(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.)
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
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.)
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.)
Sunday, September 11, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Unease
I wish I could tell you there was a reason for the absence. That there was an attack, that someone had died, that Octopus Man had showed up and caused some havoc, anything like that.
I could say that.
But it'd be just me telling a good story to entertain the masses.
No, things have been quiet since the incident with Keaton. Too quiet, in fact. Not much left for me to do here, I think Celeste will be able to survive without me before long.
I mainly just walk around Ocean City by myself. Nothing's happened, but lately I've just been feeling down on my luck, and no amount of whiskey purchased from the nearby liquor store has been able to make me feel better so far.
Wren hasn't called. Not even to check in. That worries me a bit. As much of a pain as he is, the one thing he is is reliable. But no calls since he left. I don't know if he just can't or if someone's stopped him from checking in. Somehow I can't make myself believe he's dead; otherwise I'd have heard of a massacre of cops and agents by now. If Wren was gonna go down, he wouldn't do it without making a big mess.
Things are feeling tense at Celeste's Haven. Nothing's happened, just this uneasy feeling hanging over the heads of the people who are still here. Like we're expecting something to happen. Good or bad.
Whatever. I'll see if Celeste is ready to update soon.
I could say that.
But it'd be just me telling a good story to entertain the masses.
No, things have been quiet since the incident with Keaton. Too quiet, in fact. Not much left for me to do here, I think Celeste will be able to survive without me before long.
I mainly just walk around Ocean City by myself. Nothing's happened, but lately I've just been feeling down on my luck, and no amount of whiskey purchased from the nearby liquor store has been able to make me feel better so far.
Wren hasn't called. Not even to check in. That worries me a bit. As much of a pain as he is, the one thing he is is reliable. But no calls since he left. I don't know if he just can't or if someone's stopped him from checking in. Somehow I can't make myself believe he's dead; otherwise I'd have heard of a massacre of cops and agents by now. If Wren was gonna go down, he wouldn't do it without making a big mess.
Things are feeling tense at Celeste's Haven. Nothing's happened, just this uneasy feeling hanging over the heads of the people who are still here. Like we're expecting something to happen. Good or bad.
Whatever. I'll see if Celeste is ready to update soon.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Keaton
It’s hard to really pinpoint a moment where a situation gets away from you. You could have everything perfectly under control, have the world at your fingertips, have not a care in the world. And then in one moment, one random event, or one random person, comes along and everything goes to hell.
I don’t know where to begin. So I’m just going to start with this: We decided to hunt for Keaton. And we found him.
Mind you, it took time. Finding one man in this state is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles; it’s not like Massachusetts down here. We’ve scoured every public place a person might hole up in, every bar, every club, everywhere.
We finally got word that he was stationed in some office building in D.C. Not the FBI building, otherwise, I wouldn't even attempt it; even we're not crazy enough to go right into the FBI building. We went in the middle of the day, but for some reason, when we arrived, there was no one in the building.
Looking back, I suppose it was set up for us that way. Either by Keaton, or…well, you’ll see.
Wren was the one who decided to split up. I didn’t think it’d be too good an idea, but it was the middle of the day and there were people outside walking around. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.
“Just chill, I’ll be in touch,” he told me as he pushed the button for the elevator.
“Get back to me in one piece,” was all I said. He just winked as the doors slid closed.
Having gone through Conaghan's warehouse twice and the red building once, all by myself, the loneliness shouldn't have bothered me as much. The hard fact was, though, that after a couple of months down in Maryland I had gotten used to having people consistently in my daily life again. That was my biggest mistake. I was alone again. And my nerves were acting up.
I searched two floors before I finally found him. It was pure happenstance; I had checked an office that really was nothing but a room filled with tables stacked together and looked down at the window. So many people were passing by, but none of them even acknowledged the building. It was like it didn't exist-
“Detective Strahm. So nice to see you again.”
I hadn't even heard him come in. I turned and there he was, sitting on one of the tables, arms folded, looking amused.
“Leslie,” I greeted. “Been a while.”
“Almost a year,” he said. I remembered why I hated that accent. God, Virginia has an annoying accent. “Before your disappearance, the last time we met, I believe, was the night you were suspended.”
“Yeah. If I recall, I gave you a pretty nice shiner on your eye.”
“You and your temperment. That's exactly what's landed you in this predicament in the first place.”
