Night in the Woods: The Final Night - Part 6

Chapter 6: The Lame Shall Enter First
Mae, Gregg, and Angus were sprawled out on the couch, watching Germ play video games. He was in the middle of battling some horrific black slime creature. All of a sudden, Gregg spoke up.

“So, who do you think did it?” Gregg said.

“Did what?” Mae asked.

“The murders!” Gregg said. “Who do you think did it?”

“Uh… I dunno. It could be anyone.” Mae said.

“What if it’s someone we know..?” Gregg asked in an exaggerated ghoulish voice,

“That would suck.” Angus said.

“Total suckitude. But we know it’s not any of us.” Mae said, scratching an itch on her nose.

“We do?” Gregg asked.

“Yeah we do! Don’t we?” Mae said.

“It’s not Gregg or me, since we’re witnesses to each other for the fire,” Angus replied. “We were both here. I was doing bills and Gregg was messaging you.”

“What if you guys planned the whole thing so it looked like you were both at home?” Mae said.

“Yeah, well, what if you set the fire yourself to cover up the fact that you killed the Pierogi Guy and Mr. Penderson?” Gregg rebutted.

“That’s true,” Mae said, tapping her chin. “But that’d mean I made the firebombs in my room, so I’d have to sneak a jerry can, empty beer bottles and rags up the stairs past mom and dad. They would’ve seen me.”

“Maybe Bea used some of the gas in her car to make those firebombs.” Germ chimed in, without looking away from the TV screen.

“Mmm… I dunno, she messaged me from her computer right before it happened. She wouldn’t have gotten any signal in my backyard, even if she was on her phone.” Mae said.

“What about you, Germ? What’s your alibi?” Angus asked.

“I was with the Crusties,” Germ said. “After band practice I bought them all sodas.”

“Huh. I guess we’ve all got pretty solid excuses.” said Gregg.

“You almost sound disappointed.” Angus replied with a faint smile. Gregg returned it before his ears perked up.

“What about Selmers?” Gregg asked.

“Nah. I would have seen her come down into the trolley tunnel, plus the killer uses bits from Flannery O’Malley stories, not poetry.” Mae said.

“O’Connor.” Angus corrected.

“Same thing. But you wanna know what really screws with me?”

“What’s that?” Angus asked.

“I can’t think of any, like, reason this would happen.” Mae said.

“You mean a motive?” Germ asked, eyes still glued to the television.

“Yeah, that. What do Penderson, The Pierogi Guy, and me have in common?” Mae asked.

“He might be picking people at random.” Gregg replied.

“Or she,” Mae said. “It could be a girl too.”

“I honestly don’t care about a motive,” Angus said. “What’s important is that all of us stay safe. We probably shouldn’t go out by ourselves, and I think we should make an agreement to be home, or at least behind a locked door by sundown.”

“I promised Gramma already.” Germ said.

“What about work? I don’t knock off until nine.” said Mae.

“I’ll talk to Denise about the schedule.” Angus replied. In all the time Mae had worked at the Video Outpost “Too,” she never met Denise, the store’s elusive manager, even once. She had been hired with no interview, just a welcome email and a schedule.

“Doesn’t Bea sometimes work late?” Gregg asked.

“Yeah, she does. But she’s at least got people that work with her.” Mae said.

“I thought they all quit.” Gregg sat forward, looking at Mae inquisitively.

“Nah, Danny’s still there, and there’s some high-school grad named Lacy working for the summer. Brooks has been gone since March.” Mae said.

“Oh yeah...” Gregg hissed.

“I still can’t believe her dad let that guy work around Bea.” Angus sighed.

The group fell silent after that, the conversation fizzling out after going down that depressing route. Germ’s character defeated a boss with hardly a scratch, the horrific creature giving an elaborate death wail before collapsing and dissolving into nothingness.

“You still got that Flannery book, Angus?” Mae asked.

“No. It was the library’s copy. Did you want to read it?”

“Well, it might be handy. I mean, we could look for things to, like, avoid, so we don’t get murderized.” Mae suggested.

“Holy shit. That’s a really good idea! Why didn’t the cops think of that?” Gregg demanded.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they checked it out for themselves. But we could see if it’s still there.” Angus said.

“Bike trip!” Mae exclaimed.

“Bike trip!” Gregg echoed, giving Angus an eager look. The bear stared back for a moment or two before shrugging.

“Sure. I could use some fresh air.”

“WOO!” Gregg leapt to his feet and went to find his keys. Angus stretched his arms, sighing a long grunt of effort before rising from the couch to follow the yellow fox.

