Collab by Everyone
Kindall agreed with Jace deep down, but with the rain hemming in on them and the lightning striking so close, he didn't feel comfortable remaining on the porch. There was always a possibility that they could get electrocuted even with lightning rods installed in the building.
"I'm not risking it, Jace. The lightning is striking a little too close for comfort. We're much safer inside."
Milton strode over to the doors, hoping to ring the doorbell to alert the occupants of their presence. He didn't find anything other than a thin braided cord dangling at the side. Assuming that it was a pull bell, he gave it a sharp tug.
"What the - !"
The cord came loose in his hands. Attached to the other end was a small note. Kindle suppressed an annoyed sigh. He loved solving puzzles, but right now his tired mind wished that things could be a little more straightforward.
"The key is in the trunk." He read out loud.
He blinked. "Trunk? Oh!"
His eyes flit back to the raven perched on the trunk. He couldn't help feeling unnerved again.
How was it possible that a dumb bird knew they needed to open the trunk? There was definitely something odd about this bird. She seemed almost too human-like.
"Lenore was it?" He asked London. "Don't recall you having a pet bird."
The dark-haired girl glanced at him, expression a cross between amusement and irritation. "I don't," she said. "She belongs to Salem. That, uh… that giant guy with the book we just saw. Sort of."
Ethan couldn't help but stifle a laugh at his friends, "Damn, Kindall, Vietnam must've hit you hard." lightly slapping his friend in the back. He was starting to grow concerned over his lapses in memory, hopefully they weren't permanent. "Next thing you guys are gonna tell me is that Joseff belongs to Adelaide or some shit." He followed it up with a nervous laugh, was this place messing up their memories or something?
"Vietnam? I - I don't know." Kindle asked, looking even more confused than ever. "No, I'm not that bad, Eth. I know Joseff belongs to Matt."
Milton didn't know what else to say. He stepped away and threw Ethan a mock glare before he turned his attention to the padlocks. They were combination padlocks that required the correct 8-digit combination to unlock them.
The first padlock had a number 2 in the first space. There were two blanks after it followed by 0. The last two numbers were 1965. Milton's mind immediately leaped to a conclusion that the code was some sort of date. Something to do with 1965.
First Padlock:
2 (blank) (blank) 0 1 9 6 5
"Does 1965 ring a bell? I think we need to figure out the correct date to unlock this padlock."
A quick glance at the other padlocks told Milton that this wasn't the only date they needed to figure out. Each of the other padlocks also required them to input the correct date.
Second Padlock:
0 8 (blank) (blank) 1 (blank) 6 5
Third Padlock:
(blank) (blank) 0 (blank) 1 9 6 9
Fourth Padlock:
(blank) (blank) 0 3 (blank) (blank) 4 9
"Eh, the dates seem random. 2 days in 1965, 1 in 1969 and one in 49. I'm assuming it's 1949. I think we may need some clues to figure this one out."
He was waiting on the rest to answer when a muffled borf borf came from the depths of the trunk. The trunk jumped and rattled violently, making Lenore fly away. She gave a very annoyed caw as she chose to perch on London's shoulder instead. In response London tensed, eyes growing wide. It looked almost comical the way she leaned away from the bird, face pointedly looking a different direction. There was a moment of silence before more excited borfs came from inside.
"Guess we found Joseff," Milton grimaced. "We better work fast before he suffocates himself. Let's start looking around, shall we?"
Kindall was too tired to even wonder why Joseff had been stuffed into a trunk. The whole scenario was plain absurd! They appeared to be reenacting a scene straight out of some Mary Shelley inspired horror. The depilated building, the thunderstorm and the heavy rain. Heck, London was even dressed the part! He sighed again, reaching out to rub his temples. He wished this weird dream thing would end soon! He was so sick and tired of all the weirdness.
