This is it! The final part of Dovecraft High: Home of the Orcas (AND AN UNDEAD AXE MURDERER)! Read up on all the other parts to get the full experience and then dive in on this one, the concluding chapter. Do pay attention to my blog, I hope to post more stories onto here. And next time, I promise it won’t take me a year.
Previously on Dovecraft High: Home of the Orcase (AND AN UNDEAD AXE MURDERER)
We all turned towards the front doorway and sure enough, there he was. He had smashed through the doorway, its lintel swinging freely above him and its sides reduced to rubble. He stood with his axe at the ready as he gave another deep cry that seemed to shake the entire gymnasium.
“Well, here he is!” Wyatt cheerfully yelled, “It’s about time! And so lfielike!”
Sackface charged towards us, his huge, stomping feet echoing through out the gym as his huge murderous looking cock dragged along the ground.
Matt took no time to bolt away back toward Katherine 2 and I was about to follow. But my conscience got the better of me and I tried to pull Wyatt away.
“Wyatt, run!” I yelled. But he stayed rooted to the spot, chuckling.
“Yes sir, this is just like them fancy movie things!” he continued, playfully shaking his head.
“JESUS FUCK, YOU ARE SO STUPID.” I shouted and I turned to run.
As I got halfway to Katherine 2, I realized my mistake.
I stopped and turned just in time to see Sackface meet up with Wyatt. Wyatt smiled happily as Sackface swung his axe like Barry Bonds lining up a grand slame. The axe cut through Wyatt’s stomach cleanly, and for an impossibly long second it looked like Wyatt was unharmed. Then, the long slit along his abdomen opened up and his intestines spilled out and ribboned down like film shooting out of a broken camera.
Wyatt looked down at his sort of serious injury in disbelief and muttered, “I don’t like this anymore, how you guys doing that.” he then fell backwards onto his back, the book falling out of his grasp and flopping down beside him. When the book hit the floor, I felt a jolt go through my body, like I had just seen an infant dropped. It was strange, but brief, the feeling going away as soon as it came.
Wyatt tried to sit up and grab some of his guts, as if he was going to try and stick them back in. Sacfakce walked to Wyatt and straddled over him. He set his axe down and grabbed his massive dick with both hands. Then, spinning it around like a morning star, he slammed it down on Wyatt’s face. And then he did it again. And again. Then he spun it some more, and brought it down again. And again and again. By the sixth or seventh thumping hit, Wyatt’s skull was nothing more than a pulpy pile of goop.
It would have been kind of satisfying and awesome had it not been so horrifying and disgusting.
“Zack!” Matt cried. He had already reached Katherine 2. “Quick, we need to light this thing!”
I was frozen in place, watching Sackface as he released his wang from his grasped and picked his axe back up again. My eyes found the black book, lying next to Wyatt’s demolished corpse.
“The book, Matt,” I yelled back, still facing Sackface, “we need to get it back and find out what it is!”
As I looked at the book, I once again felt that strange, magnetic pull, yearning to run straight past Sackface and pick it up. I shook off the urge however, because as mystifyingly strong as it was, my brain still realized how rock fuck stupid that would have been.
Sackface slowly trudged towards us, almost with an air of confidence, the arrogant jerk. I backed up slowly, then quickly backpedaled till I reached Matt and Katherine 2.
“How the hell are we gonna get it?” I asked, hopelessly.
“Sackface was halfway to us, and he knocked his axe on the ground a few times, as if to traunt us. Suddenly, I heard a few tugs of a cord and then the growl of a chainsaw coming to life.
“I’ll distract him,” Matt asid, bringing his chainsaw up in an attack stance.
“What!? You’re crazy!”
“Yeah, probably, but fuck it. Zack you deserve more than to get killed while working on a shitty janitor job. I’ll distract him and you light Katherine 2. Then run like hell, get the book, and run like hell again back out to the brickhouse.
“Matt, I don’t even-”
“Do it, bud. Just promise me you’ll find something in your field after this, okay?”
I wanted to tell him that it’s a really competitive field, that requires experience for entry level jobs, but how am I supposed to get experience without getting a job, it just doesn’t make much sense, but I figured it wasn’t an appropriate time to air those grievances.
Besides, I was speechless, a lump in my throat from Matt’s selfless idea. Here’s a guy I looked down on just because he was a janitor, and yet he was going to sacrifice himself for my worthless ass.
