Chapter Fourteen: Difficult Times
In the following few weeks Elliot Tomkins predicament did not get any easier. His class mates taunted him and degraded him and the teachers were too intimidated to interfere. One particular teacher, Mr Schuffle had always been kind to Elliot. He had never done so directly, but in the past if a fellow student threw something at Elliot or made a snide comment about his Father, Mr Schuffle might take it upon himself to embarrass the protagonist.
Presently there was more than one protagonist. The protagonists were in fact in the majority. None of the silent minority dared to interfere on Elliot’s behalf. Nobody wanted to be associated with a changeling because to do so would only mean that they would be taunted and harassed like Elliot. Changelings were the lowest living life form and those who lead the line against changelings, like President Westwood and Derren Blanchflower, were effectively above the law.
Mr Schuffle had stopped interfering on Elliot’s behalf. The adolescent understood the reason why but it still hurt. Elliot had looked forward to Mr Schuffle’s classes more than any other class, but recently they were no better or worse than those of any other teacher. Elliot liked to think that maybe Mr Schuffle was conflicted about it. Maybe it kept him up at night. Maybe it didn’t
Three weeks after Derren Blanchflower embarrassed Elliot in the school canteen. Elliot was in Mr Schuffle’s Geography class. A student named Roger Astro, wrapped a rubber of his in a ball of paper and threw it as hard as he could against Elliot’s head. Elliot winced in pain and shouted back, “leave me alone.”
The teacher turned around from the whiteboard he was writing on and addressed the victim. “One more outburst from you Tomkins, and you will find yourself in detention. Now pay attention.”
Alex Titmarsh asked aloud “Are you going to cry like a crybaby?” A chorus of people taunted him with the words, “cry cry cry and wah wah wah”
The taunts didn’t hurt Elliot as much as Mr Schuffle who was looking at him now with a lack of emotion. Elliot scrutinised the teacher’s face and body for the slightest sign of torment but he could not see any. His favorite teacher had come full circle.
“You’re just a fraud,” Elliot said aloud. He didn’t know why he said that. It was like a reflex reaction. Inwardly he didn’t blame his Geography teacher at all. Mr Schuffle was only protecting himself.
“That’s detention for you Tomkins. 5pm sharp. We’ll make an example of you.”
Once more the majority of Elliot’s classmates taunted him, but mainly with mock laughter. Mr Schuffle said nothing further but turned around to continue writing on the whiteboard.
No matter how hard Elliot tried to remain positive he still found it difficult. He wasn’t a sponge to absorb all forms of abuse that were thrown at him. Instead he was human and negative thoughts were bound to have some influence over him. There were times when he wanted to escape and run away but that didn’t seem like a viable option. Instead it was something he had to get through and maybe he would come out the other side stronger and more resilient.
Later at detention, Elliot sat with two other older boys. One of them, Rick Darlow, wore a Mohican hair style, a leather jacket over his uniform and sported several tatoos. The second student, Trent Harris, had long hair, was quite thin, but was quiet. He was two years older than Elliot and every time he saw Elliot, either now or in the past, Trent rolled his eyes around in an unfriendly manner.
Too his surprise, there were no taunts by the other two students in Elliot’s direction. The younger student proceeded to work on his homework. Rick took out a knife and started to carve his initials on the desk in front of him. Trent just stared at the ceiling.
Apart from this the one hour of detention passed by with a lack of incident. Mr Schuffle sat at his desk at the top of the class, with his head down, correcting homework. Occasionally, the younger student would look up at him in the hope of making eye contact and reaching out to him.
At the end of detention the older students made their way out of class in a timely manner. Elliot approached the desk of his Geography teacher. He wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. He hoped that the five yards distance he walked up to the top of the class might inspire him to think of something intelligent and uplifting. In the end Elliot could think of no other words that could stand up to scrutiny. He simply said, “sorry Mr Schuffle,” and slowly walked out of the class. Again Mr Schuffle barely paid his young student any attention.
As Elliot walked down the abandoned corridor, he couldn’t help but feel alone. He felt as if he didn’t have a friend in the world. It was a low point, but he couldn’t let it get to him, he thought to himself.
One day, at about six o’clock in the evening Charlotte Tomkins was preparing the dinner for her family. Elliot was busy doing his homework in his bedroom. She addressed her husband who was reading the newspaper.
“Jake, I’m worried about Elliot. He doesn’t seem like himself. Do you know if something is the matter?”
The tension between the couple had thawed since Jake’s return and they had been talking to each other for a while now. Jake hesitated for a moment, unsure as to whether it was wise to divulge everything he knew on the matter.