Ethan could only wonder aloud what kind of sick, heartless monster would go out of their way to lock a defenseless dog inside a trunk to suffer a slow death. He began to flex his muscles, his brain muscles this time around, to try and figure out a way to decode the answer to their current predicament.
He blurted out the first thing that come to his mind when different years were one of their biggest leads right now; "Maybe they're date of births and date of deaths? Y'know, like those things they have on gravestones?" Perhaps it was a far-fetched idea, but it was still something to consider. It was stuff and egregious puzzles like these that made him consult walkthroughs and FAQS in games like Silent Hill or Resident Evil.
It seemed fairly plausible, except for maybe the second padlock combination. Seeing as how it started with a zero instead of being one or two or a blank one. The other three were free game though, so perhaps it was an exception.
Stiff as a board, London was glad for the bonnet Peter had dressed her in. Despite it's flimsy material, it was one more layer separating her and the bird who decided to perch on her arm. Her arm that London held out, as though trying to keep Lenore as far from her face as possible. Just thinking about those talons had the scratches from moments ago stinging, the one on her face particularly so.
"U-Um…" The numbers had flown out of her head like an anxious bird. All she could think about was Lenore. And then Joseff. Her look of wary disdain shifted into something angrier than she'd let herself feel since throwing a tantrum in the fake Bellwoods. The trunk probably didn't have much oxygen, assuming how tightly it was clamped shut, and Jo wasn't making an effort to preserve it.
Then again, he was a dog; he had no idea that barking for help would use up what breathable air he had left.
With the threat of Lenore reduced to a pinprick of worry in the back of her brain, London stepped forward to look at the locks herself. Refresh her memory. What Ethan said made sense, but… "We don't know any date of deaths," she murmured. Ran a pad of her thumb over the first lock. ...Do we?
"What were the dates on the missing person's reports?" She asked. The backpack was long gone, their clues lost to the void, but she hoped someone remembered. London hadn't written the dates down in her Cryptodex. "That's kind of like a date of death, if you think about it."
Ethan scratched the back of his head, they were dealing with a staple Survival Horror puzzle on their hands, and he, was not good at solving those. "No...We don't." He looked down on the ground, but suddenly, like Edison, an imaginary lightbulb lit up probably just above Ethan's head. DING! It said.
"But I know someone who might!" He pointed at Kitty, who he lamented was now at normal size. He already missed her being his little pocket fairy. "Kitty, do you know something about their deaths and/or their births?" Surely, she must know something from serving them for such a long time.
The kids weren't half bad. Initially, the numbered padlocks had left her stumped, but after the exchange between Ethan and London, she was finding it easier to grasp at the trail He'd left for them. The missing spaces were dates, some more familiar than others.
She was quiet, pensive even when Ethan first called out.
"You two are right. These, are dates… April 2, 1969," Kitty smiled sadly. "That was the day I went missing. Hah, I remember it like it was yesterday really." It was a burn on an old wound that had never truly healed. If she hadn't been such a fool, she wouldn't have found herself caught up in all this suffering.
Stepping past Ethan and London, Kitty reached for the third lock and placed in the numbers: 04 02 1969. There was a soft click as the lock opened.
Kitty was the epitome of serious. "And this one is Han's. March 1, 1949." She reached for the fourth lock and proved her words right. "Did you know? He was the man I saw in the woods the day I went missing. Should have known it was too good to be true." There was slight pause as if Kitty were grieving, but she jumped back into things in a snap. "You," her eyes flitted to London. "You've been carrying around that notebook since you got here. Do you have the dates? We have two more locks to open." She was certain they were right. "These belong to the others. If any of you remember anything, it's time to put it to use."
"I-... I'll look." Peeling apart her ruined Cryptodex pages would be a task - one that might only end up with shredded paper - but Kitty was right. While London didn't recall writing down any dates, maybe the journal held enough clues to place them on the right path.
