Chapter 23

For me, Saturday is like any other until Kim’s birthday party. It is a not so surprising surprise party even though few people are invited. Kim is a private girl who would rather stick her nose in a book than socialize, so it is just her family, my girlfriends, and me invited, with Zlata catering.

At the party, I do my best to show Kim the attention she deserves. While she is opening her presents., I sit next to her and eat. She is my least clingy girlfriend, and she has guests to entertain, so I spend time with the rest of my girls too. I find it a bit disconcerting that she pushes me to them and see it as another sign that we are drifting apart, especially since I end up spending equal time with all my girls when it is Kim’s birthday, and I am trying to spend time with her.

My fears are somewhat assuaged the next day as we spend the day together. Unlike what the rest of my girlfriends would plan, Kim doesn’t want a big romantic extravaganza. Instead, she chose things that I would enjoy on any given day. We start on a leisurely bike ride. Since we are now both competitive cyclists, it quickly turns from leisurely to a good workout.

We end the ride at my place so we can take a shower together, uninterrupted. Kim insists on washing me first but isn’t overly sensual about it. Strangely, her caring for me in this manner brings us closer emotionally. She is extremely attentive and insists on going slow. Unfortunately, she doesn’t let me reciprocate. I get to clean her, but she rushes me, and while I work on one part of her, she cleans another.

After the shower, we go for a walk. I’m sure that for Kim it is romantic. Our arms are intertwined, and she leans into my side. With everything that has gone on of late, we have one bodyguard a few meters ahead of us and another trailing behind.

Walking down Latoria Rd., the scenery is ok. The area is lightly forested, and the traffic sparse. I reminisce as we walk, telling Kim how the place evolves in the future. Most of the estates are bought up, the trees are cut down, and replaced with condos and townhouses. By 2020, there is construction everywhere. The exception is our house and the houses on either side. Our neighbours refuse to sell, so the three houses remain as everything grows around them.

As we approach the end of Latoria Rd., we end our little hike. Kim has one of our SUVs waiting for us, parked on Metchosin Rd. She insists on going through the McDonald’s drive-through. She wants to spend the rest of the day at the shooting range and doesn’t want to waste time in a restaurant when we can eat on the way there. The range is out of town, in the mountains, on the way to Mill Bay.

The range is a fairly nice place. It has separate areas for bows, handguns, long guns, shotguns and thrown weapons. I never could figure out how the range stayed open. Fewer people use it than you would think, and the place is huge. The long gun range alone is bigger than the range I used in Fort Grand.

We pull into the circular drive and get out of the vehicle. We head into the mobile home they have for an office and caretaker’s living quarters. Behind the counter is an 18-year-old who doesn’t stop flirting with Kim, even though I possessively keep her under my arm. Lusting after a 15-year-old, you know he is a creep.

Kim doesn’t see it that way and is enjoying herself. At least she doesn’t flirt back too much.

Once we are on the handgun range, we have quite a bit of fun. We play games like tic tac toe and battleship. Whenever I compete against somebody that doesn’t have my skill, I always play down, so I am just a little better than they are. It gives them hope that they can win and encourages them to try harder. Nobody wants to compete against a person that will slaughter them. Doing so just discourages them, and they may not want to compete next time.

Despite being a biathlete and thus a good shot, Kim forces me to shoot close to my best. She is relatively new to shooting, so I resolve to give her my best from now on, especially since she beat me at a game of battleship.

Once we used up all our game targets, we start fooling around, doing things like shooting with our off hands and shooting two guns at the same time. Kim is a bit disappointed to discover that I am not kidding when I say I am perfectly ambidextrous. She hardly hits the target with her left, and I am just as good with my left as I am with the right.

It is when we start shooting with a gun in each hand that I shine. It’s not like the movies where you bring up both weapons and empty your magazines. Doing that, you will not hit the broad side of a barn. Even when you know what you are doing, most people usually can’t hit the target with their off-hand, and their good-hand loses accuracy. Being ambidextrous is a different story, but it still isn’t like the movies. I lose a little bit of accuracy and precision, but not much.

