Left Behind

I didn't mean for this to happen...


I figured I would just run into town, grab some stuff, and then come back and we would leave. I'm so used to being on my own, being aware, knowing my surroundings, not letting anything sneak up on me. Just this one time I got careless. One time.

One minute I'm grabbing a FastBreak and a Snickers off the counter. Next thing I know I'm on the floor in some dank-ass basement in a building I'm not familiar with, with that freakshow standing over me tossing his gun between his hands like it's a fucking hacky sack and telling me to make myself comfortable before he left.

I spent three days in that basement, eating the candy I had taken and trying to figure out what was going on, before he came back. He had this small video camera that he placed on the table; he said he wanted to record what was going to happen.

He reached over and grabbed my face, and said he was sorry he had to do this and that he always thought I was cute, but he wanted to survive so it was worth it. I just responded by trying to bite his finger off. He laughed.

Then he stopped. There were footsteps thudding upstairs; not Slender Man, you can't really hear him walk, you can just feel him. Red doesn't even blink, he just pulled out his gun and ran out.

Then I'm hearing gunshots and yelling for about five minutes, maybe longer, maybe shorter, I don't know. Then there's dead silence, and then he comes back, his shoulder's bleeding, but he's grinning like an idiot as he stumbles towards me.

He was about to say something...and then part of his face just exploded. Blood and brain and an eyeball flying at me as he hit the ground.

Zeke was standing at the doorway, gun pointed at Wren's body. He was leaning against the door frame, and when I got up to go to him I didn't understand why, but then he fell against me and I saw the blood that was coming from his side. Wren had shot him right in the kidney, and blood was just flowing out of him.

I couldn't carry him, he outweighed me and he couldn't hold himself up. I laid him against the wall and told him I was going to get help. All he said to me was to hurry back as I ran out.

...

He wasn't there when I got back.

I took Wren's car, had to drive two towns over just to fine a hospital that was still active. We drove back as fast as we could, but when we got there, there was plenty of blood and Wren's body still where he fell, but that camera and Zeke were gone. The police searched the basement and found more blood in another room, but that was it.

...

I don't know where Zeke is now. I don't know if he's dead or alive. If he's alive, then he's out there, doing what he's always done. If he's dead...well, at least he's finally at peace.

...

This is the last you'll hear from me. I won't be coming back. Once I get my affairs sorted, I'm leaving the country. I'm not going to say where I'm going; I don't want to be found. The farther I am from this, the better.

I'm truly sorry for what's been unleashed on you all.

Good-bye.

-Mary Gallagher

Going In

Yeah, it's a bad idea. Yeah, I should leave. But I can't just leave this girl to die when I know I can do something to help. Not with the knowledge she has on Slender Man. She can help, if not me, then someone else who has a better shot.

Wren's not going to take her far. He probably hasn't even left town. He's holding her, keeping her alive, just waiting for me or Slender Man to show up. It's what I would do. Wait for the other party to show up, then either cut a deal or cut the bait and run. If it was Slender Man, he'd do the latter. With me, I have a better shot at the former.

I'm not going to lie. I'm terrified that this is my last hurrah. But Dad's right; I gotta let that fear go. For better or for worse, I have to do the right thing. This girl saved Lizzie's life as a child, and that's not a failure. It gave her a shot at life. And that's something I owe her for, whether she knows it or not.

I'm going to go in and get her out. If I make it, I make it. If I don't...well, at least I tried. At most, I can get Mary out. That's what matters.

...

I'm not going to give a speech, not like last time. I either make it out of this or I don't. And even if I survive this, one of these days I'll get mine. Nothing lasts forever. All I can do, all ANY of us can do, is do what we can with what we're given.

So remember that. I don't care how you try to live. Just be sure you do, for however long you can.

Good luck to you all. Keep fighting. Stay safe. Don't let me down.

This is Ezekiel Strahm, signing off for now. Hopefully not forever.

(I know it's late, but I needed to get this conversation out of my head. It started after an hour of light drinking and pondering, and decided I needed to hear their voices. Phone almost rang the full four times before the person I was hoping for picked up the phone.)

D: Hello?

S: Hey Dad...

(pause)

D: Zeke?

S: Yeah, it's me.

D: What's wrong with your voice?

(pause)

S: Had an accident. My throat's messed up a bit.

D: Anything I can do?

S: No, but thanks.

(pause)

S: How was the trip? I never got to ask.

D: It was great. Your mom kept wishing you were there.

S: I wouldn't have minded that.

D: Yeah...maybe then we wouldn't have come back to such bad news...

(pause)

D: The FBI have been here looking for you. Wondering if we've been in contact with you. The things they're saying...did you really kill that man?

S: It was an accident. I had my door rigged if anyone came in.

D: Why?

(pause)

S: Do you remember when I was a kid, and I never could sleep?

D: Of course.

S: Do you remember why?

D: You used to talk about seeing someone at your window. But you were on the second floor, I never understood what you were talking about.

(pause)

S: He came back.

D: What do you mean? Who came back?

S: This case we had, a bunch of kids went missing...he was behind all of it...and this guy he was using, he killed Lizzie and Eric...and I couldn't do anything, I couldn't help them...

D: Calm down, son, it's okay-

S: No it's not. I couldn't save them.

D: You can't save everyone.

S: But I couldn't save them. And it got me here, and it's gotten me hurt, and it's gotten so many people hurt or killed, and every time I try to do the right thing it just makes things worse...I just wanted to save them, Dad.

D: You did everything you could.

S: I thought if I could save the others...

D: Zeke. Listen to me. What happened happened. You can't change that. And I know it's hard, I know it's scary when you fail to save someone you care about. But you cannot allow that fear to control your life, or else you are never going to move on and do what you need to do. You can't let fear of failure run your whole life.

(pause)

S: I loved her, Dad...

D: I know, son. But sometimes the only way to grow up and move on is just to let people go.

(pause)

D: There's something else on your mind.

S: Something's happened...someone might be getting killed, and I don't know if I should save her or not, and if I do...Dad, I have a feeling I'm not going to make it out of this one.

D: Don't say that.

S: If I don't-

D: Zeke-

S: Dad.

