Detective Gram yawned, causing tears to well. He wiped his whole face in response. Frustrated, tired hums kept escaping from his throat. He was very exhausted and not happy about it. The drive was silent even so. There was only the ambient noise of rubber rolling on the road and the engine working as it should which lulled him further. Taking a drag on his cigarette, the bitter taste of ash on his tongue helped to keep him awake.
He had been on this case since Marcy escaped the Mim Melody Psych Facility. But before that, during the prior night, he was on a stakeout. Fair to say he had been up for nearly two days straight. He had already finished smoking a pack in that time. All he wanted was to be done with this as soon as possible.
The interrogation was started right here to hurry the process along as well as act as some kind of distraction that would keep him awake, “How did you escape?”
“Beginning with the questions already?” Marcy bantered.
“Better to get them out of the way,” he was not shy to admit. “The sooner I determine what to do with you, the sooner I can get some sleep.”
“Then why not start with a more important question?” she wondered.
“I prefer to start where things begin, not when things get exciting, and then go back,” he clarified. “Though, if I am to mean what I say, the first thing I should ask is, are you responsible for what happened at the Balic Building?”
“No,” Marcy answered with an honest and reserved attitude, deciding not to drag the conversation on with excessive detailing. She rested back to relax during the conversation they were about to have.
The detective pondered on her answer, tapping his finger on the steering wheel. He seemed to accept what she said by moving on to the next question without the need to debate, “My previous question, how did you escape?”
“Would you believe I used magic?” Marcy was unsure of speaking the truth.
“You keep asking if I will believe,” he mentioned. “Doesn’t sound like you’re confident in what you say. But if those are your reasons, then those are your reasons. So, magic?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Your frankness makes me feel comfortable.”
The detective moved on without acknowledging her compliment, “What happened in the woods?”
“I was attacked by a group of Witch Hunters,” she revealed. “I killed four of them in self-defense.”
“Witch Hunters, you say?” He absorbed the detail without bias. “And you’re a Witch? That makes you their mortal enemy. But . . ?” He did not just want to ask a series of questions in repetition. So, he chose carefully, “Why were you in the woods in the first place?”
“In the explosion downtown,” Marcy thought about how to explain, “I wasn’t involved like I said, but a friend of mine’s brother was caught up in it. He went missing afterward, and we were trying to get him back.”
“Resurrecting the dead?” He presumed.
“No,” she corrected. “He’s trapped in another world. We were trying to open a Gateway to bring him back.”
“Alright,” he accepted without jesting, “inter-dimensional portals. How involved were your friends?”
“With what exactly?” Marcy avoided answering. She wanted the question to be more specific. The last thing she would risk doing was implicate her friends by saying everything.
“Hm.” He realized he might have asked the question too soon. “Okay, I’ll ask that question again when I know the extent of what happened. So, instead, answer this, how did ‘You’ kill four men?”
“I’m a lot stronger than I look.”
“Like some kind of monster?” Not meant as an insult, just a description. “They appeared torn up by an animal.”
“Yes, like a monster,” she was not ashamed of considering herself to be such a thing.
“They interrupted you during your ritual and got killed,” the detective iterated the facts that he knew so he knew what question to ask next, “What about the other two? If you didn’t kill them, who did?”
“I guess you could say a ghost was responsible,” she answered to the best of her ability since she was also not completely certain of how they had died.
Detective Gram tapped his finger some more. He continued to remain unjudgmental by casually moving on, “There was gunfire and an explosion at the old brewery that same night. On the scene, we found the night guards incapacitated and two still unidentified bodies, one body severely burned and the other decapitated. How involved were you?”
“That was us,” she confessed. “Our friend had been kidnapped, and we were getting her back. I’m responsible for those deaths.”
“You killed them?” he asked suddenly as if he was a bloodhound that caught a scent.
“Why would I lie?”
“That was a deflection,” he remarked. “Answer yes or no.”
She chose to say neither.
Her silence was enough for him to declare, “You’re lying to me about something.” His finger tapped away. “But why? You’ve been so cooperative up to this point.”
“I’m not lying,” she stressed.
“Not completely,” he somehow understood. “Did you decapitate the man?” he asked even if silence was all he got. “Did you burn the body?” His finger stopped tapping. “Hm. There’s something with the burned body. It wasn’t you, was it? You’re trying to cover up for one of your friends. Which one?”
Marcy was very concerned that he could deduce the truth from her single lie and her lack of responses that followed. Then her feelings became a soft anger. “I have the right to remain silent.”
“I’ll just have to ask your friends personally then,” he pressured.
Marcy tightened her posture as her face became blank to hide her sudden anger. She had been provoked by the threat. This was not a conventional cop car with a barrier between the front and back seats. Nothing actually separated them except for her kindness and that was now wearing thin. She began to slowly lean forward, and her hands gripped the shoulders of the front seat.
“What’s this idiot doing,” the detective voiced as he was looking into his side mirror.
Marcy was curious enough to turn and look herself.
