Nobody went to the old glass factory anymore. Nobody had any reason to. After the place shut down years ago, it had been left to rot by its owners. Now the factory was a big, dead thing on the outskirts of Possum Springs, visible from almost anywhere in the town. It was like the beached carcass of a whale—it sat around, flaunting its deadness for all to see.

Pretty much everyone steered clear of the factory. Mostly because of, you know, all of the broken glass. It certainly hadn't helped that someone had broken in all of the windows. You couldn't take two steps without stepping on glass.

Luckily, Steve Scriggins had some really thick boots.

Steve, Beth, and Levy were pretty much the only people who came to the glass factory. There was plenty of stuff in the old building that they could scavenge for some quick cash. The walls in particular still had plenty of copper pipes and wiring left in them. The copper wasn't worth a lot, but it provided a nice bonus on top of the money Steve made working on his bro's construction crew.

The factory wasn't the only place in town to get copper, either. Possum Springs was basically falling apart, and most of the older buildings had been abandoned. Every day after work, Steve would head out, alone or with friends, and get to work tearing copper out of the walls of some building or another.

Steve affectionately referred to these blatant crimes as his 'side-job'.

A day or two after the disastrous party that had been held for Daryl Peach, Steve packed up his tools and drove out to the glass factory to do some scavenging. He hadn't told Beth and Levy to meet him at the factory, but he wasn't surprised to see Levy's old sedan sitting in the factory's parking lot. Steve parked his car, grabbed his bag of tools, and turned up the music playing from his phone's connected earbuds.

The inside of the glass factory was creepy. If Steve were the philosophizing sort, he would have described it as a haunting reminder of time and nature's inevitable victory over all of mankind's various accomplishments. Steve wasn't the philosophizing sort, though, so he just thought that the factory was really, really dirty.

Steve found Beth and Levy both hanging out on the main factory floor. Neither of them looked up to greet Steve when he came in. Beth was focused on her phone, evidently somehow getting wi-fi all the way out here. Levy was sitting with his back to one of the old machines, chucking rocks at the wall opposite him. His eyes were baggy and bloodshot.

Levy had been a burnout before he even got into high school. Rather than spending his school years studying or socializing, Levy had spent them getting high and selling weed. He used to get the stuff from his brother in Bright Harbor, but now Levy had a setup in his basement where he could grow it by himself. He'd made some attempts to move onto selling more serious stuff, but those had all led to nothing but trouble, especially lately.

Beth Holstead, easily the trashiest member of the group, was only slightly less of a burnout than Levy. Sure, she did drugs in weird places, but she at least had an actual job, unlike Levy. And sure, she sniffed glue and slept around a lot, but those weren't exactly bad things. Out of all three of them, Steve felt like Beth was probably the least likely to wind up in jail.

Steve stood in the doorway, staring at Levy and Beth. Loud, screechy death metal blared from the earbuds Steve wore as he waited for either of them to notice him. By the time next track in his playlist started, though, Steve knew that wasn't going to happen.

"'Sup, punks?" Steve asked as he tugged his earbuds out of his ears.

Beth and Levy both glanced at Steve briefly. Neither of them spoke—evidently, just turning their heads and looking at someone constituted a greeting. Steve had to guess that Beth and Levy were either tired, burned out, or both.

On the other side of the machine that Levy had his back to, there was a wall. A large hole had been broken in the wall's plaster, exposing the pipes and wires that ran throughout the building. Similar, smaller holes were dotted all over the factory's interior. Most of them were only big enough for a single piece of pipe to be visible, but they could always be made bigger.

Steve carried a heavy backpack on one shoulder as he approached the wall. Inside of the bag, there were hammers, a saw, pliers—all the tools Steve needed for his side-job. They all belonged to his brother, but Steve figured that he wouldn't miss them. Besides, Steve was using this stuff to make money—his brother only used the tools to fix things around the house.

Steve dropped his bag down onto the dusty, glass-littered floor and looked into the hole in the wall. Immediately, he noticed something was off.

"Hey, Levy!" Steve hollered over his shoulder. "You been taking copper from here? You know I called dibs on this spot!"

The sound of rocks bouncing off of the factory's walls momentarily stopped. Steve glanced back at Levy, who was gazing vaguely in Steve's direction. He looked irritated, as if Steve was interrupting something very important for no real reason. He also looked sort of confused, but that was pretty typical for Levy.

"You don't own this factory, Scriggins," Levy said. His voice was soft and slow—old people and hippies might describe it as 'mellow'. It was definitely a voice you'd associate with someone who did weed and took various downers. In Steve's opinion, Levy's voice was incredibly punchable.