(pause)

S: If I don't come back...I just wanted you to know how sorry I am that I put you and Mom through all this. I'm sorry I couldn't see you again. But just know I love you. Okay?

D: We love you too, Zeke. And we're always here for you. It's going to be okay.

S: I didn't mean to hurt anyone.

D: I know.

S: I just want to make things right.

D: Then do what you need to do. But know we'll be here waiting for you when you're done. We'll be here when you come home.

(pause)

S: I have to go.

D: Will we hear from you again?

S: I don't know...I hope so.

D: Okay. Your mother and I will be waiting.

(pause)

S: Love you, Dad. And Mom.

D: We love you too, Zeke. Come home soon.

S: Yeah...bye.

(end conversation)


...Yeah. I dunno. Just...needed to get it out of my head, I guess.

I didn't let her go alone. I stepped out of the shower and there was a message on the table that she wrote telling me she was going into town for supplies. I'm not taking the fucking blame for that. She was stupid enough not to wait for me.

I should just leave her. It would serve her right. She's not my responsibility, and she's not my problem. I could just leave right now and not look twice. Leave her and him behind to their own problems, continue on with what I'm doing. Survive.

And really, what if he's right? What if we give her up and he goes away? Wouldn't that be worth finding out, sacrificing this one? To just try and see?

...

But I can't do that, can I? No...dammit...

Ohhhhh Zee. You should've listened to me, man. You should've let me have my way.

But hey, look at the bright side: Maybe now we'll finally be rid of the long-armed freak.


-\/\/

Goddamn it. Not tonight. Please, if there's a God out there, don't pull this the night I'm getting out of here.

Wren, I swear to Christ, if you read this and you did something to her, I'm going to fucking kill you.

If she's not back in another hour, I'm taking off without her. This is ridiculous.

We're leaving tonight. Just as soon as Mary gets back from town with supplies.

It's been over a week and nothing's happened. Can't keep calm about it, though, I half expect Wren to just blow the entire resort up any moment. But I have the feeling he's going to play it smarter than that.

Mary and I are talking about moving on soon. Not much left here, and the sooner we move, the better. I don't know if we'll stay together the entire time. Probably not. I've got things to do, same as she does.

(My phone went off at around one in the morning. I answered on the first ring.)

S: Even for you, that was low.

W: You read the papers, I take it.

S: Why?

W: Because I could. What difference does it make?

S: Of course it makes a difference, the man's dead.

W: The man beat the hell out of his daughter and tore her down for years. He's not going to be missed.

S: You think just because it's justified in your mind, that makes it right? You think you can just go around and do whatever you want?

W: If it gets the job done.

S: You're a fucking child, you realize that?

W: I do what needs to be done. I've always done what's needed to be done.

S: What, like kill your entire unit just to get a couple of low-life scumbags?

W: Or rat out one guy to bring down an entire drug ring.

(pause)

S: ...Excuse me?

W: We were getting nowhere on that case. Families were being terrorized. That mob was leveling the whole freakin' suburb. They would've destroyed everything if I didn't do what I did.

S: You sold out Mickey...

W: Three years of time and resources and all it took was one anonymous phone call that brought them down.

(pause. When I speak again, my voice is shaking.)

S: And in doing that, Eric confined himself to a desk. You realize the impact of that? If he hadn't done that, he wouldn't have been assigned to our case. If he hadn't been assigned to the case, he wouldn't have gotten kidnapped. Which means Lizzie never would have gone into that warehouse, which means she and Eric would still be alive, and we'd all still be at the station, alive and well. Did you ever think about that?

(pause)

S: So you mean to tell me that the reason I'm on the run, the reason my throat is fucked, my partner is dead, and my sanity is all but gone, was all because you decided to be a fucking hero? Is that what you're telling me?

W: You give me way too much credit.

S: Sounds like I'm giving you the credit you deserve!

W: Lizzie was being stalked by Slender Man, she would've died anyway.

S: You don't know that!

W: Don't I? Come on, Zee. You've been at this long enough to know that by now. He won't stop until he gets what he wants. Which is why I'm going to give him what he wants.

S: Yeah? And what would that be?

W: You know.

(pause)

S: You're gonna throw her under the bus just to save your own worthless ass.

W: She's the one who set him loose. Way I see, I'm re-balancing the natural order by giving her back to him.

S: You can't do that, Wren.

W: Oh, why the fuck not? I'm sure everyone else would agree.

S: We don't know that she's what set him off!

W: She fucked with his meal, so I'm gonna give him comeuppance!

S: That was years ago! I'm sure he's had enough food by now to get over that!

W: And yet he keeps coming. Keeps searching. For what? What's he looking for, Zee, huh? Why's he still hunting if he's had enough? Two and a half years he's been on a rampage and he's only getting worse. I mean, fuck, man, Ava's dead now. We just saw her, what, four, five months ago, all perky and ready to pop out her kid, and now she's six feet under. Who's next? We're running out of time and we're running out of friends.

(It's funny, but right here, I remember what Eric said when I saw him back in February. His words ring in my mind: “Who's going to be next? Danny? Ava? Reach?” It's funny because they're all dead now. It's like he knew. But how could he not. We're all dead sooner or later.)

S: Can't let you sacrifice her, Wren.

W: I'm done taking orders from you, Zee.

S: Well I'm just going to have to stop you.

W: Yeah...we'll see if you can.

(Line goes dead. Conversation ends here.)

Wren

I knew this would happen. Since he found me in April and got involved in this, I knew there was going to come a point where he would snap and pull something like this. When you're desperate, you take whatever help you can get, but even then, you can never really trust them, not completely. I've never completely trusted Wren, and I'm sure that's been evident.

I just hoped it would hold until after I had figured out a solution...guess not.

…

When I joined the force a few years ago, Wren Stephanos was one of SWAT's demolition experts. I met him after I had been on the force about a month, when his team was assigned to take down a target on a case I had been working on. When they brought him in for interrogation, he saw me get a little...well, vocal while interrogating. I guess that was a good sign for him. When I was finished three hours later, he was sitting at my desk with a cup of coffee and a cinnamon raisin bagel.

“Not bad,” he said, as I took both. “You've got a flair for this kind of thing. Hope you stick around.”