Before I could even say thanks, Matt gave an ear splitting battle cry and sprinted towards Sackface, chainsaw whirring. I quickly reached into my waistband to grab the grill lighter. I had to work fast, I didn’t know how much time Matt would give me.
I looked up to see Matt’s torso flying off his legs, Sackface having cleaved him in two. The chainsaw’s menacing screech was silenced as it fell to the floor. Matt’s top half fell with a wet thunk.
So, yeah, five seconds. That’s what Matt had bought me.
“Fucking shit, Jesus,” I muttered as Sackface kicked Matt’s legs to the side and continued his path towards me. He was maybe twenty yards away. Running purely on fear and adrenaline, I lit the grill lighter and set it underneath the rag in Katherine 2. The tiny orange glow expanded and the makeshift fuse had been lit, the flame crawling lazily up towards the tank. I drew the stainless steel cleaner out of my pocket like I was upholstering a six shooter and brought the grill lighter in front of it.
I knew I wouldn’t have much time before Katherine 2 went up like a dragon with TNT shoved up its ass, so I acted fast. At a brisk jog, I started to circle around Sackface. My plan was to get behind him, sprint for the book and then run as fast as I could out of the gym.
I knew that the smart thing to do would have been to just leave the gym after I lite Katherine 2, to let Sackface to deal with the explosion by himself. But I have seen enough horror movies where the monster crawled out of a burning wreckage, unharmed, for me to take my chances with that. In my gut, I felt like the book was the key to Sackface’s demise, and I could risk it getting destroyed.
Besides, I once again felt that undeniable attraction to the book, like I absolutely needed to retrieve it.
So as I started to lap around Sackface, he gave a guttural growl (Guttural Ground sounds like a great heavy metal band name, by the way) and stopped, his sacked head following my path. He slammed his axe down, trying to threaten me to stop. When I kept going, undeterred, he made a quick movement towards me.
Fighting the urge to shit myself, I sprayed the steel cleaner towards the lit grill lighter and a beautiful cone of fire shot out in front of me. It obviously wasn’t enough to harm Sackface, but he stopped, wary of my weapon. He tried another advance, which I held off with another spray of the can.
Like an angry gorilla, Sackface started to stamp and wave his arms, obviously not at all happy about the turn of evenets. As he displayed his (what would have been somewhat humorous, had I been in a better mood) frustration, I made it to the book.
Now was the tricky part. How would I grab the book but still manage to use my surprisingly effective flamethrower?
Giving another spray of flame to get Sackface to back off just a bit more, I quickly bent down to grab the book. The book was big and surprisingly heavy, about a foot long and five inches thick. It was bound by rough, scaly leather, like I was holding an iguana. I felt goosebumps and suddenly thrilled to have the book in my hands, though I couldn’t explain why.
I situated the book under my armpit so that I was still able to use the steel cleaner and lighter, albeit very awkwardly. I looked past Sackface’s shoulder and saw Katherine 2’s fuse was already halfway burned through. I didn’t have much time.
Sackface appeared displeased at my newfound possession of the book. He slammed his axe down in anger and started to stampede towards me. I shot out a burst of fire and he stopped yet again, backing up ever so slightly.
Katherine 2’s fuse was now a quarter of the way there. I had to hurry.
I made my way towards the doorway that Sackface had crumbled down earlier, knowing I had to get there soon to reach outside. I was almost at the door when I felt the book start to slide out from my armpit.
No, no, not fucking now, I thought, clumsily trying to clamp my armpit down so that the book wouldn’t slip out.
Sackface saw me struggling and seized the opportunity. He started to bolt towards me. Panicking, I lifted the steel cleaner back up, causing the book to fall from my armpit to the floor. I pressed down on the spray so hard I thought I broke my finger. A plume of fire obscured my view, but I was just barely able to see Sackface retreat back. And I also saw that Katherine 2’s fuse was mere inches away from the tank.
Fuck this, I thought.
I threw the can and lighter at Sackface, as if they would actually hurt him if they found their target. I then picked up the book, turned on my heel so fast I think I ground a hole in the floor and ran faster than I ever had in my life towards the gym lobby.
As I made it to the threshold of the door, I heard Sackface roar and give chase, but I also heard another sound: The sound of a floor scubber filled with gasoline blowing up. Or at least, I assumed that’s what made the big explosion sound.
