Chapter 11

  On the ride to the sheriff’s office, Ginny found herself once again wishing for a shower and a clean change of clothes. Not for herself, or at least not just for herself, since she’d gotten depressingly used to being caked in gore at this point. But the back of the cruiser was cramped, with Ginny, Brendon, Norah, and Mark all packed into the backseat, and anyone who got squeezed against or even brushed by Ginny, ended up with a fair amount of blood and general gore coating them as well. It made an already uncomfortable ride even worse.

  Brendon had tried to make small talk with the deputy who’d handcuffed them all but only received a series of increasingly terse and distracted responses, and he’d quickly given up. Currently, he was staring at the back of the deputy’s head, a confused look on his face. Ginny focused on the kids wedged between them in the backseat, with Norah pressed tightly against her side while Mark had shoved himself as far from her as possible, smashing Brendon against the door on the opposite side.

  Shooting them both as comforting a smile as someone as coated in gore as she was could, Ginny turned to look out the window, the dark and silent town rolling by them quickly. She considered the notification they’d all received as she and Brendon were being handcuffed.

  Warning! Grace Period ends in one hour!

  She focused on the Grace Period condition, one of the few she’d had since the Depths activated and revealed her character sheet. And, honestly, the only one she hadn’t been looking forward to getting rid of. She read over the full description that appeared before her.

  Grace Period: You stand at the precipice. The Depths yawns open before you, but you have not yet fallen into them. Monsters will not spawn in your presence while in this state. Ravagers may not initiate hostile actions against you while you are in this state.

  Not that that has stopped the Ravagers I’ve run into. Venn’Dar was still allowed to send Stitch Beasts hunting through the area. Tryn still did… something when he first showed up. I remember some kind of debuff… Grip of Despair? Honestly, with what Rinaxis said about how the Ravagers have been around long enough to know how to get around the Depths’ rules, maybe we won’t even notice the Grace Period ending.

  Ginny sighed as she stared out the window. A curtain twitched in the darkened window of a small house they drove past. A sleepy local, woken up by the cruiser’s siren earlier, investigating what was happening. Maybe. Or a Stitch Beast that’s currently dismembering whoever used to live there. Even with a new appreciation for how cliched and uninspired the real world’s writing could be, Ginny still couldn’t convince herself that things weren’t gonna get worse after the Grace Period ended.

  She frowned; an idle thought tacked onto her brooding about Grace Period ending echoed in her mind. How did Tryn do something when we first met? Rinaxis said that Venn’Dar is getting away with the Stitch Beasts because he’s not directly involved or directly controlling them. But if Tryn did something to make that condition, Grip of Despair, appear, how is that not breaking the rules? Does him being the Herald mean they don’t apply to him the way they do the other Ravagers? She shuddered at the thought. No, if he could have gotten away with doing whatever he wanted… he would have done more. He WANTED to do more. Then how…

  “Something’s wrong with Doug.”

  Ginny was jerked out of her pondering by the whispered words from Brendon. “Huh?” She looked over at Brendon, who was leaning over an aggravated-looking Mark to whisper to her.

  “Doug, the deputy.” Ginny glanced forward at the deputy, who was pulled forward and hunched over the wheel. She glanced in the rear-view mirror but only caught a corner of his pale and sweat-drenched forehead. She looked back at Brendon. “What do you mean?”

  Brendon licked his lips nervously, glancing up into the front seat, then leaning in even closer, Mark grunting in protest. “Look, I know Doug. Good old Deputy Doug, and he’s harmless. Bit of an ass, huge stickler for rules, but I doubt he’s even drawn that gun in the years he’s been a cop, much less pointed it at someone.” Ginny considered, eyes flicking between Brendon and the back of the deputy’s head.

  “Maybe it’s because he’s never come across a girl covered in blood with a harpoon and a couple scared looking kids in the middle of the night.” The harpoon in question, along with Blood Drinker’s Bane, had been thrown in the trunk of the cruiser earlier. Brendon shook his head. “Even then. I’m telling you, even if he was terrified, the Doug I knew was more likely to radio for backup before approaching someone with a weapon covered in blood.” Ginny frowned. “Okay, so Deputy Doug’s acting weird. What do-“

  Ginny was cut off by the loud and distinctive sound of flesh slamming into metal, as the Deputy in question slapped the metal screen separating the front and back of the cruiser with enough force that she was surprised he didn’t put his hand right through it.

