The answer is plain and you can surely see,
However you're blinded by the facts you find,
The truth will sometimes clutter your mind.
---
Like a fungus consistently expending its colony. Like a drop of water creating a ripple. Like worker ants rushing to a sugary spot. The outside of lecture theatre four was exactly like that. It was crowded. Curious heads tried to peak inside the room. It was as though something did happen. Something did happen and it was not pretty.
It was hot. The air-condition system throughout the whole corridor had been lowered down. People pushed against each other, creating body heat. It was stuffy. Amongst the people who were there were some of HMC student council members including
There were few people inside the room. Carmen, Jeremy and Rachel were already in there to begin with. Carmen immediately called the ambulance after overcoming the shock. Rachel went to the admin desk to inform someone there but they closed early. Jeremy was taking photographs of the scene even though he felt rather disgusted about it. Most of the lecturers left already. Joe managed to sneak into the room along with a few other people. He took out a notebook and jotted down information he could use for his morning news. Joshua came late but managed to squeeze pass the crowd and break into the classroom. He was taking photographs as well. He was even worse than Jeremy. His hands were shaking which in turn shook the camera. His mouth was silenced by the air of death. The other people there were quiet as well.
Men in white uniform came down from the exit near the DSA room. A siren could be heard, blaring echoes throughout the stairwell. They were carrying a stretcher. They were followed by men in blue. They came, took a look, wrote in their notebook and left. It was suicide they said, though the trio disagreed but refused to say anything yet. Ashikin was then carried on the stretcher, in a black bag which they had zipped up, and taken away. The door swung open and the crowd moved aside to let the door swing outwards. They walked away as the crowd questioned the incident. The other people told the story but Carmen, Jeremy and Rachel were speechless; Joshua too, for some reason.
They were walking out when suddenly Carmen stopped at the edge of the crowd. She heard a familiar voice. She heard that voice somewhere before but she could not remember where. She turned to look but she could not see anyone. She swore she heard someone.
"It was not suicide," pressed the voice, "Markings on her forearm shows that she struggled to escape..."
And the voice faded in the crowd. And the crowd dispersed. And she stood there as the people passed her. And Jeremy and Rachel called her. And she followed them. And the three of them walked away from the scene with red eyes, trying to make sense out of any of this.
---Words spread like the butter on a hot toast. Every time it spread, another layer of butter soaked deep into the spongy crunchy interior. Another spread and the heat radiated from the toast melt the greasy solid in between the crumbs. Constant spreading and soon, it was no longer toast with butter but rather butter with toast. In the spreading of the rumour or butter, the truth would get lost in transition. The complexity of the story would make each minor but important detail slip away.
The Matrics newsletter released an early issue. The whole issue revolved around suicide. The centre page was a two-page colour graphic novel on suicide. College Show Network uploaded a morning news report on the suicide case. The main headlines of Matrics read "Body Found ‘Hanging’ Out". The talk of the day was all about suicide. It was true when they said death would make a person famous. It was.
---"... If anything can go wrong, it will. That, my friends, is Murphy's Law. Nothing is ever right. So, even if everything is going right, something is wrong. Maybe that is one of the many reasons why failure can occur. We fail due to the fact that nature wants us to fail. Going against it would mean going against nature herself. It is inevitable.
With that I conclude my speech. There are many ways things can fail. It can be because of the unpreparedness of the person to the forces above. We cannot actually pinpoint the point of failure because it would only lead back to when time began. All we can do is embrace this occurrence we call failure and accept this fact of life. Thank you."
The class of students clapped. The room was narrow but long. It was called seminar room seven, just opposite seminar room nine, ten and eleven. The student who just gave his speech approached his seat which was the nearest to the front. There was no stage, just the front of the classroom, beside the lecturer's desk. He limped a bit, dragging his left leg. The classroom was arranged like a bus, with three chairs with flip table on both sides of the row in each column. There was a very narrow pathway in between.
The lecturer was sitting amongst the student in the front row. He had dark skin, with a shaved head. He wore his famous black jacket over a light blue shirt. He stood up and took the centre of the front of the class and spoke, "Thank you,
He took a look at the file which he just picked from the desk and added, "On Wednesday for impromptu speaking, we have Jeremy, Ben, Joshua, Clement, Megan,
Ben patted
"How was it?" she asked.
"What's it?" he asked back.
"Class, I mean," she clarified.
