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Episode
127 |
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“How should I know? I lived it, I didn’t
make it up.” Cluracan, Sandman “Morgan had gone out,” Rebecca
recounted for the knights. “I don’t
know for what. One of the things that
he and I try not to do is get too much into the other’s business. He went out and I was here.” She pointed at the kitchen entrance. “I was eating.” Rebecca is leaning over a bowl of
soup; the newspaper in front of her on the table. She’s studying the front-page story on the
lack of recent Crimson Rose-related sightings, quietly spooning herself the
liquid warmth. Over her shoulder, she
hears a rattle. She turns, looking up
the stairs to the second floor, unable to identify the sound. Confused, she gets up and heads for the
short flight of stairs. Halfway onto the first step, she
sees the door to the garage opening.
Startled, she dashes up the steps as two men in blue and white come
in. She sees the shadow of one
approach the stairs and as quietly as she can manage, she rushes up the
steps. On the top floor landing, staring
down the hallway full of doors, she’s drawn to the linen closet, the door
half open. She shoves herself against
the shelves and pulls the door mostly shut, squeezing herself into the tiny space. She inhales sharply to make herself as
small as possible. In less than a moment, she hears
footsteps. Ascending the stairs, the
footfalls carry the knight right to the closet door. Rebecca closes her eyes, trying to make
herself invisible against the blankets and towels in the closet with her. From downstairs comes a
voice. She can’t make out the words,
and part of her is too afraid to try.
A moment later, a second man in blue and white comes up the stairs. He’s met by the first man and the two
exchanged a few words in a language Rebecca doesn’t know or can even
identify. Staying small and staying
quiet, she waits. The men walk by the closet and
head down the hall. She hears them
both go into the farthest bedroom.
There’s a loud crack as she hears the bed hacked at it as if by an
axe. Petrified of being found, she
summons up the courage to open the closet door. She peaks down the stairs, then down the
hall. She can see the moving shadows
of the two men in the bedroom on the wall of the hallway. She steps out of the closet. “Hold up,” Marilyn said, stopping
the tale. She looked at “What do you mean?” Rebecca asked. “They didn’t secure the house before they
started tearing stuff up,” Marilyn protested.
Again, she looked at the knights, even Erik, for confirmation and
support. All she got were quiet
stares. “There are three rooms
upstairs, not to mention the bathroom and the two closets. They didn’t have time to secure even one
room, much less all three. And that’s
not mentioning them splitting up as soon as they entered the house.” As she spoke, Ledger looked to Roland. His friend nodded and quietly backed out of
the living room. “That’s not how
knights act,” Marilyn continued.
“Knights aren’t that dumb.” “I don’t know!” Rebecca protested
defensively. “I was terrified, afraid
for my life. I wasn’t exactly taking
notes or timing how long they were taking?” “It’s okay,” In the hallway, Rebecca waits for
a second to make sure the knights aren’t about to come out and she rushes
quietly down the steps. Wincing at
each little sound her bare feet make, she finds herself on the kitchen’s tile
floor. She runs past the dinette set
and heads into the living room, aiming for the front door. As she rushes by the bay windows, she sees
a third knight staring out into the knight as if he had heard something. She pauses halfway across the room, then
frantically sprints for the door to the recording studio. Inside, she moves through the
vestibule into the studio proper and slides through the narrow door into the
recording booth. She crouches down
under the small alcove beneath the recording bench and curls in on herself. Within moments, she hears a loud
crash. She winces at the noise, only
to hear it followed by more crashes.
Wood is splintered. Glass is shattered. Furniture is thrown everywhere. Inside the recording studio, Rebecca tries
to hide herself from the sounds of destruction. She holds her hands over her ears, clamping
her eyes as tightly shut. She does
everything she can to make herself disappear. As a lull develops, she hears the
outer door to the studio opening. Her
heart nearly jumps out of her chest as the inner door is flung open. In comes the third man in blue and
white. He looks around the recording
booth for a second before he grabs the control panels. He tears the faces off and yanks them
out. He begins to tear at the wires
and circuit boards underneath. In no
time, the priceless equipment is rendered into useless junk. Unsatisfied, he grabs the chair inside the
studio and throws it at the window.
Rebecca bites her own hand to keep from screaming as glass rains down
over her. Shards stab her arms as she
tries to cover herself. The chair
strikes the far wall and collapses in front of her like a body shot dead
through the face. Determined to stay quiet, Rebecca
doesn’t move. She hears the knight
leave, to meet the others in the living room, but she doesn’t move. She hears them exit through the front door,
but she doesn’t move. She hears only
silence for a long time, but she doesn’t move. Finally, after several moments,
she gets up. She looks hesitantly over
the shattered window to the control booth.
When she sees no one, she starts to step out. As she does, the studio door is pushed
open. Rebecca freezes as she sees a
fourth man in blue and white come in.
Both stop cold at the sight of the other. Rebecca starts to retreat back, but the man
holds up his hands as if surrendering.
“It’s okay,” Edgar assures her calmly. It took a moment for the gathered
audience to process the story was over.
They looked to one another, all eyes settling on Ledger. “What did you take issue with?” Ledger was quiet as he seemed to
ponder her story. He turned and looked
back to where Roland now stood against the far wall, an open beer in his
hand. “What’d you find?” “Well, A) Marilyn’s point about
the knights not following general close-quarters combat procedure was an
excellent observation.” He pointed at
her with his fingers forming a gun.
“And B), there’s no way the knights wouldn’t have seen her before they
came inside. They would have circled
the house and they’d have seen her through the windows of the kitchen. Or at the very least, seen the lights on. C),” he said, pointing towards the
upstairs. “The steps heading upstairs
are great because they’re hardwood and not carpeted. Sadly, this also means there’s not a chance
in hell of sneaking up those bad boys.
Ledger, you can’t do it, and you’re sneakier than a ninja’s
shadow. No way an untrained individual
such as yourself,” he said to Rebecca, “got up them without making noise.” “Now,” he continued, beginning to
strut around in a Perry Mason pose, “it is possible, though extremely
unlikely, that the closet in question would have hidden you. You are really skinny. I suppose it’s possible you could have
crushed yourself into the three something inches of clearance between the
shelves and the door. But there’s no
way knights are going to stop and chat before they’ve secured a house. But we’ve waved that sensibility so let’s
move on.” “When you came down the steps
quieter than a blink, why’d you run for the front door, rather than the side
door that’s right there? You’d have to
have passed it. And let’s not forget
the soup bowl on the table that the knights never noticed.” “They destroyed the kitchen!” she
yelled indignantly. “A) How would you know?” Roland
asked. “And B) there’s not a soup bowl
in there. Morgan hates soup. In the sad little world that Morgan inhabits,
bowls exist for one purpose and one purpose only: ice cream. That’s why he’s only got four bowls and
they’re all still in the cupboard.
Which, incidentally, is on the floor.”
He continued his Perry Mason stroll.
“Now, you dashed through here, saying a knight didn’t notice you. Okay, sure, whatever. I’ll buy that. You dove into the recording studio and said
you heard the guy come in. And then
you heard the devastation and all that.” “Yes,” Rebecca said. “The studio’s sound proof,” “Incidentally, the window is
broken in there,” Edgar pointed out, staying between Rebecca and the door
out. “The thing is, it’s broken out,
into the studio, not into the booth.”
He put his hand supportively on Rebecca’s shoulder, smiling. “So let’s take it again from the top, shall
we?” |
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