The scene of the crime was already clean by the break of dawn. Men in black outfits had transported the corpse to one of their six trucks and immediately after that, they went to work meticulously cleaning every part of the house. After it was all done, the trucks made a beeline for the highway.  

A few hours later, Chase was sitting in a hospital room and chewing on his cheeks as every tick of the god forsaken wall clock bounced off his brain, making his migraine worse. Right there and then, he felt a strong kinship with his late grandfather. His phone started buzzing, but he paid it no mind.

The whole place reeked of linoleum adhesive and smoke, so much smoke. Seriously, couldn't they just go and smoke outside? It made him cough, he really couldn't stand the smell. It was maybe the one thing he disliked about both Sarah and Samuel: they were smokers. He wouldn’t ever tell them, though, he didn’t think. His phone kept buzzing but he didn't answer.

He… shit. He ran out of things to think about. And he really didn't wanna do that, not right now, because that would mean processing the fact that he broke into a house to see a dead body, slept it off and walked to the hospital to visit his mom with dementia.

Being around so much death really puts your life into perspective, he thought. It would almost be funny enough to incorporate into his stand-up routine. Holy shit, was he really thinking about his stand-up routine right now? 

His phone kept buzzing and he never answered. Amy was on the other end of the line, half-cursing him under her breath.

 

Sarah woke up and pushed her slightly. She laid in bed next to her as much as she could, taking care of her before she fell asleep right next to Amy. “Give it a rest, Ames. You’ve called thrice. He’ll get back to you.”

 

“I’m worried about him.”

 

“It’s Sunday. He’s not gonna miss a hospital visit.”

 

“It’s fucked up to just leave after last night.” Sarah nodded. “He should’ve texted.” Sarah nodded again. 

 

She hesitated as she fidgeted with her phone. Sarah just casually poured water in her electric kettle and turned it on.

 

“So, obviously we can’t call the police.”

 

“Obviously,” Sarah shuffled some papers around and sat on her table. “What are you going to tell them? That you broke into someone’s house, found a dead body and think that a monster did it?”

 

Amy frowned. She couldn’t help but tap her feet rapidly as scattershot memories of the night before flooded her mind. Sarah was surprisingly chill about seeing a dead body, but then again, so was she. Of course it was sad, the man probably had a family out there that cared deeply for him. But then again, she didn’t know him, and as far as she knew, that man was deeply broken way before the monster slit his throat. Oh God. Amy saw a man with his throat slit open. And a monster. Her foot was tapping fast enough to leave a burn mark on the floor if it went unchecked for too long. She needed to calm down. “What are you making, tea?”

 

“Yeah. What kind do you want?”

 

“There’s more than one?”

 

Sarah nodded. Amy suddenly got up to stop the tapping.

 

“I think I’m going to call the police.”

 

“Bootlicker.”

 

Chase’s grandpa was there. He was always there on time. The years had long since gotten the better of him and he needed walking aids and a nurse from the old folks’ home with him, but he was always there on time. Digital clocks must’ve changed his life, Chase joked to himself. 

He always wanted to cry when he entered the room and his eyes met hers. Fortunately, she seemed calm enough when he came into her room. Sometimes she’d get really nervous and have doctors kick him out, and those were the worst times. 

He kinda wished she kicked him out this time. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to do the usual routine. Tell her that Sarah’s doing fine and that Amy’s here now, and that he had kept an eye on the local theatre scene and that Kathleen Davis, the bitch, had finally gotten the role of Persephone in Hadestown that his mom had always wanted. He couldn’t, because all he could think about was Abraham. The cold, swollen looking skin. The wide eyed stare. The stench. He wanted to puke.

And here he was, looking his mother dead in the eyes, completely paralyzed, about to break down.

 

“Hello there,” her voice was soft and gentle. It hadn’t changed one bit. It was the thing that Chase hated the most about dementia, because his mom was still young and beautiful and her smile still shone just as bright, but the person behind that smile and those eyes was withering away every second. “Are you my dad?”