“You wanna come, Germ?” Mae asked as she laced up her boots.

“Nah.” the little bird replied.

Mae felt a twinge of guilt, remembering how she rejected Germ’s advances on the ride through the woods. She knew she was in the right, but she grew queasy thinking about how much Germ did for her and wondered if there was any way she could have turned him down easier.

“Hey, dude… I, uh-” Mae sealed her lips when Gregg and Angus returned.

“You wanna stop by the Ol’ Pickaxe on the way, see if Bea wants to come?” Gregg asked as he pulled on his jacket.

“I don’t think she works on Sundays, so we’d have to swing by her apartment. But sure.” Mae said, putting on a smile.

“Germ, you with us, duder?” Gregg asked, tapping Germ on the shoulder.

“Nah.” Germ said again.

“Oookay. If you’re hungry, we’ve got chips and stuff!” Gregg led them out of the apartment and down to the bike rack, eyeing the bicycle Mae borrowed as he unlocked his own.

“I didn’t know you had a bike, Mae.” Angus said.

“It’s not mine, it’s Germ’s older sisters’s-es.” Mae replied, stumbling a bit over the apostrophe.

“Oh yeah, Snow White! I woulda thought it’d be pink.” Gregg said, pulling on his riding goggles.

“Germ’s sister is named Snow White?” Angus asked as he climbed on the back of the bike, wrapping his arms around Gregg’s torso.

“No, it’s… I’ll tell you when we get to the library.”

The three of them sped off down the street. Mae noticed how carefully Gregg rode when Angus was his passenger. He usually went out of his way to show off or ride close to obstacles, being especially fond of riding through puddles to make water wings. He said he earned extra points if he splashed a pedestrian. But with Angus, while still riding as quickly as ever, he took the safest routes and actually stopped at stop signs. Mae took the opportunity to blow past him when he stopped at the intersection.

“Hey, see you losers at-”

Mae was interrupted by the sound of squealing brakes and one long, frantic blast of a horn. She had rode directly in front of a passing station wagon, and, unable to get out of the way in time, felt it smash into her side. She flipped head-over-heels onto the front of the car, her boots resting on the windshield. Eve’s bicycle teetered over and landed in the middle of the street.

“Mae, what the hell?!” Bea climbed out of the driver’s seat and ran to the front of the car, Mae laying wide-eyed and open-mouthed on the hood. “Are you okay?! Can you hear me?”

Mae looked at Bea before smiling impishly. “You caaare about me, Beatwice…” she giggled, the shock steadily wearing off. Bea’s expression of panic wrinkled into a scowl.

“Ugh, get off my car!” she spat, shoving Mae’s legs away from her windshield, the cat sliding off of the hood and onto the pavement with a faint “Owie.” After making sure Mae was alright, Gregg had to clutch the stop sign to keep from collapsing with laughter.

Both Mae and the bicycle were relatively unharmed, Mae escaping with only a large bruise on her hip. Angus managed to explain the situation to Bea, and invited her along to the library. The alligator, relieved that her car and Mae were alright, agreed to meet them there after she bought a carton of cigarettes.

---

“So, where are we supposed to start?”

The third floor of the library felt more like a crypt than anything else. The silence was only ever broken by their own voices, and the dim overhead lights revealed little but the hundreds of dust motes floating throughout the room.Gregg pulled a random book off of a shelf and read the cover aloud.

“Selected Works of Samuel Beckett. Am I close?”

“Not really. He wrote plays.” Angus replied. Gregg shrugged and replaced the book. Mae couldn’t remember the last time she had seen the fox read a book for fun. To be fair, she almost never read recreationally either, only reading Selmers’ poetry and the other poets she recommended to Mae. Those were usually nice to read, when she could understand them.

“So where are we supposed to be looking?” Mae asked in a hushed voice.

“Books labelled ‘810’ are American Literature.” Angus murmured.

“810, 810, 810…” Gregg chanted to himself as he ran a hand along a row of weighty-looking books. He paused after a moment to frown at the smear of dust that gathered on his paw, wiping it off on the seat of his pants. “Gross.”

“Ooh! Ooh, over here!” Mae beckoned the two of them over to the shelf across the aisle. “I think that’s it!”

Mae pointed to the top most row of books, all labelled “810”, where a thick black volume rested, the spine reading “O’Connor” in an elegant white font.

“That’s the one.” Angus, already the tallest one there, needed to stand on his toes to reach the book. He brought it down to everyone’s eye level.