After that, he and I hung out some, usually after work, either grabbing a drink or playing some pool. We were never “best friends”, but we got pretty chummy, which wasn't entirely uncommon but still a sight, mainly from those who knew Wren a while. He was the humor to my seriousness; he would always crack jokes, and he was one hell of a prankster. He was the kind of guy who would sneak tiny explosives in people's cigarettes that would explode when they were inhaling, put whoopee cushions in chairs, and put the occasional laxative into people's coffees.

But of course, there was that other side. He was known to be a particularly brutal officer. One time his team and I were dealing with a hostage situation; bank robbery gone wrong, you know the deal. The chief was trying to negotiate with the lead robber, this massive man with a mother complex, all coked out and out of his mind. Negotiations were going south, the guy was losing his cool...and then Wren just pulls out his gun and shoots him in the arm. Cool as ice.

The rest of his team took out his associates. The lead robber, he was bleeding from the arm, but he sees Wren, and he just dives at him. Wren barely even blinked. He just sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and twisted it until it cracked. Then he threw him against the wall, making sure his head hit the bricks hard, and then he pinched the nerve muscle in the neck. Lead robber dropped like a sack of bricks.

He turned at me, I'm standing there with my mouth open, and he just winked.

I told him I wanted to learn how to do that.

He asked me which part.

I wrote before that he said he had taught me everything I knew. He wasn't exaggerating. Oh, I knew self-defense, but Wren took it on a whole new level. He taught me more or less how to control my anger and vent it out in a more controlled way, something that the doctors I saw as a kid never really helped with. Even still, though, there were some lines I never crossed. I had no problem punching a suspect in interrogation, but I never broke toes or sprained fingers. Wren did those. I wanted them to feel anger and guilt; he wanted them to feel pain.

And yeah, he was friends with Lizzie and Eric. Sort of. Eric, he was friendly with, Wren helped him cope with Mickey's death, and they were on good terms for the time I saw them together. Lizzie, on the other hand, couldn't stand him. She found him creepy, and a bit of a pervert. Once he was behind bars and her and mine's relationship escalated, she told me he had hit on her so many times she lost count. She had also been on the receiving end of one of his pranks; he had left a box on her desk for her birthday, and when she opened it, a spring-loaded clown launched out and smacked her right in the nose with its wooden head. She was in the bathroom with a nosebleed for over an hour.

To be fair, she never knew for certain it was him. It was just assumed. But there weren't many people, before or after him, who pulled those kinds of stunts, so it was pretty likely.

But...well, it was Wren. You all know him by now. And with a personality like that, it was bound to come to a head sooner or later.

And it came, about a year and a half before we got Victoria Krell's case. Hostage situation in an office building owned by an Anthony Walden. Rich company executive. Never found out if the group were robbers, or terrorists, or business rivals or what have you. Maybe it was confirmed and I just never heard. Doesn't matter.

Lizzie and I were the detectives on site. Wren's team and another team had gone in to deal with them, and we were waiting outside. It was supposed to have taken ten minutes, but twenty minutes into the mission and we still had no word.

This was two nights before I met Mr. Armeen for the first time, by the way, just a little tidbit. Lizzie and I were getting along, but still not in the best of relationships. I wanted to go in, she wanted to stay out. We were fighting for five minutes when the front doors opened and Wren stepped out, arms at his side, with this weird smile painted across his face.

Confused, I went towards him as he came for me...and then the whole building went up, knocking all of us to the ground. I sat up, stunned, and right then a jagged piece of metal from the building exterior landed right next to me, hitting the space right between my fingers. Had it been a little more to the right, I would be dead now.

I looked at Wren, who was looking at the remains...and laughing. Not his usual laugh either. A cold, empty laugh.

Twenty-three people died. Nine officers, four bad guys, and ten hostages. All dead. We learned Wren had wired the boiler and had explosives placed on the building foundation. When we heard the report, at first we thought the suspects had wired the place to blow and we hadn't known about it, and Wren had just been lucky to leave. It became apparent quickly that that wasn't the case.

Wren was found guilty of mass manslaughter and sentenced to twenty years in prison in New York. Up until April, the last time I had seen him was when they had taken him away, still laughing his ass off.

…

Probably should've told you all this sooner. Oh well.

At any rate, I have to deal with it now.

Roger Armeen died last night, around eleven-thirty. Authorities on the sight found him in his bed with a bed sheet tied around his neck. Probably would've been ruled as a suicide if the place didn't look like a war zone. As of now, according to the news, there is no suspect, and no clues to go off of.

He's out there all alone, no one around would've seen anyone go in or out. Too easy.

I was just having a quick shave in the bathroom when I look up and see Eric behind me in the mirror.

"It's started," he said. "You have to stop him."

He was gone as soon as I turned around.

“So...we can't kill him?”

“Not according to her.”

I was downing a couple shots that night, on a right old bender. It was about a week or so after the interview, I had finally gotten around to letting Wren listen to them. Mary had gone out for supplies, so it was just us.

“I can't buy that.” Wren had been pacing back and forth. I remember he had been looking really sick since we had come up to Vermont. He was paler than normal, and those bags under his eyes were growing. A lot of his playfulness had been disappearing as of late; he was edgier, jumping at small noises, and always pacing. “No, there's gotta be something-”

“Well, there isn't. She was very insistent on that.”

“So, what, we give up? After everything it took to get us this far?”

“Look, I'm really tired. Can you leave it be?”

That stopped his pacing. “Oh, sorry, old man. Want me to tuck you into bed? Get you soup? Maybe turn your Golden Girls on-”

“Listen.” I stood up. “The past year, I have been shot at, hunted, lied to, and every good thing I had, every viable lead, shot down. I almost died in the middle of some basement in Nowhereland. Since February, I have been up to my neck in religious zealot supernatural bullshit. I'm physically and mentally exhausted, Wren, and I'm ready to just kick back and welcome the fucking apocalypse. I'm done.”

I downed another shot, hoping that was the end of it. Naturally, it wasn't.

“Well then,” and there was a definite shift in tone as he spoke; darker, venomous almost. “Well then, well then. So this is how the journey ends. When the great Zeke Strahm gives up, we are all well and truly fucked, aren't we?”

