Night in the Woods: The Final Night - Part 3

Chapter 3: A Circle in the Fire
Mae stared at her reflection in the one-way mirror. She looked tired. She wondered if the person watching on the other side, if there was anyone there to begin with, ever made faces at criminals sitting in the interrogation room. She knew she would. Lots of horrible people must have sat where she was currently sitting, so why wouldn’t a cop take the opportunity to flip them off or something behind the safety of the mirror? It probably felt good.

The hallway door opened, and Mae’s Aunt Molly entered the room, followed by a goat who also wore a police badge. Molly carried a large pink box with the Donut Wolf logo emblazoned on top, promising “Fantastic Yums!”

“Evening, Mae.” Molly said, setting the box down on the table. Mae felt her stomach rumble greedily, her appetite re-emerging as soon as the scent of warm, sugary dough reached her nose. The goat officer stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed, while Molly made herself comfortable in the folding chair opposite Mae. She took a pen and pad out of her uniform, removing the pen cap with her teeth and sticking it onto the dull end, flipping to an unused page. “Those are for you, too.” Molly flicked the box open with her pen, revealing an assortment of donuts.

“Thanks.” Mae said, taking a chocolate-covered donut and scarfing it down, grabbing a glazed one as soon as she finished.

“So, you saw something disturbing tonight, didn’t you?” Molly asked.

“Yup.” Mae said, her mouth full of fried dough.

“Tell me how it happened.” Molly said, crossing her legs.

“Well… I was hungry, so I went into the Trolley Tunnel at about seven. The Pierogi Guy wouldn’t take my money, and I left…” Mae began.

“He wouldn’t take your money? Why?” Molly asked.

“He still thinks- ...thought I was a thief. I stole a few pretzels from his stand in high school and he was still sore over it.”

The officer in the corner chuckled. “That sounds like Ramsey. Man could hold a grudge.” Mae felt her guts churn a little bit. For the longest time, Mae only knew the Trolleyside News cook as either “The Pierogi Guy” or “Douche Bag.” Hearing his real name reminded her that he was a real person, probably with a family.

“Go on, Mae.” Molly said.

“Right. I, uh, I went up the stairs, and then I heard something. Like a fight and a scream. I went back down and I saw him on the floor.”

Molly wrote a few things down on her pad. “Did you see anyone enter or leave the tunnel before the commotion? After it?” she asked.

“No. I think I heard someone run away, but I didn’t see anybody.” Mae cleared her throat a bit before speaking up. “You don’t think I did it, do you?”

The other officer snorted, Molly shooting him a look before turning back to Mae.

“No, Mae, I don’t.” Molly said.

“Even with all of my psycho stuff?” Mae asked weakly.

“Your… episode doesn’t match up with anything we’ve seen from this, Mae. This was a planned, deliberate attack.” Molly explained. “Besides, if you were guilty, why would you come to the police?”

“They left a note too, right?” Mae asked.

Molly looked up from her pad, her face severe. The other cop stood up much straighter.

“Yes. How did you know?” Molly asked.

Mae hesitated. She didn’t want to tell her aunt that she shared the contents of the note with anybody, as that would just get her in more trouble, possibly even her friends.

“I saw it. I’m not stupid. I wrote down the other one before you took it and searched online. Here.” Mae took out the crumpled copied note from her pocket and handed it to Molly, her colleague coming over to examine it.

“You didn’t show this to anyone?” Molly said after a moment.

“No.” Mae lied.

“Are you sure?” Molly’s partner asked.

“Yeah!”

Molly and her partner looked at each other, the goat taking a strawberry cream donut and munching on it contemplatively.

“Mae, are you absolutely sure there was no one else near the scene? We need a second opinion. Now, you’re not in any trouble, but you ARE our only witness and we need a clear picture of what happened.”

“No.” Mae said. That was the truth. “The last person I talked to was Selmers a minute or two before I went downstairs.”

