from the group, hand on her forehead, "do you...do you even hear yourself when you speak?! You're talking like we're some kind of vigilante group! News flash, bitch, we're not! I'm a barista, you run a hardware store, and Celia's a lawyer! We're not anything special, we're just everyday people!" A hush fell over the shed, as everyone looked at nothing in particular. Rachel zipped her sweatshirt up and relit her cigarette, taking a long puff before exhaling the smoke into the interior of the shed and shook her head. "I can't believe you," she whispered, "you know? I thought you guys were good people, but here you are just wanting to blow someone else up." "I never said I was in favor of that, for the record," Celia interjected, raising her hand, "just, ya know, for what it's worth." "You're not a saint," Wyatt said, looking at Rachel, "you think you are, but I assure you you're not. You were just as in on the Grudin thing as anyone else, hell, even before any of us. You were here, with Calvin, watching him build the bomb knowing full well what it's intended use was for, so don't act like you're absolved of any wrongdoings, Rachel." Rachel stammered. She wanted to argue, but Wyatt was right. Now she was being the hypocrite. Besides, after her attempted rape, shouldn't she want to stop men from hurting others? Seemed like they all had a personal grudge against some kind of man in their life, except Wyatt anyway, and that was the common connection that held them together like glue. Rachel leaned against the workshop table, took another drag and sniffled. "...sorry..." she whispered. "It's alright," Wyatt said, putting his hand on her shoulder, smiling warmly at her, "it's okay, but if we're gonna keep this thing together, if we're gonna make whatever we're gonna do work, we have to be on the same page, remember? We can't have infighting. That's what leads to failure. Right now it sounds like we're all in agreement. We need more. We need hard evidence. Calvin, you need to bring us something we can point to as definitive proof. This is good, but we need a little more." "I can do that," Calvin said softly, nodding as he chewed on his thumbnail, his eyes glued to his shoes. "Until then, no more burning the units contents," Wyatt said, "I know it's cathartic, and the right thing to do in terms of ridding the world of this smut, but for right now, we might need that as evidence if we are going to ever turn it over for exoneration if and when that day ever comes." "He's right," Celia said, "we're going to need a bargaining chip." "Okay then, we're all in agreement?" Wyatt asked, looking around at everyone, all three of them nodding; he nodded, "good, okay then. I'm going home. I'm supposed to have dinner with my family, and I said I'd be picking something up, so I can't be any later than I already am." Celia slid off the stool and pulled her leather jacket back on before catching up with Wyatt, the two of them exiting the shed together. As they walked across the lawn, Calvin and Rachel stood in the doorway to the shed and watched. "...this is fucked," Celia whispered, waiting until they were properly out of earshot to speak, still keeping her voice low, "this is fucked on so many levels. We're not getting out of this. But if we can minimize our involvement to nothing more than concerned citizens, perhaps we can weasel a deal if nothing else." Celia and Wyatt stopped at their respective cars in front of Calvin's house and looked at one another. "Here's the thing, I don't trust Calvin for a second," Wyatt said, "he'll agree to anything then do whatever he wants, he's rash, okay? We need to keep a keen eye on him, alright? Can you help me with that? Rachel's too attached I think to be impartial, I think, so I'm depending on you to help me with this." "You can count on me," Celia said, patting his chest before heading across the street. The two got in their cars, and pulled away in opposite directions, while Calvin and Rachel stayed standing in the doorway to the shed. Rachel finished her cigarette and tossed it back on the ground, stomping it with her boot before shaking her head, blowing the last of the smoke into the cool night air. "So what's the plan?" Rachel asked, her arms folded as she looked at Calvin. "The plan is to get the proper info on Mr. Wattson," Calvin said, walking inside and popping the VHS out from the TV, sticking it in a plastic bag and then putting that inside a small plastic container, hiding it high up on a shelf behind other things in the shed. "And then?" Rachel asked. "...and then we see what happens," Calvin said, "for better, or worse. Now shut the door, you're letting in cold air." And with that, Rachel re-entered the shed, and slammed the door behind her.
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A group of former high school classmates reunite at their 10 year reunion, and discover they each want something different, many with someone else there. What ensues is a labyrinthian relationship amongst them involving crime, murder, romance and, in one particular case, terrorism. Archives
May 2024
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