“Oh, just shut up, you asshole.”

“Never can finish what he started-”

“Oh, what, like you? Like with Keaton? We said we'd take care of that civilly, and I seem to recall, you were the one who broke his toes!”

“I got what we needed to know!”

“You didn't get us anything!”

“Well, I did a hell of a lot more than you would've done! I'm noticing that I'm pretty much the guy who does all your dirty work for you. Find Mary, deal with Keaton, keep the little raccoon safe in Maryland. I do everything for you, everything-”

“Yeah? And the Walden building, was that my benefit? Twenty-three people, nine of them officers, almost getting me killed, was that my benefit?”

And right around then was when he decided that was “too much” to say, apparently, because next thing I knew I was laying on the ground with my jaw feeling like it was on fire and my head feeling like it was going through the Fourth of July fireworks. He stood over me, and he had this wild, angry look in his eyes. I had never seen him look like that before.

“I'm not dying because of him, you understand me? He ain't getting me!”

That was the last thing he said to me. As soon as it was out of his mouth, he threw a kick at me that thankfully missed my head by an inch, and then stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

That was weeks ago. I haven't heard from him since. Honestly, I'm done caring at this point.

Mary Interview, Part 3

I know it's been a while. Only a couple things have really changed. We're still in Vermont, but just Mary and me. Wren skipped out a couple of weeks after the interview, and I haven't heard from him since. I'll get into that more in the next post.

And...well, the reason I haven't posted this part in a while is because...I was scared to, really. Listening to the tape, I wondered if I was ready to let everyone else know about it. And even here, I don't talk about everything; I left some parts out, not ready to let people know about that.

But I'm posting it. I can't hold onto it forever.

So...take it, think what you want with it.



(This last part doesn't focus on Mary as much. She decided she wanted to ask me a few questions. This was about thirty minutes after my throat acted up.)

S: Thanks.

M: It's okay.

(pause)

M: I didn't realize I would cause this kind of country-wide panic...

S: We don't know that for sure. It could have just been a coincidence.

M: Yeah. I just happened to cause the deaths of the people who could contain him the same time he started being noticed by everyone. What a coincidence.

(pause)

M: When did he start for you?

S: Heh...if you want to get technical, the start was when I was a child until I was around twelve. He haunted me my entire childhood.

M: Why?

S: No idea. Still don't. He stopped when I moved to the city. We used to live out in the woods, we moved when I was thirteen.

M: Just like that? He just stopped because you moved?

S: Told you, I have no idea why he stopped. I don't even know why he started. And then last year when he came back...well, I don't know if it was for me or not.

M: Why's that?

S: Because he didn't come straight for me. He took three kids and had his lackey butcher four more and went after Lizzie before he even showed himself to me. For all I know, it wasn't about me at all.

M: He really was after her again.

S: I don't know how long he was affecting her...I should have paid more attention...she had been getting better before the night we went into that warehouse...if she had just listened to me, stayed out of there...

(pause)

S: I spent weeks afterwards just trying to keep it together...one night I threw a fit...he was looking at me through my window, and I just started screaming at him...my neighbor must have heard me, probably figured I was being robbed or something, came to check on me...door opened, shotgun went off, he must have been dead before he even hit the ground...

M: What did you do about it?

(pause)

S: I hid the body in my garage. When people asked what happened, I just said that Slender Man tried to get in...I knew that if they knew what had really happened, they would've turned me in, thought less of me...he had a family...

(pause)

S: Wasn't long after that that I realized I had to do something, had to...fight back, I guess. So I spent most of July gathering whatever information I could find, look through the stories left by others...try to find some kind of a pattern. And then...

(pause)

M: And then...what?

(pause)

S: I went back.

M: Back...where, to the warehouse?

S: Yeah...Conaghan was still in there, he still had Eric. I knew it was a trap, but if there was someway I could have...

(pause)

M: What happened that night, Zeke?

(Long pause. I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell her, and I'm even less sure now if I want to post this. But I did, and I'm going to. I've put this off for too long...)

S: Chief promised reinforcements, but they would have arrived too late, so I went in on my own...that place, it was a maze, it's so easy to get lost in there...felt like I was walking for hours, even though it probably wasn't even one...time's just nonexistent in there.

I got to the door...I had found it on my first time through, but I didn't have a chance to open it before...well, all hell broke loose. Ended up having to shoot the handle off...I find Eric, chained to the wall, his foot was all fucked up, he hadn't had a shave in weeks...I don't think he even recognized me at first. I shot the chain, he asked me where Lizzie was, and I just told him she was gone as I helped him up and got him out of that room.

We wandered around some more before we ended up in some sort of packaging room...and there's Conaghan, he had this big forty-four magnum pointed at us. I push Eric against the wall, draw my gun on Conaghan, it turns into a shouting match, I'm yelling at him to put the gun down and he's screaming just this incoherent nonsense...he lifted his gun, took a shot, it missed me, I fired three rounds into his chest. He falls to his knees, and he...he thanks me, he says “Thank you”, right before he hits the floor.

Then I turned and Eric's sliding to the floor...that bullet Conaghan fired, it missed me, hit Eric right in the gut. I knew there was no way I'd be able to move him, so I told him to just sit tight...he begged me not to leave him, but I didn't have a choice, if I didn't get help, he would've bled out...I never went back for him.

(pause)

M: Then what happened?

(pause)

S: I was on my way outside...I felt him. Felt him near me, staring at me. I turn, and there he is, staring at me like I'm some circus freak show...I started antagonizing him, taunting him...showing him I wasn't afraid...

I don't know how it happened. All I know is next thing I know, the whole damn building is catching fire...and his...other arms, they were growing out...I took a shot at him, he vanished...I'm looking everywhere, the whole place is blazing...then I turn and suddenly one of his arms slams into my throat and then twists around it, choking me...he lifted me off the ground, let me stare him right in the face...

(long pause)

M: And then?

S: And then I'm outside, on my back staring up at the sky...my flashlight was gone, my camera was gone, my car was missing, my throat felt like it had been crushed with a weight...the whole warehouse was up in flames, I could hear sirens coming fast...and I just...I ran. I ran faster and harder than I had ever run in my life. And I've been running ever since.