"Oh, it was fine," he replied, "
"It has only been a week," she said, "A week of rest from the shock as well. I'm continuing my investigations. I have a-"
"You rested?" he asked surprised.
"Yeah," she affirmed.
"I don't think so," he said, "You were camping outside the student council room again."
"Anyways," she diverted the topic, "I have a bit of information about the photographs. Carmen told me she recognised it. The photos belonged to the yearbook committee. And guess who took the photos?"
"Who?"
"Joshua."
"That's not surprising. He was part of the yearbook for a while, then student council and now he sells them to the Matrics," he pointed out, "So, do you think Joshua did it?"
"He has motives," she stated, "But he's too incompetent. I doubt he's the kind of person who does these kinds of things."
"True," he agreed, "Who is it then?"
"I'm still uncertain," she said, "But I'm going to have a talk to someone from the yearbook committee."
Both of them discussed about the various possibilities as they headed for their History class at the Theatrette.
---"Poetry is sweet but not in this case. We have updates on the suicide story on one of our fellow student. Apparently, there was a poem found on the whiteboard written in red marker pen. We got this from a very reliable source who wishes to remain anonymous. It is quite puzzling as to what the poem meant but we assume that it was the suicide victim's final words."
Joe wore the same thing he did for his last news report. It was a grey suit, brown shirt and a silver tie. The College Show Network had become increasingly popular since the fainted girl. Everyone now wanted a piece of their news. There had even been people wanting to be news reporters and more members were joining their club.
He continued, "The poem talks about something that will never be. And then there is something about answer and being blinded by facts. There is also something about how the truth clutters your mind. Or something similar to that. Whatever it is, I will post the poem on the website. Stay tune for more updates. We update every Tuesdays and Fridays and sometimes in between if there is something hot."
"Joe!" she yelled. Rachel yelled from the other end of the corridor as she caught up with Joe. Joe turned around and saw Rachel approaching him.
"What?" he asked.
"You know that poem you said you got from about the Ashikin's suicide?"
Joe nodded.
"Who was the reliable source you got it from?"
"I cannot reveal to you that sort of information."
"I'm on an investigation. It's crucial to me. Now, tell me," she demanded.
"Fine, I don't know. Someone just left me a note and I found it. I lied about it."
"Can I take a look at the note?" asked Rachel.
"Here." Joe took out a foolscap paper with a small piece of paper clipped on to it. The foolscap paper was filled with his writing which was notes for his report and the piece of paper was the poem and some information which was typed.
"The poem is on the top," pointed Joe.
"I know, thanks," she said as she read through it and passed it back to Joe. She then told, "This kind of information is very important to me. Can you please inform me the next time you get something like this?"
He nodded and she gave him her contact. There was another clue. The poem at the top of this chapter of mysteries. A very intriguing poem at the top of this endless chapter of enigmatic mysteries.
---"Carmen," called Rachel with urgency, "There's a problem."
"What?" she asked worriedly, "What is it?"
"You remember the message written in the board for your case and the one with Ashikin?"
"The poem?" questioned Carmen.
"Yes, the one we erased before anyone came in," said Rachel, "Apparently, someone knows about it and contacted Joe."
"That could be a real prob-," said Carmen as she gradually slowed down.
"-lem," she ended. Her mind was distracted. She was gazing over Rachel's shoulder. Something, or someone, caught her attention. Her eyes were fixed on something else. It was diverting.
Both of them were standing in the middle of the corridor near the classrooms. Carmen was not responsive. Her eyes were glued. Multiple classes ended and the crowd filled the corridor. Whatever she saw drowned in the flood of heads. But she was staring at it. Her eyes were stuck to the same spot, without a blink.
"-men! Carmen!" yelled Rachel, trying to gain her attention. Carmen's sense came back to her, starting with her hearing. Carmen snapped back to reality but she seemed stunned. She was shocked. She stood there like a stone. Her mind was blank. She could not think. She wondered but did not know what to wonder; what to ponder. She made out the words being screamed into her ears but could not react to it. And when she opened her mouth, she could only say one thing. "Are there such thing as zombies?"
---The softness beneath. The silence around. The darkness amongst. The heat on top. The cool air above. The terror inside.
Carmen lay on her pillow on the bed in the room of the hostel; it was a small room. It was late. She should be sleeping. Prior to this, she had been doing her assignment. It was a rush job but she completed it. And now, it was very late. She should be sleeping. But she could not. She just could not.
