Every Day is Like Doomsday (6 page)

“Thanks for your concern,” said Elliot, matching
her rudeness with sarcasm.The headache was already fading into a dull throbbing in his temples as they walked
through the crisp autumn air.

“Oddly enough, even though I haven’t eaten since
before yesterday’ game I’m not really that hungry.”
“It’s fight or flight.”
“I just suffered a head injury so I don’t think I’m
capable of doing anything more complicated than tying
my shoes. Fighting and flying are out of the question.”
“Panic response,
opezdol
. When you’re panicked all
non-essential body functions shut down. G.O.D. what
kind of school did you go to, anyway?”
“Public school, why?”
“A product of the American public school system.
Should have guessed.”
Elliot wanted to be offended but he couldn’t muster
the proper motivation. Instead he sighed and asked, “Can
you just point me in the direction of the Dean’s office?”
“I may as well just escort you there. I’m not a fan of
our next class, anyway.”
“Which is?”
“History of Villains. It just started and I’d like to
kill as much time as possible before I have to make an
appearance.”
“Fine by me.”
The Dean’s office was located in the front corner of
the campus, just to the left of the invisible front gate. The
building was made of rough, gray stone and it was smaller
than Elliot had expected but it looked like a castle, complete with those little stone thingies on top and Elliot
could imagine the fortifications in place should anyone
ever try to break in. He was a little disappointed when
the arched wooden door was unguarded and they walked
right in.
They stepped into a hallway that was decorated in
an elegant art deco style in beiges and browns and rich
burgundies. Elliot had imagined wall sconces and creepy
suits of armor that always seemed to be moving if seen
out of the corner of one’s eye.
“It looks like someone reanimated the corpse of
a 1920’s interior decorator and let it run wild in here,”
said Innya. Elliot could almost taste the displeasure in
her voice.
“I kind of like it,” said Elliot.
“You would.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re a fashion imbecile. Come on.”
There were several unmarked doors in the hallway
that Elliot was very tempted to investigate but Innya
knew exactly where she was going and didn’t pause for
him to indulge his curiosities.
They turned right at an intersecting corridor and
kept walking until the hallway dead ended at a door. A
gold-plated sign glued to the door read “Mr. Ian Woon
Dean of Students.” Elliot lifted his hand to knock but
Innya opened the door and went right in. Elliot went
in after her. Apparently being a Villain meant that one
tossed all societal niceties out the window.
“Good afternoon,” said Dean Woon. He was sitting in a black leather wingback chair. He wore a black
pinstripe suit with a mustard yellow shirt and tie and
his hair was slicked back and shiny as a pair of patent
leather shoes. The inside and the outside of the building
may have been mismatched but the Dean perfectly suited
the décor of his office. It was decorated with dark wood
accents and deep, rich burgundy. On the wall behind his
desk was mounted a bank of flat screen monitors. At the
moment they were blank and Elliot wondered what they
would show if they were turned on.
“Hi,” said Innya.
“Hi,” said Elliot.
“That’s none of your concern, Elliot,” said the Dean
with a smile.
Elliot cringed and tried not to think of anything at
all, which of course made him think of boobs.
“Not this again,” said the Dean with an exasperated
sigh.
“Is he thinking about sex?” asked Innya. Then she
turned to Elliot and said, “Stop trying so hard not to
think. I have found that whenever I’m trying not to think
the only thing I can think about is sex. It’s counterproductive.”
“Very,” echoed the Dean.
“This wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just give me that
anti-mind control pill you gave to everyone else.”
“It doesn’t exit, Elliot,” said Innya.
“She’s right. It’s a hoax. Don’t tell anyone. Now, let’s
get down to business, shall we? Have a seat.” The Dean
gestured to two very angular and modern-looking chairs
in front of his desk and they sat.
“Now, Elliot, I need you to tell me what happened
in the cafeteria today because I need to write an incident
report.”
Elliot thought for a minute and tried to remember what had happened but the only thing that he could
remember that nickname and then the slow motion
tray moving towards his head. But then he remembered
something else. “You told me to come see you afterward.
You knew it was going to happen. You read their minds
and you knew that they were going to attack me. Why
didn’t you stop it?”
The Dean held up his hands in mock surrender.
“You’re right. I knew. Teenage thoughts are remarkably
loud. I can walk into a room full of you and it’s almost
like your brains are screaming directly into my head. I’ve
speculated that it’s all of the lovely hormones that are racing through your out of control bodies but I don’t really
know. I don’t do science.” For once the Dean’s face was
not lit up with his slick smile and Elliot thought that
perhaps he liked the slick Dean better than the serious
Dean. The serious Dean was a little frightening.
