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Post by David Young Henning on Dec 12, 2010 19:13:12 GMT -8
Henning remembered the hard, rectangular object that had pressed against him when Charlotte went to throw the salmon out the window. She'd said it was her camera, but the thing she'd pulled out of her jacket to show him looked more like something dredged up from the bottom of an ancient ocean. He hesitated before taking it from her bandaged hand. It was heavier than it looked, and covered in that same gritty powder he'd come across in the car. Ashes, from the laughing man in Charlotte's story? Give me a break, the buzzard scoffed, but it was no more than a plaintive squawk, easily ignored. The stuff clung unpleasantly to his fingertips, and he set about trying to wipe some of it from the camera's surface with the side of his hand.
"It's quite... grimy, isn't it? I don't know much about these things, but do you think it's still function- Ah!"
His hands snapped apart and the camera fell onto the bed between them. A smell like a freshly lit match burst into the air, then faded almost as soon as it had come. Henning rubbed his fingers together in disbelief.
Some kind of static shock? Could it have been storing electricity this whole time? He didn't know if cameras worked that way, either. There was no hiding his reaction from Charlotte; he blew on his fingers, eyes narrowed, said, "It's like the damn thing bit me or something. Has that ever happened to you? I mean that's not... normal, is it?"
He was aware that the word "normal" was rapidly becoming a relative, rather than objective, term, but he was determined to hold on to it as long as humanly possible. It was his anchor, his port in the storm still raging outside... And so, he felt, was Charlotte.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 12, 2010 19:54:00 GMT -8
The camera left a gritty, dirty residue on the gauze wrapped around her fingers. Charlotte found herself scrubbing her hand on the hospital standard sheets covering the bed as she watched David handle the battered hunk of metal and plastic. I need to get the film developed. And soon. He would probably be more than a little interested in what insight they might provide.
His cry of pain made her jump, heart pounding as the smell of a freshly lit match momentarily filled the air. He dropped her camera like it bit him... and apparently it HAD. She frowned thoughtfully down at where it had landed for a second, before returning her gaze to David. Almost simultaneously she reached out and took his hands in hers, to make sure he was okay.
“It’s been through a lot the past couple of days...” she told him softly. “And no... I... It’s never done that to me before.”
Once she was absolutely certain that her camera hadn’t done him any lasting harm, Charlotte gingerly picked it up. She very carefully rewound the roll of film that was in it (it took a bit of effort with as much of a beating as it had taken), and pried open the back to remove it. She hissed as a broken edge dug into her hand. Well, fuck. Hope the nurse doesn’t notice this the next time one comes in.
“I think this camera is pretty much unusable,” she said. “I’m not sure I’d want to continue using it anyways...”
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Post by David Young Henning on Dec 12, 2010 20:22:40 GMT -8
A bite... or a burn? And what's the difference? Henning's heart sank as Charlotte confirmed what he'd already known to be true, that it wasn't a normal occurrence for cameras to snap at their owners. He watched with trepidation as Charlotte handled the gray plastic, turning it over and removing the roll of film inside without incident- Until-
He inhaled sharply almost at the same time she did, the bandages making her hands clumsy, prone to sharp edges and shattered frames. Gently, he took the camera back out of her grasp, the painful sting of a few moments ago already forgotten. If it was going to act up again, better it was directed at him than her.
"It may be unusable, but I'd hold on to it for a little while longer. It's an important piece of evidence as to what exactly happened to you back there. Not to mention what might be on that roll of film..."
He was quite unaware of the enthusiasm creeping into his voice, so familiar he barely registered it was there; the welcome energy of the investigation flowing back, canceling out the exhaustion of the past few hours. He shook out his hand, a mild tingle still lingering under the skin where it had made contact with the camera, said, "Is there anywhere in Greenvale we could get it developed? You've been doing photography up here for a while, now... Does it take long to get the pictures processed?"
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 13, 2010 1:19:43 GMT -8
He’s protecting me from my camera... Charlotte realised, as David gently took it from her hands. It was... really sort of sweet. She tucked the roll of film in her pocket. There was no way she was going to let it out of her sight. Not until she had a chance to get it developed.
“I wasn’t planning on getting rid of it. No matter how good an idea it seems,” she told him. There was the distinct sound of enthusiasm creeping into his voice as he spoke, which she was sure he was completely unaware of. Charlotte herself was completely unaware of the exceedingly fond smile that was gracing her features just sitting there, watching him. It was weird just how much he kept her grounded, kept her feeling safe. Somehow... in the mere day since she’d first recognised his voice across the road in the rain... he’d become her anchor. It scared her a little. It had been a long time since she’d felt this... connected to anyone. But mostly... it reassured her, somehow.
She couldn’t help but laugh at his question.