It is slower than in the movies, and my head bobs from one side to the other. I start by shooting with the left. My left eye needs to line up the sights. Thankfully, I have been trained to shoot like an army sniper and shoot with both eyes open. I pull the trigger on the left and move my head to the right and line up my next shot.

In the movies, the guy shoots as fast as he can pull the trigger. In reality, if you want accuracy, you are slowed to how quickly you can move your head left and right, lining up the sights. Instead of shooting two or three rounds a second, like in the movies, I am slowed to 1.5 rounds a second. It still looks cool and impressive, but for accuracy and speed, you are better off to empty one magazine then switch to using the other gun. Even that can be impractical if you need to fire more than 20 rounds. It is awkward reloading a gun when you have one in each hand. In reality, you are better off having one gun and carrying extra magazines instead of a second gun.

Kim is frustrated, barely hitting the target with her good-hand and only hitting it once with her off-hand.

Except with Zlata, it is not often I get to have supper with the parents of my girlfriends. That is just what Kim has planned. We have supper with her family. Then the two of us cuddle up on her couch as she reads her latest novel. She is kind enough to have thought of me and has a selection of advanced physics and computer science books so I can study up to help me with my inventions.

Kim’s family accepts the fact that we have sex, but they don’t like it. We don’t want to flaunt it in front of them, so when it is time for bed, I kiss Kim goodby and head home.

Monday, being Thanksgiving, my girls refused to let me work. First thing in the morning, Moira and Carol jump in bed with me and force me to sleep in with a girl under each arm. I get back to sleep but only get a few minutes. I have only been able to sleep in when sick. I don’t mind lying there with a beautiful girl under each arm.

Brunch is a big affair, as many of my employees and friends stop by. Gramps had phoned the Kearney family and let them know it was safe to come home, so even they show up. In front of all my girls, Chloe walks up to me, plants a kiss right on my lips, and says, “Thank you. I know it was you that told Dad to protect me, even though you knew Finn could spill the beans.”

My face turns red, but nobody complains about the kiss, and I see no signs of jealousy.

It is easy to see that Dahlia had a hand in planning the day. It is an early supper held at the Mormon church on Mann Ave, and it is more than just our families invited. She invited all the single and less fortunate people she knew and had her sisters do the same. The place is packed. I can’t blame her. It wasn’t long ago that her Thanksgivings were dreary. She just wants to help put smiles on people’s faces.

Tuesday morning, Moira is the girl scheduled to wake me up, and she shows up almost a half-hour early, saying, “Get up. I can’t wait to go to school. With all the jocks in jail, it will be exciting seeing the girls with their freedom again.”

“Don’t quote me on this, but I am willing to bet that the principal and some of the teachers will be arrested today.”

“Really! You finished your schemes, and it’s over?”

“I hope so. There is still the possibility that the cops are crooked. They are RCMP after all.”

“Knowing you, you planned for that.”

“Of course. I will not leave things to chance. These people deserve to be in jail and worse.”

“I can’t wait to see the principal get arrested.”

“You will likely be in class for that. I do have our new prototype mini-cam. I might be able to take some pictures.”

Moira is too excited to cuddle, so I get out of bed. We decide to cook breakfast. Usually, when it is Moira’s turn to wake me, Dahlia cooks.

Since the cycling season is over, we have fewer people show up for the morning ride. Moira and I went overboard and cooked too much food, so everybody who shows up gets invited inside for a bite. Thankfully, feeding everybody takes time, slowing us down, so we are back on schedule. When we get to school, everybody heads to the shower as usual, but that takes less time than normal. Hardly any of the sports teams had anybody show up for the morning practices. I walk the girls to their classes and am kissing the last one, Carol, goodby when the bell rings to tell everybody to get to class. I head to the office and pretend to make phone calls.