“Why didn’t you stop them? Why didn’t you arrest
them for conspiracy to commit mischief or attempted
murder or something?”
“If I detained every one of your peers who wanted
to maim or murder another of your peers then no one
would be in school and all of my time would be spent
conducting interviews and writing reports. You are surrounded by Villains, Elliot. The majority of our lives are
spent imagining evil schemes. Sometimes, when everything works out perfectly, we get to act on those schemes
but most of the time it’s just idle mental chatter.”
“Are they going to be punished now?”asked Innya,
“Because I would really love to see Red get punished. In
public. Like a flogging or something.”
The Dean leaned forward. “While I respect your
taste for blood I don’t think that public floggings are
something this institution is prepared to commence.”
Elliot felt his face redden with anger as he asked,
“So nothing is going to happen to them?”
“Do you have permanent brain damage?”
“No.”
“Then you have your answer.”
“Crap,” muttered Elliot.
“Nice try but I’m not exactly quaking in my boots.”
The Dean turned to Innya and said, “I understand that
you pestered a certain local superhero last night.”
“It’s true. I understand why you didn’t tell me there
was a spandex-clad buffoon wandering the streets of
Fort Rose but I’ll never forgive you for robbing me of
two months of fun. I have so much time to make up for.”
Innya smirked. Elliot gaped at her and wondered if she
knew exactly what she was confessing to.
“She knows. She just doesn’t care. Look closely,
Elliot, because this is what a Villain looks like.” Innya’s
grin widened at the compliment. The Dean continued,
“But you’re still a student and I still make the rules. Do
not sneak off campus to pester Mr. Magnificent. When
he called me this morning it gave me a horrible pain in
the back of my head, which in turn made me very cranky.
Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal clear. As always.”
Both men knew that Innya had no intention of following anyone’s rules but neither of them seemed willing
or able to do anything about it.
The Dean locked eyes with Innya for several seconds and then said, “Good. Now you can leave. I must
speak with Mr. Vane alone for a moment.”
Innya stood up and went to the door. “Don’t make
me wait too long or I might get bored and start dismantling your hallway.” And then she left.

Once Innya was gone Elliot turned back toward
the Dean, who was still staring at the now closed door
with a smile on his face. “What’s so funny?”

“That girl is trouble. She will go places.”He suddenly
focused on Elliot, “But you will not be going places if you
cannot keep up. You need to learn to play the game or you
will be killed. Innya has so far done a great deal for you,
probably more than you even realize, just by being around
you. But that can only go so far. She won’t always be here.”

“I know,” said Elliot darkly, “She already informed
me of this.”
“Well, I might have something that can help you
survive.”
Elliot perked up as the Dean stood and walked over
to a simple wood paneled door. He lifted a key from a
hook that hung beside it, unlocked the door and pulled
out a large, gray Rubbermaid tub and set it in his desk.
“Come take a look.”
Elliot stood and peered inside and saw things that he
could only have imagined. And he probably wouldn’t have
even imagined them because he wasn’t really that creative.
Before he could ask the Dean explained. “As sad as
it may seem to some it is an unavoidable fact of life that
some students are not cut out to be here. On the flip side
some students are more advanced than others and create
weapons that must be confiscated and sometimes even
destroyed for the good of all mankind. In both cases if
something strikes me I keep it in this box. And this box I
keep in that locked armoire and the key is always hanging
right on that hook. Do not be fooled by its banal appearance. Your salvation could be inside.”
Elliot reached into the box and picked up a sequined
white glove. He started to put it on but Dean Woon
snatched the glove out of his hand. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not? It’s cool, like that old singer Michael
Jackson.”
“And it will certainly make you dance like him but
when you get to the part when you grab your crotch the
glove will clamp down and squeeze until your testicles
pop like a couple of water balloons.”
Elliot immediately grabbed his junk, as if just by
hearing the story they might be damaged in some way.
He winced as a phantom pain shot through his testicles.
“Sorry,” said the Dean in an empty sort of way.
“No problem,” said Elliot, almost meaning it. He
pulled out a gun-shaped object that was about the size of
his palm. It was the color of tarnished brass but weighed
very little, maybe about as much as a good turkey sandwich, and for a gun that wasn’t much at all. At the end,
instead of a hole, it had something that looked like the
foot from a sewing machine.
“What’s this one?” Elliot palmed the gun and accidentally depressed the trigger. Tiny sparks shot out of the
end and it made a clicking noise like a Taser gun. “Is this
a Taser?”
“I suppose you could call it that but here at the VA a
Taser is far too pedestrian. This is the Nightmare Gun. It
puts the victim into immediate REM sleep where all of the
doors between the conscious and unconscious are thrown
open, dropping the victim into his worst nightmares.”
“Wow. That’s amazing.”