“There is absolutely no place in the whole of Greenvale that develops film. It was a little bit vexing. At the beginning I had to send all my film away to get it developed... But I... sort of set up a dark room in one of the old janitor's closets that Polly said I could use, so I could just do it myself. It doesn’t take terribly long to do, usually.”
I wonder if David and I could just... slide out of here without being noticed. Absentmindedly she found herself reaching for the hand of his not holding the camera, which she realised abruptly (with some embarrassment). It didn’t stop her from echoing her earlier action and intertwining her fingers with his, though.
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Post by David Young Henning on Dec 13, 2010 5:00:28 GMT -8
"You set up a darkroom in the hotel? That's very..." Henning searched for a word that wouldn't sound trite. "...Resourceful."
He shook his head. "Sorry, that was lame. I'm just impressed that you've found such an engaging hobby... I don't have much in the way of side projects, in my line of work. Wish I did, but... I don't know. I'm pretty boring that way."
She was grinning at him in a way that made him think she probably didn't care, and that after all the craziness in her life up to this point, "boring" might be a nice alternative. He held her hand and wondered how to tell her that the way her hair kept falling over her eyes was driving him crazy... in a good way.
"I can sense you'd like to get out of here, but as tempted as I am to help you escape, the doctor's right. You really should rest. We'll have plenty of time tomorrow to figure these things out, okay? And I'll be here."
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 13, 2010 6:01:11 GMT -8
Charlotte laughed as David called her setting up a dark room in a hotel resourceful. It was, she supposed, but still...
“What was I supposed to do? It didn’t make sense to just keep sending it out. And besides, I hadn’t developed my own film in a while. It was good to get back into it.” She squeezed his hand gently. “You’re not boring at all. You’re... you.” Eloquence, thy name is Charlotte, she thought exasperatedly.
She quirked an eyebrow at him and mock pouted, her eyes sparkling in amusement.
“Can’t convince to help me stage a ‘prison break’ then? I’m sure no one would notice. Ah well, it was worth a shot.” She grew more serious. “I’m... just wanting to put off sleeping for a while.” It was sort of an understatement. She was exhausted, and sleep sounded wonderful... but she was fighting it with everything she had. She was sort of scared she’d wake up the entire hospital with nightmares. “I’m... really glad you’re staying.”
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George Woodman
Junior Member
I won't rest until I've inspected every suspicious nook and cranny!
Posts: 94
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Post by George Woodman on Dec 13, 2010 7:57:53 GMT -8
It took longer than George though for him to calm down and sort himself out. Even though he had disliked the lawyer and his profession, he though that smacking him might have been going to far. It also might have been too revealing of his true nature. "Careful George. The last thing you want is for the town to think you are a violent psychopath. They'll starting asking question, start investigation you and before you know it, everything you worked to achieve will be gone." he thought. Yet, he seemed to think that the lawyer might have been getting too close to his precious Emily. He tried his hardest to push it off to the corner. "Concentrate on the case at hand. It might not have meant anything, though keep an eye on the lawyer." he thought.
He mentally went though what had happened before. "Ok, so Agent Dave claims that a rusted car attacked them. In my entire career in law enforcement, I've seen no car matching that description, even during the town's heyday. Either someone's hiding a car for hit and runs or that Agent's trying to cover for his bad driving. I'm going to make sure to ask Lysander tomorrow about this." he thought.
He shifted over to what he got from the lawyer. "That lawyer guy made no sense. He kept yammering about giant dogs and limbo zombies. However, the gunshot wound is very real and he never said anything about carrying a firearm. He claimed he was in the park to look at flowers and was chased by the Tree of Anna. Somehow I doubt this, but looking again at the crime scene will verify this."
he walked over to the water fountain to grab a drink. It soothed his throat after all the shouting he did. "Alright, let's check up on Ms. Jacobs and Agent Dave." he said.
He marched down the corridor until he reached their room. He opened the door to walk in. As he entered the room, his gaze meet Agent Dave's. "Agent Dave. How's Ms. Jacobs doing? Were you able to find out anything else?" he asked.
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Post by David Young Henning on Dec 13, 2010 10:15:50 GMT -8
"Sheriff Woodman," Henning acknowledged, straightening up and at the same time casually tucking the empty camera into a loose fold in the bedsheets. "I'll let Charlotte speak for herself, if she's up to it. If not, I'm sure she'll be available to contact in the morning. We're both staying at the Deer Yard, if you didn't already know; Polly can give you our room extensions."
Better able to focus after all the excitement, Henning looked directly into the Sheriff's coal-black eyes and added, politely, "And, sorry, it's Agent Henning, by the way. Not Dave. The last time anyone called me that, it was in high school, and it wasn't the friendliest scenario. I just have... unpleasant associations with the name, that's all."
Then he smiled, as if to say, it's okay, small-town familiarity, I get it. But I'd appreciate the formality.