"The hell I don't!" Steve retorted. "I'm the only one using it for anything!"

Levy picked up one of the small rocks littering the ground and chucked it in Steve's direction. The rock whizzed past Steve's head and bounced off the wall, clattering back down to the floor. Steve quickly scooped it back up and threw it at Levy, striking the side of the burnout's head.

"Ow!" Levy rubbed the side of his head, clearly caught off-guard. The patch of skin where the rock had struck already looked like it would leave a nasty bruise.

Steve pointed a finger at Levy and laughed mockingly. "Hweh heh heh!"

Levy glared angrily at Steve, apparently not appreciating the hilarity of getting hit by a rock. Some people just couldn't take a joke. Or a rock to the head.

"So is this a thing now?" Beth asked, her eyes still on her phone. "You two just gonna throw rocks at each other like kids?"

Levy, who'd been reaching for a rock to throw at Steve, bashfully withdrew his hand at Beth's accusation. Steve snorted in derision and leaned back against the wall behind him.

"Y'know, I went to that party you told me about the other night." As he spoke, Steve fished around in his jacket's pockets for his cigarettes. If he'd left them at home after getting off of work, he thought, he was going to snap. "It blew chunks."

Steve's fingers brushed against the familiar texture of his pack of smokes. While he got to work lighting one of the cigarettes up, Levy stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"What party?" Levy asked.

Steve had just finished lighting up when Levy asked his question. His eyes flicked up from the glowing end of his cigarette and scanned Levy's face to see if he was joking. Steve quickly realized that, no, he wasn't.

"What party?" He repeated incredulously. "God, Levy, it's Possum Springs—how many parties are there, really? The one in the woods! The one you didn't even show up for!"

Levy frowned. "Oh, okay. I don't remember that one."

"Stunning," Beth grumbled, her eyes still focused on her phone.

Levy looked back and forth between Steve and Beth obliviously. The fact that he was this much of a space case without taking any really serious drugs was astounding. The fact that his spaciness hadn't gotten him busted for possession was even more amazing. Then again, this was Possum Springs—as far as Steve knew, the town only had two cops.

"Whatever. Probably good you didn't show up anyway," Steve said. "I'm pretty sure I saw Dudley hanging out at the party."

"Oh." That was all Levy said. From the looks of things, it was the only thing he could say. A very worried expression had appeared on his face. Levy looked away from Steve and began staring at the wall in front of him.

Steve couldn't really blame him for being nervous. Levy was in serious trouble with Dudley, and Dudley evidently wasn't the kind of guy you effed around with. It was his own damn fault, though, so Steve wasn't too concerned.

Steve sighed and turned to look at his own wall. Through the hole in its surface, he could see that Levy hadn't taken that much of the piping. Most of the wires were untouched, as well. Still, Steve was pretty angry that Levy had taken from a spot that Steve had called dibs on. It was the principle of the thing that bothered Steve, really.

Steve kneeled down in front of the hole and began to get to work. There were pipes to pull out, and wires to strip and sort. Over the last couple of years, Steve had kind of gotten to be an old pro at this. Pipes, wires, doorknobs—Steve had learned how to handle them all, and how to identify what would sell best.

Sure, what Steve was doing wasn't exactly legal. But so what? No one was using any of this shit. And stealing copper wasn't anywhere near as bad as the stuff some people did for money.

Time passed, and Steve worked in silence. He figured that pretty soon, he'd need to make this hole bigger—either that, or start working on a new spot. There were always the factory machines to look at, too—there was bound to be something there that Steve could yank off and sell.

A familiar voice broke the silence before Steve could really start thinking about any of that, though. It was a voice Steve hadn't been expecting to hear in the factory. It was a voice Steve never wanted to hear around him, period.

"What are you guys doing in here?" Mae Borowski asked from somewhere far behind Steve.

Steve let loose a long, annoyed sigh.


Nobody went to the old glass factory anymore. At least, that's what Mae thought. She imagined homeless people might drop by it for shelter, but she'd never really thought that people hung out in the factory. There was probably broken glass and shit all over the place. It was probably the sort of place where you'd get cut on something and catch a terrible disease.

So, in summary, it was exactly the type of abandoned building that Mae would go to.

Mae wasn't sure herself why she decided to go to the factory that day. She'd woken up a little early (She'd been doing that a lot lately) and had just started walking. Before Mae knew it, she had hiked all the way out to the Big Skeleton on the edge of town.

The inside of the glass factory was creepy. It wasn't scary-creepy, like an old house, though; it was more of a sad-creepy, like a graveyard. It was a big, broken-down dead thing. The only reason it was still around was because nobody cared enough to knock it down. Instead, they just left it behind to die and rot away.

