story Chapter 2

[Butchern]

The investigators drove back into Charleston,went their separate ways for an hour to freshen up, and then met up again at Aaron's Seafood and Delicatessen for dinner.

 

The forty-year-old dry goods supply company turned deli turned seafood restaurant was busy with Charlestonians getting an early supper. It didn't take them long to get a table near a giant bay window that opened out onto Meeting street. Downtown was beginning to quiet down for the evening.

 

The waiter arrived and took their drink orders and then disappeared back into the kitchen.

[matt_s]

Coupard, visibly tired, fiddled absentmindedly with his napkin, the events of a day clearly weighing on his mind. He looked comfortable in his strange way. Professors could do "absentminded" better than anyone else after all.

 

Let's run through where things stand. Something bizarre is at work. This observation may seem trivial in light of what we have experienced today, but it is foundational to every strand of this investigation. The behavior of that strange rock in the laboratory, manifesting strange energies the likes of which I nor my colleague have ever seen. The curious state of poor Maria in the hospital, afflicted by some unknown disease that seems to be ever marching on. And linking them both - those confounded birds that must have flocked up from the very pits of Hell.

 

There is something peculiar in this safe deposit box, I just know in my bones. Maybe that will shed light on what is happening and what truly transpired in Broder's last days. If that box does not offer any novel leads, we could research his family history or see if he has a journal stored away somewhere in his home. I suppose we could inquire with an ornithologist regarding curious flocking behavior, but my guts tells me that will lead nowhere.

[Caystodd]

Livingston changed into something a bit more colorful (for her), but still her usual drab, professional attire. She was beginning to look tired too.

 

"It is all quite preposterous," she said. "The likelihood that all of this is an amalgamation of strange coincidences is infinitesimally small. But it is far more likely that everything we have seen are bizarre coincidences than that those birds are supernatural creatures or aliens from outer space. I'm not sure what to make of it, but we would be foolish to ignore what we have seen."

 

She took a drink of water from her glass.

 

"If we buy into the logic of the absurd as we must, then we have three options: one, the strange physical phenomena—the young girl's sickness and the mysterious rock—have attracted the even stranger birds. Two, the attention of the birds is causing the strange physical phenomena. Or, three, there is some other connection that explains both the strange physical phenomena and the birds."

 

"We have to hope that there is something in the bank box that will narrow those three options down to two or, preferably, one."

[Sir Lazeabout]

Malcolm nods over a forkful of calamari.

 

"Quite so, madame," he says. "Things seem inscrutable, but false miracles are my trade - they only appear so before you know the trick behind them. Still, I must admit to having no theories as of yet as to what can cause, at once, a mysterious illness, a distortion of physics instruments, and odd avian behaviour. The bank box is indeed our next logical step, followed by further inquiries - I myself would like to ask around at the college to see if any of Broder's colleagues might have known what he was working on."

[matt_s]

Coupard drums his fingers softly on the table.

 

Just so, Doctor. I find myself agreeing with your appraisal all but entirely. Those birds are somehow at the center of this, and yet we know little about them and their origin. Certainly we should investigate the bank deposit box, and perhaps asking around Broder's stomping grounds at the college would be useful as well. But I think we ought to trap or shoot one of those birds to find out if there is more than flesh and bone to those infernal beasts. Are any of you accomplished hands with firearms? That would seem to be the easiest way of acquiring the requisite avian specimen.

 

 

[Caystodd]

"I shot a gun or two in my youth but nothing to speak of," Livingston said. "But Maria, here, she is quite a shot, I believe."

[LaChupa]

Maria nearly choked on the bite in her mouth. She looked at Livingston incredulously for a second before she mastered herself again.

 

"Uh . . . yes. Yes. I too learned to shoot as a chica. My father taught me. I was . . . quite good. Good enough to shoot a bird if needed."

 

 

[Sir Lazeabout]

"Ah, I fear I never learned," Malcolm said. "I sat out the Great War - excused because of my lungs, you understand..."

[matt_s]

Coupard raised an eyebrow at Maria's story of marksmanship training. Doubtful, he mused, but were not all men and women entitled to their own secrets? Except Broder of course, but the departed had extended an invitation to delve into his affairs as he fled this mortal coil.

 

Good to know that we have a regular deadeye with us. I propose we finish our meal here and adjourn until the morning. We can regroup outside the bank shortly after it opens. I'm not one for banks, I might add. I have all my savings under my mattress - well, that is just a figure of speech. It is under several strategically placed mattresses...

 

The Professor's "humor" is truly a wonder to behold.

[Butchern]

The investigators ate their dinner, chatted a bit more about the case, and then went their separate ways.

 

The night was warm and damp, but there was a pleasant, seasonably cool breeze blowing in off the ocean to accompany the investigators on thier walk or drive home.

