J.M.J.

Author's note: I think I should put a warning on this chapter. It might be disturbing for some readers. Basically, there's more of Pearson's sick, twisted theory. Then how she ends up might also be disturbing. If you'd rather not read this part, just scroll down to the chapter break. I'll have a (very short) summary of the absolutely vital things to know from the first section at the end of the chapter.

Chapter XXIV

Thursday, May 13

She saw Frank before he saw her. Pearson was walking back toward her car when she saw Frank riding along the path. She hid in the brush, and Frank, being preoccupied as he was, probably would have passed her by without noticing her, except that she emerged from her hiding place a little too soon. Frank heard and spun the horse around to face her.

Instantly, Pearson raised the gun in a warning for Frank to stop where he was. "I guess you did come after all. You Hardys seem to stick together, don't you?"

"Where's my brother?" Frank asked.

Pearson shrugged. "Probably dead by now. I don't care much for guns, you know, but they are effective. I'm sorry it had to be this way. None of you left me with much choice."

"If you expect me to be sympathetic, I'm not."

"I'm too realistic to expect that. Your brother made it quite clear that he was incapable of understanding the necessity of what I'm doing. Why should I expect you to?"

"You know you're not going to get away now. Why not give it up while you still can?"

Pearson scoffed. "Don't insult me with any 'You might get by with a lighter sentence' stuff. It won't happen and you don't want it to."

"That wasn't what I was going to say. We know who you are now. The police are going to find you and they're going to arrest you. When they do, if you put up a fight, they might not be able to take you alive. You don't want that, do you? Even in jail, you could keep writing and reading. You could be doing something useful."

"You really don't understand anything, do you?" Pearson shook her head. "Come on. Get off that horse. I don't have a lot of time, but I want to explain a few facts of life to you."

Frank slowly got off the horse. At Pearson's instructions, he let go of it.

"It doesn't matter what happens to her now," Pearson said. "She served her purpose, and it's a thankless task for her, just as it is for me. Now come on. We haven't got all day. You're great believers in our justice system, so I assume one of you must have called the police by now. I do rather want to finish explaining before they get here. They're not the best for listening to explanations, you know, and someone has to know."

Albeit unwillingly, Frank began following her as she continued walking up the path.

"Why do you want to explain to me?" Frank asked.

Pearson shrugged again. "Because you're right, I guess. It's over now. Everything I've worked for. It's all been for nothing. I went about the wrong way, I think. I overestimated people. I thought when they saw what I was doing, what I was accomplishing, they'd forget their silly, old-fashioned ideas and join me. But people don't change that easily, do they?"

"I should hope not. What were you trying to accomplish?"

"You went to my lecture. You know. I want to eliminate suffering. Isn't that a noble goal?"

"Maybe, but you're right that you went about it the wrong way. You can't eliminate suffering by killing people. Didn't you ever think that you were causing them to suffer? And their families, too."

Pearson chuckled. "No. You don't have any disabled people in your family, so you wouldn't understand. You think that they are to their families what, say, your brother is to you. They aren't. They're an unmitigated burden and their families wish they had never been born."

Frank cringed and it was all he could do to keep his disgust from showing on his face. "That might be how you felt about your sister, but it's not how everyone feels."

"Oh, so you did bother to find out what some of those dates meant."

"It's how we figured out who you were."

"Well, well. Which ones did you piece together?"

"We found out that November 4, 1971 was the day you were born. August 28, 1975 was the day your sister, Angela, was born. December 12, 1993 was the day Tara Michaels was killed. Was that what you were trying to have us find that day?"

Pearson nodded. "It's the hardest to see the connection and it very nearly sent you down a rabbit hole and caused you not to find your precious Iola after all. I almost wish you hadn't, but I'm not a sore loser."

"June 17, 1995 was the day you were married. Then January 18, 1994 was the day Angela was murdered. The police thought your parents did it, but it was really you, wasn't it?"