She closed her eyes once more. She could not recall how many times she had done that. She stared into the darkness behind her eyelids. Absolute nothingness was what she saw. She closed harder. She could see white patches of light appearing. The bright white took form. It shaped itself, transforming into a figure, a familiar figure. A thin and tall silhouette of a female was formed. The figure stood there, as though she was standing in front of her bed and she was looking through her eyelids. The ghost figure stared at her, she could see that. Even though the figure was pure white and actually had no eyes, she could feel the figure’s gaze piercing through her eyes. It would not go.
Unexpectedly, she was grabbed from behind. The distance between the figure and her was gradually increasing. The figure shrunk as she was pulled away. She wanted to yell, but she could not; something was stopping her from screaming. Her voice was muffled. Soon, she exhausted herself. She stopped struggling and realised that someone’s hand was covering her mouth. Her mind slowly faded away from her.
Her heavy eyelids lifted up. She was aware. She touched her neck; it was wet. She was having cold sweat. Her clothes were soaked. She opened her eyes from pitch black to pitch black again. It was not a dream. She was awake, barely, when she had that nightmare. It meant something but she did not know. Her brain was trying to tell her something it kept from her after that traumatic incident. She just did not know what. She closed her eyes and attempted to sleep, letting her dreams and nightmares steal her soul once more.
The softness inside. The silence above. The darkness on top. The heat beneath. The cool air amongst. The terror around.
---People walked by the corridor. They walked slowly or seemed like it. Everything around her moved as though it was lagging movie. Carmen sat at the bench by the corridor watching the world pass by in stammers.
---People walked by the corridor. Everything felt artificial; nothing seemed real. It was as though Rachel's whole life was written in ink on a book which would never be read. It was like a diary. She walked passed the people as though they were programmed to do so, until something came out of place, like a plot twist in a story.
---People walked by the corridor. The world moved through a series of frames. Each frame was taken by a very good camera with shutter speeds at about sixty frames a second. And Jeremy was looking through the lens of the camera as he walked down the corridor.
---People walked by the corridor.
"Oh shi-" gasped Carmen as she immediately stood up. Jeremy and Rachel was coming from each side of the corridor when Carmen acknowledged them but left, saying something about her presentation.
"Hey Rachel," greeted Jeremy, "How've you been?"
"Tired," she replied. She did look slightly exhausted. She had a more apparent dark ring below her eyes.
"Still working on the case?"
"Kind of," she answered, "Finals are coming though, in about three weeks."
"Two," he corrected and added, "Do you want to go and have lunch?"
"I can't," she said, "I have to talk to Marcus."
"Regarding the yearbook and the photographs?"
She nodded her and said, "I'll catch you later."
"Yeah, sure. See you."
Rachel departed and headed for seminar room eleven. It was twelve thirty on a Wednesday. Yearbook committee would have a meeting, especially this late into the year. Their book went into printing but they had to come up with marketing strategies.
A tall boy stood outside the room. He wore spectacles and had a bit of a moustache. He wore a blue jacket over a white t-shirt and blue jeans.
"Marcus?" she inquired.
"Yep, that's me," he replied.
"Do you have time? I need to talk to you for a bit."
"I'm supposed to have a meeting but everyone is not here. Sure, why not?"
"I'm sure you've heard about what happen to Ashikin."
"Yeah, I have. It was a real tragedy."
"I'm currently investigating the case."
"Oh," he said in comprehension, "You're the detective."
"Sort of. I am just investigating. It interests me. Anyways, on the crime scene, I found these."
Rachel reached for her book bag and took out a small pile of photographs. She passed it to Marcus who examined each with care.
"They look like pictures for the yearbook," he commented.
"I think they are actually," she said, "We found them at the crime scene. Do you know who might have access to them?"
"Joshua does, I do," he answered, "Basically, almost everyone in the committee have access to the photos."
Marcus handed the photographs back and Rachel thanked him. He left as she placed the photographs into her book bag.
---Hectic corridor in the afternoon. HMC student council took a table at the Wi-Fi area in order to set up a booth to sell tickets for their annual ball that was coming in a month's time. It was noisy. Jeremy walked passed the corridor. He had just finished his class which was in Conference Hall and he was headed to the DSA room. They bugged him on the way but he politely told them that he would when he had the money. He continued on past the Language Department counter and the HMC admin desk.