"I'm also not here in the acting capacity of FBI agent, so just Henning is fine. This is supposed to be a vacation for me."
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Post by Tamika Weir on Dec 13, 2010 10:19:17 GMT -8
Tamika stalked into the hospital lobby looking like a drenched cat. Soaked, disheveled, and completely pissed off. "That son of a bitch! Now he's saying I could be connected to that damn murder! I knew I should have left as soon as it hit the papers! Now I'm stuck here! And now I have a migraine." She asked one of the nurses for some aspirin, trying to not sound as pissed as she felt. Taking the medication, she headed towards the nearest bathroom she could find.
Once in the bathroom, she popped the pills in her mouth and washed her face. "Okay, I just need to calm down. Look on the bright side. I was no where near the body. There should be no evidence there to connect me to her. And any forensic evidence they find should clear me of any suspicion from that son of a bitch." A bit calmer, she sat on the floor of the restroom, rubbing her temples and trying to keep herself relaxed. "This is going to be one hell of a town to stay in."
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Post by Emily Wyatt on Dec 13, 2010 10:28:19 GMT -8
Emily grimaced,she knew George wanted her to stay in Atlas' room but she really, really, really had to pee. As her online friend Jake+Sam4Eva would say "FOR REALZ!"
I'll only be a few minutes...
"Hey Atlas, I need to use the restroom," she laughed. "I had a little too much adrenaline running through my system with all the excitement. I'll be back in 5! If George returns let him know..."
Atlas did not seem pleased at the prospect of encountering George on his own. Emily gave him a reassuring smile, "I won't be long really!" and then walked out of the room.
Now she just had to find where the bathrooms were back here. Relatively quickly she spotted some around the corner from Atlas' room but as her luck would have it they were out of order.
Emily sighed it looks like she'll have to backtrack all the way back to the hospital lobby. Oh goodie
When Emily returned to the lobby and her eyes found the the "Ladies" placard she swore she could hear a chorus of angels behind her singing "Hallelujah!"
She didn't care if it "wasn't professional" she ran the the rest of the way towards the bathroom burst through the door as if the devil himself was on her heels. She had to GO NOW!
Unfortunately she ended up scaring the crap out of poor drenched Tamika on the other side...
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Post by Francis York Morgan on Dec 13, 2010 11:24:43 GMT -8
[Continued from the Forest.]"Zach, did you see the size of that portico back there? Quite a sight to behold. From the outside, this building wouldn't look out of place in Tuscany, Italy! Or is that too much of an exaggeration?" York stood at the front desk with his right hand on the silver call bell, having rang it several times but with no answer. The corridors stretched away from him, long and empty, and there didn't seem to be a doctor or nurse in sight. The girl, Tamika, no longer Nameless but still a Redhead, had ran up the steps and through the hospital's double doors before he'd even had a chance to thank her properly for giving him a ride. <Not to mention,> the voice in his head was quick to add, <saving us back in the forest.> "You're quite right, Zach," York agreed. "It was almost like she'd been doing it her entire life. Isn't that something? The first person we meet here in Greenvale, and not only can she see Them, but she knows all their tricks. A natural-born warrior, like one of those Amazons, but much shorter-" Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a slim figure in a tan uniform race across the hallway and practically dive into the bathroom doors on the opposite side. He turned towards her, feeling like this whole night might consist of him calling after strange women until he found someone who could properly set his arm, but by then she'd already disappeared. The door swung shut, and York slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, wondering if this time he really had sunk into a dream state. "Who could that have been, Zach?" he murmured, pain giving way to slow waves of darkness. "...She was... as fast and elusive as Bigfoot. If I'd managed to take to take her picture, it probably would have come out blurry... Nobody'd believe me... Wonder if Tamika saw it too..." He noted, blearily, that his clothing was almost completely hidden under a thin coating of mud, rainwater and bits of foliage. Like army camouflage, worn at the wrong place and the wrong time. Plus, he smelled like purple...
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Post by Tamika Weir on Dec 13, 2010 12:00:21 GMT -8
"Ow..." The door had slammed right into Tamika who had been sitting next to it. "Who the hell do you--" Tamika's yelling was cut of as she did see who the hell it was. "Oh...hi Emily." Noticing that Emily appeared to really need to go Tamika gestured toward the stall and said simply, "Go ahead. I'm going somewhere safer." "Damn York. Damn hospital. Damn doors."
Leaving the restroom, Tamika headed to one of the chairs in the hospital's lobby. She saw York trying to get someone to tend to his arm at the counter. "If there is a God, please make York wait an hour. I know this sounds a bit cruel but the ungrateful bastard deserves it." Then, he slunk to the floor and passed out. "Or pass out. That works." As much as she would rather just ignore the passed out bastard, her better nature got the better of her. She ran up to the passed out York to make sure he at least wasn't dead while yelling, "Hey! We've got a passed out FBI agent up here! Someone get up here!" "Damn you York. Damn you to hell."