"Not bad. Do you have proof of that or are you just guessing?"

"An educated guess."

"It's correct. It doesn't matter if I admit it now. I killed her, and then told the authorities that I saw my parents poison her. Testified to it in court, even. You see, they didn't understand. They thought they were doing some great service to humanity by letting her live. So you see, I had to do something about them, too. Their ideology alone made them a threat and then their genetics were obviously flawed. Still, I couldn't quite reconcile myself to patricide."

"It's great to see you have a conscience. You know, if your parents' genetics were flawed…"

"I know, I know. It means mine are, too." Pearson sighed and shook her head. "I didn't want to believe it at first, but it's true. After I got married, I got pregnant and had to terminate because the fetus was going to have a cleft palate. It was a proud day for me to make that decision. That was one of the dates, too: September 2, 1998. My husband left me after that. He was another one of you fools who just didn't understand."

"I suppose if he hadn't left you would have killed him, too, just like you killed your child."

"What a silly thing to say. It wasn't a child. That's just making this whole thing an emotional argument rather than a logical one."

"So I suppose your sister wasn't a human being in your eyes either? Or any of your other victims?"

"No. Their lives were meaningless, purposeless. They could only take from society. I was the only person who cared enough about them to free them from their miserable existence."

Frank closed his eyes and didn't respond. He actually felt sick to his stomach just talking to this maniac.

"Let's see here," Pearson went on, oblivious. "I suppose you want to know about the rest of the dates. Your brother found out about one, but he won't get a chance to tell you about it now. That was May 15, 1998, the day I received my doctorate. May 2, 1992 was the day I was introduced to eugenics through one of my professors. November 30, 1998 was the day my husband left me. April 16, 2004 was the day I published my first study on eugenics, and August 21, 2007 is the day I got hired by Southport Community College because I couldn't a job at a decent college. They all found my views revolting."

"They have a point there," Frank muttered. "So I guess those were all landmark days in heading toward your twisted utopia or whatever you're trying to bring about. But why did you include Tara Michaels' murder? You didn't have anything to do with that."

"I heard about it. People were saying it was a serial killer and they were lamenting and wondering why anyone would do such a thing. It dawned on me that I understood one reason, at least. It was the day I found my life's purpose."

"Congratulations," Frank said sarcastically. "So what is the goal? Kill everyone in the world who isn't perfect in your eyes?"

"Exactly. Then a new world will emerge and humans can continue to evolve. There will be no suffering, no disease, no crime. It's exactly the world anyone would want."

"Maybe, but no one's going to get it because you're forgetting one thing."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"Human nature. We all know that it's wrong to kill, and that no philosophy that demands killing, let alone killing the majority of the human race, can be good or true. Even you know it, although you've had to silence your conscience by covering it in layers of these poisonous theories you've bought into. Even the worst of human nature would work against. There will always be people who want to fight their way to the top of society, to take what they have no right to, and the truth is that that's the only kind of person who's going to agree with you. You won't eliminate crime; you'll make sure there's nothing but criminals. As for eliminating suffering, you might be able to eradicate disease, but that's not the only cause of suffering. Or have you forgotten about accidents and natural disasters? How are you going to stop them? Or old age? There's nothing in the gene pool that you can use to prevent aging. When you promise a world without suffering, you want to accomplish it by making humans into something we're not. We'll always rebel against that. We'd rather be flawed humans than perfect experiments."

Pearson chuckled. "That's cute, but you wouldn't the same if you were a useless leech to society."

"There's no such thing. Everyone has value simply because they're a one-of-a-kind human being. They don't have to live up to your requirements for who's useful and who isn't. See, that's the problem with your whole theory. It's all based on what's best for society, but it ignores the fact that the whole point of having a society is to make life better for each individual. Your idea of improving society is like banning handwriting so to improve the lot of pencils, while ignoring that pencils were made to write and they don't have any other use."