“The only caveat is that the tip of this gun has to be
an inch or less from the target’s temple or it won’t work.
Since you have to get so close to use it it’s not the most
effective weapon, especially for someone with short arms.”
“Is that what happened to the kid who invented it?
He just got too close and then missed?”
“No. The Sandman, or at least that’s what he called
himself, was actually trying to develop a weapon to keep
large amounts of people asleep at once. He fed off the
brainwaves of people having nightmares.”
“Sounds unreal, like a comic book or something.”
“Mr. Vane, you are walking through a comic book
world right now. You haven’t seen the half of it.”
Elliot thought of Red and The Twins and the kid
who wanted to eat the world and shook his head. “You’re
right. I have to start remembering this. So what happened
to the Sandman?”
“He had a habit of stimulating his own nightmares.
He did it so often that he completely disintegrated
the walls between his conscious and subconscious and
unconscious. He became a danger to himself and others,
which normally isn’t a reason for expulsion here but he
was wildly uncontrollable. He had to be committed.”
Elliot set the gun aside and reached further into
the box and then withdrew his hand as he touched something slimy. “What’s in there? Feels like a dead fish.”
Dean Woon. “Not quite. That is actually what
I wanted to show you. He pulled out something that
looked like a wetsuit for a child.
“What’s that?” Elliot asked.
“Your protection. This is armor, believe it or not.”
Elliot touched it again. It felt cold and wet but
when he let it go his fingers were perfectly dry.
“You wear this under your clothes and it will protect all of your vital organs.”
“What about my head?”
The Dean rummaged through the box and pulled
out a mask made of the same stuff. It looked like it would
cover everything except for the eyes.
“The mask isn’t a good idea unless you want to
invite attacks but the rest of it you can wear underneath
your clothes in the winter.”
“So what happened to this kid?”
“Summertime.”
“What?”
“He bragged about the suit of armor and wore the
mask all of the time. If there’s one thing you want to
avoid it’s provoking the other Villains. Understandably
they saw his armor as provocation. He couldn’t figure out
a way to make the suit air-conditioned and so all the others had to do was wait for a warm day.”
Elliot looked at the suit and shrugged, “It will work
for now, at least.” He took the suit. It was surprisingly
light and thin.
“You should put that on right away. You may use
my private bathroom to change. And I’m only allowing
you to do this as a favor to your father. When you’re ready
you’re free to go.”
“OK.”
Elliot stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.
The bathroom was decorated in all black and white with
little subway tiles so that the floor and the bottom third
of the walls looked like an expansive checkerboard. The
fixtures were spotless white ceramic and there was nothing in that space that could have been called personal.
Elliot started to wonder if the Dean had any personality
at all or if he was all show and no substance.Then he realized that the Dean was probably listening to his thoughts
through the door and told himself to shut up and get
changed and just get out of there.
Elliot started to undress, feeling silly for going
through these extremes and even sillier thinking that
this lightweight wetsuit would protect him from anything. But then the pain in his head flared as he bent
over to take off his pants and his stomach lurched and he
sadly realized that in his situation no precaution could be
considered too extreme. He had lost his friends and his
family and the kids in his new school wanted him dead
for no other reason than that he existed.
Elliot hesitated when he got down to his underwear, wondering whether the armor should go over or
under them, and finally decided that his boxer briefs
would get all bunched up underneath the tight suit and
so opted for under. It meant he’d have to wash the armor
every night or risk smelling like a monkey’s butt but if it
saved his life it would be totally worth it.
As he pulled up his pants his cell phone fell out of
the front pocket and clattered to the floor. When it hit
the tile the lock screen came on and Elliot picked the
phone up to see a picture of himself and his two best
friends since grade school, Adam and Sarah. They were
all smiling. The picture was from the night they all went
to the midnight showing of
Rocky Horror Picture Show
the year before. It was the only time a show like that had
ever come through town and it was one night only. It had
been so much fun…
Elliot set his phone down on the edge of the sink,
his mind whirling, and quickly put his clothes back on.
He wanted to call Sarah but she was still in class and
always turned her phone off during school hours. And
he didn’t want to call Adam because he didn’t think that
Adam would be able to keep his mouth shut about it. So
there was only one other person he could reach out to,
someone he hadn’t spoken to or heard from since before
yesterday morning before school.
He picked up his phone and dialed his father’s cell
number with trembling fingers. He felt as nervous as a
boy about to ask a girl out on a first date and his hands
were suddenly sweating so badly that he almost dropped
the phone. After four endless rings there was an answer.
It was not the answer he wanted.
“Why are you trying to contact your father?” asked
his father’s assistant, Craig, in a very apathetic sort of
manner. Craig always seemed so blasé and disingenuous
and belittling all at the same time. Elliot wondered if this
was a talent shared by all personal assistants or if Craig
was just an extra special type of asshole.