On the cover, there was a bird with horn-rimmed glasses and an old-fashioned haircut, smiling pleasantly away from the viewer with her chin rested on her knuckles. Beside it in the elegant and loopy font were the words The Complete Works of Flannery O’Connor, with a listing of all of her titles beneath it.

“That’s her? She looks kinda like Pastor K,” Mae said. “Just more… fifties.”

“She looks kinda sweet.” Gregg said.

“So, what are we going to do? Just read the whole thing?” Mae asked.

“No, I already did that. I was thinking I could look through the stories again and see how the significant deaths happen.” Angus said, opening the book up to its table of contents.

“Geez, that’s really frigging grim when you say it out loud.” Mae admitted.

“Whatever keeps us from ending up like Penderson.” Angus said.

“You need help with your research, Cap’n?” Gregg asked.

“Uh…” Angus paused, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish laugh. “I guess this is research, isn’t it?”

“No worries, Big Guy. We’re here to help! Like, uh, ants!” Mae said.

“Ants?” Gregg echoed, tilting his head.

“You know, like, how ants help each other? Right?” Mae looked between Gregg and Angus before huffing. “Forget it.” The three of them went over to the reading tables, lit by one of the dusty overhead lights.

“Well, I usually get a diet soda when I read. And I guess it might go faster if I can talk out loud and someone writes down what I say… It feels weird giving people orders.” Angus said, seating himself in one of the creaky wooden chairs.

“Diet Fiascola okay?” Mae asked.

“Yeah, thanks. There’s a machine by the first-floor bathrooms.” Angus slid a dollar and two quarters across the table.

“A buck fifty for one soda?!” Mae exclaimed, earning her a shush from Angus. “Sorry. But that’s too much money.”

“It is, but it’s closest. You got anything to write with, Bug?” Angus asked Gregg. Gregg furrowed his brow and patted his pockets, his eyes lighting up as he pulled out a blue ballpoint pen.

“Mrs. Wynorski forgot this when she signed her receipt, I guess I never took it out.”

“Good thing you did, or it would have gone into the wash again,” Angus smiled, looking at Mae. “Mae, do you think you could grab a sheet or two of printer paper while you’re down there? Pretty sure the front desk hands them out.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n.” Mae said, grabbing the money and saluting.

“Hey! That’s my thing!” Gregg cried, Angus shushing him.

Mae took the elevator down to the ground floor, taking the opportunity to look at the bruise left on her hip. Parting the fur revealed an ugly purple blemish on the delicate pink-white skin underneath. In the very center of the bruise was a brownish spot that reminded Mae of a potato peel. Touching it caused a dull burn of pain.

She struggled to pull her jeans back up as the elevator came to a stop, yanking the seat up onto her waist just as the door opened. She cursed herself, probably having gained even more weight since she came home. She thought her body resembled a plastic bag full of pudding, weak but large and jiggling in the least sexy places.

Mae retrieved the sheets of paper and then approached the Fiascola machine, emblazoned with a picture of a yellow fox in shades leaning against the border of his picture, holding an open can of soda. Mae always told Gregg he could go as that guy for Harfest, with her suggestion always denied since Gregg thought he “looked nothing like him.” Mae slid the dollar bill into the slot, only for it to be spat back out with an angry beep.

“What? Come on!” Mae flattened and creased the dollar against the machine, attempting again with no luck. “Gah, chew and swallow, you effing-!”

“It’s upside down.” Bea came out of the women’s restroom, drying her hands on a wad of brown paper towels.

“Oh.” Mae flipped the dollar over and tried again, the machine accepting the bill without any fuss. “Thanks. When’d you get here?”

“Barely a minute ago. How’s your wound?” Bea asked.

“It only hurts if I touch it.” Mae dropped in the two quarters and pressed the button for a Diet Fiascola. The machine gave a faint whirr followed by a metallic thunk near the bottom, Mae retrieving the soda. “Hey, it’s actually cold. Pretty much every can I ever bought was room temp at best.”

“The library can probably afford to repair their drink machine if they can afford three floors worth of books.” Bea replied.

“True.”

The two of them went to the elevator, Bea pressing the call button with her thumb before relaxing against the wall with her phone out.

“So how’s staying at Germ’s?” she asked without looking up.

“Uh, good. He’s got a big house. I pretty much have my own floor.” Mae said.

“So they’re rich? Doesn’t surprise me. I think a lot of his family’s in construction.” Bea said.

“Why do you think that?” Mae asked.

“Why else would he have dynamite?” Bea replied. “Even Germ couldn’t find that just laying around.”