By this time, they had reached the road and the paddock. Frank was honestly relieved not to see any of his friends around. He wasn't sure where they had gone, but at least they wouldn't get caught in the same trap Frank had been.

"It's sad, actually," Pearson said. "You're not stupid, but you still can't break free from all these old-fashioned beliefs that have weakened humanity."

Frank sighed. "Obviously, we're not getting anywhere. I'm never going to agree with you and I don't think you'll ever agree with me. I won't be as charitable as you are, though. Anyone who can believe the idiotic ideas you've been preaching to me is either stupid or crazy."

Pearson flung the gun up so that it was only a few inches in front of Frank's face. At the same moment, there was a shout from the direction of the small shed, and from the corner of his eye, Frank saw Phil halfway emerge. It looked as if the others were behind him. Pearson turned her head slightly to see them better, but Frank didn't dare do the same.

"I see you brought all sorts of people with you." Pearson scoffed. "Friends, I guess. I should kill you. You're one of the most dangerous people possible to my theory. But you're also the only one I've confided it to so thoroughly, except for Rhett, and he won't be telling anyone about it."

Frank stiffly raised one hand a few inches to signal to his friends to stay where they were. He knew one wrong move would tip Pearson to the decision to kill him, and he had been too careless in the confrontation thus far. "Why did you kill Rhett?" he asked, hoping to distract her from himself somewhat. "He was helping you, wasn't he? He agreed with your theory?"

"He was only interested because he was a sociopath. He got a thrill out of hurting people. He was a sick man. He would have had to die anyway, but he was useful while he lasted. He was stronger than I was and better at capturing my subjects. What made me decide he had to go sooner than I had planned originally was that he was besotted over that Allison Given tramp. I learned you were acquainted, and since she's definitely one who deserves to die, I thought about using her, but then I thought Iola would be better to drive the point home. Rhett still tried to grab her and failed and got himself seen. I had to get rid of him then. He was no use to me if I couldn't trust him."

"You stabbed him with his own knife. That's not how you killed the others. Why the change in method?"

Pearson shrugged and finally lowered the gun slightly, letting Frank breathe a little more easily. Her attention was also now fully on Frank, and so Phil took the risk to start coming out of the shed slowly. Tony was right behind him and then Belle. Callie was probably staying behind with Iola.

"I was furious when I killed Rhett," Pearson admitted. "It was a spur of the moment decision."

"And then you tried to hide the knife back at Rhett's dorm, but Phil chased you off," Frank surmised.

"I'm quite impressed. Yes, that's exactly how it happened. I thought maybe they would assume Rhett's roommate had killed him. Rhett made no secret of the fact they didn't get along."

"How did you keep such close tabs on us in Southport?" Frank asked.

"It's a small town. Whenever I knew you were here, I'd drive around until I spotted your cars. Surely you didn't think I'd neglect to find out what cars you all drove. Now, enough of the questions. I know you're trying to stall until the police get here."

Pearson gestured for Frank to stay where he was. Then, without moving the gun off him, she walked to the driver door of her car. She opened it, put the key in the ignition, and turned it. Nothing happened. For a moment, she looked confused, but then a look of understanding passed over her face.

"Your friends disabled my car, didn't they?" she said.

"That's right," Tony replied. "You can't escape now. Just give up."

Pearson nodded resignedly. "You're right. There won't be any escapes and the only thing to do is give up. But they won't be putting me in jail."

Before anyone could react, she turned the gun on herself and pulled the trigger.

HBHBHBHBHB

Fenton could feel his jacket getting warm and sticky under his hand as he held it against Joe's wounded side. The blood was seeping through, which meant he hadn't stopped the bleeding at all. Joe was so white he scarcely looked like himself anymore and he hadn't moved or mumbled or even flickered an eyelid in several minutes. The only thing that kept Fenton believing that his son was really still alive was that was that he was holding one of Joe's hand with his free one and he kept checking for a pulse. It was starting to become feeble, but at least it was there.