I made it into the lobby just as the explosion rocked the building. I felt a punch in my back and lost my footing halfway through the lobby. I stumbled and fell, sliding into the front door of the building. My back screamed in pain and I writhed around, saying several things I shouldn’t repeat here. You know, in case a kid is reading this or something.
I found myself facing the doorway leading into the gym, thick black smoke pouring out, blocking out everything except the faint orange yellow glow of the fire from within.
I sat up, grimacing in pain as every muscle in my body protested. I noticed I had dropped the book during my fall. I saw it lying a few feet away from me, wide open. I crawled over to it and for the first time, I saw its contents.
It was written in a language that was completely foreign to me in a huge spindly font. In the upper right corner of the left page, there was a large crude sketch of a skull on fire. Below the skull was something written in a bigger font than the rest of the page, leading me to believe it was a heading or chapter title of some sort.
I leafed through other pages, hypnotized. The rest of the book was the same format. Large pictures on the left side with an apparent heading, followed by indecipherable text. The pictures were incredibly varied, ranging from a dagger dripping with blood to a large lightning bolt to a man getting violently sodomized by a goat.
I was transfixed by the book, wanting to soak up every inch of it. It was a weird feeling as I looked at it, like I was having an out of body experience. I wasn’t reading the book as much as it was telling me what was on its pages, like it was sneaking into my consciousness. With each turn of the page, my stomach did another flip of delight. I was ecstatic to finally be looking at it, and I had no idea why.
After sifting through the pages, I froze after catching sight of a familiar figure. I stopped on the page, looking at the illustration on its left side. It was Sackface, raising his axe above his head like a pro wrestler about to throw his opponent onto the ground. I truly believed that this page, this very page with Sackface adorning it, was the page that held the key to Sackface’s defeat and felt a rush of hope.
The hope turned to dread when I heard a loud quaking sound coming towards the lobby.
Remember that time I talked about horror movies and how the monster escapes an explosion, unharmed? Yeah. Because that’s exactly what happened.
Sackface stomped through the front gym door, appearing out of the smoke like he was part of a magician’s act. He stopped when he saw me and gave a bone chilling cry.
Now, he wasn’t completely unharmed, so maybe I exaggerated. A shard of hardwood floor was sticking out of his leg like a grotesque splinter and it gave him a noticeable limp as he came towards me. I closed the book and darted back for the door that led back to Cancer Court. I practically ran through the plate of glass, twisting the door open just in time and slamming it closed behind me.
I ran so fast down the stairs, I felt like I was floating down. My body had reached the crossroads of the “fight or flight” response system, and it chose “fucking flight.”
I heard the gym building doors shatter and Sackface yelled out into the night, an unintelligible moan that I could only imagine meant something ill will towards me.
I made it to the brickhouse door, pushed against it but bounced off it like a basketball off a backboard. I fell onto my already aching back and promptly got the wind knocked out of me.
I gasped for breaths, rolling around on my back like a retarded turtle. I grapsed for the door knob, trying to push it open, but it wasn’t budging. Then I realized: Darnelle and Lauren had probably barricaded the door.
I banged on the door, trying to yell for them to open it but I was still gasping for air. I looked behind me to see Sackface halfway across Cancer Court, limping towards me.
I was downright punching the door now, and I finally found enough oxygen in my lungs to shout words.
“OPEN DOOR FUCK GUYS OPEN.”
Hey, I didn’t say they were coherent words.
Miraculously, I found myself punching the air as the door opened, revealing Darnelle and Lauren, the most randomly paired guardian angels I could have asked for.
Clutching the book against my chest, I stumbled in and fell onto the floor of the brickhouse. I spun around to see Lauren pouring something onto the ground in front of the threshold of the door before she closed it again. Darnelle came up beside her and helped her shove a small desk at an angle underneath the doorknob, making a shoddy but acceptable barricade.
They rushed over to me and helped me on my feet. They walked me over to the table where I dropped the book and doubled over, struggling to breathe.
“Oh honey,” Lauren said, patting my back, “it looks like you were really put through the wringer.”
“Yeah man,” Darnelle said, “we heard the explosion, what the hell happened out there?”
“Dead,” I managed to say.
“Dead. They’re both dead. Wyatt, Matt. Dead.”
