The Burning of the Black Maria

Monday, October 8th, 2012, about 2:00 AM

(What's left of the) Ryanston Public Library

Ryanston, Massachusetts



Like any bad story this just had to open up with a god damn news report, Cornell thought as he, like everyone else, found himself rubbernecking and looking at the the now burnt down library. There was a woman standing in front of it, looking around to see if anyone was nearby while her crew was helping her get the best angle of charred building.

         She began reporting the scene. Cornell could not decipher the words but he watched from a distance. He knew this much. Everything about the timing was bad. By the time the fire was noticeable it was assumed no one called for it. By the time the fire station was was informed, they showed up twenty-six minutes later, and by then the fire had completely destroyed the building. Even the year it was built was just dreadful, it was not even close to modern fire safety standards. Which was only obvious in hindsight, like every other stroke of genius.

         Of course not all the timing was horrendous. For the lucky reporter, while she was discussing the story a charred wall of the wreckage had lost its integrity and crumbled behind her revealing, on camera, six burnt bodies sitting in a circle.

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Sunday, October 7th, 2012, about Noontime

East Hillsborough County Community College

Manchester, New Hampshire



Amy Dole was going to drop out today. This place taught her nothing except how to get in debt. She also found herself to be more alienated than she'd like to admit. Always feeling alone in a room filled with people. Speaking to a thousand people was the same as speaking to four walls. It should have bothered her. She knew it should. But she was comfortable this way.

         “Helloooooo, Amy.” Said the voice that belonged to male-friend-number-three.

         “Hi there, Theodore.” Amy smiled as best as she could.

         He laughed. “Don't call me 'Theodore,' Amy. You know I hate it.” It sounded like he was joking, but he probably did not like his real name.

         “Sorry.”

         “Ahh, not to worry. So you and I live pretty close by, right?” He asked.

         “What?”

         “You know, you live in Haverhill, I live in Ryanston. We're practically neighbors. My friends and I are having a fire tonight when we get home, you should stop by.”

         “Ted, why would we drive all the way down there when we dorm here?” Amy asked.

         He seemed more confused than Amy. He sighed and said, “because for Columbus Day, we're supposed to go home. We have to leave before ten tonight.”

         A stranger walked by and quipped. “Whether we like it or not.” This was a common occurrence in Echo College.

         Ted laughed. “How do you not know this?”

         Amy nodded. “What time does the bonfire start?”

         “Hopefully at midnight.” He then pulled out his and gave her his number.

         Amy saved the number and smiled. “I'll be there.”

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Monday, October 8th, 2012, about Midnight

Ryanston Public Library

Ryanston, Massachusetts



Victor Hallows was asleep in the fiction section. He fought away thirst thanks to a small bubbler nearby but still needed to fight away hunger. He was in that half-state of being aware he was sleeping, and being oblivious he was almost awake. He dreaded Sunday nights: a librarian might find him the next morning and call the police. All he was, to them and most passerby, was a statistic. He often caught wind of people saying, most people think they're homeless because of laziness, but I know it could be a million things. Everyone had that thought. In fact the only people who didn't think he was homeless thought he was a rich con artist asking for money on the road and leaving in a Lexus (they always said it was a Lexus), which he never f--king owned. Yeah, like that was a good market. He never understood...

         “HELP.” Shouted a female.

         Victor's adrenaline had woken him up. In a panic he grabbed the closest thing he thought was a weapon. It was the thickest book within reach, written by an author with a regal last name. Fine, it was Stephen King, but that didn't matter to him; what mattered was if he swung it just right, it could crack open someone's head and maybe even reach under the dome of it.

         “Why bother? I already told you that no one could hear you. And even if they did, you won't get a a hero.” Said a male voice, with an unsettling monotone.

         A third voice spoke. “I see we have some guests.”

         How many people are here? Including Victor, there were seven.

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Sunday, October 7th, 2012, about 11:50 PM

A Random Street

Ryanston, Massachusetts



“Helloooooo, stranger,” said the young man walking towards him.

         “Uh. Hi.” Said Luke Mann.

         “And how are you on this fine evening?” This was a truly eccentric fellow. Luke liked eccentricity.

         Luke laughed a bit. “Not dead, yet.”

         “Well that's good news.” There was a pause, then, “I'm Evan.”

         “Luke.”

         “Pleasure to meet you, and may I ask what you're doing at this hour?”

         Luke decided, honesty was the best policy. “Walking aimlessly.”

         “Well perhaps you should head on over to the library. I'm having a get-together there with a few people and I figured, the more the merrier.” Evan laughed.

         “Isn't it closed?” Luke checked his phone, even though he knew the answer to his question.

         “True, but there's no security. And it never hurts to be a little rebellious with some literacy under your belt, you know?”

         “True that.”

         A phone was ringing in Evan's back pack. He beckoned Luke. “Follow.” He took the phone out and answered it, “Hello Amy...”

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Sunday, October 7th, 2012, about 11:50 PM

Another Random Street

Ryanston, Massachusetts



Amy did basic math in her head. Three years. It had been three years since she visited Ryanston. It was all too surreal to be back. Upon arriving she realized a simple predicament. She called Ted.

         “Hello, Amy.” He said in that weird way he always did.

         “Um, Ted. What is your address?”

         “Change of plans. Head on over to the Ryanston Library.” He said.

         She heard someone ask. “Who's that?”

         Ted answered the voice. “A friend of mine.”

         Amy nodded. “So I take your friends received the memo?”

         “The what?” Ted asked.

         “That the get-together is going to be moved to the library.” She looked around to see if there were any cops. None so far. She added, “no bonfire, I presume.”

