Chapter 18 – Challenging Fate

I woke up the next morning with a strange noise. The crack-crack of dry leaves, and footsteps.

I opened my eyes. It was just Tiny, dragging a girl's naked corpse by her feet.

"Good morning, Tiny!" I greeted him with a lazy yawn. He stopped for a second to wave, and then continued on his way.

I had given up feeling bad about the Fireflys' victims. There was not a way that I could avoid those people being murdered, so I concluded that there was no point in me feeling bad every time. That would eventually drive me crazy, so I was done with it. I didn't think much of it this time.

Still, there was something bothering me about that scene. I couldn't point my finger at it. Do I still have a conscience, perhaps? I wondered, darkly smiling to myself. I looked again at Tiny dragging that corpse, Lord knows where to, and a déjà vu feeling hit me. Where have I seen this before? I tried to remember, my stomach starting to hurt with sudden unease.

And then I saw them coming.

Several police cars entered the property, approaching swiftly, parking in front of the house. Before I could recover from my shock, a gazillion cops appeared, silently pointing rifles and pistols at the house.

"No!" I began to scream, but a huge hand covered my mouth and strangled the sound, as a strong arm held me by the shoulders. I knew it was Tiny. Panic took over me completely, as I realized exactly what was going on. I fought with all my strength to free myself and run towards the house – without a plan; only the simple wish to stop what was about to happen – but Tiny held me in place.

I had been so stupid not to pay attention to the signs. Otis waking up with a corpse on his bed. Tiny dragging a dead girl outside. But the first sign had got my attention for other reasons; and even if I had understood the second one, it would have been too late already.

How is this possible? I screamed inside my head. This is only March, but the raid is supposed to happen only in May!

"This is Sheriff Wydell" a masculine, authoritarian voice that I recognized announced on a megaphone, as Tiny and I looked from the distance, covered by bushes. "You are surrounded."

No, no, no, no, no, no, I kept telling myself. This cannot be happening. I have to do something! I stopped fighting Tiny, realizing that running towards those murderous cops would do no good to anyone. I had to think, and fast. I turn my face to him, in a silent request to let me speak. He uncovered my mouth and let go off me. "Tiny, this is it" I whispered hurriedly, looking into his eyes with mine full of unshed tears. "This is what I saw happening. They are gonna kill Rufus and take your mother. We have to do something-"

A deafening, blasting succession of gunfire interrupted me, as I curled up against Tiny, seeking protection. He carefully put his deformed arms around me, as I covered my ears and screamed in fear and protest. When the long gunfight reached an end, I was crying freely, although silently as possible. "I am so sorry, Tiny" I managed to say, weakly, among painful sobs. "Your brother is dead."

Suddenly, an idea occurred to me. I wiped away my tears and forced myself to remain strong for the time being; perhaps I could still avoid the rest of the tragedy. "Tiny, there is a sewer, or some large drainpipe connected to the basement. How can I get there?" He looked at me for a moment, probably wondering how I knew that; then pointed an arm to our right, at a path on the woods.

"I have to go." Fighting an enormous pain on my chest, I told him: "There is a very big chance that Otis, Baby and Spaulding will be captured and brought back to this house. They are going to be tortured for hours. Please, stay here, hidden, and when the house is on fire, go rescue them. Will you do that?"

Tiny waved yes, pain showing in his sensitive eyes. I threw my arms around him, in a painful goodbye hug. I turned to leave, then thought back and said: "If that happens... please tell Otis that I went back home. And that I love him." Looking at Tiny and at the house for the last time, I turned around and ran through the pointed path.

Soon enough, I found the sewer, just as I remembered from the movie. But I didn't know if Baby and Otis had come out of it yet, and I certainly couldn't go in and verify. Making a decision, I ran forward, trying to guess which direction they would choose. I ran and ran, until my lungs were burning without oxygen. I headed forward and eventually in circles, desperate to find Otis and Baby.

But I found something else instead.

The body of a waitress, stabbed and left in the middle of the road.

Dropping on my knees in defeat, I left my head hang back, fighting to breathe and letting the hot sun bathe my sweaty face.

That meant, Otis and Baby had left in her truck, being miles away by now. I didn't have a car to follow them; wouldn't know where to, anyway. I could steal a car and try to make it to the cheap motel where they were heading, but how on earth would I know the location? What the hell was the name of that hotel, anyway? I couldn't remember from the movie. Spaulding knew where it was, and Baby would call him in no time. If I could just talk to him! But even if I knew where he lived – which I didn't – I wouldn't make it on time.