 

Chase choked up. “No, mom, I’m Chase. I’m your son.”

 

“Chase, mi hijo. It’s so lovely to see you.”  

 

Amy flung the phone across the bed as soon as the nasally voiced police officer hung up on her. “Cops are the fucking worst.”

 

“A truth universally acknowledged.” Sarah was peacefully drinking tea, sitting on said bed. “What’d they say?”

 

“That there’s no one living in General Atlas 23rd.”

 

“Well, yeah, not anymore at least.”

 

“How are you so chill about this?!”

 

“Well, I didn’t know this dude and by the looks of it not many people did. The document was scrubbed clean, now cops are pretending he wasn’t even there… and he was supposed to be a high profile scientist.”

 

“So… you think there’s something they know that we don’t.”

 

“I’m pretty sure, yeah.”

 

Another chill ran down Amy’s spine. She was starting to hate that feeling. As if on cue, she got a phone call. “Hello?” 

 

A deep, rough voice came through the other side of the phone. “This is Detective Bishop. Am I speaking to Amelie Harper?”

 

Amy’s skin went pale and Sarah shot her a surprisingly expressive what-who-is-it-what-do-they-want look. Amy nodded before realising she was on the phone. “Uh, yeah.”

 

“I won’t take too much of your time on the phone right now, but there’s been an alleged robbery at the Vouivre Marine Research Center and you’re a potential witness. Any chance you could swing by the station to answer some questions?”

 

Chase was kneeling over the hospital’s bathroom, puking a week’s worth of meals and lamenting every single one of his life choices up to that point. He hated every second of that visit. He hated looking his mother in the face and pretending that everything was okay and telling her that everything was okay and it was a lie, fuck, it was all a fucking lie. 

He grabbed his phone and saw three missed calls from Amy. He felt like shit but he couldn’t bring himself to call her back. He kept thinking about Abraham. His screaming. His paranoia. He said they were coming for him and it was true. He would always say that everyone else in the bar was next. Fuck. Was he next? Was Amy or Sarah next? Was whatever that was gonna kill his friends too? Jesus, that thing. Abraham. The body. The stench. He clinged onto the bathroom seat for dear life as he puked into it again. He felt faint, lightheaded. He finally grabbed his phone and called Samuel.

 

“Chase, what’s up, man?” 

 

It was a few hours before his shift.

 

“I’m at the hospital,” he was out of breath. “Can you please pick me up?”

 

Sarah felt guilty. Amy and her had a screaming match after the phone call ended. She knew very well she was in the wrong but that didn’t stop her from screaming loudly. She had to come clean and tell her that she stole the flash drive, and Amy was nice enough to promise not to snitch on her, bless her heart. She offered to drive Amy to the police station, but she declined, saying that no it wasn’t because she was mad but that she wanted to walk to have more time to think about what she’d say. Sarah knew that at least in part it was because she was pretty mad.

One thing they both agreed on is that the flash drive was important and that they couldn’t just get rid of it. So she thought she’d put the damn thing to good use and try to research it. She plugged it into her computer using a virtual machine, because she bet her good throwing arm that something this sketchy had a tracker in it and she couldn’t risk putting it on the Internet. She found a whole lot of nothing more than she had previously. Nothing she tried worked to unlock the files and while she could run bruteforce scripts, that’d take so much time that trying to reverse engineer a smart fridge from scratch would’ve been a better use of processing power. 

Defeated but far from undetermined, she turned to the Internet. Something people didn’t know about her is that she had anonymously made a name for herself in cold-case-and-conspiracy-theory forums and live chats. She went by The Huntress (because her last name is Hunt, and she thought it was cool when she was thirteen) and had built up a good reputation by only participating in discussions when she had made a breakthrough or an important development. Her posts were marked as turning points in several online investigations. She was just that good. 

She wasn’t at all surprised that people are trying to erase people from history. She was a little surprised that it was happening in Fort, but she reckoned that stranger things had happened. She had an Internet mystery solving contact who knew all about that kind of stuff, as a matter of fact. She opened up one of the various forums she was active in and messaged The_Vanished. 

