OOM: you can jump into the fire, but you'll never be free
Kingford Academy
Portland, Oregon
Funny thing: One flash of a Secret Service badge and bam, you get to talk to the people at the top. The principal, last name of Hendricks, is leading Pete and Claudia to the scene of the flash fire.
"The young man's burns weren't serious, but they kept him out of football practice," he says. "He has a reputation for scaring people."
"Really," Pete says; Claudia takes a moment to look around. This is a pretty sweet campus, she has to say. "Does he like horror novels? Stephen King, Lovecraft, Poe?"
"You're assuming the boy reads. No, he's just a bully. Look, I mean, how big a deal is this? The school's got a reputation to maintain, and if it gets out that the government's investigating a teenage prank, it'll put a lot of parents off."
"You mean 'donors'?" Claudia asks; Hendricks snorts a little, but doesn't comment. (She takes that as a yes.)
"Why do you think it's just a prank?" Pete asks, as they start down a flight of stairs.
"We're not schooling little terrorists here. Somebody in a science class got tired of Permut picking on 'em and gave him a hot foot."
"Oh yeah? How's he doing?"
"He's fine." Hendricks stops a yard or so short of a bank of lockers; the one they're here to see has crime-scene tape on it. "You want this open?"
"No, we'll, uh--" Pete snaps on the second of his pair of gloves, and holds out a hand for the master key-- "we'll take it from here."
"You'll want to step back, please," Claudia says. She doesn't think the locker's gonna go all Level 1 Fireball on them again, but... better safe than sorry, and all that.
Hendricks has one hell of a dubious face, she'll give him that. "...It's not dangerous."
"Please," Pete says, and fortunately, between that and Claudia waving him back to the foot of the stairs, the dude takes the hint.
"Thank you." Pete unlocks the locker, then hesitates. "Okay. Ready?"
Claudia shrugs. "Why not?"
As Pete opens the locker, he and Claudia both duck, but there's no fireball forthcoming. She's kinda getting tired of the false alarms on this case, between this and the lack of sparky action with the notebook.
"...okay, we're in business. Here we go." Pete pulls a flashlight out of a pocket and starts examining the locker's contents; Claudia comes over to help as best she can, with such a narrow space. "So, uh, you had any other incidents?"
"With what, fire?"
"Anything strange? Say, a tell-tale heart, perhaps?"
Claudia smirks at Pete, but apparently Hendricks hasn't picked up on the theme, so far. "What?"
Claudia smiles a little again, as they get the light up to the top shelf; there's a note in the back of the locker, not at all burn-damaged, that simply says 'FIRE.' "Gotta love Artie."
"What's that?" Hendricks says.
"You don't happen to have Edgar Allan Poe's pen lying around, would you?" Pete asks, before Claudia gets the chance.
"Well, actually..."
"Yes?"
Hendricks glances to the right, and sighs. "Mr. Ives' classroom. He likes to collect items from famous people."
"The pen is here, then."
"Well, it was. It got stolen."
Claudia looks at Pete with her best O RLY face, and he returns it.
***
"Mr. Ives? Hello?" Pete calls, as they head up the stairs to what Hendricks said was the guy's usual haunt; Claudia lets out a 'hi, we're looking for you' kind of whistle.
"Nice place for a pen," she says. "Soaking up all that Poe juice?"
Pete eyes a stuffed raven perched atop a display case (with a hole in the glass, still), and makes a noncommittal noise.
"Did you know that ravens are actually brilliant? They adapted to humans, like rats and cockroaches. They figured out how to figure us out."
"shhh," Pete says, focused on something that isn't what Claudia's saying.
"What?"
"shhhhhh." He even shushes her with the gesture, this time; Claudia mimes it back and nods. Something kinda scrabbles in the background, but she can't tell where it's coming from.
"You hear anything?"
"Just the beating of my hideous--"
"Stop it."
"Okay," Claudia says, as the scrabbling begins to sound more like... knocking, maybe?
"Listen." Pete goes over to a wall - between two bookcases, with a painting of Poe hanging between them - and puts an ear to it. "What is that?"
"A rat... in the... wall?" But even as she says it, Claudia begins to doubt it - and the very terrifying alternative hits them both at the same time.
"Short story--" Pete starts.
"--guy in the wall--"
"--Cask of--"
"--Amontillado--" Claudia pulls the Poe painting off the wall; Pete goes for the stuffed raven, and then holds it out to her.
"Here, take it off there."
"I don't - I don't want avian flu!" Seriously, taxidermy has never been on Claudia's to-even-approach-with-a-ten-foot-pole list.
"Take it!"
"All right! What do--ugh!" As Pete swings the raven's stand at the wall, Claudia dumps the raven itself in favor of something that should serve as a crowbar, in a pinch. They bust down the wood covering in short order, and Pete starts prying bricks out of the wall.
...And a dude with a beard starts coughing, or maybe he was before now. Claudia can't really blame him; he can't have been in there too long, if he's still alive, but most walls aren't designed for their abundant air supply.
"Mr. Ives?" Pete pulls a few more bricks out of the wall, and grabs the guy's hands. "Who did this do you?"
"Bobby," Mr. Ives says, between coughs. "Find him. Stop him!"