Also, the whole place smelled like pee and nature.

It didn't take Mae very long to find out the place wasn't as abandoned as she'd thought, though. As she moved further into the factory, the smell of cigarette smoke became more and more noticeable. At first, Mae thought that someone had come to smoke here in the last few days. But once her allergies started to act up, Mae realized that someone was actually currently smoking.

Mae walked deeper into the factory, making her way to the main floor's entrance. The doors that had been in the doorframe looked like they'd been removed—either that, or the factory just never had doors here. That didn't make sense, though. Mae wasn't sure why she'd thought that.

The source of the cigarette smoke became clear to Mae fairly quickly. Three people were gathered by one of the machines, and Mae instantly recognized Steve Scriggins among their number. He was crouching down in front of a hole in the wall, a bag of tools at his side. For some reason, there was a pile of stuff next to him—it looked like metal, but Mae wasn't sure. Was Steve a repairman or something?

Wait. No. Why would a repairman come to an abandoned building?

It only took Mae a couple of seconds to recognize the other two. The one sitting against the machine and staring at the wall was Levy. Levy had been a sketchy guy, even back in high school. According to Gregg and Angus, Levy had hung out in one of the boy's bathrooms, selling weed to other students.

The third person was Beth Holstead, who Mae only really knew through other people. Casey and her had hung out a little in high school. There'd been a lot of rumors about Beth back then. There'd been a lot of rumors about Casey, too. Mae hadn't put much stock into those stories.

Mae didn't really want to talk to these people. Steve was bad enough, but Steve in addition to his friends? That was too much jerkiness to take in in one sitting. But it wasn't like Mae had anything better to do. She wouldn't be able to hang out with Bea or Gregg for another couple of hours.

"Hey," Mae called out. "What are you guys doing in here?"

Levy and Beth both turned to look at Mae. Neither of them seemed surprised to see her—they both seemed kinda bored, actually. But while Beth's expression remained mostly neutral, Levy began glaring at Mae once he realized who she was. Mae was kind of used to that.

Steve was still facing the wall, but he'd stopped working on whatever he'd been doing. When he turned around to face Mae, he didn't have his usual shit-eating grin. He looked pretty annoyed, but Mae wasn't sure why. Had she interrupted his important business with the hole in the wall? Oh, how unfortunate!

"Working," Steve said dismissively. "What're you doing in here?"

Mae frowned. "You're just standing in front of a hole. Levy and Beth aren't even doing anything."

"Yeah, no," Beth said, returning her gaze to her phone. "I'm just hanging out. How you doing, Borowski?"

Mae raised a hand and waved briefly at Beth. "Well, I can't find a job and my best friend's moving soon, but other than that, I'm fine."

"Cool," Beth said absently. "I'm working for Mr. Salvi's landscaping. Getting all gross and sweaty."

"You're always gross and sweaty," Steve mocked.

Beth, eyes still on her phone, lifted up a feathery hand and showed Steve her middle finger. Steve waved a hand dismissively at the gesture, but smiled just a bit.

"No, but seriously, what're you doing in the glass factory?" Mae asked. "Do you, like… need glass? Do the machines here still run?"

Steve stared at Mae like she was the stupidest person on the planet. Mae had no clue why, though; it was a legitimate question, right? She had no idea how you made glass. For all Mae knew, it was perfectly possible to plug the factory's machines in and start pumping out glass.

"We're not here for glass, genius," Steve said, irritation in his voice. "Me and Levy come here for our side-job sometimes."

"Side-job?" Mae asked. She hadn't even been aware that Steve had a regular job. It was kind of hard to picture Steve doing something for a living. Had he gotten some job that involved pointing and laughing at people? Had he become a garbage-man?

Wait. No. Steve had always been a garbage-man. Zing! Burn!

Steve, oblivious to the sick burn Mae had just made in her mind, gestured to the assortment of metal that Mae had noticed earlier. It mostly looked like pipes and wires—probably pulled out from the walls of the factory, Mae realized. But why would Steve and Levy just bust into some place and yank useless crap out of the walls?

"I don't follow," Mae said.

Steve gave a small snort of derision. "That ain't a surprise."

Mae frowned. Here she was, asking perfectly innocent questions, and she was getting treated like a moron for it. Then again, Steve probably treated everyone like a moron. He'd been a huge asshole back in high school, and it didn't look like that had changed at all.

Mae turned her head in Levy's direction. "Wanna fill me in?"