 

When Chase got in the car, he sighed from relief. The car was distinctly smokeless. 

 

“Man,” Samuel tilted his head to look at Chase, who was hunched over, resting his forehead on the dashboard. “You look like shit.”

 

“Yeah, I feel like it too.”

 

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

 

He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He went back and forth on it while he waited. That’s not just something you tell someone. But he needed to. But he couldn’t. He was starting to shake and Samuel leaned forward, grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. 

So Chase took a deep breath, and he told him everything. 

 

The police station was crowded with men and women in blue and not many of them were doing anything related to their work. It would seem that it was lunchtime because everyone was busy downing cups of coffee with too much cream and devouring subs from the store down the street. Respect our brave policemen and policewomen, her father would tell her when she was young, they protect us from the uncivilised. What a joke. She chose not to ponder on who exactly her father thought the uncivilised were. 

An older looking officer pointed her in the right direction. She breathed in and briefly thought about kicking the door in to show confidence and dominance, but she decided it was stupid. 

Inside the small office was who she assumed to be Detective Bishop and a very nervous Herbert Newman.

 

“Oh, hi Amy.”

 

She frowned. “Hi, Mister Newman.”

 

“Just Herbert, please.”

 

Bishop cleared his throat. “Take a seat, miss Harper,” he leaned over his chair and pointed towards Herbert. “Mister Newman here was telling me that yesterday the center’s infrastructure was acting up. A computer was bricked and upon further investigation, a USB keycard was stolen from your dad’s office the night you were there to extract some documents.”

 

Amy tried her best not to gulp. “Don’t you guys have security footage to check when it comes to stuff like this?” 

 

“Not really. We don’t have our security cameras installed yet,” Herbert explained. She almost laughed, not from a sense of misplaced smugness but from the anxiety the situation gave her. 

 

“Look, Miss Harper, all we want to know is if you could help us clear up. You and your friends were the last people in the lab and more specifically in that office,” the detective intervened.

 

“I don’t know anything about a USB keycard. We just went there, grabbed some research documents from his archive and then went to get a drink. But if you want my advice, get on top of the whole security camera thing as soon as possible.”

 

Bishop seemed irritated. “Mister Newman, could you please give us a moment?” The scientist nodded with a nervous smile in his face as he excused himself out of the room. Amy audibly gulped this time.

 

“Amelie Harper. You seem to be adapting pretty well to the whole being back thing. Wasn’t it you the kid who moved away to the big city with your dad a few years ago now? The VRMC held a huge farewell party and everything.”

 

“Yeah, part of me feels like I never left. By the way, weren’t you the detective who got into some hot water a decade ago for accepting bribes from the mayor during election season?” 

 

She didn’t know what she was getting herself into, so she reckoned she could at least conjure the illusion of knowing as much about him as he knew about her. She knew it was true, and while she didn’t know much else apart from the very surface details, she had a feeling he wouldn’t call her bluff.

 

She was right. “You called an hour or so ago, reporting disturbances in an abandoned house in General Atlas, right?” 

 

All the confidence she had built up had completely disappeared. “I’m not too sure I follow.”

 

“I’m just curious, cause you said you went from the VRMC to your residence and then to grab a drink, doesn’t sound like someone who’d want to call the police about a completely unrelated residence the morning after.”

 

“Where are you going with this?”

 

“I just want to know where you really were yesterday night. That’s all.”

“We went to the VRMC, then to our house, and then we went to grab a drink at Cosmo’s. You can ask Samuel, he’s the bartender there.”

 

“Would Samuel be comfortable being called into a police station for questioning?”

 

“Excuse me, Mister Bishop,” she raised her voice. “Am I being interrogated? Are there any charges to my name?”

 

He shot back a defiant smirk. “Oh, not at all Miss Harper. Not yet at least.” 

 

There were a few moments of silence shared between the two, but to Amy, they felt like days. Her head started spinning again.