Then he stopped abruptly. Ben passed by him, complaining about his spoilt laptop. Jeremy could not stop to greet him. He heard something. It was coming from seminar room nine. He went to the door and placed his ear on the cold smooth wooden surface. Something was coming from inside. He peeked through the transparent glass of the double doors. Everything seemed to be in order. The chairs were arranged as straight as possible. No one was there. There was a pink note on the door. It was a notice that a class had been cancelled.
He wrapped his hands around the door handle and the cool air from the inside seeped from the small gap between the double doors. It was like déjà vu. It was like the moment he opened the door and found Carmen, lying unconscious on the floor. He pulled the door and the chill flooding the corridor. He could picture himself entering the room and when he turned, he could find a body on the floor, waiting for him.
He stepped into the room. His heart pounded. He had this strange awkward feeling inside of him. The rush of blood went throughout his body and yet he felt the chill. He turned to the left and he was right. He was right in one way and wrong in another. He was right that something bad had happened but it was not Carmen nor was it a body on the floor. It was Joe, sitting in the corner with a blackened eye.
Joe sat on the chair in the admin office with a bag of ice on his eye. His face was wet from the cool condensed water. Jeremy stood next to Joe, pacing a bit, stopped and continued.
"How do you feel now?" he asked.
"Like something hard hit me in the face," pointed Joe. He pulled the bag from his face before putting it back on, wincing throughout the process.
"What happened?" Jeremy asked.
"I can't really remember."
"Why doesn't anyone remember any of the incidents they encounter?"
"Well, when some big dude comes, pushes you into a classroom and hit you in the head, your head tends to get a bit blur."
"They would have told you the reason for doing it," told Jeremy.
"They did, actually," he said, "It was something about the poem. The guy didn't want me to reveal anything to the public."
"That's strange."
"What is?"
"Your situation."
---Thursday afternoon was such a bore, especially when they had to sit through an hour and a half worth of worthless lecture. Barely half of the class actually were present, even Carmen had skipped History class. Since the list for the people who were barred for taking the History paper were out, it was much safer to skip class.
Jeremy came in ten minutes late for class. He entered the Conference Hall and took the seat on the sixth row, beside Rachel's. The Conference Hall was just rows of seats built on top of a stairs. He slipped his backpack off his back and placed it in the small area in front of his legs. He was panting as Rachel was grinning.
"You were with..."
"Yes," affirmed Jeremy immediately, "I have much more interesting subject to discuss. Someone beat Joe up for revealing the poem."
"The poem?" repeated Rachel, "You mean that poem?"
"Yes, that poem. The one and only."
"That's very contradicting," stated Rachel with a pondering look on her face.
"I know."
"One of them is trying to spread the word, while the other is trying to hinder it," she said and then questioned, "So which one is the one we're looking for?"
"That's false dilemma."
"What?"
"You're only limiting yourself to two choices," explained Jeremy, "However, our guy might not be the one who is doing anything right now."
"But right now we don't even have anyone to point at," blurted Rachel softly, "If only were there a clue to give us a direction, to point the way."
Surprisingly, something soft fell strong on top of Rachel head. It felt as though someone threw it at her intentionally. It bounced on her head once and landed in front of her. It rolled underneath the seat of the front row. She bent down and stretched her arm underneath the seat. She felt around the carpet. The bumpy and tough fabric was on her fingertips. It was had lots of dust which she could feel. She felt the small tiny particles everywhere, smooth and irritating when it got to her fingers. Then, she her fingers felt something differently. It was harder but not too hard. It was thin and slightly pointy. She grabbed the ball of paper and sat up straight.
She held the ball of paper in her open palm and said with a sigh, "Another one."
"That was really a coincidence. Why don't you open it?"
"The last time I took something from a stranger, someone died."
"That's not true," disagreed Jeremy, "She would have died either ways, unfortunately. It was just a matter of who found her. I think whoever sent you the earlier note wanted you to know before anyone else did."
She sighed once more. Slowly and carefully, she unravelled this ball of paper. Sides by sides of the paper opened up, hopefully like the direction of this mystery. The soft crunching sound was heard when the piece of paper expended. There were writings on the inside, on top of the wrinkles of the paper. The words 'See aRrow' were written below a long vertical line which had two upside-down V's. One of the V's was at the tip of the vertical line and the other somewhere in the middle.
"Do you think he overheard us when we said we needed a direction?" asked Jeremy.
"I got a bad feeling about this."
"Why doesn't whoever who keeps giving you these clues approach you?"