 

Perhaps it was because they were still spooked by the events of the afternoon, or perhaps it was something more, but the investigators couldn't help but see out of their car windows dark shapes in the sky and atop buildings just outside of clear view. Or as they walked home, they heard the rustling in the trees far above their heads and what might have been the fluttering of wings. Probably just the wind or squirrels settling in for the night. They saw nothing for sure.

 

The night passed uneventfully though no one slept well. The unease of the day crept into the night. But the dawn came as it always did with a bright sunrise over the ocean.

[Sir Lazeabout]

Malcolm usually sleeps like a baby, but tonight the arms of Morpheus rest uneasily around him. In his dreams, he flees from clouds of screeching black birds, seeking shelter but never finding it. Sharp beaks peck at his flesh, and though he can't feel it - in the way of dreams - it's nonetheless terribly upsetting. He wakes up several times and lies staring into the dark, afraid to look out the window in case he'll see the heavens darkened by wings. When morning comes, he is hollow-eyed and exhausted, seeking in vain to fortify himself with a cup of coffee.

 

"You need to shape up, man," he says to himself, his voice seeming very loud in the silence of his modest apartment. "A master magician can't be driven to distraction by what must, after all, be a mere parlour trick."

 

He realises with some discomfort that he's not sure what he's hoping for: that it will all find a natural explanation, or that it will not.

[matt_s]

Coupard rested uneasily that night. The usual unremarkable dreams receded from his mind as an ebbing tide and were replaced by strange nightmare. He felt himself pursued through a corn maze like the one at ol' Miskatonic University. Something - he knew he feared it, he knew it must be his doom - dogged his steps but Coupard was too terrified to turn around. As he  neared the exit of the maze, he dreamed he saw Broder standing at the exit with smiling face and embracing arms. But as Coupard fled towards Broder and what he thought was safety, Broder contorted and writhed in the pale moonlight. Limbs snapped and flesh burst, spilling forth some unknown dark ichor that pooled upon the ground and then rose in the form of birds black as jet. They rushed at Coupard in a flock and as he threw himself onto the ground in desperation he burst from sleep in a panic, sweating and panting.

[LaChupa]

Maria slept like a baby. She always did when she slept in Agnes' bed.

 

Their late-night rendezvous had been a staple of their relationship for some years now. It was a subject they never spoke about. Agnes would leave her bedroom door cracked as an invitation, an invitation Maria always accepted, and it was usually expected that Maria would go back to her room when they were finished. But on some nights, like last night, Maria slept through until morning, sleeping as close to Agnes as she could. But when the sun was up, Agnes would become Dr. Livingston again, and they would part ways without a word . . . until the next time.

 

The sun peeked around the curtains on the east-facing window, and Maria opened her eyes. A new day, and still a great mystery to solve.

[Caystodd]

Livingston had been obviously rattled by the high strangeness of the past few days. She got ready for bed as soon as they arrived at home and left her door wide open. Not only did she not ask Maria to leave her bed with her customary, "Good night, Maria," after their coupling, she actually said, "Please, stay" and held Maria's hand tightly in the dark.

 

When Maria awoke, she found that Livingston had curled up in her arms. Her head was tucked under Maria's chin, and she was snoring gently. Maria began to stir, and then so did Livingston.

 

As Livingston slowly gained her senses, she immediately rolled away from Maria and pulled the blankets up to her chin. She look over at Maria who had become slightly uncovered in the process. Livingston reached out and pulled the covers up to Maria's chin as well to cover her up. Livingston looked confused.

 

"I need to get dressed," she said loudly enough to be sure that Maria was awake and heard her. "We have a busy day today." The words carried the same finality as every "Good night, Maria."

[Butchern]

The investigators gathered at the People's National Bank, just around opening time. They had the key as well as the estate paperwork that bequeathed it to them. They expected no problems getting access to the box.

 

The bank manager approached them as they entered the bank and nodded politely as they explained the situation. With a glance, he confirmed that the key was, indeed, a key for one of their safety deposit boxes. The bank manager took down the serial number from the key and returned to his office to look it up in his ledger to get the box number. With the box number in hand, box 1324, he led the investigators into the secondary vault.

 

The vault was lined with numbered boxes of various sizes. The closer to the ground, the larger the safety deposit boxes were. Box number 1324 was a medium-sized box that in the middle of the room. The bank manager and one of the gentlemen investigators used their keys simultaneously to open the door marked "1324." The bank manager slid out the metal container inside and set it on the table in the middle of the room.

 

The bank manager put his keys into his pocket. "If you need anything else, I'll be in my office just across the lobby." And then he left.

 

The metal container did not require a key to open. It contained a latch on the top that allowed access to its contents . . . whatever they might be.