(And that's the end of this tale. We sat in silence for a few moments as I try to compose myself. Then I go into the final questions)

S: How do we kill him?

M: You don't.

S: There has to be something-

M: Zeke, we are tiny specs, on a baby planet, in a galaxy barely out of its crib-

S: Your point?

M: My point is that he's old. Very old. As old as humanity and probably older. And something that old has had plenty of time to make any weaknesses he has completely irrelevant. At most, you can contain him, lock him away-

S: Then we do that.

M: -but it's not permanent. He can get out, and then it all starts again.

S: God damn it, there's gotta be something-

M: Listen! I have spent my whole life involved with this thing. I have seen firsthand the things he can do. Against something like that, we have no chance. I'm sorry. That's the situation.

(I had heard that time and again, but now it just felt final. We had no way to combat this thing and leave a lasting scar, much less be rid of him entirely.)

S: So...what? What do we do then?

M: We run. As long and as hard as we can. Run until we're too tired to run anymore. Like what you're doing right now.

S: I'm not running for me.

M: I know. I understand that. But Zeke...you can't save them. We're all beyond saving at this point...

(Conversation ends here.)

Mary Interview, Part 2

(This next part is later that afternoon. She had mostly calmed down by this point, and was ready to talk again.)

M: Sorry…

S: It’s fine. Now, you said you saw his real form. Do you remember what it was?

M: There’s no word in our language for something like that, nothing to compare it to…it’s massive, though, the biggest thing I had ever seen, bigger than any animal or human I had ever met…it had so many arms…and its face…

S: It’s real form has a face?

M: I guess this world can’t support it or it must’ve figured it couldn’t get what it wanted, go into public like that…so it takes that human form to move around freely, come and go…

S: And no one else knows about it?

M: If the priests knew, they never said anything. They interrogated me about my encounter for hours afterwards, but I never told them what I had seen…I guess that ironically let them believe I could be trusted.

S: And Lizzie?

M: My parents didn’t want to risk it, not after he almost killed me. So they called off the ritual. We stayed around long enough to be sure she was off his radar, then we had to move on.

S: And you never saw her again?

M: No. We exchanged letters a few times, but life goes on. I’m sure you know that.

S: So you stayed with them until three years ago.

M: Yeah...we had a bit of a...falling out.

S: Meaning what?

(pause)

S: Mary-

M: I killed them.

S: Who?

M: They...they found out I had been helping children targeted for sacrifice escape the rituals. See, after what happened, I didn't want to think about kids being...I just couldn't bear it, not after that. So...I started helping some get away. Not many, one or two at a time, not enough to attract suspicion. But that last one...half their supply got away, just in time for some anniversary ritual. They...didn't like that.

My parents were terrified. They knew if the priests ever found out, then all of us would've been offered up. My father said that Slender Man was angry at everyone...my mother told me that I was going to be offered instead...

I wasn't going to let that happen. I had no desire to be anywhere near him again. So...I had to get away. There was a knife on the counter. I had to get away.

S: You killed your parents...

M: They were going to give me to him. They stopped being my parents.

S: And then-

M: And then I took what I could and ran. I don't think he liked that.

S: What do you mean?

(long pause)

S: What do you mean?

(long pause)

M: I heard someone tell me once, someone else on the run said that the reason Slender Man became so active was because some idiot posted pictures of him on the internet. Well...that's...not entirely the case.

(long pause)

S: You can't be serious...

M: The night I took off, he lost control in the chapel. Most of the hierarchy was slaughtered right away. Those that survived went into hiding. And without anyone to feed him or keep him contained...

S: You mean to tell me the reason he's been getting so active the last couple of years...was because of you?

M: Look, it wasn't intentional! I didn't know he'd get out of control like that! And anyway, it seems contained. In my travels, I've only met a few that have actually seen him. If we can keep it like that-

S: You think this is contained?

M: What?

S: ...You really don't know, do you?

M: What?

S: Mary, the last two years has been almost total warfare against this thing. It's chaos all over the country. Alabama, New Jersey, Florida, Indiana, Maryland, London. Since last fall, a couple hundred cases have been logged, and that number gets bigger every day. We've lost good people in the last twelve months, and you're saying the reason for all of this is because you messed with his food supply?

(long pause)

M: ...What?

S: Yeah. It's been a fucking mess. There are videos documenting the things he's done, people have been blogging every little detail they can remember. Everyone's looking to me for answers, I'm looking to you, and you're telling me that you're the fucking problem?

M: I didn't...I had no idea...

S: How do you not know?

M: I've been running for three years, I never stay in one place for longer than a week, and I don't own a fucking laptop, cop! I don't go online much, okay?

S: Well, newsflash, I've seen him. I've fought him. My partner, your childhood friend? Sliced open by one of his followers, who then kidnapped, tortured and murdered another one of my partners. I got my throat squeezed by one of his arms. Oh, and best news of all, I'm an FBI wanted felon now, because my idiot fucking neighbor from next door heard me screaming, came into my house to check on me, and got blown away by a shotgun!

(pause)

M: You...killed your neighbor with a shotgun?

S: No, he...it was a trap, I had it wire-rigged to go off if the door was opened-

M: You jerry rigged a shotgun trap?

S: Does it really fucking matter?

(That last bit was too much for my throat. The next ten or fifteen minutes is me coughing up a lung while she got my medicine. This part ends here.)

Mary Interview, Part 1

(The following is part one of my interview with Mary. Wren was out in the town, so it was just the two of us. The entire conversation was recorded so that I could listen to it instead of recite the entire thing from memory.)

S: Name

M: Mary Irene Gallagher

S: And your role in this?

M:…My role?

S: You. Your parents. Why you’re here now.

M: My parents were priests in a subsection of a cult organization that worships an eldritch abomination. Their role was to go around to different sections across the country and make sure they were up to par with our standards.

S: And what sort of standards needed to be met?

M: That rules and guidelines were being followed. That the leaders had a firm hand on their communities. That those communities were all devout. That the sacrifices were being made. Basic stuff.

S: And these cults are all over the country?