It was all over; there was nothing else that I could do. I lay on the ground, feeling empty as I've never felt before. For a moment there, I felt as drained of life as the corpse beside me.

Or maybe there is something that I can try, I realized, slowly standing on my feet. Of course!

Spaulding's girlfriend, the fat chick. She may know how to get to Charlie's, Spaulding's black brother and pimp. Or maybe not, but that was my only shot left. That's it! I thought with renewed energy, running like lightning towards the Museum of Monsters and Madmen. All the while, I prayed to find a notebook in there, or telephone number clipped to the wall, or anything that would to give me a clue on Spaulding's home address or phone number.

The place was much further away than I had thought, but eventually I got there, shaking of exhaustion and gasping for air. The door had been left unlocked; I got in and immediately started searching, opening and closing drawers, shelves, looking for pieces of paper with numbers in it.

The front door opened, catching me by surprise as I avidly searched through the counter's shelves.

"Oh my, look who is here!" I've heard, and slowly stood upright, knowing beforehand what to expect. I was greeted by Sheriff Widell's flashing smile. He was soon followed by three other cops.

I was simply too exhausted to think of a good excuse for being there. Not that it would have helped.

Wydell approached, in a slow and steady step. "I knew that you were up to something" he said in a friendly tone. "I really didn't buy into that writing-a-paper bullshit you tried to shove down my throat." His face transformed into a frightening mask of rage. "Do you think we are fucking idiots?" he yelled in a thunderous voice, making me jump backwards. At that, the four of them produced guns from their belts, pointing them at me.

"Freeze" he ordered coldly, going back to a normal tone. "Or I'll shoot you right here."

He walked towards me, gun pointed, hate flashing in his eyes.

It was like reliving a scene from days ago, except that there was no Otis in it. The irony of the situation is that, the first time, I almost got shot by supposedly being a cop; this time, the cops themselves wanted to shoot me.

But now I wasn't afraid. Hell, I had survived the Fireflys – I wouldn't let a handful of cops get me.

I stood still as Wydell shoved my hands behind my back, with a violence that absolutely wasn't necessary, and handcuffed me. "May I ask why you are arresting me?"

"You have the right to remain silent" he replied with sarcasm.

One thing was really hurting me, and that was the idea that I may have been the cause for the Fireflys to be found out. Did the cops follow Spaulding's car after I stupidly went to their station? Had I done anything to change the course of the events? If I had stayed home and not messed with time machines, would things have been different?

What I said next came out as a confession, and I knew it. But I absolutely needed to know if it had been my fault. "Did you guys follow me? Huh? How did you find out that I was staying with the Fireflys?"

"Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law" he spat, looking at me angrily.

"Did you see me in town with Baby and Rufus and you made two plus two? Or maybe you were bored and wanted to know what's up with the new girl in town, then you followed me and got the truth by accident?"

In silence, he grabbed my arm painfully and dragged me out of the museum.

"So here you are, controlling yourself to act all correct and professional," I provoked, desperate to make him talk "a great example of an honorable sheriff, just in case that some passerby shows. But then later, at the police station, you'll use your own means to make me talk. Am I right?"

He turned me around with a pull, bending until his face got very close to mine. His breath stank of cheap liquor. One would say that his eyes were liquid hate. "I am gonna make sure you spit everything you know about those worms," he said in a threatening tone "and then some more. You're damn right about that. Starting now. I want you to tell me where the fugitives headed to."

You are out of your mind if you think I am going to help you, pal! I thought to myself. I lied: "How am I supposed to know?"

The blow that hit me on the stomach caught me by surprise. It hadn't been quite of a Rufus-blow, but strong enough to make me double over in pain. The sheriff grabbed me by the shoulders and straightened me up. "You know exactly where they are, and we are not walking out of here until you tell me."

I know – challenging a madman on a rampage is a very, very stupid thing to do. But that wasn't a normal situation. My friends were about to be killed (not to mention that, for the first time, I was thinking of them as my friends), with or without my betrayal; I had been caught and likely to be killed too, now that I was believed to be part of the Fireflys. Everything was just a big mess. That explains my giggly reply to Wydell: "Sorry to disappoint you, but that's not going to happen."