Levy's glare only intensified when Mae asked her question. "What, you think I'm dumb enough to tell you anything? I still remember that shit that happened in 10th grade, man. I was in deep shit after you ratted me out to your aunt."

"Whoa, what?" Mae's eyes widened in surprise. She didn't remember what Levy was talking about, but she knew he must have been mistaken. For one thing, Mae wasn't a snitch. Even if Mae was a snitch, there's no way she'd rat someone out to Aunt Mall Cop. Not unless they were, like, a gross murderer, or something.

"Look, dude," Mae said, "I dunno what you think I did, but I never ratted anyone out to my aunt. If my aunt busted you for something, someone else tipped her off."

Levy scoffed. "Okay. Sure. Guess you must have an identical twin or something, huh?"

Mae threw her hands in the air in frustration. "I don't even know what you're talking about, dude! We didn't even hang out in high school! Did we even have any classes together? I'm pretty sure I only ever saw you when you were creeping outside the school!"

Mae stood there, hands raised up, waiting for Levy to explain himself. Instead of giving any kind of clarification, though, Levy just turned and resumed staring at the wall in front of him.

"Hey," Steve chimed in impatiently. He'd stepped away from the wall and was beginning to approach Mae. For a moment, Mae thought that he was going to try and throw her out of his weird factory clubhouse. Steve stopped a few feet away, however, and spat his cigarette down onto the floor.

"You didn't answer my question at the party," Scriggins said as he stamped the cigarette out, black ash scattering under his boot. "Do you know if Hartley left any stuff behind before he left? Don't lie, neither—this is important."

Mae wasn't surprised by the question this time. Honestly, she'd pretty much expected Steve to ask it again. This time, though, there was no convenient trombone to stop Mae from answering. Mae had to stop herself from immediately mentioning the lockbox from Casey's note like some sort of idiot.

"What… kinda stuff?" Mae asked vaguely.

"It's a yes-or-no question," Steve said dryly. "If you don't know what I'm talking about, then forget it. I just thought Casey mighta told you or Gregg something before he left town."

Mae frowned. She still didn't know why Steve was asking about all of this, and she was feeling too impatient to let it slide. Maybe it was because she knew what Steve didn't—Casey hadn't left town. He'd never leave town. He was dead. And Steve had no right to be demanding something Casey had left behind without even knowing that.

"It's none of your business if he did tell us something!" Mae snapped. "Why do you care about Casey's stuff? You were such an asshole to Casey in high school! Or what, did that change when I was gone? Did you two suddenly become best friends? Did Casey suddenly start hanging out with assholes and criminals?"

For a moment, it looked like Steve didn't know what to make of Mae's questions. He had one eyebrow raised in confused surprise. His expression made it seem as if Mae had somehow insulted him. Mae expected Steve was going to start screaming and cussing her out. If that happened, Mae was prepared to bring out her earlier garbage-man joke.

Instead, he was surprisingly quiet when he spoke.

"God, you're such an idiot," he said, practically snarling.

"What?!" Mae was suddenly aware that all eyes were on here. She looked away from Steve and saw that both Levy and Beth were glaring at her. Well, Levy was glaring—Beth just looked kind of uncomfortable with the whole situation.

"Get outta here, Borowski," Levy demanded, slowly rising up to his feet. "Or else."

Despite the animosity in Levy's voice, Mae couldn't help but laugh. Even if Levy was a literal drug dealer, he was also one of the scrawniest people Mae knew. He was about as threatening as Mae's elderly neighbor, Mr. Penderson.

From the look on his face, though, Levy was seriously angry. Normally, he just looked kind of wasted. Mae didn't know what she'd done to deserve this kind of attention. All she'd done was call Steve out on his behavior, but now suddenly she was the asshole here? Had these people never actually met Steve?

"Fine, whatever," Mae said, folding her arms over her chest. "You guys can go back to knocking holes in walls or whatever. I'll leave."

"Good," Steve said as Mae turned and began walking away.

Mae didn't pay him any attention. She kept on walking out of the factory floor and down the glass factory's hallways. As she stepped out into the factory's parking lots, the cold February afternoon still going strong, Mae couldn't help but wonder why she'd even come up here.

Interacting with Steve was a headache. Interacting with Steve and Levy was an even bigger headache. Beth was okay, but the other two were just huge assholes. And now Mae had even more questions than she'd had before.

Did any of this really matter, though? Mae doubted it somehow. It sort of seemed like Steve wasn't asking about the lockbox. After all, Steve wasn't exactly subtle—if he wanted to know about the money, he would've straight up mentioned it. But what, then, was Steve asking about? And why did it involve Casey?

And more importantly, why was it so important to Steve anyway?