 

“I really need to go.” He waved at her as she almost stumbled through the door and escaped out the front door of the building, feeling sick to her stomach. 

 

Contacting TheVanished had Sarah going down a particularly strange rabbit hole. She was familiar with conspiracy theory websites, but nothing quite like this. It didn't have a name or a title anywhere, and it featured such threads as Bigfoot, Area 51 Experiment to Prove The Theory of Evolution. It was all oddly fitting with the nineties geocities theme but it didn't stop it Sarah from feeling every so slightly unsettled just scrolling through it. 

A few minutes after she registered, a user by the name of TRUESIGHT sent her a message request.

 

have you lost your way already, huntress?

 

Sarah narrowed her eyes. She didn’t know if this was kind of freaky or totally fucking stupid. She took a deep breath, questioned her life choices and responded.

 

?

a friend pointed me towards this website when I was looking for some information. do you think you could help me?

abraham darmond

does that ring any bells?

 

Sarah blinked fast. Was this the person? Why did they know her? How did they get the tape? Why did they send it to Amy? Was her forum contact part of this too? Her cursor flashed in and out of the screen as she got close to the keyboard and hesitated again, and again.

And then a text bubble popped up on her screen, an unprompted response. 

 

did you get everything?

 

i got the thumb drive

the one in amy’s dad’s office, i mean

 

Shit. Mentioning Amy was a bad idea, wasn’t it? 

 

did you go to his house?

we did

but he was dead

abraham found something he really wasn’t supposed to

proof of what happened

 

Sarah hesitated again. 

 

enough to make his murder come to light?

i don’t know

but it’ll help you

so  we need to go back

what is it that we’re looking for

i can’t tell you that 

where in the house is it

i can’t tell you that either

 

Before Sarah could reply, TRUESIGHT had logged off and she couldn’t message them anymore. She held her head in desperation. She was alone, in her house, talking to a mental case that sends strangers murder tapes through a website that seemed to be run by flat-earthers. And the worst part was that she was taking it seriously. They never did go into Abraham’s house and there had to be a reason why he was murdered. She rocked herself from side to side in her computer chair, contemplative, for a few more moments. She then grabbed her laptop, her phone and her least conspicuous looking black hoodie. Why not, right? Maybe she’d even find bigfoot if she was lucky. 

 

Chase had his head buried deep in Samuel’s lap, crying. He was still scared to death but it was a huge relief. 

 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry I blew up on you.”

 

“Chase, calm down. You know you can count on me for anything.”

 

Chase pulled away. “Do you believe me?”

 

Samuel took a deep breath. “Look, man, I know you don’t lie to me. I still have my doubts about what killed him, but I believe you.”

 

“I’ve been ignoring Amy’s calls all day.”

 

“That’s kind of fucked.”

 

“Yeah,” Chase dried his eyes. “I just can’t do this shit, man. I thought we were just getting into a bit of trouble but this was… too much.”

 

“I know, but imagine how hard this is for her,” he turned the car off at once. “And Sarah might look fine but you and I both know she probably isn’t dealing with this in the healthiest of ways.”

 

“So I’m all they have?”

 

“I mean, we don’t know that. But you mean a lot to them. And they’re scared too, in their own ways. Plus, if it ever gets too hard, you always have me.” They shared a moment of silence but for the first time in a while, it wasn’t awkward. It was nice. If Chase wasn’t a coward, he’d tell him what was on his mind. But he was, and fortunately for him, Samuel chose to speak first. “So, what do we do now?”

 

“I, uh, I guess I call Amy now.” 

 

And so he did. Amy was trying not to hit herself on the way home when her phone set her off completely. She answered in a blind rage and started cursing Chase out for not answering, for being so selfish, blurted out that she was questioned by the police and she started crying as she collapsed onto a park bench. He knew how this went. She’d blow up and then she’d go non-verbal and that’s when he could help her.

 

“Amy, let’s try to come down. Can I come pick you up?”

 

“I don’t know.” 

 

“Do you know where you are?”

 

“No.”