"Could be that he doesn't want us to know? Maybe he's betraying someone by doing so. There are too many reasons for it. First we need to find out what this message means."
"Well, the capital letters in the words could mean be 'SR'. It could be the seminar room," suggested Jeremy.
"That's probably it. What about the arrows?"
"I think that's supposed to tell us which seminar room it is," figured Jeremy, "Or the time. Looks like the hands of a clock. But I think it fits better if it was the room number."
"So, the hands of the clock are pointing at twelve o'clock. That means it is seminar room twelve."
Jeremy shrugged and said, "I guess."
"What do you think we'd find there?" pondered Rachel.
"Not another body even if it's alive," he hoped.
"Me too," she said, "We'll have to pray, wait and see."
---The breeze slowly drifted by. It was early, too early. In fact, it was even too early for the sun to rise. The leaves of the plants sprinkled with dew, glistening in the streetlights. Streets were empty, making it much chillier than usual. It was a cool dawn.
Jeremy and Rachel, on the other hand, were not able to feel the chill morning. They were filling the chill of the empty corridors of HUC. The place well lit yet it felt so dim. It felt as though there was a shadow hanging above them.
Both of them came through the DSA room entrance, the stairs that led from above ground to the corridors of HUC. Carmen would have been here if she was able to wake up. Most of the time, she was unable to be woken up at such an hour. That hour would be the sixth hour of a new day.
"Wouldn't the classrooms be locked at this hour?" realised Jeremy. Rachel reached the nearest door of the classroom which would be lecture theatre four and it would not budge.
"It is," she replied, "But we have to check. If someone's going to plan something, he would probably prepare early."
"At six o'clock in the morning?"
"You wouldn't know," she whispered and hissed, "Shh."
They were trying to be as silent as possible. It was not the fear that they would be caught but they wanted to catch in the act. They reached the entrance to seminar room twelve. Both of them looked at each other, making sure they were assured of the situation. Jeremy reached for the handle of the door. This was the third time he had the feeling. He felt the coldness from the somewhat empty room seeping through the gap between the double doors. It brought back two memories and both involved people fainting or being injured. He nudged the door slightly to check if it was locked. It was not.
Rachel was Jeremy's back-up. She was to make sure they were not being followed. He entered the room, followed by Rachel who was walking backwards. He raced to the switches and the room lit up. Light flooded the whole room but the room felt as though it was not as bright as it should be. Maybe it was the eeriness and dimness of the situation. It was empty. It was actually empty for once. No body and nobody except for them.
They paused for a moment, assessing the situation. Eyes scanned every inch of the floor, walls and ceiling. Then, the silence was broken.
"I was expecting something to be here," said Jeremy who was no longer in whispers.
"A trap?" she questioned worriedly. Her eyes were wide open, suddenly nervous about the situation.
"What can anyone do?" he replied, "They can't lock us in. Using this room as a gas chamber would be over exaggerated."
"How about framing us?"
"How would he or she or they frame us?"
"I don't know."
They looked around the room, anxious, curious, dejected and relieved. There was a mixture of feelings. They wondered if there was anything here at all. There was something here after all. Jeremy picked up this circular, curved piece of glass from the ground next to the desk.
"Rachel," called Jeremy, "I found something."
Rachel stopped and turned towards Jeremy. Jeremy held the round piece of black plastic which surrounded the glass with his thumb and middle finger. She headed towards him and examined the thing he found.
"I think it's a lens," he guessed.
The plastic which held the glass in place was rather thick and inside of the plastic were grooves which allowed it to be screwed on to something.
"A camera lens?" she asked.
"Most probably," he said as he handed over the lens to her. She took a closer look at it.
"Maybe it is Joshua's?" she assumed questioningly.
"I doubt so," he told her, "This lens is quite strange. It has a hint of green stained on the glass."
"I noticed," she said, "Do you think it's a clue?"
Rachel was absorbed by the new found item. She peered through the glass and saw the whiteboard on the other side. There was something else. She noticed something on the whiteboard. It was faint but there was a mark on the whiteboard. She looked closer into the glass even though there was not much improvement.
"Jeremy," she said, "Do you see anything on the board?"
He shook his head. She put down the lens and the board looked perfectly clear. It was spotless, not even the little marker marking left from hasty erasing.
"There is something on the board," she pointed out and handed the lens to Jeremy. He took it, glanced through it and agreed. There was something on the whiteboard. It glowed faintly through the greenish shade of the lens.
