CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

"Let's go, everyone, on the buses. All classes will be together. Don't worry. You'll be home safely by four this afternoon. Come on," said Mary.

Noah, Ian, Rafe, and Angel wrangled the students onto the five massive buses. Only one person called out sick, and that was because they had a phobia of dying on a bus. They excused him.

They watched their potential killer carefully, trying not to give away their knowledge. They'd done this before. They had the advantage in spite of what the killer thought.

Due to the two-lane roads, it was almost two hours before the buses arrived at the islands. The students immediately noticed the Halloween decorations and started to laugh.

"It's a haunted island," said one young man.

"Not haunted," said Noah. "That we know of. But we have some tests for you. You will enter, follow the paths that are assigned to you on your personal map, and you will be met with your phobia or fear. Remember, this is controlled. No one, nothing will harm you."

"I-I see a giraffe!" screeched a young girl.

"Yes," nodded Mary. "An herbivore that would rather eat the leaves and flowers than anything on your body. He will not harm you, and he is just a baby. Don't scare him."

Looking at their personalized maps, the students followed the direction of the assigned paths to, hopefully, overcome their phobia or fear.

Hidden in the brush, Trak waited with Alvin and his friends. They seemed well-behaved, but he knew that Alvin would control them all. He was the oldest, the alpha, and they would listen to him. As a young man came around the corner, Alvin wiggled his way onto the path, hissing.

The young man screamed at the top of his lungs, stepping back. Alvin simply stared at him, wondering what was wrong with him.

"He will not harm you," said Trak, slowly standing. Alvin lifted his head, and Trak petted him.

"He's your pet?" asked the young man.

"He is no man's pet. He is a wild creature, but he will not harm you. Touch him."

"No. Are you crazy?"

"No. Not that I know of," said Trak innocently. "Touch him. He is alive, warm, a living creature that has his own environment, his own ecosystem, his own life. He will not harm you. You have my word."

The young man moved forward slowly, carefully. He reached out his hand. He was shaking so badly he couldn't control himself.

"Just breathe," said Trak, feeling empathy for the young man. His fear was palpable, making him sweat and breathe heavily. "Breathe normally. Controlled. In. Out."

"He's not going to eat my hand, is he?"

"No. He's had his lunch today."

"Dude, that's not funny!" Trak smirked, gripping the young man's wrist. He didn't fight him, allowing Trak to lead his hand to Alvin's head.

"Feel him. He is alive. Real. Warm. Look at his body, his eyes. He is a miraculous creature with millions of years of existence behind him. You are touching a prehistoric ancestor."

"Whoa," whispered the young man. Trak released his hand, and the young man allowed it to linger on Alvin's head for a moment longer. When he brought it back, he looked up at Trak.

"Easy," said Trak.

"Easy. May I touch him again?" Trak nodded, watching as the young man did it several times. "Thank you. I think I'm going to be okay now."

Nodding, he watched the young man walk the path toward his next challenge. He would be okay. He'd conquered his biggest fear.

On the other side of the island, several students were overcoming their fears of exotic animals. Lions, elephants, snakes, and more. They weren't happy about touching them. They weren't completely comfortable, but they weren't afraid either.

"What is that?" asked Angel, pointing to a strange wooden structure.

"Oh," smirked Miller. "Pops and Grant built it. It's supposed to look like the inside of an airplane cabin. Someone's fear is being sucked into an airplane toilet and thrown outside the plane." Angel opened and closed his mouth.

"That's not possible. I mean, the waste doesn't even go outside," he muttered.

"You and I know that. Someone doesn't," he said, nodding toward a young woman.

"Th-this one is mine. Right?" she said. Miller nodded.

"It's just an outdoor toilet."

"But it flies," she frowned.

"No. The plane flies. The waste goes into a bladder in the cargo hold of the plane. The hole in the commode is too small for anyone to be pulled through. Look at it. You couldn't even fit your foot or hand in there without effort. There's no way that your body would fit down that tiny hole, get through all the tubing, and into the bladder, and then, somehow, be released into the air. You can safely use the bathroom. It's real. Shut the door, and we will wait out here for you."

She stood for a long time, staring at the structure then moved toward it. Slowly. Turning, she stared at the men, then nodded, closing the door. It was less than two minutes later, but she'd quickly used the toilet and flushed it, making a remarkably similar sound to an actual airplane toilet, and now she was smiling.

"I peed in an airplane toilet," she grinned. Miller and Angel laughed. "I actually peed in a toilet on an airplane. I don't have to worry about peeing my pants on long flights anymore. I can tell my folks that I'll go to Hawaii with them this Thanksgiving!"

"You did indeed pee in a toilet."

"This is the coolest class ever." She walked off down the path as the others looked around.

"Where's the target?" asked Miller.

"Being led onto the last island. Ready?" asked Angel.

"Ready, brother. Let's get our killer."