“Damn,” Darnelle said, “That sucks about Matt.”
A wave of panic rushed through me as I realized Sackface was probably just outside the door.
“Guys! Sackface! That desk won’t hold!”
I started to run over to the door when a great, pained bellow echoed from outside it. Then, silence. There was no attempt to break down the door. No axe appeared to crush the door, no gigantic erect monster penis being used as a battering ram. No resistance at all.
“What’s…what’s he doing?” I asked.
“Maybe he’s upset with this,” Laruen said, holding up a now empty bottle of holy water. “I figured I’d try it. I always keep a bottle in my purse, in case I walk past any movie theatres showing R rated movies, I like to bless the sidewalk outside of them, just in case.”
“I’ve never been more happy to know a religious person in my life,” I said, hugging Lauren for the second time that night.
“Yeah,” Darnelle said, “she covered the other door too, man, so we should be good. We just need to wait it out for a bit in here.”
Immediately after saying that, a loud THUMP came from the roof. The ceiling shook, the light flickering and a torrent of dust raining down.
“Uhh…. fuck,” Darnelle said.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I said, “I guess white axe murderers can jump.”
A loud clang from above revealed that Sackface was trying to chop his way through the roof. The roof was made of corrugated metal, so
I figured that, logically, he would have trouble getting through. But, then again, when you are dealing with an undead axe murderer, logic tends to go out the window.
I opened the book on the table and tried to find the Sackface page. As I turned the pages, I longed to stay upon the pages, to soak in every detail, to simply immerse myself in the book’s wonderful secrets and-
I shoved the book away, breaking the trance.
“GOD,” I shouted, “That thing is so fucking creepy, it’s messing with me, guys.”
“What is it?” Lauren asked.
A TWANG came from above us, causing us to jump. Sackface had taken another swing at the roof.
“I dunno,” I tried to explain, “but it’s weird. But there’s a page with Sackface’s picture on it, a drawing of him. I think maybe that has something to do with why he’s here. Have you ever seen The Mummy with Brendan Frasier?”
“Unfortunately,” Darnelle said, soberly.
“Well, remember that book they had to use to send the Mummy back to Mummy hell or wherever the hell he came from? I think that’s sort of what that is.”
Lauren walked up to the book, said something softly to herself and started to browse it.
TWANG, came the sound of Sackface’s axe from the roof, yet again.
Lauren found the page and I jabbed at it. “This page, this one,” I said, “but I don’t understand any of the words!”
“Oh dear,” Lauren said, giving a tender pat on my shoulder, “stop being so modest. That’s Medieval Latin. Everyone knows that.”
“I studied Medieval Latin when I was younger, because Bibles were often translated from Hebrew into that form of Latin. In Medieval times of course, that’s where it gets the name from, hon.”
“Yeah, how did I not know that.”
TWANG, TWANG. STOMP STOMP.
“Well can you read it?” I said, desperate for her to start translating it.
She silently skimmed over the words, mouthing the words. Suddenly, she blushed.
“What, what is it?” I asked, frantically.
“It’s just that it doesn’t have some nice words. I don’t know if I should say them out loud.”
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE WE ARE GOINT TO GET FUCKING KILLED BY A FUCKING MONSTER, WHAT DOES IT FUCK SAY.”
Lauren shook her head disapprovingly,
“A please would have been nice, hon. It says, ‘I call upon Mors Educis, Bringer of Pain, Destroyer of Lives, Fucker of Mothers. It is in his dark image we shall thrive.’ And then there are some weird words, like a chant or prayer.”
I looked above and saw a thin cut appear in the roof.
“He’s already fucking called upon,” I yelled, “we need him gone!”
“Oh shit, fucking A, fuck,” Darnelle starting mindlessly rambling. He started to back away from the table which was right underneath the fissure in the roof.
TWANG. The break in the roof widened and the faint glint of an axe could be seen within it.
“Ah, here we are, dear,” Laruen said, calmly pointing to the bottom half of the page.
“What, what, what?” I cried, my mind boiling over with panic and fear.
“It looks like a second part. It reads, ‘We send back Mors Ecudis to the comforts of Hell, where he shall patienetly wait for our next beckoning.’ And then there’s another chant thing.”
