Spring-Heeled Jack

Spring-Heeled
Jack

Queen of Spades

By Wyll Andersen

Copyright © 2016 by Wyll
Andersen & Crimson Kingdom Publishing

“
Today, the year is 1956.
Thanks to the hard work and dedication of the Zebulon Corporation,
the United States has entered a technological and economic boom.
Thanks to Zebulon, the industries of steam, clockwork, and plasma
technology have become the cultural norm. Steam is the primary
energy source in homes across the nation; powering devices such as
ironing machines, stoves, and even refrigerators. Clockwork
mechanisms can be wound up and used for simple everyday tasks such
as mowing the lawn or picking up trash, but are most common
now-a-days in toys for children. The wonders of plasma energy allow
for weaponry once only believed to exist in fiction to become a
reality: rayguns and energy cannons keep our military strong and
one step ahead of our enemies. For everyday uses, plasma energy can
be harnessed and kept within tubes for lighting our homes and
streets as well as power television and other monitor
devices.

“
Las Vegas, Nevada is home
to the Zebulon Corporation’s World Headquarters. Founded in 1917 by
Yliaster Zebulon before the United States’ involvement in the first
World War, the Zebulon Corporation was tasked with developing
weapons for the nation’s military, giving the United States and its
allies a strong upper hand.

“
The Zebulon Corporation
chose to locate in the then barren deserts of Nevada for isolation
and testing purposes. However, this paved way for an industrial and
technological explosion, creating hundreds of jobs and causing
thousands to flock to the newly founded city of Las Vegas. By 1940,
the United States had entered the Golden Era of Technology and
Prosperity all thanks to the Zebulon Corporation.

“
Following the Japanese
attack on Pearl Harbor, the United States joined the Allied Forces
once again to take on the villainous Axis Powers in the Second
World War. As the war was reaching its conclusion, the Zebulon
Corporation stepped in once again with a new weapon. Replacing that
of the Manhattan Project, Zebulon started research and development
of the Ouranos Program which would lead to the development of the
deadliest war machine of all time: The Sky Ziggurat –
Bahamut.

“
At the end of the war, the
United Nations agreed that the Sky Ziggurat was much too dangerous
and called for its immediate termination and a ban on any
Ziggurat-Class war machine.

“
To this day, the Zebulon
Corporation remains one of the most powerful and influential
companies in the United States. In 1946, following the aftermath of
the war, Zebulon founded the Fortuna Preparatory Academy for future
brilliant minds such as yourself. We hope that when your time here
at Fortuna Prep is concluded you’ll find a home at Zebulon as so
many have before you.

“
From everyone at Zebulon,
we hope you all have a wonderful school year!”

That was the video they showed at the
start of the year at Fortuna Prep. The video that would spark the
mind of every student that year. Every student at Fortuna Prep was
basically guaranteed a job at the most famous and powerful
technological company in the nation, if not the world: The Zebulon
Corporation.

Amongst these students was Atticus
Whaelord, a brilliantly minded third year student studying criminal
justice in hopes of becoming one of Zebulon’s personal private
investigators. The joke on campus was that Atticus was the school’s
very own Sherlock Holmes. Whenever there was a mystery, Atticus was
the guy to solve all your problems.

It was October
17
^th
when everything was set into motion. The gears of fate began
to turn, and Atticus’ life would never be the same. It all started
normally enough: Wake up and go through the daily cleaning ritual.
Brush teeth, wash face, check for blemishes, wash face again just
to be sure; and lastly, scan for anything that didn’t look quite
right. Scruffy blond hair? Check. Blue eyes? Check. Dorky crooked
smile? Check. Everything seemed to be in place.

After that, head to the cafeteria for
breakfast. Atticus was never hungry in the morning, but if he
didn’t shovel down something, he knew he’d regret it later. After
breakfast, head to class: Geometrics, Criminal Science, Gym,
English Literature, and Chemistry.

Then, each and every day ended with
U.S. History with Professor Henry Varnum, the new history professor
on Campus. The professor came to Fortuna Prep after the previous
history teacher, Mrs. Alice Schaufelberger retired after her
forty-year teaching career. He pranced around like he was the best
teacher that ever existed, claiming to have dozens of teaching
awards and some highly prestigious former teaching jobs, but it was
hard to believe. The man was a stingy, cold, and all around grouchy
man. At times, it seemed like he didn’t even like his job, nor if
he even knew what he was doing. But, Fortuna Prep needed its
history professors, and if he fit the bill then there was nothing
to be done.

Professor Varnum was finishing up his
daily lecture; Atticus, as well as many other students, were having
a hard time keeping their eyes open. Every single history class
dragged on like an eternity. Finally, the school bell rang
throughout the campus, alerting teachers and students alike that
the day was over. In Varnum’s class, the final bell was the most
wonderful sound. No longer would the students be forced to listen
to a dry old man spew out mundane history lessons.

As the students were packing up and
getting ready to leave, the professor raised his hands for one last
announcement:

“
Do not forget,” he said,
“that your history exam is tomorrow. Everything we’ve learned up to
this point will be on the exam. It’ll be worth thirty-five percent
of your final grade, so missing it is not an option.
Understand?”

The students all mumbled with
understanding as they quickly made their way out of the classroom.
As Atticus made his way out, he was caught by his best friend and
roommate: Brock Mackenzie, a fellow third year and a psychology
student.