“Who’s Selmers?” The other cop asked.

“Selma Ann. My bad.” It felt impolite to call her girlfriend anything but her nickname. It was like calling her parents by their first names, you just didn’t do it.

“Selma Ann Forrester.” Molly said.

“Isn’t she the one that stole codeine from the Panther’s pharmacy?” The other cop chimed in, licking his fingers free of icing.

“She’s clean now.” Mae replied defensively. “And she’s my girlfriend.”

“Do you know where she went after you two spoke?” Molly was busily writing something down.

“Home. I saw her go inside. She’s not too far from the church steps.” Mae said. “But there’s no way she could’ve done it.”

“How’s that?” The other cop asked, wiping his mouth with a Donut Wolf napkin.

“The only other way into the tunnel is under Miller’s a ways away, and I would have seen her use the entrance under the stairs.” Mae said.

“Hm.” was Molly’s reply.

“Could she have seen anybody enter or exit the tunnel?” The other cop asked.

“Doubt it. Her house doesn’t really get a good view.”

Molly took a few more notes before closing her book. “Thanks for your help, Mae. Your father and Candy should be waiting out in the lobby.”

“...That’s it?” Mae asked.

“That’s it.” Molly replied.

“Oh. For some reason I thought you were going to like… grill me.” Mae admitted. “Like, good cop bad cop, straight-man loose cannon type deal.”

“Only good cops at this station, Mae.” Molly replied, smiling a little. “I’ll have Officer Palahniuk escort you out.”

Mae followed the other cop with the funny sounding name through the police station, munching on her third donut. It was a pretty small place, most of the building taken up by the large office area where the cops did their paperwork. They only had two interrogation rooms, and Mae had never seen any jail cells. Never coherently, anyway.

“Oh! I just thought of a person that might have seen something! Mr. Chazokov! He’s up on his roof all the time!” Mae exclaimed.

“Chazokov. I’ll remember that, thank you.” The other officer replied tersely. He stopped in front of the exit door and turned to look down at Mae. “Listen to me. Don’t spread word about the notes. Possum Springs doesn’t need another scandal.”

“Uh… okay?” Mae said.

“I mean it. Folks are still reeling from those people just up and disappearing last November, you go blabbing about a killer and you’ll be pouring salt on a great big wound. Got it?”  The officer pointed a finger at Mae.

“I got it.” Mae squeaked.

The officer slowly retracted his finger, turning and walking away. Mae blinked a few times, wondering if what the cop just did was legal or not. The exit door behind her buzzed and opened automatically, leaving her facing the wrong direction when her parents, who were fretting in the waiting area, rushed up to see her.

“Mae!” Mae’s mother spun her around and trapped the cat in a spine-snapping hug.

“Ack! Mom- fine- can’t breathe-” Mae choked out with a weak cough. Her mother released her and placed her paws on Mae’s shoulders.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that, pumpkin…Are you okay?!” Her mother said, a faint quaver in her voice.

“Mom, I’m fine. Really.” Mae surprised herself with how much she meant that statement. She wasn’t sure if it was shock, or the fact that until today, the victim was just another nameless jerk to her, but she felt perfectly calm.

“Come on, kitten, let’s get you home.” her father said, leading her out to the car.

Her parents questioned her just as much as the police on the ride home, demanding to know what she saw, how she felt, and if she was absolutely sure she was okay. Mae answered every question, the unusual calmness in her belly keeping her patience from being tested. When she arrived home, her mother heated up some chili for her, which she gratefully dug into. Those donuts did nothing for her appetite, and she ended up inhaling two servings of the stuff, wandering off to bed full of beans, beef, melted cheese and cornbread.

She turned the lights off in her room, flopping onto her bed and crawling under the covers with her laptop. After opening it, her desktop chirped that she had received new messages.

Gregg: “DUDER are you alright?!!?!”