  “Shut up! No talking! Stop talking! Shut up!” The deputy’s words came out faster and faster, and louder and louder, the last ‘Shut up!’ coming out as one indistinct bellow. The four of them froze in the back seat, and Ginny could see Mark trying to press himself further back and behind Brendon where he was leaning in front of him. The deputy took in a deep and shuddering breath. “Here we are. We’re here. We’re there. Gonna get you both secured. Locked up. Securely locked up.” The deputy nodded to himself, still speaking quickly as they pulled into a parking lot behind a small brick building, a second police cruiser already parked there. As they pulled in next to it, Ginny exchanged a worried glance with Brendon, who nodded back, and then gestured at the front seat with his still handcuffed hands, as if to say, ‘See what I mean?’. Ginny shook her head in response as the deputy parked the cruiser next to the other one and turned off the car.

  The deputy twisted around, eyes flicking between the four of them suspiciously. “Gonna take you all in now. Don’t try anything funny. Don’t be funny. Don’t laugh. Don’t breathe. Don’t try anything. Don’t.” He stared at them silently for a few seconds after that threatening babble, then nodded, seeming to take their silence as agreement not to try anything. As he got out of the cruiser and came around to her door, Ginny took a deep breath, and considered briefly whether she should try something, funny or otherwise. She decided against it by the time he was yanking open her door. The time for that probably would have been before my weapons got locked in the trunk of his cruiser. She glanced at the trunk as she was pulled roughly out of the back of the cruiser. Brendon said this is weird, and it definitely SEEMS weird. Ginny watched the deputy, who carefully shuffled back rather than turning his back on her, then reached into the car to pull Norah out with one hand, the other resting on the holster with his gun in it.

  Not yet. Let’s wait and see if we can figure out what’s going on first. As Norah was pulled out of the cruiser just as roughly, Ginny’s lips pressed together into a thin line. If it looks like he’s gonna hurt the kids though… Ginny took a deep breath. Well, I haven’t done much with that “Improvised weapons” skill I apparently have.

  ***

  The police station was practically abandoned. Deputy Doug had briefly struggled with how to drag four of them at once and had settled on drawing his gun and standing a few steps behind the four of them, continuously urging them to, “Move, go, march, go march, march move, gomovemarch, inside.” His verbal babble was getting worse at an alarming and noticeable rate. Ginny was increasingly rethinking her choice not to try and jump him, or wrestle his gun away, when they’d been dragged out of the cruiser earlier. They were led past a couple of worn looking wooden desks with darkened computers on them, toward a rear wall divided into three cells. The right-hand cell was occupied, a rumpled and indistinct figure who reeked of alcohol enough to be smelt as soon as they walked in the front door lying on the bed facing the wall. Ginny glanced back at the deputy long enough to trigger a quick Analyze, turning back around quickly before he decided if looking at him was the kind of funny he’d warned her about earlier.

  Name: Douglas Dearns

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Race: Human

  Age: 39

  Ginny was disappointed by the bare-bones information Analyze offered her, though confirming that whatever was going on with the deputy he was still human, was good to know. However, another blue Depths screen popped up almost immediately.

  Analyze has leveled up! Now level 3!

  Ginny smiled. She’d been trying to use Analyze at random things as they’d hiked into town. Most of the time, it failed due to “Insufficient Corruption Levels”, but she’d been hoping that even the attempt would be enough to level up the skill. Apparently, that had paid off. The small blue screen for Deputy Doug reappeared, with an additional line tacked onto the end.

  Name: Douglas Dearns

  Race: Human

  Age: 39

  Conditions: Tired, Jittery, Scared, Spiraling

  Ginny’s frown went unseen by the deputy, who had directed them over to the wall, while he opened the middle and left-hand cells along the rear wall. Okay, I get Tired, it’s the middle of the night. Scared too, I guess, even if he doesn’t seem to really understand what’s going on. What are Jittery and Spiraling? Ginny focused on the last two conditions listed.

  Jittery: A mild overdose of stimulants has left you shaky and generally unsteady. You will struggle with tasks involving fine motor control and are increasingly vulnerable to conditions related to fear and anxiety.