The car that had been pulling up behind them was now trying to overtake them even with a double line dividing the road. The move was very illegal. To be committing it against a police officer was truly reckless and Detective Gram really wanted to pull them over. However, having Marcy in the back made upholding the law in this matter difficult. He had to get her back quickly meaning he had to let this go.
But the car did not pass as expected, instead, matched speed and slowly turned into them. This was not a side swipe but more of a push to make them stop. Detective Gram did not slow down even though that would have been the safest thing to do in the situation. The fact that was the intent of this other driver made him oppose complying. He just pressed back to keep from being pushed into the shoulder of the road.
His decision was what made things go wrong. Headlights of an oncoming car beamed from around the bend up ahead. The driver of the harassing car must have panicked. They tried to pull away and slow down which caused them to jerk, then they overcorrected and slammed right into the detective’s car, pushing him beyond the shoulder into the railing. The force of two vehicles broke the barrier and both went over the side.
Olivia woke with an excruciating headache that felt like the entire world must have been split in half. Her sore, stiff, slow body searched around wherever she was because she had completely forgotten. But whatever she touched did not make much sense because there was no real sensation in her hands. In fact, the feel of her entire body was off. It was as if she was falling up. And, when her arms went limp, they went over her head. That was when she realized she was hanging upside down.
Her arms began to move without a known reason, merely acting with instinct. She grabbed the strap that was across her chest and her other hand found the belt buckle. Pressing the button dropped her on her head. The hit, however, did not affect her since she was already feeling greatly debilitated.
Rolling around sounded like the sharp scattering of pebbles. What she was feeling on her skin were small, glass fragments that left nicks and embedded themselves in her palms and forearms. A broken window was eventually found. She pulled herself out of the cramped space onto cold earth.
Only as she slowly got to her feet did she realize, with her coherency now returning, her sight was distorted like a foggy window. Her mind was just as in a fog. And she was having a hard time breathing like inhaling smoke. She braced herself against what was next to her so she could recover. The blood slowly left her head, and she began to feel better.
As her vision came back, she was drawn to look upward toward the sky. The hue of brilliant orange was overtaking the deep-violet night. The day was breaking. The beautiful sight also acted like a clock that told her she must have been unconscious for several hours.
The cause of her lapse came back. She looked at the thing she had placed her hand against, the thing she had crawled out from, the thing she had been allowed to borrow and had crashed. Mark’s car was now just a heap. She felt bad but also felt a great sense of relief. Somehow, she had survived this wreckage. To be so lucky felt like a one-in-a-million chance. That fact had her worried because she was not the only one that went over the side of the road.
Her concern had her acting quicker. She turned to find the other car nearby on its side, and though she did not know what she could do, she hurried over. Moving around to the back found the rear window shattered and that became her way in. Marcy was right there for Olivia to pull out. Fortunately, injuries were minor or had already healed. But Marcy was still unconscious, so she was left to lie on the ground for the time being.
Olivia then went to the front of the car because her conscience would not let her leave the man trapped inside. But the front window, certainly badly cracked, was not broken open, meaning she could not get to him. In an attempt to remove the barrier between them, she found a large rock to help her breakthrough. The first throw failed. Her second throw fared the same. Going to pick the rock up for a third attempt, she came to a stop.
Marcy had stepped in from around the car with a serious demeanor. However, the person the emotion was being projected at was not certain nor ever made clear. She approached the car, piercing her fingers through the frame and tearing the window off with ease. Detective Gram was dragged out.
“You’re very considerate,” Marcy gave the compliment to Olivia after setting the detective in a safe place. “You know, his life wouldn’t have been in danger if we left him.”
“I guess it didn’t feel right leaving him in there,” Olivia felt responsible. “It was my fault in the first place.”
“You are very reckless,” Marcy said with a smile making what could have been an insult into something more flattering. “I never would have expected that from you.”
“Well, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Olivia expressed. “I was just trying to slow his car down.”
“Then you panicked,” Marcy filled in what followed. “Even if that had worked, what would you have done after?”
“I guess I didn’t think that far ahead,” Olivia admitted. “But I knew I had to do something. We can’t be splitting up right now with Witch Hunters still out there.”
Marcy was shaking her head with some sense of disappointment yet still had a curl to her lips. “Emily said the same thing. Though, I doubt she would have gone about this this way. But what’s done is done. Alright. Let’s go back before the detective wakes.”
“Okay but …” Olivia hung on to the end of her words and her feelings before saying them, “I’m … upset with you. And I’m upset with everybody. You all told me to go home. And I was going to. Then I saw you get arrested, and I knew I needed to do something. Maybe it was stupid but … I’m a part of this now. Ever since I was kidnapped. Ever since Andrew went missing. This involves me. Don’t tell me to leave. For my safety or not. Because … when you say that, you’re not looking out for me, you’re looking out for a nobody woman who got dragged into this. That person is not me because I choose to be here just like the rest of you. Get it? Respect it. I’ll yell at the others later. But for now, that’s what I needed to say. I’m ready to get out of here.”