Atticus had always gotten along well
with Brock. The two met their freshman year when their original
roommates got transferred to a different program. The two became
one fo the most interesting pair of friends on campus: Brock loved
to crack jokes and socialize, but Atticus was always fonder of just
staying in his dorm by himself. They were scientific proof that
opposites attract.

As Atticus reached the doorway, Brock
called out, “Hey Atticus, do you want to do some studying
tonight?”

“
For the exam,” Atticus
asked. “I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. No amount of extra
cramming will do me any good.”

“
Well, what about me? I need
all the help I can get.”

Atticus laughed. “You’re telling
me.”

The two exchanged laughs and made
their way down the hall, laughing and joking until reaching the
campus courtyard.

“
Hey, I don’t know if you
noticed,” Brock chimed in, “but your buddy Mike wasn’t in class
today.”

Apart from Brock, Mike Nelson was
Atticus’ only real friend at Fortuna Prep. He was another
introverted antisocial kind of guy. He and Atticus first became
friends when the two had a battle of wits, trying to stump one
another with riddles and puzzles to see who’d be the first to flub
up. The two went at it for hours and eventually their riddles were
just whatever made up babble they could think of. The progression
went something like:

“
What has a head, a tail, is
brown, and has no legs?”

“
A penny! What gets harder
to see the more of it you have?”

“
Darkness! What’s black when
you buy it, red when you use it, and white when you’re done with
it?”

“
Charcoal! If a green marble
bounces up and down, who stops it from going side to
side?”

“
An elephant! If an airship
crashes into the ocean and everybody on board dies before hand, who
makes the pancakes?”

“
Professional
baseball!”

And so the battle went on, neither one
ever admitting defeat.

Atticus hadn’t noticed that Mike
wasn’t in class. He assumed he was sick or perhaps he’d just
decided to skip class for the day, but that kind of behavior wasn’t
like him. Atticus agreed to study with Brock later, but first he’d
need to check in with Mike.

As Atticus made his way across the
school courtyard, he could overhear the mumblings and gossip of his
fellow students. None of it really interested him; it was just
business that most teenagers dealt with: boyfriends, girlfriends,
dances, and so on. None of which applied to Atticus. He wasn’t
exactly what one would call a ladies’ man. That was more Brock’s
thing. Atticus was far too bumbling and bashful; he wouldn’t know
what to do if a girl he liked said something to him. God forbid she
like him back.

When Atticus arrived at Mike’s dorm,
he knocked to the rhythm of “Shave and a Haircut.” Usually, Mike
would always respond with the appropriate “Two Bits,” but something
was off today. Mike didn’t respond at all. He just opened the door
all slow and glum.

“
Hey pal,” Atticus said.
“What’s up? You weren’t in class today.”

Mike looked dreadfully sick. His green
eyes were dark and sunken in behind his glasses, almost as if he
hadn’t slept well in days. Not only that, but his slick and
normally well-groomed black hair was mangled and greasy.

“
Mike, you look awful. Are
you okay?”

Mike shook his head. “I’ve just been
really under the weather recently.”

“
Do you need to see the
nurse?”

“
No, I don’t feel sick, just
down.”

“
You just need a good
laugh,” Atticus said. “When set loose I fly away. Never so cursed
as when I go astray. What am I?”

Mike sighed for a brief moment and
then found himself lost in thought for a moment. A smile cracked
across his face when he thought of the answer.

“
Really,” he said. “A
fart?”

Atticus gave him a thumbs up and said,
“Even when you’re under the weather, you always have an
answer.”

Mike smiled. “Thanks, Atticus. That
did help a bit.”

“
Brock and I are gonna be
having a study session for the history exam tomorrow. Would you
like to join us?”

Mike shook his head and his smile
disappeared. “Sorry, but I just can’t.”

Atticus knew not to pry any further.
Despite wanting to help, Atticus always wanted to respect his
friends’ desires, even if he felt they were wrong.

Just as he was getting ready to head
out, Mike had to stop him for just one moment.

“
Hey, Atticus,” he said, “do
you believe in ghosts?”

“
Ghosts?” Atticus looked at
him confused.

“
I know it sounds silly, but
I feel like I’m being ‘haunted’ for lack of a better
term.”

Atticus shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve
never met a ghost before. But, if one is haunting you, tell it to
come haunt me. I’d love to meet him.”

Mike smiled and said a final goodbye
to Atticus before closing the door.

Atticus returned back to his dorm
where Brock was patiently waiting. The night went on with the two
exchanging questions about what they thought would be on the
history exam. Atticus knew every single question Brock threw at
him, yet Brock could only manage to get about seventy percent of
his questions right. Atticus tried to convince him that seventy
percent was still a passing grade, but Brock knew he’d be in for
major trouble during the exam.

As the hours passed, snacks devoured,
and questions thrown at one another; Atticus finally cashed in for
the night while Brock did some late night studying by his lonesome.
Atticus tried to convince him that cramming only made things worse,
but Brock threw some psychological mumbo-jumbo that eventually
lulled Atticus right to sleep.

*****

The next morning, Atticus woke up to
the seven o’clock chime of the campus clock tower. It wasn’t the
loudest sound in the world, but it was loud enough to wake Atticus.
He didn’t think of himself as a light sleeper, but apparently any
slight sound woke him.