The axe had finally cut all the way through, tearing through the roof and causing the metal around it to curl outwards like ribbons. A huge hand appeared through it, grabbed a side and ripped it upwards like a piece of string cheese. It made a piercing screeching sound that caused the inside of my ears to bristle.
“THAT, READ THAT ONE.” I shouted, jumping up and down.
“Fuck this, fuck everything!” Darnelled yelled, as he hopelessly darted around, looking for a way out.
Laruen began to softly mutter the incantation. She did so in an almost poetic way, the words rolling off her tongue in a lovely cadence. It would have been truly beautiful, had a monster not been ten feet above us, ready to drop down and disembowel us.
Sackface had peeled away a large section of the roof and he now loomed above us, his penis dangling like a man from tha gallows. He gave a deep laugh of satisfaction as he peered in. He then stepped to gash in the roof and jumped through, landing on the table with a crash that nearly split the table in two.
Lauren was undeterred, still reciting the words from the book, her eyes nearly closed, as if she was in prayer.
“GAAAAAH!” Darnelle screamed, a moist stain appearing in the crotch region of his khakis. And I’m not afraid to admit it, the same thing happened to me as I looked at Sackface, a mere three feet away from me. He raised his axe above me and with an audible swoosh brought it down towards my skull.
Getting an axe in the brain didn’t hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would. In fact, it didn’t hurt at all. I opened my eyes and didn’t see an axe jutting out of my forehead. In fact, it was the opposite of an axe jutting out of my forehead. I saw nothing.
The spot where Sackface had stood was empty, save for a faint cloud of black smoke. It hung in the air like a lost, wandering ghost.
I looked around and saw Lauren with a pleased smile, closing the black book. I turned the other way to see Darnelle frozen in place, his mouth agape and eyes wide. I looked down at the dark piss stain on my pants and burst out laughing. I never laughed so hard in my life, not even the first time I watched Arrested Development. I was bent over laughing, my stomach feeling like it might burst.
I was joined in by Darnelle and Lauren, and soon the entire brickhouse was filled with a choir of laughter and joy.
“It’s over! He’s fucking gone!” I exclaimed.
Darnelle clapped. “Yeah buddy!” he cheered.
I went over to Lauren and kissed her on the cheek, tears streaming down my face. “You did it! You saved us!”
“Oh honey, I was just happy to help. It was quite exciting, actually.”
“Oh man,” Darnelle said, pointing at my pants, “you pissed yourself!”
“I’d look into a new pair of pants yourself, man,” I retorted, pointing right back at him.
We all laughed again. Ah, how awesome it felt to laugh. For the previous three hours or so, I thought I’d never laugh again. Hell, I never thought I’d do anything again. But there we were, a rag tag group of janitors-nay, custodians!-teaming up together to defeat a Hell sent axe bearing demon of evil. And to think, I was so hard on those coworkers of mine, just because they didn’t go to college or get a nine to five job or something silly. Like, I felt they were beneath me, it was such a stupid, petty thing of me to-
“Wait,” Darnelle said, breaking me away from my stream of thoughts. His smile dropped from his face. “How are we going to explain this to people? The dead bodies, the blown up gym… like how do we tell this to the police? You think they will actually believe us?”
We all looked at each other, waiting for one of us to come up with a brilliant idea.
“Uhhhh,” I said.
I hadn’t quite thought of that.
It wasn’t easy. In fact, dealing with the police was almost scarier than dealing with Sackface. There is no magic book to make policeman disappear.
We did what we thought was best. We called the police (the phones had come back online, no more supernatural interference preventing us from reaching the outside world) and gave an honest account of everything that happened. Of course they called bullshit, booked us and threw us in jail for burtally murdering our coworkers and blowing up the gym while they tried to figure out what the hell happened.
But then there was the book, the lone piece of evidence that supported our mind fuck of a story. When the presence of the book started making the rounds, that’s when the shady government types showed up. Dunno if they were F.B.I., C.I.A., or the Men in fucking Black, but a few days after they arrived we were released and told to never speak of the incident again.
So naturally, I decided to write about it instead. It was a cathartic exercise. This was a life changing event, that’s for damn sure. There are some nights I wake up to a loud crashing sound and swear Sackface is barreling through my bedroom door. I will never look at penises the same way again, I know that much.
Dovecraft High was forever changed too. It got shut down for the rest of the school year. The events were kept under tight wraps for the most part, and when the F.B.I./C.I.A./M.I.B/Whoever the fuck came, the fake story got leaked out.