"I think it should stand out much clearer if the room was darker," he suggested. He handed the lens back to Rachel and headed for the switch. Rachel positioned herself in the middle of the room and signalled Jeremy to switch off the light. He did so and she took a look through the looking glass once more. The room changed colour. The darkness of the room had a hint of forest green. She brought it up to the whiteboard and it was obvious. There were green marker writings glowing in the dark. She gasped inside, before even reading what it was. Whatever it was, it was amazing. Whoever did this went through a lot. Or he or she was simply insane. The whole board was glowing with luminescent words through the lens. It was like those professors' chalkboards which had a lot of gibberish on it. Except it was not gibberish; it actually made sense.
"Wow," she mumbled.
"What do you see?" he asked.
"There are diagrams and words," she described, "All of these explained Ashikin's death. Nothing on the motive though."
On one corner, there was an illustration of the room; a very rough sketch. A stick figure drawing with long hair was drawn standing on the chair being hung from the ceiling. An arrow drawn pointing to it confirmed that it was Ashikin. There was a line linked from the chair to the door. Strange enough, there were two more lines joining each stick arm to the ceiling. On the left, there were steps to how the event occurred. Briefly, she was knocked out. It did not explain how but it was not through hitting. She struggled, which caused the bruise on her arm. It was rope burn. It was possible that whoever wrote this was the same person whom Carmen heard from crowd after Ashikin's death.
Upon further reading, Rachel realised. She realised something tragic. She realised that the plan was much complex that it appeared. It was not simply suicide or murder, but something even more sinister.
"Did we find ropes on the floor in the room of Ashikin's death?" asked Rachel suddenly.
"Um," Jeremy hesitated, "We did. Why?"
Rachel gasped out loud. The soft gasp echoed softly in the room. She read on and reread it again. The more she read it, the more she did not want to know.
After Ashikin was placed on the chair and hung by not one but three ropes. One for the neck, placed with a perfect fit around her neck. The two others were to suspend each arm in the air. There was a rope stretched just enough to cover the distance between the chair and the door.
Rachel finished reading and passed it on to Jeremy to read. He skimmed through once and could not believe it. He had to read it again as well. Before they left, Jeremy took out his mobile phone and placed the lens in front of his camera phone to take a photograph.
The last part wrote that when did door opened, the chair would fly away. The ropes around her arms would loosen and drop to the ground. Ropes around Ashikin's neck would break, snapping it like a twig.
---The morning was still early. There was no chill; there was nothing. The air was still. Footsteps echoed softly as soles were placed on the carpeted ground. The corridors were well lit, casting shadows behind the figure as it made its way from the outside to the classrooms. It too took the stairs next to the DSA room.
It yawned and then sighed, not used to waking up as the sun rose. It lugged its way to the door of seminar room twelve. It opened the door carelessly and half-heartedly, and it entered a room. It took a quick sweep across with its eyes.
"Hmm," it hummed and then nodded to itself, "As expected."
It took a stroll across the room and back, examining everything with a glance. After, it took out a small vial of liquid and unscrewed the cap. It splashed at the whiteboard and took out a piece of tissue and started to wipe away the seemingly empty whiteboard. It hummed a tune as it did so.
---Gloom fell upon the corridors of HUC. The passageway seemed much dimmer than it did in the morning. There was a crowd at the eight o'clock rush. Everyone seemed to be walking slower however. Time was pacing like a snail.
Thirty minutes passed. It was more like twice of that. Jeremy sat at the bench by the Wi-Fi area and watched the people hastily walk by. There was a familiar figure walking from the distance. He lifted the hood of his jacket he had over his head. Carmen was running through the corridors.
"Hey Jeremy," she greeted, panting, "Did you see Rachel? I'm late for class. Rachel did not wake me up. Bye Jeremy."
And before Jeremy could say anything, Carmen went off.
"Hey
"Hey Germy," he said as he patted Jeremy on the back, "You don't look too happy."
"Yeah, something happened," Jeremy replied dejectedly.
Jeremy pulled down his hood off his head.
"You want to talk about it?" asked
"Wish I could," said Jeremy," But I can't."
"Don't worry bout it. I understand."
"Why are you here so early anyways?"
"Business."
"What are you up to,
"Nothing much, actually," he confessed with a smile, "Was just about to meet the rest to discuss our Critical Thinking Skill presentation. That tragic incident left us a member short. And Dila is still not quite herself yet. Joshua is still recovering from the shock."
"You sure are calm."