Carefully, she set to work. The first half of the journal wasn't written in crayon, so the writing had smudged and faded from slobber and water damage. She could hardly make out what the contents were. Despite the hindrance, however, she did notice something potentially helpful - alongside something annoyingly unhelpful.
The crayon. Somewhere along the way she'd lost Ella's red crayon and had no way of writing anything down. She cursed beneath her breath; she'd have to do mental math, now.
"1964…" she murmured, counting with fingers to hold her place. "H-Hey, guys, how old was Salem? Like, 17 or something, right?" In her Cryptodex she mentioned him being sixty to seventy years old outside of Henbard. "The year of him being abducted lands around 1965 - the first padlock. Maybe that's his?" Still, that's all the information London had to offer. She didn't recall anything specific from the article except…
Her eyes lit up. "Lenore! K-Kindall, Jace, when do crows begin nesting?" If London's guess was right, then that would put Salem's date in the latter part of the year.
Jace stayed close to the edge of the porch, shifting his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. The idea that someone could do something like stuff a poor dog into a trunk might have made him angry if he had had the presence of mind. At that moment; however, the only thing that was on his mind was the horror that was Charity Gardens and the fact that, after fake Matt and Kenai, the dog inside the trunk might very well be fake.
As such, Jace didn't really participate in the unlocking of the trunk at first. It wasn't until London called out to him that he finally returned from La La Land. His eyes fixed on the trunk, pondering what the answer could be. His gaze shifted upward a bit to land on Lenore, meeting her beady black eyes. For a long moment he stared into them, finding an obscure sense of self and comfort. He stepped towards the trunk and knelt in front of it.
"The format for this one is day, month, year. 21, 10, 1965. The day Salem went missing." Jace said, the last words a barely audible murmur. He put the missing numbers in on the first lock. He remembered the date only because of the shock of seeing the newspaper clippings they found in Salem's room. They had put the clippings in the backpack, which Jace had before when he and Kelsey and Milton were on the jellyfish. It was gone once they went river rafting though.
"I- I don't know the second one. That's either August-something-something-65 or the eighth of blank-month-something-65.. When did Ella disappear?"
"Huh, turns out you kids are smarter than I thought." The atmosphere around them was still taut with defeat - what with losing two friends in such a short span of time - but they were covering ground, as the first lock opened, Kitty felt hopeful. "One lock to go."
She turned to Jace and London. "Seems you got the young master's date right, but that last one belongs to someone else." She pursed her lips. "The young miss was the last to join us, sometime in the 2000's so that's not hers."
Kitty tried to recall when Charlotte and Wendy had joined them, but the dates began blurring into each other. She'd been in Henbard for far too long, and the memories from before had long bled into each other like ink on wet paper. Nothing was distinct except the memories she held closest to her, and them something struck a chord.
"Wait… 1965. It was a sad year for Bellwoods." She fell quiet. "We had two disappearances that year. Young master's and a little girl. She had drowned in Stilton Creek. Took them awhile to find her body," her features darkened. "Back then no one suspected anything. An accident they said. Yes, yes, I recall reading about it before I disappeared."
She couldn't remember the specific date, wasn't even sure if she was right, but she reached for the second - and last remaining - lock and fiddled with it.
08 - - 1965.
The numbers slid into place, the day and year were correct but she couldn't remember the month it had happened. "This was the year little Sally drowned in Stilton Creek, you've probably heard of her, it's one of the oldest ghost stories around Bellwoods and you know how much our town loves ghost stories."
If Jace had been himself, he might have been insulted by Kitty's statement. They weren't stupid; they were just in a situation that none of them had been in before, so they were prone to making mistakes. It was all trial and error with, hopefully, not too many errors. To say it would be easier the second or third time around would likely be a lie though, as all precarious life-threatening situations were different; and this was not the kind of thing that anyone in their right mind wanted to suffer through even once let alone more than that. Jace was not entirely himself; however, and just squinted his eyes at her in a pained expression.
