'I thought this lady might've had something to do with Mark's death, but no! Turns out, she was a victim herself,' Aron groaned. 'Who the fuck was going around killing all these people?'
I sighed.
'At least we know for sure we're on the right track,' I said.
Aron looked at me questioningly, and I handed over the letter I'd been reading.
He scanned the page, then looked back up at me.
'The creature in the room after lights-out…' he muttered. 'Well, that explains that curse.'
'Looks like June was killed by whoever kept breaking into her room. She never did finish writing to Clara,' I commented.
Aron suddenly stood up.
'Clara…' he said thoughtfully. 'Hey, wasn't this lady mentioned in the diary, too?'
'Mm-hmm.'
His eyes brightened. 'Say, the letter shows that June was waiting for Clara. She said that she should've been here already.'
'What if Clara did show up that night? Or sometime the following morning? Just in time to be told that her… friend? Sister?... was dead.'
'Oh.'
I immediately saw where he was going with this.
June had been writing to Clara about the bullying, and about how the whole school was under the powerful Director's thumb.
Even if the administration claimed that June had killed herself, Clara would've had reason to suspect foul play.
She'd have known the possible killer would never be held accountable.
She might've even borne a deadly grudge.
'Holy shit. I think Clara killed Mark.'
And just like that, all the dots suddenly connected.
…
…
It was late afternoon by the time we left the intern teacher's room.
We descended the stairway just as silently as we'd gone up it earlier.
Unfortunately, someone was still waiting for us at the very bottom.
I turned the corner at the final landing, then froze.
'I. Knew. It.'
The harsh, raspy voice came from the middle-aged lady who stood there, blocking the exit.
'I knew I saw footprints in the lobby. The assistant didn't believe me, but I told him they were there…'
The lady had neatly coiffed hair, and wore a pencil skirt and old-fashioned glasses.
She was the picture-perfect, almost stereotypical image of the gentle receptionist from a movie.
That just made the gigantic shears she held even more horrifying.
This was the same NPC who'd chased me down yesterday.
'Shit…'
'Aron, we need to get out of here.'
Even as I said those words, my mind was racing.
We were in a narrow stairway.
If we went back up to any of the other levels, we'd only be backing ourselves into a corner.
There was no other way out. Not even a fire exit.
Which meant…
'Past her is the only way,' I whispered.
At the same time, Aron muttered, 'We just gotta make a run for it anyway.'
Oh. Good.
Good to know we were on the same page.
'Students are not allowed to be here!' the lady said, raising the scissors.
Then, she suddenly roared.
'Not! Allowed!'
'Now!'
Together, Aron and I ran down the stairs, aiming for either side of her.
She was momentarily startled, and we took advantage of that to push past her and out towards the exit.
Of course, it wasn't that easy.
Of course, she chose to swing her weapon my way.
The sharp blades tore through the fabric of my sleeve, and I felt a sharp, immediate flash of pain as they bit into my upper left arm.
'Ugh!'
I didn't stop.
As we ran out into the lobby, shoes thudding frantically on the tiling, I saw another NPC standing to one side with a dull look on his face.
He suddenly jabbed a –
…was that a fucking broomstick with a sharpened end!?
The fuck???
- at Aron, who managed to duck out of the way just in time.
I could feel hot blood dripping down my arm as we ran.
I still didn't stop.
Aron and I ran as fast as we could manage.
He fell a bit behind me, but still maintained quite an impressive speed.
We left the building, down the stone pathway, and across the empty grounds.
As our pursuers fell behind, I heard the lady yell, 'I'm telling! I'm telling the Director!'
'I'm telling him there are no-good students snooping where they shouldn't be!'
'He'll deal with you!'
And fuck you, too, I thought.
After about a couple more minutes, we'd successfully thrown them off.
We came to a stop by the parking lot near the main exit.
Aron was panting lightly.
He narrowed his eyes at me.
'Professional athlete? Do marathons a lot?' he asked.
I couldn't help but laugh.
He was still trying to figure out my real-world profession.
'Getting warmer,' was all I said in response.