Fenton could feel the back of his throat constricting. He kept telling himself there was a chance, and a good one. Iola had gone to get help…how long ago? It felt like hours. Help must be on the way by now. Unless something had happened to Iola. She could have run into Pearson again, or he might not have tied her to the saddle tight enough. Maybe he had tied her too tight, and the horse had dragged her under a tree. She could have been seriously hurt if that had happened, and there was no way for Fenton to reach her to help her.

For the first time in several long minutes, Joe let out a kind of groan. That sign of life, however small, helped Fenton take heart again, if only for a moment.

"Hey, Joe. It's okay. Help will be here soon. Just hang in there."

Joe didn't wake up entirely again. Watching him lie there so still and practically lifeless was too much for Fenton. He found himself praying and begging God with every word he knew to spare his son. Yet it seemed so desperate to him, so like calling on the last possible line of recourse, that it was really driven home that he was asking for a miracle, and miracles didn't often happen. The tears that had been threatening for some time now finally came and he bent over double and wept.

It seemed like a long time later when Fenton heard a familiar voice shout his name. He turned to see Sam Radley and a couple of EMTs jogging toward him. Sam pulled Fenton aside while the EMTs bent over Joe. Sam guided Fenton over to sit on the porch of the cabin.

"How…How are we going to get him out of here?" Fenton asked, making some pretense of still being put together.

"They called in a helicopter from Gresham," Sam explained. "It should be here any minute. The hospital over in Gresham is a lot better, anyway."

For a few moments, Fenton watched as the EMTs worked over his son. "Is he going to be all right?" he asked finally.

"We can't really tell until we get him to the hospital," one of the EMTs said.

Sam put a hand on Fenton's shoulder. "Hey, don't worry. Joe's a fighter. If anyone can get through this, he can."

Fenton nodded vaguely. Then he remembered his earlier concerns. "Is Iola all right?"

"Yeah. She met up with Frank and his friends who were on the way here. They called for help. I'd gotten your message and got here about the same time as the police and the EMTs."

"What about Pearson? She's running around here somewhere."

"Um, not anymore."

"You caught her?"

Sam sighed. "Uh, not exactly. She's dead."

"What happened?"

"I'm not exactly sure. The kids all seemed like they were in shock. Durant is trying to sort it out, but I came straight here when I heard about Joe."

Fenton looked back toward his son. At the moment, the distant sound of a helicopter came to their ears.

Sam looked to the sky and then turned back to Fenton once again. "You'll go with Joe in the helicopter, of course. I'll bring Frank to the hospital, and Iola, too. I think she's okay, but we might as well make sure. Mario said he already called Laura and the Mortons, and the Mortons will bring Laura and Gertrude to meet us. Don't worry about anything. If anything else needs taken care of, I'll handle it."

Fenton nodded. "Thanks, Sam."

As the helicopter came closer, Fenton fell back on watching the EMTs work on Joe and praying.

As they were working, Joe stirred slightly and murmured, "Who are you?"

"I'm an EMT," one of the men told. "Don't worry. You're going to be okay."

Joe nodded as if he understood, but then he drifted back into unconsciousness.

Summary of first section: Pearson intercepts Frank before he can reach Fenton and Joe. She forces him to walk back to where the cars are parked. As they walk, Pearson explains her theory more thoroughly. She explains that the dates are landmark points in her journey toward her theory and she confesses to killing Rhett Gaint, her erstwhile partner in crime whom she decided she could no longer trust after he attacked Allison. When she realizes her car is disabled and there's no chance of escape, she kills herself.

Author's note: Thanks for reading! Thanks especially to everyone who's been leaving reviews. It's encouraging to know that you are reading and (hopefully) enjoying this story! There will be one more chapter, but it might be on the longer side, so it might take a little longer to get it ready. I expect to have it done this week, but maybe not till later in the week. Until then, God bless!