“Today, my boss called me into the room. He said that there is a video doing the rounds of Elliot changing into a changeling. He only brought it to my attention because his own son is the type of guy who respects Elliot but won’t defy the mob who are making him out to be an alien. He was worried about Elliot. He was concerned that the abuse he was receiving at school might get to him.”
“Oh my God, Jake what are we going to do?” Charlotte responded in a concerned manner while holding a knife and facing her husband. Her response and horror was almost as if she had witnessed her son being hit by a freight train.
“We’ll have to sit him down and talk to him I guess.” Jake responded in his typically calm manner.
“How did they get this video?” Charlotte asked anxiously. “We’re his parents. Elliot’s not a changeling. Some kid has gone and done this to him.”
It was clear that Charlotte was upset for two reasons. She was obviously concerned for her child’s well being and treatment but she was also concerned for her own reputation and status in the community. Being called a changeling nowadays was one of the worst things that could happen to anyone, especially if there was a video of it.
“I don’t have the answers,” Jake replied in a low and downbeat voice. “Maybe we can talk to the school principal. He might be reasonable.”
“Why don’t you go talk to him and cheer him up,” Charlotte urged in an attempt to be positive.
Without hesitation Jake made his way to Elliot’s room. He knocked on the door and entered.
“Hey there son,” the middle-aged father said tentatively. “How are things going for you?”
“Alright,” Elliot replied unconvincingly. It was obvious that he was trying to conceal torment that he felt on the inside. He remained focused on his half finished homework on the table in front of him.
Jake approached his son and placed his hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “You know son, if you’re going through a difficult patch it’s generally better to talk about things, to let them out instead of letting them eat you up from the inside. Everyone who has a heart goes through difficult patches. Even me. Even your mother.”
“I’m ok Dad, really,” Elliot said as he lifted his head to face his father.
Jake could see that his son was holding back tears.
“Whenever I go through a difficult patch, I always try to think of the people I know or knew who helped me through life. I think of people in heaven or on earth who would want me to keep fighting and who inspired me growing up or as an adult. I’ve been very fortunate in that regard. You must have a few people you could think of.
When I was in the institution the person I was fighting for most of the time was you. You were the one who helped me most to pull through the difficult times and keep going. As long as I could think of you and remember you, I felt stronger mentally and physically.
We can’t always be happy. We can’t always have everything go right for us. There will always be bad days where we have to keep believing and keep fighting.”
Elliot’s eyes returned to his homework as he muttered the words, “thanks Dad.”
Suddenly there was a knock at the front door. It was a loud authoritative knock like a police officer would make. Jake left Elliot’s room and went into the kitchen. Charlotte seemed reluctant to answer and Jake feared the worst as he approached the door to their home.
When he opened it four tall, well-built men wearing black robes and black masks entered without being asked.
“Jake and Charlotte Tomkins, we’re taking you in for questioning,” their leader informed them in a deep voice. “Where is the boy?”
“What is this about?” Jake asked, partly afraid and partly hoping to buy his son some time to escape.
“Where is the boy?” the leader bellowed impatiently once more.
“He’s probably outside with his friends,” Jake informed them. His son was the most important person in his world. He wasn’t going to give him up easily.
It was hard for Jake to gauge the leader’s reaction behind the mask. He hoped to deceive him and to convince him that Elliot was not there but it was difficult to look him in the eye when wearing the mask.
Charlotte started to sob out of fear and humiliation. She had heard about the Reapers and how they had recently been formed. She heard that there were numerous cases of them taking entire families away from their homes in the middle of the night. She desperately didn’t want her or her family to be another one of their statistics. What would Margot and Gladys her two best friends in the world think of her now? They probably wouldn’t want to speak to her for the rest of her life. In the blink of an eye it seemed that her whole world was caving in.
The leader of the four masked men gestured for two of his subordinates to search the house. The first room they entered was Elliot’s bedroom. The desk lamp was still turned on, his schoolbooks were opened on his desk and the window to his room had also been ajar. One of the men opened the window a little further and looked out. All the evidence pointed to Elliot having fled.
The reapers searched everywhere, overturning beds, recklessly throwing furniture about and knocking down wardrobes. Charlotte and Jake could hear them. The house was Charlotte’s pride and joy. Even if they got out of this mess, it would take a while to return everything to its former glory. In the end they reported to their leader.
“The child is gone.” One of them declared.
“You know what to do," the leader informed him.
“Where are you taking us?” Charlotte demanded to know as the leader and one of his subordinates led them away.
Neither of the men wearing black answered.