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George Woodman
Junior Member
I won't rest until I've inspected every suspicious nook and cranny!
Posts: 94
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Post by George Woodman on Dec 13, 2010 12:35:58 GMT -8
"So she's been getting better since I dropped you two off. That's good. I don't want any more people dying in this town on my watch." he responded to the Agent. "Good, maybe I'll be able to figure exactly what happened to her. It better not involve giant dogs or limbo zombies." he thought.
He ignored what Agent Dave said about his name. "You don't mind if I ask her a few questions, Agent Dave?" George said. "Nothing too strenuous. I understand she is still trying to recover, but it's my duty to catch the persons responsible." he said.
He walked over to Charlotte. "You're looking a bit better since I last saw you." he said to her, as gently as he could. "I want to catch whoever harmed you, so would you be able to tell me exactly what happened. Take your time." he added, hoping she would be a lot more helpful than the drugged up lawyer was.
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Post by Emily Wyatt on Dec 13, 2010 12:44:45 GMT -8
"OH! Ta-Ta-Tamika I'm so sorry!" Emily really wanted to apologize further but Tamika seemed to sense her urgency and nodded towards the stalls. Emily smiled gratefully and hurried into the closest stall as she Tamika leave the restroom. Emily hoped she could catch her before she left the hospital to apologize properly.
Emily sat down on the porcelain throne in relief Ahh sweet release... but this momentary bliss was cut short by Tamika's shriek in the lobby.
"Hey! We've got a passed out FBI agent up here!"
The break in the quiet of the startled Emily so much she almost jumped off the toilet. Did she just scream FBI Agent? Oh no it wasn't David was it? She thought he was still with Charlotte? Really this night continued to get worse and worse.
She yanked up her trousers, washed her hands and bolted out the door. No need to work out tonight with all the stress and rushing around I'm doing...I've probably already dropped two pounds due to the stress alone.
She spotted Tamika hoovering over an unknown man by reception and not looking very pleased. Emily gave a small sigh of relief when she saw it wasn't David Henning.
When Tamika spotted her she took a step back allowing Emily to take over. She knelt the man and gently shook him.
"Hey...Hey sir? Sir can you hear me? Are you okay?" When he didn't respond she gave Tamika a worried glance. Did she know the man? How did she know he was FBI?
The man was a sight for sore eyes, he was soaking wet and covered in mud. He also had a crude splint made from a tie on his arm as well, but it didn't look like it was doing much for him at the moment. A large scar ran up the left side of his face and reached his temple. An old wound obviously but she bet that it had to of hurt!
She took another look at the red head beside her. Now that she had a less pressing concerns relating to her bladder she noticed Tamika didn't look to hot herself. She had twigs in her hair and rips in her jeans and jacket and like the man before her, soaking wet.
What happened!? She glanced around the lobby and wondered where was everyone? Was there some sort of urgent staff meeting going on? Just her luck...
She tried to rouse the man again but this time with a light slap and another shake. "Sir...please, I'm here to help! Can you hear me?" She bit her lip praying he would open his eyes.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 13, 2010 13:37:28 GMT -8
Charlotte was entirely unpleased to see the Sheriff and his moustache walk back into her hospital room. It didn’t surprise her, of course, but she would have rather not had a second visit. Not with how creepily he was looking at her before. He’s just doing his job, that’s all... Her eyes slid over to David for a moment, before returning to the Sheriff. Mr Moustache was still calling him ‘Agent Dave’ and she KNEW how much he preferred not being called by that particular variation on his name.
He turned his attention to her, and she was surprised that he was actually being... gentle. She hadn’t expected it of the man. She would have preferred he ask his questions where he had started, instead of walking closer to the bed, but David was there, so it helped. She wasn’t alone to deal with the Walking Moustache’s creepiness. That was what was important.
“No one hurt me,” she told the sheriff. “At least, not until trying to run us off the road on our way here. I fell down some stairs, that’s all. I was out taking photos; I find abandoned buildings absolutely fascinating, you see. And there’s that lumber mill in Greenvale that I had been wanting to photograph since I first saw it. I got distracted lining up interesting shots and I fell down these metal stairs...” she frowned then, looking befuddled. “It all goes a bit blurry after that, I don’t remember anything until I’m back at my car. I drove back to the hotel, which probably wasn’t the safest thing for me to do, I know... and that’s where Polly and Agent Henning found me.”
Charlotte couldn’t explain why she referred to David as Agent Henning in her recitation. Maybe it was the way Sheriff Porn ’Stache kept calling him Agent Dave. Maybe it was because she loathed the thought of the Sheriff knowing their connection. She just couldn’t say, but she squeezed his hand as if to apologize for it.
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