It took a moment for Elliot to find his voice, so
shocked he was to hear a voice other than his father’s.
He had called his father’s personal cell phone, not one of
the many phones he used for business, and the thought
that Craig was now answering this phone, too, just
rubbed him the wrong way.
“Why are you such a dick? Just put my father on
right now,” was what he would have said if he had gotten his tongue untied in time. Instead, as he dithered
over finding the right words to convey just how much he
despised him, Craig said, “Don’t call this number again
and don’t try to contact your father again. He has washed
his hands of you, you little Villain scum. This is your only
warning.” And then Craig hung up on him.
Elliot stared at the phone, seething in anger, and
managed to squeak out an ineffectual, “You dick!” but it
was too little, too late.
He shoved his phone into his jacket pocket and
checked himself in the mirror. He looked different: a little tougher thanks to the mottled purple bruising on the
side of his face, a little bulkier thanks to the armor and a
whole lot angrier thanks to Craig. But considering where
he was all of these things were an improvement.
Elliot sighed and left the bathroom. The Dean was
still sitting at his desk and he was just hanging up the phone
as Elliot came in.“Not what you expected was it?”he asked
as if he didn’t care whether or not Elliot responded.
“My father’s fucking assistant just hung up on me!”
Elliot said, his voice abnormally loud and high-pitched.
“That’s the spirit!” cheered the Dean. “I could have
told you that that was going to happen. Elliot, you won’t be
able to speak to your father again so you need to learn to
get by here. Your old life is just that, your old life. Holding
onto it will only hold you back here and holding back here
will most certainly get you killed. Do you understand?”
He wished he didn’t understand but at the moment
he did. His current understanding, however, did not preclude future attempts to call his father in the future on
the off chance that Craig wouldn’t be around.
“Fine. I can’t force you to listen to me but I can
force you to get out of my office. We are finished and I
have work to do. Good day.”
Dean Woon turned to his desk and began to rifle
through some paperwork there. Elliot let himself out and
found Innya waiting in the hallway for him. Surprisingly
the hallway still appeared to be intact.
“Good job controlling your destructive impulses,”
he said darkly.
Innya looked at him with a strange expression, as if
she sensed that something had changed but couldn’t figure out exactly what. “Thanks to your hilarious incident
with the metal lunch tray we’ve missed most of History of
Villains. But I suppose we may as well put in an appearance despite the fact that it’s soul-crushingly dull. Come
to think of it, you’ll probably enjoy it.”
“Why?”
“No one will be throwing anything at your head.”
“Very funny,” said Elliot, his mood growing darker
with each passing second as he imagined what a pathetic
mess his life had become. He clenched his hand around
his phone in his pocket until his fingertips throbbed. His
phone was his only lifeline to the outside world and yet
it was completely useless because his old life didn’t want
to hear from him. Just to keep himself from screaming in
frustration he asked, “What’s that class about?”
Innya looked at him as if he had just sprouted three
green alien heads on the tip of his nose.“Just what it sounds
like. G.O.D., the March on Washington, and the VRC.”
“So you guys discuss the General Omnipotent
Deity?” Elliot felt himself relax just a little. Innya was
right, he would enjoy this class if only because he would
be on the same level as his peers.
“G.O.D. Don’t let anyone hear you use the full
term. It will mark you as a tourist and a Norm.”
“I’m not a tourist,” Elliot said quickly, “My father is
one of the founding members of the Church of G.O.D.and
lobbied congress on behalf of the Villains Rights Cooperative. I’ve even been to a couple of rallies with him.”
“So you’re a sympathizer, good to know.”
“According to the police I’m not only a sympathizer,
I’m also a Villain.”
“Like the Hair Club for men?” she said and Elliot
was surprised to see a tiny smile curling one corner of her
mouth. It wasn’t much but that small sign of friendship
was enough to help bring him down from his angry ledge.
He decided that liked that tiny smile and so said nothing,
afraid that anything he said would make her revert back
to scathing glances and insults.
They walked for a little while in silence and Elliot
was acutely aware of the stares of abject hatred he was
receiving from some of the other kids wandering the
campus. Out of the corner of his eye he even saw one
kid draw his finger across his throat in a mock execution.
Elliot saw this in slow motion, like the part of a high
school movie where the new kid walks through the quad
for the first time. Elliot knew full well that these kids
promised actual death, not just social death.This was high
school in hell.
He turned to Innya, suddenly very eager that she
not change her mind and abandon him. She wasn’t all
that nice but she was all he had. He asked, “Innya?”
“What?” She didn’t even look at him.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“Bite me.”