 

“Okay, close your eyes and try to focus on a sound. Just one. A sound you like.”

 

As soon as she did, she immediately clinged onto a song playing from the speakers in a store. Here Comes The Sun, by the Beatles. She remembered the first time she tried to play it on her guitar. After focusing on the song, she could hear the once distant and unintelligible conversation the store clerk and her friend were having over the phone, about how Mark was so over Samantha and how it was fucked that it only took him a week or so. She could also hear how a customer wasn’t at all happy with how his jeans fit him. How he stormed out. How he put his headphones in and played 400 Lux by Lorde. How he crossed the street without waiting for the traffic light to change. The traffic light. The buzzing of the lights and the clicking of its mechanism when they changed. The electricity running down the wires inside it. The cars’ tires as they started back up when the drivers stepped on the gas, and how they screeched against the asphalt for a moment before taking off. The water pipes below the street, how the water would come and go. She could hear each and every single sound bouncing off each surface, how it warped and fizzled out and faded in. Before long, the sounds helped her make a mental map of the whole city block. That’s when she recognized the old Bernards apartment building, and the local comic shop, and the small mormon church down the streets.

 

“Amy? Are you there?”

 

“Gallows Avenue and Scott Street.”

 

There was silence over the phone.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Gallows Avenue and Scott Street. That's where I am.”

 

Chase looked over at Samuel. He shrugged. “We’re on our way.”

 

Sarah’s dad asked her what she was doing going out so late. She said she’d be hanging out with Chase and Amy again, and he was overjoyed. He was so proud of his baby girl for allowing herself to be happy and enjoy herself with her friends again. She thought it best not to ruin that for him. 

There was a raccoon in the front seat of her car. She didn’t roll the windows up before exiting the car last night, the group was preoccupied with more pressing manners. She considered that it might be a sign from God that what she was going to do was a terrible idea. And then the raccoon saw her, got scared and left, and she could feel as though God Herself was throwing her the keys and going bet you won’t, pussy. 

So she drove, and she smoked, and she thought about what her excuse was going to be when she had to explain this to Amy and Chase. And then all of that went out the window when she parked in the street right in front of Abraham’s place and it was spotless. No broken window or ruined fence gate. Shit. Someone had been there after they were. She made a mental note to herself to be really careful and to not fuck up.

After some premeditation she chose the subtle approach. Jump the neighbour’s wall, climb onto the roof, jump across to Abraham’s roof and slide down onto the balcony that faces the backyard. Holy shit, she thought to herself, he has an indoor balcony. 

She held the same sentiment when she entered the house  through the balcony door. Abraham had a big house all to himself, which meant he was either the son of a criminal or some sort of unethical actor himself. Sarah turned on her phone’s flashlight and started exploring. A personal library, a home theatre, an unexplainable second and third bathroom even though the house only had one bedroom. She felt severely out of place. 

Finally, behind an unassuming door on the first floor was his home office. White and clean looking, but with a fine layer of dust adorning everything in the room. It was pretty sparse all things considered. A chair she could never afford sitting behind a bizarrely shaped white desk that housed a workstation computer that most likely ran circles around her laptop. And in the desk’s drawers, a lone SD card. And a revolver. A shiny, snub nosed, loaded revolver. She needed a moment to take it all in.

Simultaneously, a cop car parked in front of the house. Two officers laughing their asses off and mocking the big shot detective for making them search an abandoned house out of the blue. Was he going insane in his old age?

Sarah could hear the sirens as she pocketed the SD card. Shit. She grabbed onto the gun and made a sprint for the staircase. The officers saw a hooded figure carrying a less than subtle revolver and ordered her to throw her hands up and drop the weapon. They chased her up the stairs and took a turn for the balcony, looked down and fixed their eyes upon the old garden shed. 

 

“I’ll get the shed. You go check the porch and the neighbours,” one of them held his gun up as he rushed onto the backyard. 

 

Sarah bit her hand so as to not make a sound as she stuck as close to the roof as possible, revolver in hand. It was gonna be a long next couple of hours.