Chapter 2: Gary Vrenturch (2) The Letter

I picked up the letter after shutting my front room’s door. I took a second to breathe, as my mind raced onto whether to call the police. My mind stopped when I thought this could be a prank. I switched on the lights before sitting on the couch. I carefully opened the envelope in case the police needed to see this.

 

‘Gary this is the most important thing you must know is to, whatever you do, do not let anyone else see this letter. I have heard that you were investigating me. I write to you so that you do not worry. I am currently safe and hidden from pursuers. I do not know why they are chasing me, but they will definitely go after you if you catch news of what is happening. 

 

I know that isn’t enough info to convince you to stop, so I will tell you what has happened to me. That alone should be enough. But first, to make sure you know this isn’t a prank or a warning from the mob or something, I could tell you about your catastrophic flings, or about that time you ate a handful of strange berries while we were playing in the woods. Though I believe just mentioning those should be enough.

 

Two weeks ago, while working on a case, I met one of my mom’s old friends, Nate. Nate is a member of the Dead Butterfly. The usual charade that happens when I meet one of her friends plays out, he invited me to join the religion. Talking of how the community misses mom, and how they wish I took her place. Of course, I politely rejected him. This time though he abruptly stopped talking before staring into my eyes and giving me a sheet of paper with an address and 'help me' written on top. He started walking past me only to say “Come alone.” when he passed my ear. I was caught in confusion for a couple seconds. I collected myself and looked around me, only to see Nate walking away, in the opposite direction from the address he gave me. I didn’t know that then, so I went to find it.

 

The address led to an abandoned factory. Its exterior was heavily vandalized, with smashed windows with small ledges. Various tags of various colors lined the factory’s walls until you reach a big 2-meter ovaloid chunk that had been smashed out. Funnily the doors were in pristine condition, and locked, so I entered through that 2-meter gap. After entering, the first thing I did was try to unlock one of the doors. I was growing suspicious that this might be a bit dangerous. In fact, I felt stupid coming alone without informing someone of where I was going, yet I continued searching the factory.

 

The first floor was filled with nothing but rubble, garbage, and broken glass. When I got to the ruined stairs, that was probably the moment I should have turned around and left, or at least called for backup. There were eight consecutive missing stairs that were replaced with a few stacked sheets of some sort of plywood. Clearly, with the garbage on the first floor, someone had been living here. Stupidly, I felt compelled to continue searching, in my mind someone needed help. It was as if a cloud was covering my mind, only allowing me to ‘see’ my immediate surroundings. I walked carefully over the makeshift stairs, afraid that my foot would go through the boards. Thankfully nothing happened.

 

The second floor had more graffiti that was practically unreadable with the light of the setting sun, along with all the broken glass and garbage of the first floor. I had to move carefully because I saw many places where the floor caved in. I quickly and cautiously made my way to the second-floor stairway. I decided to turn around if it was in the same condition as the last one. Unfortunately, although old, this one was not missing a step.

 

As I climbed the stairs, I could see a blue light, a sharp contrast to the orange glow of the sunset. I quietly hurried up the stairs before peeking into the room where the light came from. It was a large room, probably a cafeteria before the factory shut down. There were a series of bunk beds, no less than 40, lining the edges of the walls for half of the room. The other half was an altar with 20 or so benches facing it. On the altar, there was a huge stone statue of a skull, with carvings of butterflies filling its surface. The blue light, like two spotlights, came from the statue's eye sockets.

 

It was then that I heard faint footsteps down the corridor. Those steps seemed to break the guise that had clouded my mind. I turned to hurry down the stairs, careful not to make a noise. I practically dodged the jagged gaps in the floor as I made my way to the staircase. The plywood steps had been removed. There was an approximately 4 meter deep and wide gap in between me and the nearest step. The gap had a pile of broken glass at the bottom, and brick walls surrounding it. There was no way that I could make it through the stairway, so I turned around to see if I could get down through one of the gaps in the floor. Most were too small, only a foot or two in diameter. They were also lined with a sharp steel mesh.

 

After a minute of searching, I heard distant voices closing in. I found a window and crawled out on the 6-inch ledge under. It was an eight-meter drop to the pavement. I, with strength I never thought I could muster, slowly, with my fingers straining on the edge of the ledge, lowered myself until it was a more manageable 5-and-a-half meter drop. I let go and heavily hit the ground, doing my best to perform a break fall.

 

It took me a minute or two for the blinding white pain to dull down. I slowly stood up, looked at the factory, and saw that the graffiti on its outside was glowing blue and purple. The hole in the wall as well, as the first-floor windows, had been patched up, and the doors had been chained shut. I hurried home for a while, until I, from a distance, saw Nate and another person patrolling around my house. It was then that someone tapped me on my shoulders while covering my mouth. “If you want to hide, follow me.” The person was wearing a grey trench coat, a wide-brimmed hat, and a face mask. I was suspicious, but I had nothing else to go on, so I followed them.

 

I could barely get anything out of them, but what I did was frightening. The most I can say is that apparently, a splinter group  was trying to kidnap me. I could get nothing else out of them. Nevertheless, I am safe, do not worry. If anything changes, I will do my best to let you know. Do not search for me, do not follow the butterfly. Stay safe, and destroy this letter, I am afraid they might come for you if you do not.’