“That right? And here I thought it was the body in my garage that landed me in this trouble.”
He scoffed and slid off the table, keeping one hand palm-down on the surface. Spoiler alert: this was a bad idea.
“I commend you for finally showing up. Not many fugitives choose to deliver themselves to their captors so easily.”
“So does that mean you'll let Celeste and Violet go if I give myself in?”
“In honesty?” He sneered. “Probably not. They know too much themselves.”
“Well, I can understand that you might think that.” And as I spoke, my hand reached for my gun. “But see, the problem is-”
"Problem is, it's not just them you need to worry about."
Wren picked that moment to step out from the shadows behind him. Never thought I'd be happy to have him show up so much as I did then. Keaton, judging by the look on his face as Wren walked past, did not look so happy. Pale, stupified, urgent. Those were all that I saw on his face.
"You," he hissed.
Wren grinned. "Me."
It happened so fast I couldn't react. Next thing I knew there was a thunk and a scream and Keaton was brought to his knees as Wren slammed a knife onto and through his hand, pinning it to the table. He looked up at us, his fast contorted in pain and anger.
"This is your solution, Strahm?" he growled at me. "You're that desperate you'd bring him in-"
"Woah, woah." Wren slapped him and grabbed his face. "I didn't say you could talk. Did I say you could talk? No, I didn't. No talking."
Keaton fell silent.
"Thank you." Wren then started walking around him, the way an interrogator might do to a suspect. "That's one thing I never did like about you feds; bunch of chatty Cathys, always yip yip yip yip yip." Here he made his hand into a puppet and made a speaking gesture. "You'd think they'd teach you at the academy to keep your mouths shut."
That shut Keaton up. Wren then stopped to examine the impaled hand.
"Mmm, tsk tsk...you might want to get that looked at, brother," he said, then laughed.
This was the Wren I had been afraid would surface. And once he surfaced, unless someone calmed him down, only two people or less would be walking out of here.
"Wren-"
He held up his hand to silence me. He was the one calling the shots now; all I could do was watch and intervene if possible, which I'm not saying it was.
"Now," he said, still pacing, "here's my problem. My problem is with a bunch of sissy pissy government boys that come down on hard working citizens, making them fear for their lives, detaining them, arresting them, torturing them, and then killing them...all over some guy in a cheap suit that pulls the pedo card. Really shows where the priorities lie in this government."
"We're protecting people," Keaton snarled, trying to ignore the numbing pain in his impaled hand. "From maniacs like you-"
"Oh, believe that, if it helps you sleep at night, but don't try to pass it off as truth. You're not a hero, Leslie, you're not a good guy. You're just like me; an off-the-boat psycho who gets off on hurting people-"
"Wren-"
"Now, what I don't get, is why you're trying to pass it off here. McLachlan's not here, and neither is her friend. No one here but me and Zeke. So why are you trying to sound like the good guy when we all know otherwise?"
"You are the killers. Both of you."
"Well, that's not very nice, is it? I mean, yeah, I've had some fun in my time, but I wouldn't hold that against me. And Zeke, calling Zeke a killer is like calling George Bush the best president of the last decade. It's just not accurate. Admit it, you're only after him because he found out what you and Fisky and all your other golden boys are up to-"
"He killed an upstanding citizen in cold blood-"
"He killed a momma's boy who was so emotionally empty inside that he thought he could worship an alien and think it was Christ Risen. Al Conaghan raped and murdered a few teens and tore apart someone we both knew and liked. Only reason the guy wasn't in jail in the first place was because your precious judicial system kept letting him off the hook. Now who's fucking fault was that? You know if you had just kept him behind bars, we probably could have avoided a lot of trouble."
Keaton said nothing.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. You could care less about ole' Al Conaghan, what's his death to you? Just another loose end tied up.”
“Wren, enough-”
“It’s enough when I say it’s enough. Whaddya think, Zee, should we send him back to Fisk in a box? A tiny box?”
I was about to argue when my phone decided to go off. Leaving them for just a minute, I walked off a brief distance to answer. It had to be Celeste or Violet or one of them, though why they were calling now, I didn’t know. Of course, I also didn’t know Cynthia had just tried to kill everyone.
“I’m busy.”
“Ze…Cy…ia…atta…”
“Celeste? You’re breaking up.”
“G…b…h…hu…”
“Celeste? Hey!”