Bea: “Everything okay, Mae?”

Mae assured both of them that she was, indeed, okay. If she had a nickel for every time somebody had asked her if she was okay the past two days alone, she could have bought a three course meal at Pastabilities and still have enough to tip the waitress.

Gregg: “First Penderson now Ramsey the Pierogi guy, I’m seriously bummed now”

Mae was startled to hear that Gregg knew the Trolleyside News guy’s name too. He must have got along with him better since she hadn’t ever seen Gregg steal pretzels. He must have filched everything he needed from the Snack Falcon.

Bea: “I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you, I had paperwork to do at home since my dad has another ‘migraine.’ Been in bed all day.”

Mae: “It’s fine, Beabea. And I really am okay, I’ve seen dead bodies before.”

Bea: “I doubt it was a good time regardless. Did you see another note?”

Mae: “Yeah. The cops told me not to tell anyone, but eff the cops. Something weird about music stuck in a hole in someone’s head.”

Bea: “You might want to ask Angus. I’ll search for it anyway.”

Mae: “You’re right, and thanks.”

Mae then messaged Gregg.

Mae: “Dude, I know I’ve got Angus’s contacts, but do you think you could ask if he knows about a story where someone gets a hole in their head they can hear music through?”

Gregg: “You mean ears?”

Mae: “No, an actual hole. It was on a note near Pierogi Guy’s body.”

Gregg: “Oh shit another stalker letter?!”

Gregg: “Yeah no problem brb”

Mae only had to wait about a minute before Gregg messaged back.

Gregg: “Angus said there’s a story called a late encounter with the enemy where something like that happens, but get this-”

Gregg: “It’s also by that flannery person!”

Mae: “So someone stabbed the guy and left another note by the same lady?”

Gregg: “Dude, this is definitely a serial killer! Holy shit holy shit!”

Bea sent another message to Mae.

Bea: “You won’t believe this. I looked up what you said, and it’s from another O’Connor story.”

Mae: “I know! Angus said the exact same thing like two seconds ago! How nuts is that?!”

Bea: “This is starting to freak me out.”

Mae: “Me too! Should we do something?”

Bea: “What’s that mean?”

Mae: “What if this is like another cult thing?”

Bea: “It’s not.”

Mae: “How do you know? Those assholes could be back!”

Bea: “No. All of them are rotting where they belong. And they tried operating in secret when they were still making sacrifices, this guy wants to call attention to himself. It doesn’t add up.”

Mae: “Maybe that’s what they want us to think!”

Bea: “You realize how cliche that sounds, right?”

Mae: “Whatever. I’m going to go check anyway.”

Bea: “All the collapsed rock could trap you inside.”

Mae: “Well then why don’t you come with me?”

Bea: “Because I know they’re all dead.”

Mae: “Aaagggh.”

Bea: “It’s been almost a year, Mae. These two killings can’t be related to all that. Just let it go.”

Mae: “It’s not easy having to-”

Mae didn’t complete her message. She was jerked out of the online world by the sound of shattering glass and the stench of gasoline. She threw the covers off and immediately had to squint due to the bright tongues of fire licking at her dresser and bed.

“What the hell?!” she yelled, scrambling backwards from the blaze that had erupted on her rug. She looked around for what could possibly have caused it, cursing aloud when she remembered she had opened her window. Mae wanted to make sure her room aired out, as the two bowls of her mom’s chili were sure to have their revenge in a few hours. Besides, the summer night was warm and breezy, and if any creep somehow managed to climb the wall up to the third floor, she slept right beside her baseball bat and could knock their block off before they even climbed over her. What she failed to realize was that someone could throw something.

Mae gasped as another projectile rocketed into the room through her open window. It was a beer bottle with a smoking, burning rag stuffed into the neck. It shattered against her wall, splashing hot gasoline that quickly caught fire onto piles of discarded clothes and old food wrappers. Another cocktail swooshed past Mae, inches from her right ear, and burst directly in front of her bedroom door.