  A glance over at the coffeepot quietly running on a table against the opposite wall gave Ginny a decent guess as to where that condition had come from. Okay, so he was tired, he drank way too much coffee to compensate, which made him more likely to be scared or anxious, which probably led to him getting the Scared condition. That just leaves…

  Unfortunately, when she tried to focus on the Spiraling condition, a different notification flashed up.

  Analyze failed. You do not have sufficient corruption.

  Ginny sucked in a harsh breath, making the deputy’s head snap over to stare at her suspiciously. She’d only run into that message once before, and it had been delivered on that same alternative deep red Depths screen as this one, accompanied by the same spike of pain behind her eyes that seemed to accompany her Analyze ability failing.

  A Ravager was affecting the deputy.

  “Get in.” Ginny blinked, so focused on her Analyze screens that the deputy’s words caught her off guard. He shifted nervously, taking a step back from them and waving the gun towards the open door of the middle cell. “Get in. Get in. Get in. NO!” His quick and shaky orders were cut off by a high-pitched yell at Brendon, who had started to step towards the cell. Brendon froze as the deputy pointed his gun directly at him, the barrel shaking in the air as the deputy breathed heavily. “Not you. Little ones. Kids. Little kids. Kid ones. Go in. Go in.”

  Ginny started to step forward, and the deputy quickly wheeled around, his gun swinging wildly to point at her face. She glared at him, and then nodded at the kids, who were staring at her uncertainly. Mark quickly hurried into the cell, pressing himself into the corner as far from the deputy and his gun as possible. Norah followed him quietly, sitting down on the single cot-like bed and watching Ginny intently. The deputy quickly locked the door, then moved to the left-hand cell, unlocking it with another key off the same ring of keys, and then pulling it open and gesturing toward Brendon and Ginny.

  Ginny followed Brendon and then hesitated at the door of the cell. The idea of jumping the deputy, wrestling the gun away, trying to knock him out, ran through her head again, and this time she gave it more thought. If it were just the deputy with the gun, she decided she’d have taken her chances on Run it Off being able to patch up a gunshot wound. But that Spiraling condition, and the potential presence of a Ravager, made her once again decide to wait. Besides…

  She walked into the cell, just as the deputy was opening his mouth to scream at her, his eyes bulging. He quickly locked the cell door behind them and stepped back. Despite all of them now being locked in cells, his gaze continued to flick between them nervously, as if he expected them to lunge at him through the bars.

  “Good. Prisoners secured. Secured good. Secured prisoners. Good prisoners. NO!” This time his scream of denial seemed to be directed entirely at himself, as he shook his head violently. Taking in a deep and shuddering breath, he scanned over the four of them, then nodded at Brendon. “The sheriff will know what to do. The sheriff knows. Is knowing. Will know.” Brendon stared back at him, shaking his head. “Doug, listen to me. Something’s wrong with you. You’re not acting like yourself.”

  The deputy immediately charged at the bars of the cell, slamming into it hard enough to split the skin of his forehead where he slammed his face into the bars, staring at Brendon. “Wrong!? Wrong with me!? You did something!? Something to me!? You did something wrong to me!?”

  Brendon stumbled backwards in shock, and the deputy pressed against the bars more firmly, blood pouring down his face from his split forehead, and he shoved the gun through the bars of the cell, pointing it at Brendon.

  “What did you do, Fouth!? What wrong thing did you do to me!? What have you done wrong, Fouth!? How have you wronged me, Fouth!? WHAT DID YOU DO!?” Brendon opened his mouth then closed it again, raising his hands slowly into the air. Before he could respond, Ginny stepped closer to the bars, drawing the deputy’s attention.

  “He doesn’t know!” The deputy shifted his gaze to her, grinding the cut on his forehead against the bars as he shifted to her, the gun pointing at her chest. I wonder how much damage a gunshot does. She thought of her HP, and what Rinaxis had claimed those numbers meant. I wonder how interested the Depths is in me, and whether me surviving a gunshot or bleeding out on the floor of this jail is a more interesting story.

  “Doesn’t know? He knows! He doesn’t know? He doesn’t no? No he doesn’t. Doesn’t know!?” The deputy’s eyes flicked back to Brendon, and Ginny quickly continued, setting aside her wandering thoughts.