I tapped my phone, but all I heard was static. I hung up to call her back when I had a bit of a flashback; when my walkie spazzed out that night in the warehouse.
No…no, no, not now. Definitely not now.
I went back to the other two. “We gotta leave.”
“In a minute.” Wren didn’t take his eyes off Keaton. “Now, let’s talk.”
“Wren.”
“Not now. I wanna ask some questions about-”
“Wren!”
“What? What? What is it?” He turned to me, face impatient, but that impatience seemed to leave when he saw how panicked I must have looked.
All I had to say was, “He’s here.” And he knew who I meant immediately.
“Oh, well, lovely!” He turned back to our agent friend, not panicking like me, almost delighted. “You ever seen the Slender Man in person before? Neither have I. Whaddya say we invite him over?”
Though he didn't say anything, or even move a muscle, I could tell he knew what that meant. Slender Man showing up was bad news all around. Not something he'd want to deal with. He silently shook his head.
“No?” Wren then took off Keaton’s shoe and sock from one foot. “Then why don’t you answer a couple questions of mine, huh?”
I pulled out my gun and turned my back to keep my attention on our surroundings. In my head I measured how much time approximately we had. Not much, but we might still make it out, so long as Wren hurried up.
“Where’s Fisk?”
“I don’t know-”
SNAP!
I heard him howl as Wren broke his first toe. I tried not to look.
“Where's Fisk?”
“I don't know,” growled Keaton under his breath. “He finds us, we never go to him.”
“Where was the last place you saw him?”
“Somewhere in Michigan.”
“Why was he there?”
“How the fuck would I know, I had my own job-”
SNAP! Second toe was cracked. Another howl.
“Tsk tsk, no need to get snippy with me.” Wren sounded mixed between amused and bored. I didn't know which worried me most. Still don't. “Alright, so, can't tell us about Top Dog. Fine. So tell me, why are you after runners?”
Keaton was panting by this point, but not giving in. Gotta hand the feds credit where its due, they're trained by the best. Then again, Wren wasn't an ordinary member of society either.
“That's classified informa-”
SNAP! He didn't yell this time, he did his best to keep it in, but when I finally turned his face was obviously one of pain.
“Better hurry this up, Leslie, 'cause I'm running out of toes.” Again, Wren showed no care to what he was doing. “Why does Fisk care whether or not people see Slender Man?”
“He doesn't...” Keaton glared at me. “But you already know why, don't you, Strahm?”
I would have replied. I would have. But then I got that feeling. That age-old paranoid feeling that I remembered all too well from the warehouse. Time was up.
“We're leaving.”
“But I'm not done-”
I didn't even let him whine. I didn't want to hear it. I just grabbed him by the scruff and hauled him out, leaving Keaton sitting against a table, hand pinned there by a knife, with three of his toes broken and a large bruise on his face. If the situation weren't so dire I'd have laughed at the sight.
“Hey!” he screamed. “Aren't you forgetting someone?!”
“You got yourself into that mess, get yourself out,” I said. I imagine I sounded pretty exasperated. I didn't care. Slender Man wasn't going to finish him. I just knew it.
We didn't see him that day. Or at least, I didn't. I don't know what Wren saw, if he saw anything. I didn't care. Any less chances I have to run into him, the better.
Hours later, we had Wren's car pulled into an alleyway while I loaded a few supplies in the back while he argued with me.
“Why am I leaving?” he asked me.
“Because you jammed a knife through a federal agent's hand and broke three of his toes, Wren.”
“Yeah? So? Let's be honest, this is not the worst thing I've ever done.”
“Do you not realize Fisk is going to bring everything he has after you?” I threw his duffel bag at him. “They're scared of you. Good reason, too.”
“Good! Let them be! It's about time we started scaring them back!”
“No. You're gonna get out of town, you're gonna lay low. You're gonna keep moving. And you're not going to cause any more grief to them.”
“What about you?” There was a tone in his voice, as if he was starting to suspect he was going to be making the trip alone.
He was right. “I'm gonna stick around. Just a little while longer.”
“What, I'm going to leave you down here to take them on by yourself?”
“Fisk doesn't scare me. Besides, we've got bigger fish to fry.” I finally stopped and turned to him. “Listen. Find Mary. Quick. Whatever she knows, we need. I'm counting on you for this.”
He sighed and shrugged. He didn't like it, but he didn't have to.
