The Permutation

Breakthrough (Part 11) Michelle

Friday, November 4th, 12 p.m.

    The handmade wooden stool Michelle found herself sitting on was going to bruise her tailbone, she was sure of it. A bed of nails would've been comfier. She and Ron had been sitting at the dimly lit bar of O'Connell's, the local pub, for well over an hour with nothing to show for it.

The patrons consisted of Ron and herself, a white haired drunk that had been in a state of near coma since they'd walked in, the owner of the bar, and a basset hound lying by the jukebox Its droopy face sagged to floor. If Michelle had to watch Pat O'Connell clean one more spotless glass, there was going to be another killer on the loose.

    The slow, plodding pace that seemed to be Lancet Falls' normal rhythm was driving Michelle crazy. Ever since she could remember, Michelle thrived on always being on the go, and being forced to wait was giving her stress ulcers.

Perry better come back with something good.

◈

    At Jordan's house, Michelle made two phone calls. The first call she made was to Ron to tell him to wake his ass up and have some coffee ready for her. The second call was to Officer Durant.

    She hadn't consciously noticed it in her mad dash out of the drive-in, but as the adrenaline wore off, something unusual stuck out in the field kitty corner to the theater. Forlorn wooden posts dotted the boundary between Jordan's house and the field separating it from the drive-in.

Michelle could never claim to be a country girl, but it seemed fishy for somebody to plant random wooden stakes into the ground for no good reason. It was as if something used to be connecting them.

Like barbed wire.

   

Michelle informed the officer of her observation in exchange for first shot at a scoop if anything came of it. Off-handedly, she added that she flipped her van in the middle of the night. He tried to press her for details, but she shrugged off his advances and promised to catch him up to speed at O'Connell's when all was said and done. She hung up the phone and sighed, unable to vocalize her suspicions quite yet.

    The sound of screeching metal as Michelle ripped it from the top of the van still haunted her mind. Someone that could do that to a car, could just as easily tear apart a human body and sew it back together with barbed wire. Something deeper was occurring in Lancet Falls, something darker, beyond the scope of human understanding. The tingle in her spine was going crazy; this was going to be one hell of a story.

    The little girl supplied Michelle with a worn-down bike, so that she could make the ride back into town. Michelle tried to protest; the last thing she wanted to do was take some kid's bike. Jordan insisted saying that she really didn't mind, it wasn't her bike anyways. Somebody had just left it on her yard one day.

    Michelle started her trek back into town, whatever energy or power that had been coursing through her had long since departed. The cold was her constant companion, but Michelle had only a passing awareness for it. In some recess of her mind, she knew heat was being leached from her body at a dangerous pace, but Michelle's main focus was on the puzzle of Lancet Falls. There wasn't a problem that Michelle couldn't face head on and beat into submission, and this wasn't going to be any different. Afterwards, she would finally be able to get a good night's sleep.

    A faded red and blue sign that stood emblazoned on the horizon like a worn out American flag signaled her journey was almost at its end. The Motel Six. Michelle's sigh of relief plumed into the cool, morning air. Although Ron's lackadaisical nature differed from Michelle's unwavering drive, the two had become an inseparable pair. Michelle had grown accustomed to sharing her triumphs and failures with the main, and somehow it felt wrong that he hadn't been there with her this morning.