"I guess that's how I portray myself," said Eugene, "What about you?"
"Been better," he answered.
"Shi-"
"Sorry about that," he apologised, "As I was saying, stuff like this will happen. We just don't know when."
"I guess," said Jeremy.
From a distance,
"Hey Vic," they greeted. It took
"Oh, hi Jeremy and Eugene!" she exclaimed before hurrying off.
"I have to get going as well," said
"See you later."
Jeremy pulled his hood over his head once more.
---Carmen pushed opened the door and entered the room. She apologised to the lecturer and occupied the empty seat next to Rachel. Rachel's expression changed. She immediately realised that she had forgotten to do something.
"I'm so sorry, Carmen," hissed Rachel as the lecturer was talking.
"Yeah Rachel, you forgot to wake me up."
"Something big happened," explained Rachel, "We found something out."
"Really?" said Carmen, "Tell me about it. I might let you off the hook this time."
Rachel laughed and told Carmen, "After class."
They were silent and the voice of the lecturer could be heard much clearer. It was going to be a long day.
---Learning space seven was located next to learning space eight at the Wi-Fi area. The learning spaces were computer laboratories available for students to use for work or for class. Learning space seven was free from classes all the time. Between learning space seven and eight was an alley to some unknown rooms which was probably the server rooms. Learning space seven was pretty much occupied. Most of them were rushing to complete their assignments. Groups of students gathered around an individual computer in the corner of the row to look the presentation. Others decided to turn learning space seven into a cybercafé. They had installed a first player shooting engine game into almost all the computers and were hooked up through a network. Swearing could be heard as one of them took a headshot in the game. The rest were surfing the random websites or checking updates on their favourite social networking site.
Jeremy felt crowded in the second seat out of four of the second row to the right. The person on his left was a humongous dark-skinned foreigner who could crush him if the person sat on him. The other two computers to Jeremy's right were occupied by five people who stood around to discuss their last minute work. Jeremy had no other choice since the rest of the learning spaces were occupied with classes and he too had last minute work to complete. A Psychology paper required a lot of research as well as patience and Jeremy's was being tested. Alternatively, he could have gone to Block A to visit his friend during his three hour break between classes, but he got stuck doing his assignment which he barely started.
"Take that!" yelled a tall boy who went by the name of
Jeremy simply tapped away on his keyboard like a maestro on his piano. The sound of the keys was like music to his ears. It played a distinctive tune compared to the outside noises. Then he paused, took quick glances at the notes, moved the mouse around, clicked on it twice, clicked on it once more and went back to playing on his keyboard. That was what he was going to do for two more hours. It was going to be a long day.
---Food outlets were all above ground. The corridors of an underground college had no place for a cafeteria on its own. Carmen and Rachel finished an hour and a half of class and retreated to a fast food outlet. It was Carmen decision because she had a sudden craving for fried long strips of salted potatoes.
"What was it that you wanted to tell me?" asked Carmen after taking her second fries. Both of them sat opposite each other and in front of them was a tray of food. There was a box of fries, a fish fillet burger and a medium cup of soda.
"Unfortunately," she started but stopped to take a deep breath. Carmen was listening. Then she got distracted. She saw something. The familiar body of the dead exited through the glass door of the fast food restaurant. The reflection blocked her sight and she disappeared into the distance.
"I'm sorry," apologised Carmen, "I kind of got distracted."
"Oh, we found new clues about the case," repeated Rachel.
"That's good. Why is it unfortunate?"
"Because..." she paused. Instead, she took out her mobile phone and passed it to Carmen.
"This will tell you everything," she said, "It's hard for me to tell you."
Carmen was fixated onto the small screen of Rachel's mobile phone. She pressed the buttons to scroll around a zoomed image of the whiteboard previously taken. The image was ten times larger than the screen. She read the image, word for word, which was a strenuous job. And when she was done, she gasped. She gasped exaggeratedly. Curious heads in the restaurant that were having their brunch turned their heads.
"Is this true?!"
"It does make sense," answered Rachel.
"I can't believe it," said Carmen in a lower voice, "How did you find out?"
"When you were not here for History class, someone else threw a message at us. Jeremy managed to decipher the puzzle in the message."
"Is it even reliable?"
"Well, we can't totally depend on it. But we need to base it on something. I know. It's the last thing I want to believe."
"It can't be," mumbled Carmen. Her eyes moved from the image on the screen of the mobile phone, which she was still holding, to Rachel to the exit of the place. Rachel reached out and took her phone back from Carmen.