“You got it, Zee. Just be careful.”
“Always am.”
He got in the car, started the engine, stopped, then opened the door and poked his head out.
“Be careful about Keaton, Zee,” he warned me. “The guy's a psycho. I've already told you that, but today showed me he really is on my level. Guy never once showed fear. Psychos never do.”
“He showed pain.”
“'Course he showed pain. His hand got turned into a pin cushion and his little piggies got porked. Psychos aren't supermen, Zeke, it hurts like hell when someone cuts their skin just like it would a regular person. But just 'cause he feels the pain doesn't mean he's afraid of it. And that's the part you've got to remember.”
And he didn't waste any more words. He just got in that car and he took off. He's safe now, last I heard he was in New Jersey, looking for Mary. Getting closer, he said, though it could still be a while.
Meanwhile, while we were out, Cynthia Delmont decided to pay her parents a visit and almost turned Celeste and Violet into two of the latest corpses. Hence the phone call I received. The Delmonts are gone now, so there are just five of us still in the place. Makes my job a little easier.
I'm trying not to let my mind linger on it for too long. That's one thing I learned during last fall on my adventures. I'm just trying to get through the days.
Celeste just got a package in the mail. Should be posting about it soon.
I don’t know where to begin. So I’m just going to start with this: We decided to hunt for Keaton. And we found him.
Mind you, it took time. Finding one man in this state is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles; it’s not like Massachusetts down here. We’ve scoured every public place a person might hole up in, every bar, every club, everywhere.
We finally got word that he was stationed in some office building in D.C. Not the FBI building, otherwise, I wouldn't even attempt it; even we're not crazy enough to go right into the FBI building. We went in the middle of the day, but for some reason, when we arrived, there was no one in the building.
Looking back, I suppose it was set up for us that way. Either by Keaton, or…well, you’ll see.
Wren was the one who decided to split up. I didn’t think it’d be too good an idea, but it was the middle of the day and there were people outside walking around. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.
“Just chill, I’ll be in touch,” he told me as he pushed the button for the elevator.
“Get back to me in one piece,” was all I said. He just winked as the doors slid closed.
Having gone through Conaghan's warehouse twice and the red building once, all by myself, the loneliness shouldn't have bothered me as much. The hard fact was, though, that after a couple of months down in Maryland I had gotten used to having people consistently in my daily life again. That was my biggest mistake. I was alone again. And my nerves were acting up.
I searched two floors before I finally found him. It was pure happenstance; I had checked an office that really was nothing but a room filled with tables stacked together and looked down at the window. So many people were passing by, but none of them even acknowledged the building. It was like it didn't exist-
“Detective Strahm. So nice to see you again.”
I hadn't even heard him come in. I turned and there he was, sitting on one of the tables, arms folded, looking amused.
“Leslie,” I greeted. “Been a while.”
“Almost a year,” he said. I remembered why I hated that accent. God, Virginia has an annoying accent. “Before your disappearance, the last time we met, I believe, was the night you were suspended.”
“Yeah. If I recall, I gave you a pretty nice shiner on your eye.”
“You and your temperment. That's exactly what's landed you in this predicament in the first place.”
“That right? And here I thought it was the body in my garage that landed me in this trouble.”
He scoffed and slid off the table, keeping one hand palm-down on the surface. Spoiler alert: this was a bad idea.
“I commend you for finally showing up. Not many fugitives choose to deliver themselves to their captors so easily.”
“So does that mean you'll let Celeste and Violet go if I give myself in?”
“In honesty?” He sneered. “Probably not. They know too much themselves.”
“Well, I can understand that you might think that.” And as I spoke, my hand reached for my gun. “But see, the problem is-”
"Problem is, it's not just them you need to worry about."
Wren picked that moment to step out from the shadows behind him. Never thought I'd be happy to have him show up so much as I did then. Keaton, judging by the look on his face as Wren walked past, did not look so happy. Pale, stupified, urgent. Those were all that I saw on his face.
"You," he hissed.
Wren grinned. "Me."
It happened so fast I couldn't react. Next thing I knew there was a thunk and a scream and Keaton was brought to his knees as Wren slammed a knife onto and through his hand, pinning it to the table. He looked up at us, his fast contorted in pain and anger.
"This is your solution, Strahm?" he growled at me. "You're that desperate you'd bring him in-"
"Woah, woah." Wren slapped him and grabbed his face. "I didn't say you could talk. Did I say you could talk? No, I didn't. No talking."