"November. Sally disappeared in November, so it's 11. 08, 11, 1965." His eyes never left Kitty's face as he spoke, his tone mildly impatient. He couldn't have remembered the day that the clipping said Sally disappeared, or if it said at all, but he remembered the month. Luckily, that was really all they needed.
"Stories that I'm willing to bet my people started a long time ago.." He thought, trying not to dwell on the idea of ghosts. The idea alone spooked him, but the fact that they were on the doorstep of the asylum in the ghost painting chilled his blood. It took everything he had to quell the rising panic. "I wonder… if Peter was around back then, too? Before Bellwoods even really developed? I wonder if… if that's why so many of them left?"
Taking London's hand was actually warming to her, considering the sudden icy rain and all that. Seems they had found another portal to another morbid setting. Marten couldn't say she was surprised. Actually the girl was more disappointed than anything. It would have been nice to have actually been outside in the pouring rain. Just being outside would have satisfied her after this awful night.
"Oh look… Lenore," the grunette would mutter under her breath almost absentmindedly while tracking the previously absent crow with her bland gaze. Her energies were focused primarily inward at the moment to redirect her palpitating heart back to the correct section of her chest cavity. Needless to say if they lived to see the dawn, she was done with all manner of thrill rides. She didn't even want to see the Twirly Teacups after this shit storm.
Mucking her way up to the stairs in a manner just slightly more hasty than that of Jace, she took the time to turn her dull eyes onto the padlocks keeping them out of Hell's gate. Why the heck are we trying to go into this place?
"..." She was going to try to contribute to the conversation something of use, but really she didn't remember a damn thing. Her mouth opened and shut just as fast as she realized how utterly blank her mind was. There was nothing floating around in that noggin. Shock had a way of wiping her memory like that. Between the jump scares, demented pursuers, and general fuckery of Funhouse Henbard, Marten wasn't even sure about what manner of laced crudites she'd eaten to end up in Wonderland?
She could only smile in a way she hoped commended the somber Jace and honestly everyone. They were all so smart after all. Remembering dates and history. She hated history. It was a challenge to remember her own birthday let alone anything of historical worth… Unless it rhymed. Columbus sailed the ocean blue after all…
To make herself mildly occupied the girl would kneel and inspect further the noisome yipping of what they hoped was Joseff. Maybe Castor would be nearby? Hopefully this wasn't another trick. At this point the blanket that kept her cheer warm was threadbare from overuse, and she was one pumpkin-related mishap from losing her marbles.
"Impressive," Kindall murmured.
His disappointment at not getting the answer to London's question was overshadowed by amazement when Jace unlocked the last two padlocks. He knew Jace had a good memory but he didn't realise that it extended to random dates as well. Kindle guessed it was one of the little things he couldn't have known since he and Jace didn't go way back the way he and Ethan did.
"I didn't know you had an aptitude for history. Shows how much I don't know about you even though we've been friends for awhile."
Kindle wasn't sure if he should grin. The atmosphere was still tensed considering the stakes. Joseff was trapped inside the trunk and he air would run out eventually. As much as Kindall disliked that fat dog, he would never forgive himself for letting Jo die like that. It was a horrible way to go right next to drowning! Milton crouched down quickly and helped Jace lift up the heavy lid of the trunk.
"Borf! Borf borf!"
Joseff wagged his stubby tail and stood up. The Shibe Ibu greeting them had been given a makeover sometime during his disappearance. He sported a checkered bowtie and a round, black framed monocle over his right eye. Kindall found himself admitting it was a
little cute in a 1800s sort of way.
1830s was it? He couldn't remember the dates offhand since it had been awhile since they had a murder mystery plot set in the 19th century. He bet London would enjoy exploring that time period again. After they did her DnD inspired murder mystery in November, of course. He kinda dreaded that one no thanks to the role she assigned him.
"Borf!"