Portland, Oregon
Funny thing: One flash of a Secret Service badge and bam, you get to talk to the people at the top. The principal, last name of Hendricks, is leading Pete and Claudia to the scene of the flash fire.
"The young man's burns weren't serious, but they kept him out of football practice," he says. "He has a reputation for scaring people."
"Really," Pete says; Claudia takes a moment to look around. This is a pretty sweet campus, she has to say. "Does he like horror novels? Stephen King, Lovecraft, Poe?"
"You're assuming the boy reads. No, he's just a bully. Look, I mean, how big a deal is this? The school's got a reputation to maintain, and if it gets out that the government's investigating a teenage prank, it'll put a lot of parents off."
"You mean 'donors'?" Claudia asks; Hendricks snorts a little, but doesn't comment. (She takes that as a yes.)
"Why do you think it's just a prank?" Pete asks, as they start down a flight of stairs.
"We're not schooling little terrorists here. Somebody in a science class got tired of Permut picking on 'em and gave him a hot foot."
"Oh yeah? How's he doing?"
"He's fine." Hendricks stops a yard or so short of a bank of lockers; the one they're here to see has crime-scene tape on it. "You want this open?"
"No, we'll, uh--" Pete snaps on the second of his pair of gloves, and holds out a hand for the master key-- "we'll take it from here."
"You'll want to step back, please," Claudia says. She doesn't think the locker's gonna go all Level 1 Fireball on them again, but... better safe than sorry, and all that.
Hendricks has one hell of a dubious face, she'll give him that. "...It's not dangerous."
"Please," Pete says, and fortunately, between that and Claudia waving him back to the foot of the stairs, the dude takes the hint.
"Thank you." Pete unlocks the locker, then hesitates. "Okay. Ready?"
Claudia shrugs. "Why not?"
As Pete opens the locker, he and Claudia both duck, but there's no fireball forthcoming. She's kinda getting tired of the false alarms on this case, between this and the lack of sparky action with the notebook.
"...okay, we're in business. Here we go." Pete pulls a flashlight out of a pocket and starts examining the locker's contents; Claudia comes over to help as best she can, with such a narrow space. "So, uh, you had any other incidents?"
"With what, fire?"
"Anything strange? Say, a tell-tale heart, perhaps?"
Claudia smirks at Pete, but apparently Hendricks hasn't picked up on the theme, so far. "What?"
Claudia smiles a little again, as they get the light up to the top shelf; there's a note in the back of the locker, not at all burn-damaged, that simply says 'FIRE.' "Gotta love Artie."
"What's that?" Hendricks says.
"You don't happen to have Edgar Allan Poe's pen lying around, would you?" Pete asks, before Claudia gets the chance.
"Well, actually..."
"Yes?"
Hendricks glances to the right, and sighs. "Mr. Ives' classroom. He likes to collect items from famous people."
"The pen is here, then."
"Well, it was. It got stolen."
Claudia looks at Pete with her best O RLY face, and he returns it.
***
"Mr. Ives? Hello?" Pete calls, as they head up the stairs to what Hendricks said was the guy's usual haunt; Claudia lets out a 'hi, we're looking for you' kind of whistle.
"Nice place for a pen," she says. "Soaking up all that Poe juice?"
Pete eyes a stuffed raven perched atop a display case (with a hole in the glass, still), and makes a noncommittal noise.
"Did you know that ravens are actually brilliant? They adapted to humans, like rats and cockroaches. They figured out how to figure us out."
"shhh," Pete says, focused on something that isn't what Claudia's saying.
"What?"
"shhhhhh." He even shushes her with the gesture, this time; Claudia mimes it back and nods. Something kinda scrabbles in the background, but she can't tell where it's coming from.
"You hear anything?"
"Just the beating of my hideous--"
"Stop it."
"Okay," Claudia says, as the scrabbling begins to sound more like... knocking, maybe?
"Listen." Pete goes over to a wall - between two bookcases, with a painting of Poe hanging between them - and puts an ear to it. "What is that?"
"A rat... in the... wall?" But even as she says it, Claudia begins to doubt it - and the very terrifying alternative hits them both at the same time.
"Short story--" Pete starts.
"--guy in the wall--"
"--Cask of--"
"--Amontillado--" Claudia pulls the Poe painting off the wall; Pete goes for the stuffed raven, and then holds it out to her.
"Here, take it off there."
"I don't - I don't want avian flu!" Seriously, taxidermy has never been on Claudia's to-even-approach-with-a-ten-foot-pole list.
"Take it!"
"All right! What do--ugh!" As Pete swings the raven's stand at the wall, Claudia dumps the raven itself in favor of something that should serve as a crowbar, in a pinch. They bust down the wood covering in short order, and Pete starts prying bricks out of the wall.
...And a dude with a beard starts coughing, or maybe he was before now. Claudia can't really blame him; he can't have been in there too long, if he's still alive, but most walls aren't designed for their abundant air supply.
"Mr. Ives?" Pete pulls a few more bricks out of the wall, and grabs the guy's hands. "Who did this do you?"
"Bobby," Mr. Ives says, between coughs. "Find him. Stop him!"