The lie they came up with was that Oswald, Matt, Charles and Wyatt had all been doing some maintenance in the gym when a gas leak caused a small explosion, killing them all. All records of our arrests for apparent murders were thrown out the window and forgotten. Darnelle, Lauren and I simply had to go along with the story, which we figured was for the best. People had enough to worry about these days, throwing in the concept of undead axe murderers seemed overkill.
I occasionally do wonder about some of the missing pieces of the puzzle, though. Like, Joke, for instance. He’s the one who obviously found the book. Darnelle explained later to me that it was common for Joe to hang out in the gym during his shift. Joe was a loner and he especially liked hanging out on the gym roof during breaks. He reasoned he must have discovered the book sometime then, the renovations of the floor providing easier access to what was underneath the hardwood. But why would he go searching for it in the first place? Like, how did he stumble upon it? If he summoned Sackface in the first place, why didn’t he just send him away with the spell Lauren used. Why did he hid the book all over again? And how did he know how to read Medieval Latin?
We could ask him ourselves but on the Night of Sackface (which I had taken to calling it, has a good horror movie sound to it), he was found dead in his apartment. He was found by his neighbor, with his head in the oven, with slits all over his wrist and a lethal dose of Oxycontin in his system. I guess you could say he was a little suicidal.
I have a theory. I think Joe was driven mad by the book, that it had taken him over. I know that in my very brief time with the book that it felt like it had its own force, like it was almost sentient and with its own goals. Joe spent days, maybe even weeks with the book. Who knows what it did to his mind. I think he may have almost became a slave to it, like Gollum with his precious or some shit. Maybe even possessed him. I dunno, but things like that statue to Sackface in Joe’s locker? That seemed almost like a tribute to the monster, like Joe was worshiping Sackface.
In Joe’s insanity, I think, maybe, he didn’t have the mental faculties to send Sackface back once he summoned him, but in one last effort to hide what he had done, he hid the book back where he found it. Maybe he thought that would be enough to cause Sackface to eventually go away.
I dunno, I’m just spitballing here. Another reason I wanted to write this, I guess, to have another forum for my crazy ideas.
All I know is that I’m glad it’s all over.
-The SECOND Epilogue-
As Zack Quinton finishes writing his memoirs on the Night of Sackface, as he powers down Microsoft Word and brings up his Internet browser to watch some porn, a man named Agent Walter Redmond stands in an undisclosed evidence lock up in an undisclosed location.
He stands in front of a bin marked “The Dovecraft Case”. His fingers twitch, aching for the chance to touch the contents inside. He looks at the clock.
Five hours and thirty two minutes.
That’s how long he has been standing there, debating endlessly on whether or not he wants to open the bin.
Finally, at long last, the moment he has been working up to. He reaches for the plastic lid on the bin and pries it off. He takes a sharp intake of breath when he sees it.
The book. The black book that everyone in the undisclosed agency has been talking about. The one that Redmond himself had taken from the scene, the one that he got a few peeks at before his superior took it away and locked it up with the rest of the evidence. The one that he wanted to look at again, the one that he couldn’t stand to think of someone else beside him seeing.
After his superior took the book from him, he assigned Redmond to a different case and told him that he had done a great job and, hey, maybe there’d be a promotion in it for him if he played his cards right and stopped flirting with everyone’s wives at the company’s Christmas parties.
Redmond reaches inside and pulls out the book. He begins to browse through it, each page full of surprise and mystery and it gives him a happy feeling. Even the words that once seemed foreign to him begin to take shape, suddenly familiar to him, as if he could speak it that very instant.
Suddenly, he stops on a page. A page with a large, hulking man with a burlap sack over his head, an axe raised above him.
Redmond feels like this is the perfect page to stop on, the perfect one to engross himself in. He looks at the page for he didn’t even know how long. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Nah, not hours, someone would have come in by now to change shifts. Redmond didn’t know, but what he DID know is that he loved this page, with all his heart, and that he wanted to read the words that were suddenly very understandable to him.
But should he? Should he read it, he wonders, or should he just put the book back and never think about it again?
Agent Walter Redmond looks around the lock up. No one in sight.
“Fuck it,” Redmond says out loud, “What’s the worst that can happen?”