Five minutes after the bell rings to tell teachers to start their classes, the police barge into the school. Through the open door, I see the same police bus used in the clubhouse bust. I didn’t think there would be that many arrests. I am surprised that Mr. Durrant is hauled off in cuffs behind the principal. I don’t hide the fact that I am taking pictures. There is no law about taking photographs in public places.

Looking down the hall, I see that many jocks weren’t intelligent enough to stay away from school after their friends were arrested. I watch the procession of boys being hauled out of the school.

Standing at the door to the offices, Ms. Smith flags me over and asks, “Did you have something to do with this?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t talk about such things.”

“Well, thank you anyway,” She says while hugging me.

When she pulls away, I see tears in her eyes. I figure it best if she is kept busy and has some normalcy put back in her life. Holding her, I take her back inside the outer office, where we find the other two secretaries, both of who are as young and gorgeous as Ms. Smith.

Letting her go, I say, “Given your ages and beauty, I am guessing that you were victims too. For now, we need to bring the rest of the victims to the gym for a meeting. Ms. Marlowe, please go to the top floor and take one victim from each class into the hall so you can talk privately. Have her take all the victims from her class to the gym. Ms. Anderson, you take the ground floor. Ms. Smith, you need to get a list of teachers the police have arrested and then phone the school board to let them know how many teachers are missing and that the school has no leadership.”

This stops the gawking about and sends the secretaries into action. Meanwhile, I get on the phone and call Dahlia’s psychologist, Dr. Sleeman.

“Good morning. This is the offices of doctors Hamilton, Sleeman and Yaw. How can I help you?”

“You are going to wish you hadn’t asked that. I’m sure there is a government organization that can help, but we can’t wait for them, and we need the help of a psychologist as soon as possible.”

As soon as she hears about our problem, she puts me on hold to interrupt Dr. Sleeman’s session. He ends up agreeing to meet us in a little over an hour. When I get off the phone, I use the school’s PA system to page my girlfriends to the gym, then head there. I arrive to see that Paul is one step ahead of me. He has our list of all the victims and checks off each one as they arrive. The unfortunate thing is, once all the girls have assembled, over a half dozen are missing, and the office has no knowledge of their whereabouts. These girls never arrived at school.

I send one of our guards to inform the police and another to phone the girls’ homes. Unfortunately, none of them are at home, and two sets of parents are at home worrying about where their daughters have been as they have not come home since Friday.

Carol steps up to Paul and me as we try to figure out where the missing girls are. She says, “I’ll grab a few girls and brainstorm where we might find them. You need to talk to the rest of the girls, calm them and reassure them.” I nod my consent and get back to talking with Paul. Carol takes six girls from the crowd, all from different cliques and encompassing each age group.

By the time I am done with Paul, the secretaries have figured out the gym’s sound system and hooked up a mic. Ms. Anderson hands me the mic, and I walk out to the centre of the gym. Since the girls are all sitting on the bleachers, they can see me from here. Into the mic, I say, “Can I get your attention, please?”

It takes a minute, but they eventually calm down.

“By now, you have probably guessed that your extortionists are either being hunted down or are in jail. It’s all over, and it’s time to figure out how to get back some semblance of a normal life.”

The girls are all subdued. I can tell that many of them do not like the fact that my male bodyguards and I are here. There is nothing I can do to diminish that. I continue, “I’m sorry there isn’t much that I can do. What I have done is arranged for some psychologists to talk with you. They will be here any minute.”

Ms. Smith comes up and whispers in my ear, “The school board has officially sent everybody home. I told them that you arranged for the psychologists, and they gave us permission to use the school until a reasonable hour, whatever that means.”

I announce, “The school has sent everybody else home. Anybody that wants to call their parents is welcome to it. They will be welcome to sit in on what the doctors have to say. The police will likely be getting ahold of your parents sometime in the next few days, so it is probably a good idea to tell them sooner rather than later. If you want somebody to come home with you to be there as you talk with your parents, then let one of us know. We will arrange for one of us or one of your friends to be there. I can see how you might not want one of my guards or me, but the cheerleaders and my girlfriends will make themselves available.”