Jo stood up on his back legs and stretched as high as he could. He was too short to even reach the top of the opened trunk. The only part of him that could be seen was his black nose perched on his upturned snout. He whined sadly, wishing someone would pick him up and cuddle him already. Kindall wrinkled his nose.
"Urgh, would someone please pick him up? I don't want him disturbing who - whatever is waiting for us. Mind getting him, err Marten?"
Kindle nudged Marten forward with a hand pressed into the small of her back. He doubted Jace would mind carrying Joseff, but he kinda needed the guy to be hands free just in case. His gut was telling him to be mentally prepared for more mindfuckery in this strange dream world. It was a given after that giant jellyfish and their encounter with the boy whose face caved in like a rotting jack-o-lantern. Oh right, he won't be forgetting those dismembered heads either! Just recalling the image of his father's head on a platter was enough to make his stomach clench.
He began rifling through the trunk the moment Jo ended up in Marten's arms. He threw the quilt Jo had been lying on to the ground followed by five ziplock bags filled with clothes. Each ziplock bag was labelled with one of their names. Kindall ignored them, choosing to search for the key instead. He tossed out five unlit mini jack-o-lanterns and a box of matches after that. Finally, with a look of triumph, he pulled out a rusting ring holding eight keys. The metal keys were of different lengths and sizes. He was about to move away when he spotted a yellowing news article taped to the bottom of the trunk. The little he read was enough to turn his blood ice cold.
"I - I think you guys might want to see this," he sputtered
Inside the trunk, Kitty's bag contains a pristine replica of her bridesmaid dress and her silver heels, the rest of the ziplock bags (Ethan's, Jace's, Marten's, London's and Kindall's) contained clothes from the 1950s.
After reaching for her bag and opening it, Kitty scowled bitterly. The replica of her old bridesmaid dress was just another dig at an unhealed wound. He had the worst ways of digging under their skin. Even after countless decades in Henbard, He always found new ways to hurt them. It was a twisted tango with no end in sight.
She pursed her lips, too lost in thoughts to notice the note at first.
Jace remembering the dates so precisely surprised her but also lifted a weight from her shoulders; no more racking her brain for numbers she couldn't recall. There were more pressing matters than trying to guesstimate the month in which Lenore would have been released or when Sally's body was recovered from the river.
Like getting out of the storm, for one, or finally getting rid of the blasted corset and overweight dress. Upon seeing clothes in the trunk her heart soared and she shoved her way through to grab her bag, releasing Marten's hand as she went.
A wave of relief washed over her.
Pulled from its container, London lifted up a polkadot t-shirt and a pair of overalls. While London had never found denim all that comfortable - hence why her own closet back at home consisted mostly of stretch pants and sweats - it was a godsend to be back in something decently maneuverable. Plus, she could stash her Cryptodex pieces in the little pouch pocket in front. At the bottom of the bag were a pair of high top grippers and socks.
"Sneakers," she breathed. "Finally."
Kindall's unexpected touch made Marten jump a bit before she came back to the present moment, blinking at Jo with steady, albeit mechanical recognition. They'd opened the padlocks? When had that happened? "Um, yea I got him," her voice sounded as faraway as her head had been.
As her brain replayed Jace's recorder-like recitation of the dates, she reached for the chubby pup, cradling him close and inhaling his eau de shibe with a barely hidden sigh of relief. Whatever would they do without Tarzan? She didn't want to think about it… so she wouldn't.
Familiar was good in a crazy place like this. Jo was safe and so... Maybe things were looking up? Or not. Marten really didn't want to look at what Kindall was trying to show them all. Instead, green eyes would cut to the haphazardly tossed items that flew through the air comically. Her assigned outfit was adorable. She'd rather peruse it than a trunk any day.
Jenny-pink and collared with classic white-leather high tops and pink strings. The neck kerchief and woven buttons were a nice touch too. She hid her grin, thinking of the "You're the One that I Want" number in Grease. A dress would possibly give her a better range of motion than a cat suit… And breathe more… What if it got cold though?