Wydell clearly was out of his mind, because he grabbed me by the shoulders and violently tossed me against the wall – all this outside the museum, where anyone could see – pinning me there and began choking me with a powerful hand.

"What did you think, that you were going to walk out of there unpunished?" he yelled, an insane look on his face. "You were there with them for days, clearly not as a hostage, and what can that possibly mean? That you were on their side!" His voice went gradually louder, as his fingers on my throat applied more pressure.

I soon began to panic with the lack of oxygen, but there was nothing that I could do about it. I had my hands cuffed behind my back, and the only people around us were the other cops, who didn't seem to mind their sheriff's handling of the situation.

"You were killing with them, weren't you?" he accused, his voice in a hiss now. "You were probably helping them to torture people, to murder innocents that didn't do anything wrong. You probably laughed and enjoyed it as they suffered. Didn't you?"

He finally let go of me, watching me cough violently and gasp for air. Then he grabbed me and tossed me against the wall again. "Now, where were we? Oh, I believe it was the part where you tell us where your friends are hiding."

No more sarcasm, Laura, please! I urged myself.

And then the truth hit me.

Of course, I thought. Rob Zombie lied about the raid taking place in May. If he had the ability to see into the Fireflys' past, then he saw me as well. He knew that I was going to try and save them. He also knew that I must not. No one can alter the course of events... and he made sure I didn't.

The truth squeezed my heart in pain, but I had to accept it. Now, there was only one thing left to do: go home.

Before Wydell had a chance to hit me or choke me again, I used the last card I had on my sleeve: "I really don't know where they went – seriously – but I know something else that may be of your interest."

"Oh really?" he ridiculed me. "And what would that be?"

"I know where your brother is buried."

That hit Wydell like a slap. He stared at me blankly, fighting to hide his emotions. "What do you know about my brother?" he asked with dangerous calm.

"I never met George Wydell, obviously, but I've heard the story. Last year, one day or so after Halloween, he and some young cop went to Captain Spaulding, investigating about two couples missing." I studied the sheriff's face, and I certainly had his attention. I continued: "Spaulding gave them directions to the Fireflys... and the rest is history."

"What else?" he hissed. "Go ahead."

I almost said "I am sorry for your brother", which was true; but if Wydell believed me to be a cold murdered, he would take it as an affront, just being further angered. So I skipped that part. "I know that he was shot in the head, died instantly, and was buried along with the other cop."

"And where were they buried?"

"Close to here, about three miles down the highway. If you'd like, we could make a deal: we can go there right now and I'd show you the place; in exchange, you'd take it easier on me in prison."

He grabbed me by the throat again. "I make no deals with scum like you. But you will show me where my brother is buried... right now."

I held back a smile of victory. "Okay, okay, I'll show you!" I pretended to comply. They put me on the backseat of one of the brown and white police cars, and we headed to the direction I instructed.

"Stop right there" I told them.

"Where is it?" Wydell asked impatiently.

"I cannot tell it from here, I need to step out of the car."

"Why don't you tell me what you are planning, sweetheart?" he accused.

I took a deep breath. "There is a small sign on the ground that I need to look for. I am handcuffed, sheriff, and there is nowhere I can go. If you are afraid that I may try and run, ask one of the cops to drive further away, that way you guys have me surrounded."

He silently considered my suggestion. "Very well. One false step, one funny thing from you, and we'll shoot. In your kneecap, 'cause you won't get away from me that easy. Is that clear?"

I nodded, and was helped out of the car. Taking a last, quick glance around, I stepped on the sidewalk and began looking. I wasn't sure of the exact location, but after walking several yards – followed by the cops, of course – I found it.

The place where I had come from.

Before the cops had a chance to notice the faint, mirror-like effect of the portal – more than all, before they had a chance to shoot me – I sneakily and quickly stepped in.

Today I enjoy imagining their expressions, picturing their shock when their prisoner vanished into thin air.

I stepped into the portal and fell back home, not fainting this time. My brother happened to be working in the computer, so he was there to greet me.

"Turn it off, turn it off, now!!" I yelled hysterically, running blindly and trying to find the "OFF" button for the time machine. (Not that I would be able to press it down, even if I found it, handcuffed as I was.) The last thing that I needed was for Wydell to step into the portal, and show up in my brother's office.

My mano walked to the machine and pressed a button. "It's off, little sister. Hello to you, too!"

Only then I allowed myself to pass out.