M: It used to be. It’s died out a lot in recent years. You’d be lucky to find a solid group of people that still believe and pray together.

S: Why’s that?

M: Hard to keep a religion going when the thing they’re worshipping keeps killing off whole communities in fits of rage.

S: So mostly gone then.

M: Some exist. The big one in Indiana held on until fairly recently. I don’t think this religion as a whole is all that big now.

S: You were involved with the Indiana cult?

M: Matthew Wilcox was an important figure in it for a long time. My parents were friendly with him and the other head priests there.

S: You knew Damien O’Connor then.

M: Might have met his parents. Can’t really remember. A lot of the names are a blur to me.

S: And how long were you with this cult?

M: I reached the position of associate pastor in two thousand and...three, I think? I ended up leaving in two thousand eight.

S: Why?

M: (laughs) Why not? My whole life was spent seeing children ripped from their families and lined up for slaughter. Why wouldn’t I leave?

S: You weren’t brainwashed like them…

M; My parents tried, it didn’t work. When I was a kid, yeah, I was proud of my family’s involvement. As I grew up, I realized it was a mess. I just learned to hide it really well.

S: How? And why? What happened that changed your mind?

M: I don’t know…Liz happened, I guess.

S: Lizzie?

M: She was my first real friend…well, first one that I remember, anyway. The priests had intended to use her as a sacrifice in one of the rituals, so my family got close with her father. By that point, I think Slender Man had been after her for a while, you could see how bad it was effecting her. And then…

(Pause. This next part was hard for her to tell. Harder for me to hear.)

M: The night before the ritual, I was sleeping over her house. Regular preteen girl sleepover, I’m sure you’re familiar…well, maybe not. At about three in the morning, I wake up to her screaming, and I thought it was her dad at first, but I remembered he had passed out before we had…he was standing at her window, he had decided not to wait, he wanted her right then…the window was pushed open, he was reaching for her, and…I didn’t even think about it, I just…jumped in between them and said, “No. You can’t have her. She’s free.” And…I still remember him grabbing me…showing me those things…

S: What did he show you?

(Pause)

S: Mary. What did you see?

M: I saw…I saw…(sob) I saw him…I saw his whole existence, every moment of it, everything he had ever done, stretching back to the beginning of time…I saw his real form…

S: What do you mean? Mary, what do you mean?

(She broke down here. I stopped the tape, spent about three hours trying to calm her down.)

When I was a kid, my parents used to take me to this family resort up in the mountains of Vermont. For ten years I spent a week of my summer there, hiking, swimming, playing with the occasional friend or two I would make up there, if only for a week. It was one of the only times I ever remembered being happy as a kid, being relaxed, being almost normal. We stopped going towards the end of my time in high school, since college put a lot more on my plate and I didn't have the time to devout a week out of my schedule to come up here.

Despite all the years I was up here, I only ever ventured into the town of Stowe once or twice; once with family, once with a group of friends I had made that week. It's a small town, I don't think too many people live there, but the people who do I remember were friendly enough, and it seemed like a hot spot for a lot of passerby's. So it was weird driving into town to find it completely bare, not a soul in the streets.

I parked it outside the post office and stepped out. Spooky. Almost like the place had turned into a ghost town. Maybe they had had a bad summer season, I don't know.

I found Wren's car outside of the general store, empty. His was the only car on the whole street. I parked up alongside him and got out. Keys were in the ignition. Alright, I thought, he had to be in there. I stepped inside.

The general store was pitch dark. I hit the light switch, no dice. Electricity was out, though I haven't gotten to check if it was the whole town or not. It'd be hard for me to believe that Slender Man had the whole town cleared out, but then again, Indiana proved he had a bit more influence than that.

It was at this point that I had my handgun out. I hadn't seen or heard anything yet that there was something to worry about, but then again, I hadn't seen or heard anything to convince me that all was well in this town. I took a couple steps further inside when-

“Who are you?”

Probably jumped a foot in the air when she said that. I turned around and there she was, staring at me, with a fucking box of Wheat Thins in one hand and a can of cheese spray in the other.

In a way, she looked almost like she did in the old photos of her and Lizzie; black hair, brown eyes, a looker for sure. Her face was different, though; not with the playfulness of a child, like Lizzie always had, but one who had seen a lot of shit in her life and had the scars to prove it. Thinking about it now, I like to think this is what Lizzie would have been like if she had survived long enough to run, because personality wise, they're almost exactly the same. But I didn't know that at that moment; all I knew was that this is who I was looking for.

“You're Mary Gallagher?”

“Yes...”

“What are you doing in here?”

She held up the food items. “I was hungry.”

“Wheat Thins and cheese spray constitute a snack?”

“Well, I was going to try the diner down the street, but they seem to be having staffing problems. As in, they don't have a staff.”

She shrugged. She was probably used to it by now, eating whatever she found.

“So who are you supposed to be?”

“Zeke Strahm. You knew Lizzie growing up?”

“Who?”

“Lizzie Armeen.”

She had shown genuine confusion when I introduced myself, but as soon as I gave Lizzie's full name her face broke into a wide smile.

“Oh, you're a friend of Liz's? God, I haven't even thought about her in...well, forever. Yeah, we grew up together, you know her well?”

“She was my partner. We were close.”

“How is she?” Apparently she didn't pick up on the “was” or the “were”. “Is she doing well? Is she still living with that asshole father? I told her as soon as she was eighteen she should get the hell out of there and never look back.”

I sighed. This was painful as hell, but she had to know. No way could she keep going not knowing.

“Lizzie's...dead.”

I swear, it was like telling a child Santa Claus didn't exist. That smile faded right from her face, and what color there was to her pale face drained.

“W...what?”

“She died last year.”

“How?”

“It's not important-”

“How did she die?”

I sighed. Did she think this was easy for me? “We were pursuing a murder suspect in his warehouse-”

“Suspect?”

“We were both detectives working for police homicide. I went in, she was supposed to stay at the station, but she went in after me anyway, and the guy found her and...cut her up.” I ended that sentence with what felt like a weight hitting me. Even over a year later, I still wasn't over it.

She looked even worse. She went over to the counter and placed her items down, looking as if I had kicked her in the gut. Then she glared at me.