“I’m sorry for disregarding you,” Marcy knew an apology was in order. “I think it’s fair to say you have a place in our circle. So, let’s get back to the others. The fastest way would be to get back to the road. Let’s head up the hill. It isn’t that high or steep. I can carry you if you need me to.”
“I’ll try to walk as much of the way on my own,” was her way of agreeing.
“Just know that you can lean on me whenever you need.”
With no more discussion, the two were off.
Detective Gram opened his eyes mere seconds after the women had left due to the fact that he had been awake the entire time. Around when the rock was being thrown at the windshield did he start to stir. He used his feigned unconsciousness to eavesdrop. His intention was to obtain information, and he had succeeded in that regard. It seemed the idea of Witch Hunters was not a lie, or at least an assumed truth, and that they did, in fact, abduct one of the women. The new information had him considering what actions to take. A lot still being unknown and the fact he still had a job to perform meant recapture and continued questioning was necessary. The façade was ended, and he got up and began to follow.
With the climb up the hillside being more difficult than expected, Olivia did end up asking for help and did not let herself feel bad about doing so. Maybe she did not want to be useless anymore. But being stubborn against relying on others would only make her a hindrance. So, she accepted her limits.
Marcy pressed up and through the dense shrubbery of bundled branches and thick leaves while carrying Olivia. The obstacles and extra challenge did not add any difficulty and the top was found quickly. Once over the twisted barrier and back on the road, Olivia was let down. Then they began what would be a long walk back. But no more than a couple of steps had been taken when the click of a gun’s hammer brought Marcy to a stop which had Olivia stop just the same.
“I didn’t sense you there,” Marcy said in surprise as she turned around. “Or hear you. Or even smell you.”
“I wouldn’t be a good detective if people could tell I was following them,” Detective Gram remarked.
“True,” she understood the idea, “But you must be some kind of remarkable man to hide so well from me.”
“Just devoted to my duties,” he excused any notion of being special. “Which is why I can’t let you go.”
“Will you shoot if I refuse?” she tested.
Detective Gram had been implementing trigger discipline even after cocking the hammer back. To answer her, he slid his finger onto the trigger. “Seems I can and am willing to.”
“Odd way to phrase that,” was her now assuming there must be a special reason.
“Wait!” Olivia moved in front of Marcy.
Detective Gram returned to his trigger discipline as soon as his gun was pointed at a different target. However, he did not seem to be the reason his finger was no longer on the trigger, and he was made annoyed. “Out of the way.”
“No,” Olivia refused.
“It’s okay,” Marcy tried to get Olivia out of the dangerous situation.
“I said no,” Olivia refused again and then yelled at Marcy, “Sometimes you need to ask for help, too.” Then to the detective, “There’s so much going on right now that someone like you would never understand. Maybe Marcy has done some questionable things, but without her, more people might die.”
“I’m sure more people will die either way,” Detective Gram fully expected.
“I’m not going to argue against that,” with a defeatist tone, Olivia accepted that the loss of life was most likely inevitable. “But I don’t want those people to be …” friends seemed too soon of a word having only met them and gotten to know them a day ago, but they were, “those important to me.”
“So, you’d take the lives of others?” He drew out an answer. “You know they may be important to someone as well, right?”
“I’d prefer nobody dies,” Olivia wanted above all. “We’ll do whatever’s in our power to avoid that. But I can’t say they intend the same. And if we must,” ‘kill’ was the word she refused to say, “then we will.”
“Why didn’t you try relying on the authorities?” He called to mind.
Olivia became baffled by the question because, she, too, began to think the same question.
Marcy was the one to answer, “I’m still on the run from them. Furthermore, who would believe we were being attacked by Witch Hunters?”
“You could have tried,” he presented the option.
“I tried to three years ago,” she bared her past. “Curse of Silence or not, I tried. Look what that got me. Nobody cared. I was labeled insane and locked away in a padded cell.”
Detective Gram expressed disappointment with a pause, but he pushed sympathy aside, “That has nothing to do with what’s going on now. You should have tried again.”
“I’m guessing it’s too late now,” Marcy assumed she no longer had the option.
“You’re right,” he confirmed. “Maybe, in the very beginning, I could have done something. But you wrecked my car and are trying to escape custody again. The law needs to be upheld. You’re coming with me one way or another. You’re both coming with me.” Then, with an accusative stare, he directed at Olivia, “you’ve also broken many laws.”
Marcy seemed ready to take hostile action.
But Olivia took a passive resistance, “Then you’ll have to shoot us because we’re walking away.”
For some reason, that declaration calmed Marcy. So, when Detective Gram marched up, grabbed Olivia by the arm, and pulled her aside so he could point his gun directly at Marcy, she grabbed the weapon in response but did not do anything else after. During this stalemate, he found he could no longer slip his finger back onto the trigger even when pointing at Marcy. Her intentions had changed and so his did as well. He withdrew. “Fine.”
Both women were surprised but did not hesitate long as they were fast to begin running away.
He tapped his finger on the side of his gun as he watched them leave.