Keaton fell silent.
"Thank you." Wren then started walking around him, the way an interrogator might do to a suspect. "That's one thing I never did like about you feds; bunch of chatty Cathys, always yip yip yip yip yip." Here he made his hand into a puppet and made a speaking gesture. "You'd think they'd teach you at the academy to keep your mouths shut."
That shut Keaton up. Wren then stopped to examine the impaled hand.
"Mmm, tsk tsk...you might want to get that looked at, brother," he said, then laughed.
This was the Wren I had been afraid would surface. And once he surfaced, unless someone calmed him down, only two people or less would be walking out of here.
"Wren-"
He held up his hand to silence me. He was the one calling the shots now; all I could do was watch and intervene if possible, which I'm not saying it was.
"Now," he said, still pacing, "here's my problem. My problem is with a bunch of sissy pissy government boys that come down on hard working citizens, making them fear for their lives, detaining them, arresting them, torturing them, and then killing them...all over some guy in a cheap suit that pulls the pedo card. Really shows where the priorities lie in this government."
"We're protecting people," Keaton snarled, trying to ignore the numbing pain in his impaled hand. "From maniacs like you-"
"Oh, believe that, if it helps you sleep at night, but don't try to pass it off as truth. You're not a hero, Leslie, you're not a good guy. You're just like me; an off-the-boat psycho who gets off on hurting people-"
"Wren-"
"Now, what I don't get, is why you're trying to pass it off here. McLachlan's not here, and neither is her friend. No one here but me and Zeke. So why are you trying to sound like the good guy when we all know otherwise?"
"You are the killers. Both of you."
"Well, that's not very nice, is it? I mean, yeah, I've had some fun in my time, but I wouldn't hold that against me. And Zeke, calling Zeke a killer is like calling George Bush the best president of the last decade. It's just not accurate. Admit it, you're only after him because he found out what you and Fisky and all your other golden boys are up to-"
"He killed an upstanding citizen in cold blood-"
"He killed a momma's boy who was so emotionally empty inside that he thought he could worship an alien and think it was Christ Risen. Al Conaghan raped and murdered a few teens and tore apart someone we both knew and liked. Only reason the guy wasn't in jail in the first place was because your precious judicial system kept letting him off the hook. Now who's fucking fault was that? You know if you had just kept him behind bars, we probably could have avoided a lot of trouble."
Keaton said nothing.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. You could care less about ole' Al Conaghan, what's his death to you? Just another loose end tied up.”
“Wren, enough-”
“It’s enough when I say it’s enough. Whaddya think, Zee, should we send him back to Fisk in a box? A tiny box?”
I was about to argue when my phone decided to go off. Leaving them for just a minute, I walked off a brief distance to answer. It had to be Celeste or Violet or one of them, though why they were calling now, I didn’t know. Of course, I also didn’t know Cynthia had just tried to kill everyone.
“I’m busy.”
“Ze…Cy…ia…atta…”
“Celeste? You’re breaking up.”
“G…b…h…hu…”
“Celeste? Hey!”
I tapped my phone, but all I heard was static. I hung up to call her back when I had a bit of a flashback; when my walkie spazzed out that night in the warehouse.
No…no, no, not now. Definitely not now.
I went back to the other two. “We gotta leave.”
“In a minute.” Wren didn’t take his eyes off Keaton. “Now, let’s talk.”
“Wren.”
“Not now. I wanna ask some questions about-”
“Wren!”
“What? What? What is it?” He turned to me, face impatient, but that impatience seemed to leave when he saw how panicked I must have looked.
All I had to say was, “He’s here.” And he knew who I meant immediately.
“Oh, well, lovely!” He turned back to our agent friend, not panicking like me, almost delighted. “You ever seen the Slender Man in person before? Neither have I. Whaddya say we invite him over?”
Though he didn't say anything, or even move a muscle, I could tell he knew what that meant. Slender Man showing up was bad news all around. Not something he'd want to deal with. He silently shook his head.
“No?” Wren then took off Keaton’s shoe and sock from one foot. “Then why don’t you answer a couple questions of mine, huh?”
I pulled out my gun and turned my back to keep my attention on our surroundings. In my head I measured how much time approximately we had. Not much, but we might still make it out, so long as Wren hurried up.
