CHAPTER THIRTY

"Good morning, everyone," said Mary. "Today, we're going to be doing something a little different. Asst. Professor Anders and I have come up with an interesting way to try and help everyone overcome their phobias and fears. First, we'd like to chart them all out. Professor Anders."

"As you can see on the very long chart here, we have written every possible phobia or fear we are aware of clinically. There may be one that we do not know of. If you have that phobia or fear, please just write it in. If it is something you do have a fear or phobia of, just place your initials. You can see other classes have done the same."

"What is this?" asked a young woman in the front row.

"I am sorry, what is your name again?" he asked.

"Laura."

"Laura, we simply wish to chart everyone's fears and phobias. We are going to be taking a little trip next week, and this will help us."

"How will it help us?" asked Beatrice. "I mean, I fear being stared at. If I get up and write on that, everyone will stare."

"Okay," nodded Noah. "Everyone, turn your backs to Beatrice."

They all obediently turned, and she had a small grin at the corner of her mouth. She quickly went up and wrote down her phobias, then ran back to her seat.

"Thank you for that," she said to Noah.

"You are welcome. Okay. Everyone else now."

They repeated the act over and over in each class session. When they were done, it was overwhelming to look at.

"How does this happen?" asked Angel. "I mean, everybody fears something. Snakes, spiders, thunderstorms. But some of these people have a phobia of the oddest shit I've ever seen. Loose hairs, their teeth falling out, the color orange. Orange? Seriously?"

"It's not my place to understand it," said Mary. "I just want to try and find this person. Whoever it is, they will most likely observe all the others. Let's get this rolled up and take it back with us. We can review it as a team back home."

"Were you able to see who wrote what?" asked Ian.

"Some, but we tried very hard to not do that. We asked them to put their initials next to theirs. Some wrote it clearly, others not so much," said Noah.

"Well, let's get it home."

"That is a lot of crazy," said Gabe, staring at the long lists. The white butcher paper was wrapped around three walls with dozens of phobias and fears. "How do these kids even function with all of this weighing on them?"

"I'm not sure," said Rachelle, staring at the information. "I remember after the attack that I was afraid of a lot of things, but they were reasonable considering what I'd been through. I was afraid of the dark, afraid of strange men, afraid of being alone. Some of this – some of this is truly odd."

"What are you seeing, Rach?" asked Mary.

"Like this one. Fear of cacti. Or this one. Fear of cold water. What worries me the most is that these kids need serious help. I just don't know what to make out of any of it."

"Well, someone on this scroll was the voice behind the acts with those two young men. They killed Tracy, and they killed Gifford. Maybe more than that," said Mary.

"Can you imagine if this person has been doing this a while?" said Ivan. Mary turned to stare at her friend, cocking her head sideways. "What? What did I say?"

"They've been doing it for a while. We know there were a few murders that could potentially be linked to this, but we weren't certain."

"Right," said Ian. "How does this connect?"

"School. These are young people who are in school. If we can find a connection to the university, a club, a fraternity, sorority, anything, then we might be able to trace it back to this person. Find a university that offers a similar psych study program. If we find that, we might have our connection."

"I'll get on it," said Sly.

"We can't do anything right now. Let this go for tonight, and we can just enjoy dinner. Maybe by the morning, we'll have more clues and a clearer head," said Mary.

Deciding to enjoy the evening on their own island, Mama Irene and Ruby used their small cafeteria to cook dinner for everyone. Red beans and rice, jalapeno cornbread, boudin, and, just to make the medical team happy, a beautiful fall salad with pears and walnuts.

"Mama, this was some of the best you've ever made," said Gaspar, taking the last bite of food.

"Thank you," she smiled. "For some reason, tonight I wasn't feeling rushed."

"How are our new furry friends getting along?" he smirked at his mother.

"Oh, they're gettin' on well enough. They like Buddy and Bob well enough." Gaspar stopped midchew and stared at his mother.

"Buddy and Bob? They were temporary, Mama. They were supposed to be here until a bison ranch could take them. I thought they were long gone."

"Well, now, we couldn't turn them out. They were gonna be made into steaks and burgers. That's just not right."

"Mama, we're eating meat as we speak."

"That's different. I didn't name that meat," she smirked.

"Let me get this straight. We now have six bison. Three males and three females. Am I counting correctly? Did I miss one?"

"No, no, I believe you got it right," she smiled. "Who wants coconut cake?"

"Oh, oh! Me!" said Tailor.

"Me first! I'm your baby," said Alec.

"You're all my babies."

"Mama, we're not done with this conversation. I agreed on the four new ones because I thought the two old ones were gone. You lied to me."

"Gaspar, I did no such thing! Not tellin' you somethin' ain't the same as lyin'." All of her children looked up at her with a questioning gaze. How many times did she tell them that withholding information was the same as lying?

"Mama," laughed Miller.

"What I told you as children don't apply to me as an adult! Now, cake. Who wants some?"

Gaspar could only laugh. He would never win these arguments, and frankly, he was tired of having them. His blood pressure was going to go through the roof if he allowed this to eat at him.

"We'll be bringing a few of the animals out to the island down south for the fear experiment," said Gabe. "Sniff, Dex, and Striker are going to load them into cages, and we'll drive them down when you tell us."

"We appreciate the help," said Mary. "Just make sure we don't lose any of them."

"I've spoken to Alvin. He has some friends who will be there," said Trak with a straight face.

"Friends? You've spoken to the alligator who will have his ‘friends' appear with him for us. Of course. I mean, that's perfectly normal. We're all perfectly normal."

"Baby, we are anything but normal," laughed Irene. "Who told you we were normal? Normal is no fun. It stinks. It's boring and blase and, and…"

"Normal," frowned Gaspar.

"Yeah. Normal. Nobody wants to be normal, Gaspar."

"I guess not, Mama. Lord knows there's not a normal person on this property. We're about the most abnormal group of folks I've ever known." His wife kissed him, smiling.

"Yes, but isn't that wonderful? We're abnormal together."