"I just remembered. Jeremy should be free now," said Rachel as she searched for Jeremy's name on her phone and dialled his number. She placed the phone to her ears and listened. It went straight to voice message. It indicated that Jeremy's phone was either switched off or lacked signal.
"He's probably in the learning space. There's no signal there," she said to Carmen. Carmen, however, was not concentrating on her. Carmen was in a world of her own, trying to make sense from all the mess that was made.
---Jeremy had thirty minutes left before class and he had done three quarter of his work. He had been stuck there for about two and a half hours already. He was busy typing away like the rest of the people here. Most of them were doing the same thing. Psychology for Personal Development replacement class was at three o'clock and he had another replacement class at eleven in thirty minutes.
Everything from Jeremy's mind was gone. He was deeply focused on his assignment. He was a world on his own. Type, double click, scroll, click once and type once again. It was a repetitive cycle he had been doing for a while; one which included saving the file every sentence he wrote.
All of the sudden, he broke the cycle for a brief moment. He took a look up. Once in a while he would break the cycle to take a rest. This time was different however. He broke the cycle because he felt something was happening. It was like a gut feeling. And it was true. The first monitor on the left front row came to life. It lit up and its screen glowed blue. Large words which read 'Virus' popped up in red on the blue background and suddenly fizzled silently away. It would have made some noise but there were no speakers. It was replaced by two large, red letters. All of a sudden, three more monitors simultaneously turned black, then blue, and then red words appeared. Jeremy quickly pressed save. It directly saved his file into the thumb drive. Luckily, as soon as the filed was saved, his computer too blacked out, and turned blue with red letters.
The learning space exploded with panic. Screams and cries burst out. People were worried for their unsaved assignments. Jeremy quickly pulled out his thumb drive and ran out of learning space seven. He stole a glance through the glass door of learning space eight and saw the same reaction from the students. Something was happening there as well. He ran further down the corridor until his phone beeped. He stopped and picked his mobile phone from his pocket. There was one miscall from Rachel. It also meant that the area he was in had signal. He dialled her number and called her back. There was a ringing tone. He tapped impatiently. After a while it seemed as though she could not hear phone. When it seemed as though it was about to go into voice mail, she picked it up.
"Rachel," he spoke through the microphone of his phone, "You might want to rush to learning space seven immediately. Something's happening."
---Learning space seven was totally different than it was before. Almost everyone left save a couple of students who wanted their work back. Jeremy was there once more with Rachel and Carmen. They were exploring each computer. Jeremy was taking photographs of the computers from the very back with the camera on his mobile phone.
"You might want to come here and take a look," he called Rachel and Carmen. Both of them were astonished. They slowly made their way to the back and took a wide view at all the monitors on each row and on both the left and right columns.
"They form words," stated Carmen. Rachel said nothing. She took out her pencil and a notepad from her book bag and started writing down the letters from each monitor. Some monitors had two letters, others had three, and few had one. Some even had commas in them. When she completed, she took a glance at the jumble of letters which actually made sense. With a few spacing and proper arrangement it well, another clue was born.
---Somewhere at an unknown location where the room was dark sat a person. The only source of light was the rays which shone from the screen of a laptop. The person sat down with a grin of on the person's face. The person tapped on the key of a board attached to a surface attached to the bottom of the screen. The person leaned back on an armchair and let the programmes in the computer do their work. Once it was done, the person grinned once more and lowered the screen onto the keyboard. The light in the room vanquished. Another light source glowed out of nowhere. It was smaller this time. It came from the screen of the person's phone. The person held it in the person's palm and typed a message which read: 'It's done.'
---All three of them stood on Rachel's side, looking at the notepad in her hands. Scribbled above a bear-like watermark was the clue.
"What is it?" asked Carmen.
"It looks like a poem," answered Jeremy.
"A poem about the riddle and something getting worse," added Rachel, "We have to get to the bottom of this."
Two more clues and yet they are nowhere close to solving the mystery. Nowhere even near solving the mystery. Too many questions, too little answers. Everything was happening too fast, too quickly. Like shouting inside an empty room; only difference was that there was no echo. The poem at the bottom of the chapter might not get them anywhere. Instead, it was more like a big question mark; a big question mark at the end of their current chapter.
---Match the pieces to the riddle,
Some of it will go to the middle,
Another would just make it worse,
More and more and it'll become a curse.
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