  “He doesn’t know.” Swallowing, Ginny forced herself to take a step closer, the barrel of the gun almost pressed against her chest as she kept her eyes locked onto the deputy’s. “The sheriff knows.” The deputy froze, staring back at her, and she nodded slowly, maintaining eye contact. “The sheriff knows. The sheriff will know. The sheriff is knowing.” Ginny spoke quickly and deliberately, parroting the deputy’s babble about the sheriff back at him. He stared at her, the gun still pointed at her chest. Ginny tried to keep all her focus on maintaining eye contact and not think about how big a hole the bullet would make in her chest, or the two branches her story could take from this moment, one of them ending with her choking to death on her own blood on a dirty floor.

  You have leveled up! You are now level 4! Luck increased by 3! You receive 2 unallocated stat points!

  “The sheriff knows.” Ginny managed to keep from visibly relaxing as the blue level-up notification appeared in front of her. If her Final Girl ability had awarded her experience to level up, that means it considered her as having survived a dangerous situation. She felt a small pit of nervousness being suppressed by Survivor’s Will. And if it awarded her enough to level up again, after just levelling up in Rinaxis’s shop only an hour ago, that meant it thought her odds of surviving just now had been low enough to merit a lot of experience.

  Shoving that thought to the back of her mind, Ginny watched the deputy nod slowly, and pull back from the bars of the cell, lowering the gun to point at the floor at his side. “The sheriff knows.” He repeated, nodding along with the words. “The sheriff is knowing. The sheriff is knowing. The sheriff will know.”

  Ginny let out a sigh of relief as the deputy turned away, ignoring the blood still running down his forehead, now soaking into the collar of his uniform. He absently wiped his eyes clear, flicking the blood onto the floor as he walked jerkily over to the coffee machine, and began to rummage through the pile of paper cups next to it. “Gotta wait for the sheriff. I know. The sheriff is knowing, but I know. I know I’ve got to wait for the sheriff. The sheriff knows I know. The sheriff knows I’m waiting. The sheriff knows I know I’m waiting. The sheriff knows I know that he knows I know he knows I’m waiting. I’m waiting. Waiting for the sheriff.” The deputy descended into muttering even less coherently, as he fiddled with the coffee machine.

  Taking a deep breath, Ginny jumped as a hand landed heavily on her shoulder. Next to her, Brendon pulled his hand back quickly, raising it apologetically. “Sorry. Are you okay?” He looked at her in concern. Ginny shrugged and gave him a thumbs up. “Yep, I’m good. Doing great.” She looked at the hand he’d laid on her shoulder, his palm coated in blood, and then down at herself. “Still really need a shower.” Brendon snorted out a laugh, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Sorry, you’re right. It’s just that I know a guy who’s really obsessed with your movie, and he has this whole thing he can go on about, how the fact that you’re the only female counselor not in the shower scene where we see all the other female counselors naked, is a foreshadowing device to set you apart.”

  Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. “The shower scene?” Brendon swallowed, glancing over at the kids in the next cell over. “I mean, it was just… it was a scene in your movie where the other female counselors were talking about the legend of the Blood Drinkers and laughing about how stupid it was.” She continued to stare at him with narrowed eyes.

  “In the shower.”

  He shrugged, a slight flush on his cheeks as he reached up to rub at the back of his head nervously. “Yeah.” He looked back at her sheepishly. “You weren’t in it!” Ginny stared back at him, her expression unreadable, and he quickly cleared his throat and tried to change the subject.

  “So, uh, what’s the plan? Cause I feel like even after you talked him down, the deputy is one hat drop away from murdering all of us.” He lowered his voice and glanced over at the cell the kids were in. Mark continued to sit in the corner opposite them, his knees pulled up to his chest, giving no sign he’d heard them. Norah on the other hand was staring directly at them but merely looked curious. Ginny frowned slightly and focused on the little girl. Analyze.

  Name: Norah Miller

  Race: Human

  Age: 10

  Conditions: Tired

  Breathing a sigh of relief at the girl’s thankfully normal looking status and lack of strange conditions, Ginny turned back to Brendon. Giving a quick glance over at the deputy to make sure he was still focused on mumbling to himself at the coffee machine, she leaned in a bit closer and spoke quietly.

  “Now we see if the Depths is interested in stories about breaking out of prison.”