 

A feeling of shock and confusion filled me as I reread the letter a few times, before slouching back on the couch and crumpling the letter and its envelope. Is this real or a prank? If not should I tell Phel? She will be here tomorrow. I doubt that she would stop investing if I asked her. Hell, should I even stop? Even if I burn this letter, stopping the investigation out of nowhere will surely make anyone watching me suspicious.

 

*TapTapTap*

 

I heard a quiet knock on the door. I stuffed the crumpled paper in the crack of the couch before sneaking to a nearby window and slowly shifting a panel of the blinds down. The shock of the letter had made me panic. Thoughts like ‘Did they come for me?’ ‘Was the letter tracked?’ etc. raced through my mind as I peeked to see who was at the door. Luckily it was just Phel, my older sister. With a sigh, I hurried to the door. As I reached out to the door handle my suspension returned. So, I only opened the door a crack to confirm that it was her.

 

“Why are you here?” I asked, still a bit paranoid.

 

“It’s winter break, I told you I was coming back yesterday?” She replied a bit confusedly.

 

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“What bus runs at this hour?” Phel’s campus is two hours away, and she can’t drive. In fact, after an accident that we had 7 years ago, she is afraid to get into any car.

 

“A night bus.”

 

“To prove your identity tell me, what is the secret pas—“

 

“That’s enough of that, let me in now. It is freezing out here.”

 

I hung my head in shame as I opened the door fully. That letter had really gotten to me, apparently. Phel shook her head as she entered our house. Mom, in her will, had left it to us to share. The house was quite old, a fact that the slightly deteriorated brick exterior can exemplify. The interior is newer, it has been renovated 3 times in the past. The first was about 100 years ago and was for a new two-pipe boiler and radiator system, the second was 70 years ago and was for electricity, and the third was a cable line that was installed in my mom's childhood. 

 

Each renovation revamped the entire house, well most of it at least. Yet, the vast majority of the cellar was never touched. The only exception was the boiler which was previously mentioned. God, that damned boiler, it heats half of the house too fast and the other half barely at all. Oftentimes, a couple of minutes after the radiators turn off, the floors will creak as the house cools down. Something about contracting floorboards.

 

“Garry, will you shut the door?” 

 

“Uh, sure…” 

 

I was a bit embarrassed. I have a bit of a bad habit of getting distracted when my mind shifts through different emotions. Oh, and when I am relaxed. This time it was panic into relief.

 

Phel went straight to the bathroom after I shut the front door. I guess that is to be expected after a long trip. I hurriedly dug through the couch before putting the crumpled remains of Don’s letter in my pocket. If the letter was real, it would be best if Phel didn’t see it. 

 

Phel has always thought of Don as a younger brother, especially after the passing of both our families. When Don’s mom passed, Phel was at the end of her junior year of high school, and the second that she heard of Nora’s passing she was at Don’s side. Our family decided to take care of him, it took a while to convince mom though. 

 

Don too inherited his family’s house. It is quite newer than ours in practically every aspect. Yet, that newness always made it feel less homely, for lack of a better word. That lack of history and family always made it seem like a temporary shelter. That home, to me, felt a bit cursed. Like it is what tore Don’s family apart. First, the divorce took Nora’s family from her. Then when Don came back, it tried to take his mother from him. First, with leukemia, and then, when she overcame it, the Dead Butterfly. I have heard stories from Don, of how she acted back then. At first, it was nothing too bad, she became a vegetarian. Then, occasionally she would say something weird, like saying things like ‘Be careful of the birds, they will eat you if they see you.’ or ‘Ants are your friends if you feed them. They will protect you from predators to get more food.’ In the end, about a month before she passed, she would regularly crawl from place to place claiming that it was a side effect of her metamorphosis preparation. 

 

It was not long after she passed that summer break began. It was then that mom had her first heart attack. That year, mom was in and out of the hospital. Multiple health issues compounded upon her. When I realized what was happening and what would probably happen soon, I took it hard. I had just turned 15 a month before her first heart attack. Don and I were too young to live on our own, hell Phel was too, even if she was technically an adult. Yet, she immediately began searching for a job.

 

She dropped out of her first year to take care of us. I have always wondered what mom thought of that decision. I remember being a mix of confused and slightly angry back then. The fact that she ‘gave up’ her future for us was perplexing and felt like a subtle admission that mom wouldn’t make it. As I grow older I believe more and more that she told Phel that she had little hope of surviving. 

 

… When Don and I graduated we got into a bit of an argument with her. Phel wanted us to go to college, while she would support us here. We were concerned about her and didn’t want her to throw away her future for us. We had seen how she had slowly lost contact with her friends while taking care of us. She said the same thing to us if she went to college what about our futures. It got a bit heated for a while, and for the next couple weeks, we barely spoke. It wasn’t until Don and I got jobs, we managed to convince her.

 

After about 5 minutes Phel joined me in the living room. She was obviously tired. “Any news about Don?” She asked. I hesitated for a second subconsciously putting my hand on my pocket. “No. I wonder what the police are even doing.” I felt a bit guilty hiding the letter, but, if it was real and she was caught… but, how would I stop her from investigating. Should I? Apparently I managed to do enough to catch the attention of the people sheltering Don.

 

 “I need to rest, I just got back from work.” I said to Phel, continuing this conversation would way too heavy on my conscience. “Rest well, I will start looking for Don later today, would you join me?” “Yes.” I hurriedly went to my bedroom and threw the crumpled letter into my drawers. I need to buy a lighter now, I guess.

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