“Where’s Fisk?”
“I don’t know-”
SNAP!
I heard him howl as Wren broke his first toe. I tried not to look.
“Where's Fisk?”
“I don't know,” growled Keaton under his breath. “He finds us, we never go to him.”
“Where was the last place you saw him?”
“Somewhere in Michigan.”
“Why was he there?”
“How the fuck would I know, I had my own job-”
SNAP! Second toe was cracked. Another howl.
“Tsk tsk, no need to get snippy with me.” Wren sounded mixed between amused and bored. I didn't know which worried me most. Still don't. “Alright, so, can't tell us about Top Dog. Fine. So tell me, why are you after runners?”
Keaton was panting by this point, but not giving in. Gotta hand the feds credit where its due, they're trained by the best. Then again, Wren wasn't an ordinary member of society either.
“That's classified informa-”
SNAP! He didn't yell this time, he did his best to keep it in, but when I finally turned his face was obviously one of pain.
“Better hurry this up, Leslie, 'cause I'm running out of toes.” Again, Wren showed no care to what he was doing. “Why does Fisk care whether or not people see Slender Man?”
“He doesn't...” Keaton glared at me. “But you already know why, don't you, Strahm?”
I would have replied. I would have. But then I got that feeling. That age-old paranoid feeling that I remembered all too well from the warehouse. Time was up.
“We're leaving.”
“But I'm not done-”
I didn't even let him whine. I didn't want to hear it. I just grabbed him by the scruff and hauled him out, leaving Keaton sitting against a table, hand pinned there by a knife, with three of his toes broken and a large bruise on his face. If the situation weren't so dire I'd have laughed at the sight.
“Hey!” he screamed. “Aren't you forgetting someone?!”
“You got yourself into that mess, get yourself out,” I said. I imagine I sounded pretty exasperated. I didn't care. Slender Man wasn't going to finish him. I just knew it.
We didn't see him that day. Or at least, I didn't. I don't know what Wren saw, if he saw anything. I didn't care. Any less chances I have to run into him, the better.
Hours later, we had Wren's car pulled into an alleyway while I loaded a few supplies in the back while he argued with me.
“Why am I leaving?” he asked me.
“Because you jammed a knife through a federal agent's hand and broke three of his toes, Wren.”
“Yeah? So? Let's be honest, this is not the worst thing I've ever done.”
“Do you not realize Fisk is going to bring everything he has after you?” I threw his duffel bag at him. “They're scared of you. Good reason, too.”
“Good! Let them be! It's about time we started scaring them back!”
“No. You're gonna get out of town, you're gonna lay low. You're gonna keep moving. And you're not going to cause any more grief to them.”
“What about you?” There was a tone in his voice, as if he was starting to suspect he was going to be making the trip alone.
He was right. “I'm gonna stick around. Just a little while longer.”
“What, I'm going to leave you down here to take them on by yourself?”
“Fisk doesn't scare me. Besides, we've got bigger fish to fry.” I finally stopped and turned to him. “Listen. Find Mary. Quick. Whatever she knows, we need. I'm counting on you for this.”
He sighed and shrugged. He didn't like it, but he didn't have to.
“You got it, Zee. Just be careful.”
“Always am.”
He got in the car, started the engine, stopped, then opened the door and poked his head out.
“Be careful about Keaton, Zee,” he warned me. “The guy's a psycho. I've already told you that, but today showed me he really is on my level. Guy never once showed fear. Psychos never do.”
“He showed pain.”
“'Course he showed pain. His hand got turned into a pin cushion and his little piggies got porked. Psychos aren't supermen, Zeke, it hurts like hell when someone cuts their skin just like it would a regular person. But just 'cause he feels the pain doesn't mean he's afraid of it. And that's the part you've got to remember.”
And he didn't waste any more words. He just got in that car and he took off. He's safe now, last I heard he was in New Jersey, looking for Mary. Getting closer, he said, though it could still be a while.
Meanwhile, while we were out, Cynthia Delmont decided to pay her parents a visit and almost turned Celeste and Violet into two of the latest corpses. Hence the phone call I received. The Delmonts are gone now, so there are just five of us still in the place. Makes my job a little easier.
I'm trying not to let my mind linger on it for too long. That's one thing I learned during last fall on my adventures. I'm just trying to get through the days.
Celeste just got a package in the mail. Should be posting about it soon.
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