“That can't be all it was, or you wouldn't have been trying to find me,” she said, her tone suddenly angry. “He was involved too, wasn't he? He found her again.”

I nodded. “Yeah. It was because of him-”

As soon as I said it she grabbed the can of spray and threw it so hard at the mirror it shattered into pieces and the holder fell off the nail it hung from and clattered onto the floor. Scared the crap out of me.

“Dammit!” She pushed her hair back from her face, which was now dark red. “I thought she was safe, I thought he wasn't going to go after her anymore. He shouldn't have gone after her!”

“Wait, what the hell are you-?”

And then all of a sudden there was screaming from the back room, a lot of banging, and someone laughing. I looked at the door, then back at her.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I'm assuming you sent him? He showed up a few days ago. Wasn't too keen on seeing him again, but he said to hold tight, someone wanted to talk to me. I'm guessing that's you?”

I didn't wait to answer her. As soon as she said “you sent him” I hurried over and kicked the door open, my gun at the ready to find-

Wren was standing over what looked like a human-formed barbecue. Everything from head to toe was either on fire or was badly burned, and yet somehow he was still alive, writhing in pain. In one of Wren's hands was a can of Air sol, and in the other was a lighter. He looked at me and grinned.

“Oh, hey Zee,” he said, holding up the items. “Take a look. Portable flamethrower. And you say I'm not resourceful.”

“You just...torched...a random civilian-”

“Not random. This fucker was stalking her for three days until I put him in his place.”

I looked back at her. She just nodded.

“He's hollowed out, complete proxy. He's been following me from Detroit to here. I didn't tell Wren to turn the guy into a hot dog, though,” she said, glaring at him.

“Well, shit, looking at you, I'm amazed you haven't resorted to cannibalism a lot sooner. When's the last time you had any meat? And I mean in the food sense.”

“Drop dead, Ferret Face.”

“Ahh, definitely missed your sense of humor, Little Lamb.”

“I told you if you ever called me that again-”

“Both of you!” I demanded, shutting them both up. After this summer, I was in no mood to play baby-sitter again. But my yelling was definitely more than my throat could handle, and I soon erupted in a bit of a coughing fit. Mary walked out of sight, and came back with a bottle of water. She gave it to me.

“Thanks,” I choked out, taking a sip. Not as helpful as my medicine, but definitely tasted a lot better. “Where are you staying?”

“Place in the resort. Up high. Why?”

“'Cause I've got a timeshare up there and if I'm gonna stick around I might as well make myself at home. You're coming with me so we can figure that out. Wren, you take care of the body.”

“By myself? Oh, come on, Zee, you know how long that's gonna take me?” He immediately whined.

“Well, Jesus, Wren, you should've thought of that before you turned him into shish kabob, now, shouldn't you have?”

He didn't directly answer me, just grumbled a bit, but he dropped his “portable flamethrower” and went to do his work while I lead Mary back to the car.

The resort was as empty as the town was; I don't know how busy their fall season was, but I imagined, given that we're up in the Green Mountains, that with the trees changing leaves it'd be a hell of a sight. My timeshare in one of the condos higher up was exactly the same as they had been all those years ago; even those weird pictures of the bikes were still mounted on the walls of the kid's room. Power's out, so can't take advantage of all the TVs that are in here, but otherwise, it feels like I'm having yet another vacation.

But I'm not here for pleasure this time.

I've found Mary. Now finally time to peace together where she fits into all of this.

I'll post my findings as soon as I can.

On The Road Again

I've left Maryland. Things just got too weird back there.

I don't even know how it happened. Celeste had been quiet for most of the night, the others had been out and about, and I was laying in my bed looking at that cross and wondering if such a thing as a “constant” actually existed and doubting it every time the possibility arose. Stuff like that happened on TV, not in situations like this.

It suddenly hit me that it was very quiet in that place...a bit too quiet. Normally Celeste or Violet or someone was making noise in the kitchen, but this night...nothing. I knew Celeste was still here, unless she had stepped out...I pocketed the crucifix and went to check.

She was out on the porch, sitting in one of the chairs. Not doing anything, just sitting. She was looking out at the sky but she wasn't really seeing it, at least, not from what I could tell. I stepped outside to talk to her. And then things just got weird.

“There you are. Quiet tonight,” I said. She didn't answer. The thought crossed my mind that she was angry at me, and I tried to remember if I had done anything other than not wear that crucifix, but nothing was coming to mind.

“You alright? You look kinda-”

“You're pathetic.”

That stopped me dead. She had yelled at me plenty of times in the last couple of months, but flat-out say I'm pathetic? And in such a calm manner? That was a first.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She turned to me, this cold look in her eyes. “You're pathetic. Do you even realize it? You parade around with this hero act, claiming to save lives, and at the same time you line people up to get sacrificed to what you're trying to kill. People like Lizzie.”

I felt my anger rising, but this time I did my best to suppress it. Something was wrong here...something was very wrong.

“Celeste-” I went to put my hand on her shoulder, but she jerked it away.

“Don't touch me,” she commanded. Not a plea, a fucking order. Not a normal Celeste fashioned order, either.

She stood up, and I tried to stop her, but she just repeated that order in an even more harsh tone. And then I realized she was burning up; her skin felt like it was on fire. I wasn't even touching her and I could feel it radiating off of her. We moved into the kitchen. She placed her hand on the counter and I saw it jerking at random moments like crazy.

“Why do they do it?” she asked, not necessarily to me, not necessarily to anyone. “Why do they run? Why do they fight? They know it's a lost cause, they know there's no hope, and they keep fighting this pointless battle. And their only reward for their stubbornness? Death.

“I don't understand any of them. I understand myself, but not them. I cannot understand why they condemn themselves-”

“Celeste, knock it off,” I demanded. I couldn't figure out why she was acting like this; this wasn't her, not one bit. For however annoying she could be at times, she didn't have an evil bone in here...and she wasn't this haughty...

And then it hit me. It was staring me right in the face; a bare neck where normally rested her beads.

“Where's your rosary?”

She ignored me. “And the best part about it? They all flock to you to save them. And you're just as lost and confused as they are. You, I understand you all too well. I see right through your front that you keep up-”

“Celeste,” I demanded, “where's your rosary?”