I end my announcement there and let my guards know to allow the girls to go home if they so choose. It is only a handful of the younger girls that do.

You can tell how long each of the girls has been extorted. The short-timers are mostly relieved that it is over. The long-timers are scared. They are used to having others in control of everything. They no longer know how to cope with everyday life. It is this group that will have a challenging time trying to get their lives back. Many may never. A lot of the 13-year-old girls don’t know what to think.

I was angered before when it was a less tangible group of people that I was working to free. Now that I have seen many of them assembled in the gym, it hits me harder. The thing that surprises me is how my brain splits with this one. Typically, since it is the connectors between brain halves that are missing, my mind splits between thinking and feeling, no side having domain over the other unless I will it, which means I normally have two thoughts in my head. Seeing the victims, my brain splits more between my 15-year-old self and my 70-year-old self.

The younger me sees the girls as my equals. They are people that should be loved and cherished. It wants vengeance on all involved for the pain that was caused them.

The older me sees a group of children that we are meant to be protected. It wants vengeance on the adults involved in this, seeing no justification to bowing down to blackmail and helping Mr. Couture’s cause. The thing is, the vengeful heart on this side of the brain is much stronger and refuses to see any reasoning.

It is only to keep my madness from becoming a complete mental instability do I accept the fact that the police now have it in hand.

I am contemplating leaving when Dahlia approaches me with Dr. Sleeman. He is a lot younger than I remember, but then again, the last time I saw him was 2019. He sticks his hand out and says, “Trent, I presume. I’m Dr. Sleeman.”

“Dahlia tells me that you say all kinds of nice things about me. I don’t know how you know me, but thanks.”

In truth, everything I know about him is from the future, so I lie, “You know I was a foster kid, and you do family psychology. Word travels, especially among those that lost their family. Granted, most good psychologists we don’t talk about. Usually, it’s only those that are bad. Since I know your name, you have to be extremely good at what you do.”

“We can save that for another time. We best address the girls. Is this all of them?”

“No, I told them they could phone their parents, so some are lined up at various phones.”

It turns out that I dismissed the girls to phone their parents sooner than I should have. Ms. Smith is sent to the office, and soon she makes an announcement, “Attention please, everybody remaining in the school, make your way to the gym. I say again, all those still in the school, please make your way to the gym. You will be given time to contact your family shortly.”

By the victim’s perspective, I am a member of the evil sex. By staying and ensuring that the girls have the help they need, I have done as much as I can. As soon as everybody is seated and the psychologists are introduced, I leave.

Later that night, Dahlia lets me know what happened. As Dr. Sleeman was giving his initial spiel, more psychologists showed up. It took so long for him to arrive because he phoned child services and several psychologists, gathering all the help he could. Almost all of them eventually showed up.

Waiting for Dahlia to come home, there is a knock at the door. I’m in my room working at my desk, so I just shout out, “Come in.”

Paul enters the foyer. Seeing me in my room, he comes over and says, “It turns out there were three schools raided today. You already know about the first two. The third is the other Jr. high in the western communities.”

“Shit, I was hoping it was just the two. I suppose we should be thankful it isn’t worse. That is every Jr. and Sr. high on this side of town. I wonder why he kept it to just the Western Communities.”

“I doubt we will ever know. The flight plan for Mr. Couture’s jet was cancelled at the last minute. Somebody tipped him off.”

“Shit, we technically have an extradition treaty with the US, but it tends only to work one way. They have a difficult enough time extraditing a person from one state to the next. There is no way he is going to see justice.”

“That is what I figure. We could always show him our brand of justice.”

“No, I hate to be callous, but we need to focus on where our loyalties lie. Taking care of Mr. Couture will be more trouble than it is worth, and we have taken more risks than I am comfortable with.

“With the extradition request sent the US, whatever state he is in will have full knowledge of his crimes. If they want to allow a pedophiliac rapist to walk free, it is their problem, not ours. He can’t cross the border. We need to focus on helping these girls recover.”