London had much better luck. The grunette was happy to be cute carrier all the more, hiding her pout in Jo's convenient floof. Overalls?! Then again, her bestie pretty much deserved pants at this point. Her traipsing in that hoop skirted monstrosity was going to become the stuff of legend. Marten almost wished that she'd had a camera for it.
And the guys had better luck without saying. She covertly spied the sack with Kindall's new threads inside and smiled goofily.
I spy suspenders! And… No! Yes?! A fedora?! Oh baby, Dapper Dan! Needless to say, if they weren't on the steps of the creepiest place possible, she'd be fanning herself to still her wayward heart. Her love interest was going to look better than Clooney in Oh Brother, Where art thou! Then again, who didn't look good in a button up and pressed slacks? She would have worried about the leather shoes. Loafers were her arch nemesis, but somehow Marten was almost positive a guy like Kindall had endured the horror of foot training with the stubborn dignity of an ostrich.
Yet, she couldn't in good conscience make fashion decisions before at least making sure Kindall wasn't… hyperventilating or something. Reluctantly Marten shuffled a hair closer to that now empty trunk and leant just close enough to peer inside having a sinking feeling that was either because she was about to see something awful again… or fall in from the sudden top heaviness that always came with holding Joseff's loveable bulk.
Trying to read through fur was one thing, but she was close enough to be discreet, whispering, "Er, uh, Milton… by the way, you'd be… warmer, if you changed. Just a thought."
All Jace could offer in response to Milton's faint praise was a curt nod. His memory served him well when it was necessary; although, the key reason he remembered these dates was the tragedy. A little girl drowning in a creek, a boy simply vanishing, they were gross tragedies. He could only imagine the pain their loved ones must have felt. It was likely the same pain that all of their families were feeling at that very moment. He decidedly kept this to himself, as the mood was already dreary enough.
He smiled wanly at the Shiba Inu, giving him a brief scratch between the ears as he stood straight. So even the animals had to wear outfits now? Well, not just now. Jo had been in a pumpkin costume before. The sweet chubby dog actually looked smart in the monocle and bowtie.
"Dude, what're you doing?" Jace watched Milton with brow knit closely together. He sidestepped a bag and a mini jack-o-lantern as they came flying from the trunk. The bag he saw had his name on it, prompting him to pick it up. The outfit was definitely not his particular style. It consisted of black jeans with a rolled cuff, a white t-shirt, and black high-top sneakers. The only article that was of his taste was the leather jacket, but it struck him as being more of a moto-style jacket being that it was black. It was still better than a speedo and a bathrobe.
"This better not involve musical numbers.." He muttered. If there was dancing and singing, he might really lose his mind. Pushing the thought aside, he leaned over Milton and Marten to look into the trunk. All he could see was that there was a paper at the bottom of it, not what it read.
"What is it?"
Kitty was finally snapped out of her pity party when Jace mentioned a letter at the bottom of the trunk. She dropped her bag, wading past the distracted young adults to reach for what appeared to be a note. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was a newspaper clipping.
The date inevitably struck a chord.
1958.
The year had no significance to her, but it did to a certain Lady of the House. Kitty didn't know the entire story, merely the year it had happened, so she was genuinely surprised when the bold letters of the news' headline hit her.
Charity Gardens Fire Kills 449
The article itself was as grim as its headline.
Charity Gardens which was an asylum had been purchased and plans had been made to redevelop the land in preparation for the establishment of Bellwoods University. However, before the plan could be set into motion, a fire raged throughout the institution in the dead of night and killed 320 patients and 129 staff.
Listed under the never-ending list of possible victims was a very familiar name.
Adelaide Johannes, wife of jazz legend Jo Johnny.
The man's first name sent a chill up Kitty's spine, but she couldn't remember where she'd heard of it, or if she actually had at all.
She held out the piece of paper for everyone to see.