Well, technically, that wasn't correct.
Technically, I was sort of unemployed right now.
'Anyway,' he said, 'You should get that arm looked at.'
I'd almost forgotten I'd been cut.
I looked down to see my left sleeve soaked in warm, red blood.
A thin trickle down my arm was slowly dripping and collecting into a tiny puddle where I stood.
Right next to it was another dark, slick patch of some kind of oily liquid that had soaked into the unsealed concrete.
'That's the brake fluid John had mentioned.'
Aron nodded.
'Anyway, c'mon. Let's go see if Sheila will patch that up for you.'
…
…
Aron slipped a note into Sheila's pocket during one of the afternoon lessons.
The three of us met up in the communal bathroom once again.
Sheila, if possible, looked even worse than she had at lunch.
Even with her makeshift walking stick, she was swaying slightly in place.
The features of the teenage boy's face in front of me were pale and drawn tight, with shockingly dark hollows underneath the eyes.
The terrible injury was taking its toll on her.
But when she saw the gash on my arm, she immediately fished out a roll of gauze and some disinfectant from her bag, and got to work.
'We solved the plot,' Aron told her as she cleaned the wound with some cotton. 'We're leaving tonight. The Director's been tipped off, so this is probably our last chance.'
'You needn't tell me all this,' she said softly. 'I have no new information to exchange with you.'
'You're helping me now, aren't you – sssss!'
My words were cut off by an involuntary hiss as she poured a stinging liquid into the gash.
Aron took over again.
'You're doing enough,' he said. 'Besides, we've been working together since the very beginning. Nothing wrong with helping out a fellow player.'
'Helping… ha.'
She paused.
'Actually… there is something I'd like some help with.'
She looked up at Aron.
'That knife you took… Can I borrow it for the evening?'
Aron paused. Before he could say anything, Sheila continued.
'I'll return it to you by nightfall, before you leave. I know it's probably a collectible item.'
Collectible item?
'You cannot bring any weapons from the real world into an instance,' Aron explained for my benefit. 'Not even a blade that's over two inches long.'
'However, you'll sometimes find collectibles inside one of these worlds. Those, you can bring along to other instances.'
'How do you know that knife is one of them?' I asked.
'I don't,' Aron shrugged. 'Not for sure. Not until I get out of here and see it's still in my inventory. I just felt like it might be, so I nicked it.'
He turned to Sheila, who finishing up tying the bandage on my arm.
'Here.'
He handed over the knife.
She smiled.
'Thank you. Meet me here again before you leave the dorms tonight. I'll return it then.'
Her smile widened.
'You understand why I must wait until the its lights-out, and the NPCs are confined to their beds by the creature in their rooms. I can't risk making any noise before then.'
Huh?
'What do you mean?' I asked.
'There's still a few things you don't understand about these worlds, Neil,' Aron said. 'You'll see.'
We waited until lights-out, and timed our exit the same way we'd done the previous night.
Once again, I quietly shut the door just as the creature was starting to appear.
Then, the two of us started walking down the dark corridor, towards the bathrooms at the end.
As we got closer, I realized I could hear voices from within.
'Mmfgg -!'
'Hush. Hush. We still have the whole night ahead of us.'
'Gnff! Guhhnnn!'
Disturbed, I glanced at Aron.
Even in the dark, I could tell by his gait that he wasn't worried at all.
'C'mon,' he muttered, and pushed the door open.
I paused.
Aron had given me no reason for mistrust.
But those noises…
I had no idea what was going on.
After a moment, I steeled my resolve and followed after him anyway.
When I entered, the first thing that hit me was the gamey smell.
A smell I was already starting to recognize as blood.
Then, I saw what was going on inside.
Sheila was crouched on the floor, holding the bloodied knife in one hand.
There was another guy lying curled-up on the floor in front of her.
His arms and legs had been tied up, and there was a large wad of fabric stuffed into his mouth.
'Mmfggnn! Gunfff!' he groaned, watching with wide eyes as she waved the knife around.
I recognized that face.
'What the hell?' I whispered.
It was the other newbie.