Much to Charlotte’s relief most of her neighbours seemed to be doing their upmost to avoid being noticed. Any that did see them rushed indoors. It appeared to be a neighbourhood gripped by fear. Charlotte and Jake were led into the back of a van and the doors were closed.
“This is all your fault,” she said to Jake before breaking down in tears.
The two remaining Reapers planted listening devices and cameras around the house and outside it. In many cases children would return home if they believed that it was safe.
The large van in which Elliot’s parents were held, drove for almost thirty minutes before stopping. It arrived at the same facility where Jake had spent ten years of his life. Jake did not need to view this building from the outside to be able to tell.
Both Jake and Charlotte were separated. Charlotte was brought to a room and laid out on a metallic bench. The men in dark robes strapped her down so that she could barely move. Throughout much of her ordeal, Elliot’s mother had been kicking and screaming. The two Reapers left her alone but within seconds a doctor and two nurses appeared. The doctor held in his hand a needle. Charlotte hated needles but in her current predicament there was nothing she could do.
“Don’t worry Mrs Tomkins there is nothing to be afraid of,” the medic said as he approached her. Within seconds Charlotte was unconscious.
The next thing Charlotte remembered was waking up on the same metallic bench and with the same restraints holding her down. She opened her eyes and looked around. Sitting in the same room was Doctor Bochon whom she had met with previously.
“Good morning Mrs Tomkins. How are you feeling today?”
“A little bit tied down,” she responded sarcastically.
“Very well then. Let me cut to the chase,” the psychiatrist said before taking in a breath. “We ran some tests on you in light of the developments concerning young Elliot. At the end of the session I intend to disclose these results to you but first I need to ask you some questions.”
Charlotte didn’t respond.
“Have you ever noticed anything unusual concerning young Elliot?”
“Not really,” Charlotte responded without much thought.
As the captive woman lay on the flat of her back she was staring up at a bright light. She tried to keep her eyes open because that’s what she thought Doctor Bochon expected. Occasionally Doctor Bochon would lean over her into view and partially block out the light.
“Did you ever wonder if the same son who came back from school was the same Elliot who left earlier that morning?”
“Well, no not really,” the captive responded hesitantly.
“This can happen to anyone. Their son goes to school. Their son gets abducted and replaced by a changeling. It can happen.” All the time Doctor Bochon spoke in the exact same tone.
Charlotte tried to think. Her son had always seemed to be the same young Elliot. She couldn’t think of any change in his personality but perhaps she was mistaken. If Doctor Bochon and the United States Government were dictating that Elliot was a changeling Charlotte had to consider the possibility that they were correct.
“Are you sure, Mrs Tomkins?”
Charlotte grasped what the psychiatrist was doing. If she gave Doctor Bochon the answers he wanted to hear, she would have a chance to be set free. There seemed to be little hope for Elliot or for Jake, so she had to consider looking after herself.
“Well no, I don’t know? I guess anybody could be fooled by a changeling.”
“What do you think of President Westwood?”
“I think he’s a good man and a good President,” Charlotte lied
“What do you think of your son now?”
“Elliot?” Charlotte responded indecisively.
“Yes.”
“He is my son after all,” she responded. Even she couldn’t throw her own son under the bus without giving it much thought. Elliot was her son after all. It wasn’t easy.
“What if you were wrong? What if it was a changeling masquerading as your son?”
Charlotte was a little stumped. She didn’t know what to say. Maybe she had no choice but to betray him
“We can help you,” the Doctor continued. “If you help us to find Elliot, we can carry out some tests in order to help you determine whether he is your son or not.”
“What do you want me to do?” she asked as she saw a glimmer of light at the end of long dark tunnel. Charlotte desperately wanted to be removed from the slab she had been lying on. She just wanted to go home.
“We will release you to your own home. Elliot is bound to return if he discovers that you are there. We will run some tests on him. If the tests are not positive we will return him to you. What do you say?”
Charlotte had a choice between being held in an institution against her own free will or returning to her home. Under the circumstances it was probably the most she could hope for. She didn’t know if she could trust Doctor Bochon but he seemed like a nice man under the circumstances.
“What about my husband?”
“He escaped. We are looking for him now.”
Charlotte looked around. She was tied down firmly to a chair by restraints that were impossible to remove. Outside the door were at least one if not two armed guards. How could Jake possibly have escaped? Why weren’t they asking her to help them capture Jake as well?
Even if she did not trust the authorities, Elliot would inevitably be captured anyway. Her son and her husband were doomed but she had an opportunity to save herself.
“I’ll do it,” She said reluctantly
“Need I say that the result of your tests were clear. Glad to have you aboard Mrs Tomkins,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder before leaving the room.