SSS 2 - Take her with you

“OK,” you say, putting your hand on Tanya’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Free Gurl.”

Tanya looks up, puzzled. “Why am I going?”

“You want to stay here by yourself when there’s someone dressed as a mass murderer breaking into people’s rooms?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

Tanya licks her lips. “When you put it like that,” she replies.

It’s back out into the storm. If anything, it’s getting heavier. Looks like you won’t have to worry about your thief driving out of here tonight after all, but you are not about to slow down. The weird all-weather carpet on the walkways is thoroughly soaked and squishes with every step.

“God! This sucks,” Tanya notes helpfully as she hustles along behind you and Sal.

This is a motel, not Madison Square Gardens. It doesn’t take long for you to get back to the room, where you pause to check on your girls. Kalyna answers the door. Behind her, Taytum and Bian are sitting under the covers. Kalyna was obviously just with them. They’re sharing warmth.

Nothing particularly suspicious about that.

“OK,” you tell them. “Back to lockdown.”

“Is everything OK?” Bian asks from the bed.

“It’s fine. Stay here,” you tell her, pulling the door shut. You rejoin Sal and Tanya and push on to the corner, where all three of you pause. You take a peek, but it’s hard to see in the downpour. There’s some kind of building in the back. A chain-link fence. Dumpsters. You’ll have to leave the pitiful shelter of the walkway to investigate. You’re already wet, but this will take it to another level.

You venture out, and once you’re in the storm, the noise is absolute. You look back, shielding your eyes to see Sal and Tanya hesitating. You can’t blame them.

You splash through deep puddles to the dumpsters and past them. Yes, there’s a fence back here. It’s probably to keep gators from eating the guests or something. But it would also do a good job of keeping someone from leaving. A fence like this is not impossible to scale, but it’s harder than it looks in movies. Was the person in that Peachface costume a good athlete? Like a CGH girl?

You glance back, but the storm is so powerful that you can’t see Sal and Tanya.

But there’s also this building. It’s not exactly a shed… you aren’t sure what its deal is. It has no windows. You slog your way to the door and try the handle. To your surprise, it’s unlocked. You open the door, revealing a dark interior.

Lightning flashes and the blue crackle catches on water on the floor.

The thief is here. You glance back again and wave, but they probably can’t see you. And the storm is so loud that nobody can possibly hear you. You step inside and pull the door closed behind you, shutting out most of the noise.

“OK,” you say as your eyes begin to adjust. “I don’t know who you are, but I know who you remind me of. You remind me of those losers in the apartment in Pulp Fiction. And me? I’m Marcellus Wallace,” you say.

You pause to listen.

“What are you talking about?” asks a tired voice from the dark.

You scowl. “So you watched Scream, but you haven’t seen Pulp Fiction?”

“Pulp what?”

“Oh my god. I was going to just have you give the money back, but now I want to kick your ass on general principle,” you snap.

There’s a groan in the shadows. “Keep your shirt on.”

A shape emerges from the dark: it’s a robed figure. Rather than wearing her mask on her face, she has it canted off to the side like a girl at a festival in an anime.

Your eyes widen.

“Lindsay?”

“Oh, Jesus. Of all the people,” she says, rubbing her wet face. “What are you doing here?”

This is Lindsay from CGH. She’s Sal’s second in command.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

“Pranking CCL. What else?” It’s not very convincing. Even to her.

“Like hell you are,” you say angrily.

The door opens behind you, startling you. You turn and lightning flashes again blinding you. You blink stars from your eyes to see Sal in the doorway. She steps into the building, which you now realize is a place for storing pool chemicals. You can tell from the smell. You shake your head as Sal pulls the door shut. She doesn’t say anything. She’s looking at Lindsay.

You look at Sal, then at Lindsay.

“What the hell is going on?” you demand.

“That’s what I want to know,” Sal says, standing beside you.

Lindsay’s mouth drops open. “Are you shitting me?” she asks. “You told me to do this!”

“You what?” you demand, looking up at Sal.

“I what?” Sal asks, putting her hand on her chest.

“And you didn’t say anything about a hurricane and fucking Jackie Brown coming after me,” Lindsay adds angrily.

You whip around, pointing your finger at her. “So you do watch movies!”

“Shut up!” Lindsay snaps.

“You shut up,” you retort, turning on Sal. You grab her shirt, and she looks down at you. “This is you?”

“Me? What? Why?” she asks.

Why? You can think of a few thousand reasons.

“No, it’s not me,” she mutters, throwing a glance at Lindsay.

Trust Sal?

Or don’t trust Sal?