“HEY! STOP THAT!” Mae roared out her window, coughing from the rapidly accumulating smoke that smelled of dirty underwear and potato chips. From her view on the third floor, she could see a figure standing in her backyard, silhouetted by firelight and holding another smouldering bottle in one hand. She grabbed for her bat, yowling in pain when she touched its now burning handle. The wooden bat, flickering with fire, fell from her paw and rolled suicidally into the growing inferno that used to be her rug.

Mae slammed her window shut just as the figure below threw their fourth firebomb, which shattered against the sturdier glass, the burning rag fluttering out of sight and gasoline dribbling down onto the window pane. Mae coughed again, realizing she just trapped all of the smoke inside with her. She wanted to open her window, but she couldn’t be sure if the psychopath down there was all out of ammunition. The path to her door was choked with fire, and jumping out of her window would break her leg at the very least, leaving her crippled and at the mercy of the person currently trying to kill her. She vaguely remembered that she was supposed to wrap a wet rag around her nose and mouth to keep the smoke out, but she had neither a rag or any water. Mae climbed over the foot of her bed and knelt close to the floor, mustering up enough air to scream.

“MOOOM! DAAAD! HELP MEEE!” Mae’s cry for help devolved into another coughing fit as her lungs tried substituting air with smoke. She honestly considered running barefoot through the fire, but the smoke had grown so thick that she couldn’t see the door. She might be left stumbling around for the doorknob, slowly shriveling into a black, crispy husk.

Mae climbed back up onto the bed and opened the door, gulping in fresh air before slamming it shut. Another molotov sailed through the air and cracked the window glass, small embers beginning to smolder on the sill.

Over the crackling of fire and blood roaring in her ears, Mae heard a heavy thud against her door and frantic voices. Mae coughed raggedly, falling onto her bed in a desperate attempt to gulp in some of the oxygen the fire hadn’t consumed yet. She felt her brain crust over. Another thud against her door snapped the lock and forced it open, revealing two shadows.

“Mae! Kitten, are you in there?!” yelled a voice that sounded suspiciously similar to her father’s.

“Stan, get out of the way!” a voice that sounded like her mother shouted. A figure emerged through the fire, wrapped in a blanket and wearing a wet rag over their mouth. Mae felt herself scooped up and carried through the smoke, down the stairs.

“You’re on fire!” the father-like voice cried. Mae blinked through clouded eyes up at the determined face of her mother, adamantly charging forward and casting the burning blanket over the banister of the stairs. Fresh air struck Mae like a splash of ice water, which she accidentally gulped in all at once and began coughing uncontrollably.

“Mae, breathe, hon, breathe!” her mother said, sitting her on the porch. Mae hacked and wheezed for a good thirty seconds before she was finally able to speak.

“...A guy threw… bottles into my room… full of fire… fiery bottles…” she croaked.

“What? Mae, are you sure?” her mother asked. “Stan, go check out back!”

“Now?!” her father cried, pointing to the house as though he was the only person aware it was on fire.

“Yes, now! And grab a knife!”

Her father ran back into the house, pausing to clumsily stomp out the burning blanket left on the floor before stumbling into the kitchen.

“We called the fire department, hon. You stay here and rest, okay? I’m going to try my hand at firefighting.”

With that, Mae’s mother went inside as well, grabbing a bucket from the kitchen and rushing outside to fill it with water from the spigot. Mae leaned against her porch railing, breathing raggedly. She dimly noticed the note taped to her front door. When her father came outside armed with the house’s largest vegetable knife and went around back, Mae climbed to her feet and yanked the note off the door.

“She stood taut, listening, and could just catch in the distance a few wild high shrieks of joy as if the prophets were dancing in the fiery furnace, in the circle the angel had cleared for them.”

Mae spat on the note, crumpling it up and throwing it out into her front yard.