I thought I sounded angry, at least, that's the tone I had in my head, but upon reflection I think I had a little fear mixed in there with it. I think she knew it too, because for one moment, just one, she snapped out of whatever the hell was happening to her. What I got next, though, wasn't much better.

She suddenly started screaming and almost fell, but didn't...and I realize how stupid that sounded, but it was like she couldn't fall. If that makes sense. It doesn't, I know. But it was like something was keeping her up, keeping her from falling down. Like she was being held up by strings or something.

She looked up at me, tears in her eyes, and I realized that she was back, and that she was in pain from whatever was taking over her.

“Help me,” she pleaded, her voice a whisper. “I understand. I see them. All of them, from before, from now, into forever. All of them, forever running, forever chasing something they don't understand, not being allowed to escape it, not being allowed to die, not truly, not completely. Over and over and over, the cycle never stops...”

I ran over to help her, though how I planned to, I have no idea. Slender Man, or Practical Cat, or someone related to one or the other, had taken control of her, possessed her, brainwashed her, something, somehow. It wasn't new news, that Slender Man could do something like that, but this was different, this was something that I hadn't seen before. What did that indicate? That he was getting stronger? Not a pleasant thought.

By the time I reached for her, whatever had taken over had regained control, because she was suddenly thrashing wildly and screaming at me not to touch her again, even more violently than before. And then...I don't know what possessed me to do it, maybe a hunch, maybe her words, hell, maybe it was just the years of Catholic teaching as a kid, I don't know, and I suppose it doesn't really matter, because I grabbed my cross necklace whatever out of my pocket and forced it around her neck.

She suddenly let out the most shrill scream yet; she hadn't even screamed this loudly when her stitches has broken in that hospital months ago. She writhed and struggled but it wasn't enough that she could break out of my hold, me being a cop who was used to putting down guys a lot bigger and heavier than her. Probably the worst bit was when her nails raked across the back of my neck, deep enough to draw some blood, but as bad as that was I didn't let go, or weaken, not for one second.

Eventually- I don't know exactly how long- her thrashing stopped. Her body went slack. She passed right out.

At that point Violet and Riley came through the door, hearing what sounded like a horror movie and seeing what probably looked like Armageddon as soon as the door was open. Of course I got bombarded with questions right off the bat. Of course I ignored them as I made Riley help me carry Celeste back to her bed and tucked her in.

I know what you're thinking: after that, no wonder I bugged out of there. Well, as bad as that was, I would've been fine sticking around a little longer. Hell, especially after that, I would have stuck around to figure out what had happened.

But my fun night didn't end there.

As soon as she was tucked in, I could feel my cell phone vibrating in my pocket. I took it out and answered it.

“What?”

“Zee, it's me.”

That was all I needed to hear. I left the room and headed out onto the porch.

“Where the hell have you been?” I hissed, keeping my voice low so the others wouldn't hear me. “You don't call me for almost two months, how the hell am I supposed to know you're alright-?”

“I found her.”

I froze. At first I thought I had misheard him. But then he repeated himself and it was confirmed.

“Where?”

“Vermont. Some family resort, outskirts of a town called-”

“Stowe,” I finished for him. I knew exactly where he was. It seemed almost fitting that this adventure would take me back up there. “Okay, give me a week and I'll be up there-”

“A week? Zee, I don't know how long she's staying, and it's not like I can stop her from going if she wants. You want her, you need to get up here now.”

“Wren, Celeste just got attacked, possessed, I don't know what you call it, but she was just reenacting the Exorcist and freaking the fuck out. She's unconscious in her room right now. You really think I can just bug out of here right now?”

“Aw, my heart's breaking for her, truly. I'll make sure to send her a fruit basket with a Virgin Mary statue in it.”

“I'm not in the mood to deal with sarcasm right now-”

“And I'm not in the mood for your bleeding heart sympathies right now. You wanted this girl, you wanted to know what she knows, then you get up here. Otherwise, you can stay down there taking care of your pedophilia clause and she takes off, and then I'm not even going to bother finding out where she goes next, because I gave you your opportunity and you didn't take it. So what's it going to be?”

I cursed. Of course he was right, I had been searching for this girl for eight months with no leads and now I had her right in the palm of my hand. And Celeste would be okay with Violet...right? Of course she would. Violet wouldn't let her get hurt. Probably better than I would. Celeste was going to college. And I still had a job to do elsewhere.

My summer vacation was over.

“Alright, I'll leave first thing in the morning. Just give me tonight to make sure she's okay.”

He didn't like that. I know he didn't. But it wasn't like he had much of a choice.

“Fine. But get up here quick.” And then he hung up.

I stayed that last night in a sleeping bag in her room to make sure she was alright. I don't think I slept much, if at all. In the morning, I told Violet I was leaving (she didn't like that one bit, and made it very apparent), packed my stuff, visited Celeste one final time, and then was almost home free when Violet stopped me one more time.

“Don't you dare leave her, Zeke.”

I almost didn't. I almost stayed. It would feel right, after all, to stay and make sure she was okay. But I had stayed long enough.

“Listen, if I can do this, if I can find out if she knows anything about a weakness or something, we may all have a ticket out of this. I have to go,” I told her.

She didn't bother arguing. We're both way too stubborn for that, we realize that at this point. But she came up to me and put my cross back into my hand; the same one I had just used to save Celeste.

I shook my head. “She needs this more-”

“She gave it to you,” she said. “She wanted you to have it. That may not mean anything to you, but if you care about her at all, you'll take it.”

We had also been around each other long enough for me to know that she could be kind of terrifying when angry. Especially when she was right. So I pocketed it, said farewell, and left.

It's funny, during my months here in Maryland, I've come to view this place almost like an alien world that had slowly become home. Now I truly was going home, back north, back to familiar territory. And in this case, back to territory that was very near and dear to me.

This very well may be my last hurrah. If this plan doesn't work...it has to work.

She's been nagging me to wear this goddamn cross for the last week.

I've got half a mind to lock her out of the apartment for a couple hours until either she calms down or the rain washes her away.

Since when did life become a goddamn sitcom?