With a shrill ding, the elevator opened up, the two girls stepping inside and riding up towards the third floor.

“About last night. In the car,” Bea said after a lengthy bit of silence. “I meant what I said, about talking to me if you need it.”

“I know, that was real badass of you.”

“No, really, seeing you cry like that made me think of when I lost Mom. I remember how alone I felt.” Bea crossed her arms.

“Oh. Uh… I’m still sorry I wasn’t there…” Mae said.

“I know, but you drew the shit stick this time, and you’ve treated me alright since you got back, so...”

The elevator doors slid open.

“Thanks.” Mae said, a small smile on her lips.

Bea simply nodded and went out, Mae following behind her with the soda and paper.

---

About an hour later, the four of them left the library, Angus rattling off a plan for the evening aloud.

“So, I’ll type up the research and send it out tonight. Mae, you can have the original copy once I’m done with it. Or I could just print you off a typed copy at home if you can’t read my writing.”

“Your handwriting’s a gazillion times better than mine, Big Guy. But before we go back to the apartment, you think we could stop by Selmers’ house?”

“Fine with me.” Angus said.

“No complaints.” Bea added

“You wanna make sure she’s okay?” Gregg asked.

“Well, yeah, and there’s someone I wanted to talk to,” Mae said. “You guys remember Mr. Chazokov?”

“Course, the astronomy teacher.” Bea said.

“He lives with Selmers, and he stands on her roof to use his telescope. I want to know if he talked to the cops, I said he might be a potential witness?”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go!” Gregg cried.

It was a short ride to the Forrester’s, made even shorter by the fact that it was mostly downhill. Mae paid close attention to all traffic signals this time, actually stopping at the intersection.

“You guys go on ahead, I’m gonna go park.” Bea called out of her window, turning down a different street towards her apartments’ parking garage. Mae and Gregg cruised to a stop at the bottom of the hill, leaving their bikes on the sidewalk in front of the Forrester’s.

“I’ll keep watch. Not taking any chances after last night.” Gregg said, standing beside the two bicycles. That left Angus and Mae to head up to the porch, Mae ringing the doorbell.

“She’s usually sitting out here, isn’t she?” Angus asked.

“Uh, yeah..?” Mae swallowed and rang the doorbell again, only for the door to open a few moments later.

“Hey dork,” Selmers, in a gray T-Shirt and sweatpants, smiled and leaned against the doorframe. “Hey Angus. Thought you were the pizza boy.”

“Selmeeers,” Mae gave her girlfriend a quick hug, not sure if her parents were around. “I’m doing alright. Uh, question, do you know if the cops talked to Mr. Chazokov?”

“Mr. Chazokov? Not that I know of. You want to ask him?” Selmers pointed a thumb over her shoulder.

“Sure.”

Selmers let Mae inside, looking at Angus. “You can come in too, if you want.”

“Oh, right, sorry. Thank you.” Angus briefly glanced at Gregg before entering as well.

Selmers’ living room was dimly lit but cozy. A plush green couch with a colorful quilt draped over the back sat against the left wall, a recliner of the same color and fabric positioned across from it in front of a small flat-screen television. A linoleum path leading off to the kitchen stood to the right, and a set of stairs curling upward into the house began in the top-right corner, sunlight filtering down from them.

“My folks are off playing Canasta with some friends, so it’s just me and Mr. Chazokov. He said he was spending this weekend writing lesson plans, so he’s been cooped up in his room.” Selmers said, leading them up the stairs.

“How long has he lived with your family?” Angus asked.

“Few years, I think? Ever since they tore down his old condo.”

The upstairs hallway was brightly lit by a large window at the end of the hallway. Two doors stood on each side, and another set of stairs led further up on the right, presumably to the roof. Selmers stopped at the first door on the left, knocking.

“Mr. Chazokov?” Selmers called. She frowned and pressed her ear to the door before knocking again.

“Maybe he’s on the roof?” Mae suggested.

“Nah, he’s probably got headphones on.” Selmers tried the door and opened it up. “Mr. Chazokov?”

A sound Mae had never heard Selmers make before made both her and Angus jump. A sharp, rattling gasp as she clapped a hand over her mouth and stumbled backwards into the wall. Mae turned to look inside and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Mr. Chazokov was upright and limp, dressed in his pajamas with his toes dangling just a few inches off of the ground. A length of cord hung from the ceiling fan, snugly wrapped about his neck. His warm and friendly eyes were half-shut, staring forlorn at the carpet. A note was taped to his chest.

Mae didn’t remember who found their voice first, but whoever it was began to scream.