         Ted said, “yes. They received it. And I don't imagine a bonfire anytime soon, tragically.”

         “Alright well, I'll be there soon.”

         “Excellent.”

         Amy hung up without saying goodbye.

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Sunday, October 8th, 2012, about 11:45 PM

Ryanston Public Library

Ryanston, Massachusetts



Adam Gard walked down the aisles of the library as peacefully as he could. He was spooked to see a man sleeping on the floor in the fiction section, but he looked on the bright side.

         He and Evan had planned this out for a month. And in spite of getting cold feet, he knew it was worth it. They were going to go down in history and there would be legends about them. Adam didn't plan an escape route, in hopes Evan did. No matter, this was going to be poetic. The Ryanston Massacre, the two of them called it. He tossed his knife in the air and caught it by the blade while humming a tune he did not quite recognize. A few minutes later he heard people arrive. It was Evan and two other people.

         “So right now, my friend is setting up the music, we've got beer and for you fancy folk, red wine.” Evan said as he walked over to Adam with disappointment written in his eyes.

         “What the hell is this?” Adam whispered.

         “Surprisingly not many people want to show up at a party in a sound proofed library.” Evan tried to cover his dismay with humor.

         “This library's soundproof?”

         Evan corrected himself. “Well, muffled more than completely soundproof. It's to prevent noise from coming in, but the obvious byproduct is it prevents noise from escaping. Seriously, why did you think I chose this place? Poetic atmosphere?”

         “Well. Yeah, kinda.”

         “It does add a nice touch doesn't it.”

         Adam smiled. “Yeah. It does.” He smiled, “alright let's get this started. Oh. There's also some passed out guy in one of the aisles. Heads up.”

         Evan nodded and walked to the crowd. “Hello all and welcome to-” the front door opened and they all watched a woman get dragged in.

         “HELP.”

         The man told her some not-so-assuring words.

         Evan smiled. “I see we have some guests.”

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Sunday, October 8th, 2012, about 11:55 PM

A Local Convenient Store

Ryanston, Massachusetts



Nicole Rosengelb bought her self a lighter and a pack of playing cards. One was a conversation starter the other was a force of habit. She also but an over sized soda but that's not important. She left the Cumberland Farms and headed to her car, where she was approached by an officer informing her, “Ma'am we're on the look out for a serial killer. We ask you take precaution on your way home?”

         Nicole looked him up and down. “I'm sorry, who are you?”

         “Excuse me?”

         “What's your name.” She said as politely as she could. Could have done better.

         “Officer Maps.”

         She decided to cut to the chase. “No you're not.”

         “Are you-”

         “Yes. 'Officer Maps' is a detective and he's always seen with Detective Marx. I think they're a couple, I'm not sure. But you? You're just a creep in a parking lot.” Nicole walked to her car.

         The creep dropped his character. “Fine you caught me, but I do have a question.”

         “F--k off.”

         “You're friend seems to be in trouble,” he followed her, “does the name, 'George Dossen' sound familiar?”

         Nicole unlocked her car and gave him a flat “What.”

         “His wife doesn't know about you. I do though.” He laughed. “And before you ask this is not blackmail. This is me, giving you a chance to save his life.”

         Nicole pulled out her cell phone. The creep pulled out a gun. He warned her, “I wouldn't do that.”

         “You won't shoot me, dumbass, we're in public.”

         He had the face of are you freaking serious? as he said, “I risked impersonating an officer and threatened your boyfriend. I don't mind if your trying to come off as tough, and cool headed, but this? This is just – odd.”

         “I'm an odd kind of person.”

         “Fair enough, can we at least go somewhere private to chat?” He asked.

         Nicole thought about it. Then she thought about the danger she was in. “Fine. Get in.”

         “Thank you. Let's go to the library shall we.” He got in the car and buckled. “I know it's closed but I have the key to it.”

         Nicole drove there in silence. The creep decided to make small talk. “I'm Gerald Oleander.”

         “Is that your real name?” She asked as she parked the car out front.

They exited the vehicle and he answered. “It doesn't matter, but I figured it was a good gesture.”

         And I thought I was the odd one.

         Nicole opened the door prompting Gerald to say, “Someone else is in here.” He put his keys in his back pocket. Nicole pulled out her deck of cards and began shuffling. The door behind them closed.

         Wait a minute. Nicole decided to attract the attention of who ever else was in here. “HELP.”

         Gerald gave her some seemingly pre-planned speech, she half-ignored. While a young man treated them with the strangest hospitality.

         “'Guests?'” Asked one male.

         The stranger looked at the male. “Yes, Luke. Guests.” He looked back at Nicole. “My name is Evan.”

         “I thought it was Ted.” Said a female.

         “For the sake of hating that name, it will be Evan this evening (Huh. 'Evan this Evening'. Sounds like an erotica title).”

         Nicole needed some answers. “I'm going to ask this as nicely as possible: What the hell is going on? And can someone call the police? Please.”

         Luke pulled out his phone. “On it.”

         Gerald, being the gentlemen he was, pulled out his gun. “No you won't.”

         Luke stopped dialing and laughed. “That's an air soft gun, genius. They shoot plastic pellets. It'll hurt like a bitch, but it won't kill me. Also isn't it illegal to paint the tip black?” Nicole noticed how he absentmindedly put the phone back in his pocket.

         Gerald nodded. “Fine it is an air soft gun, but it still hurts!” He fired it at Luke. He missed. Everyone looked at Gerald and felt a bit embarrassed for him.

         “Yeah I'm calling the police.” Luke pulled his phone back out.

         “No you won't,” said a young man as he stabbed him in the back.

         Luke dropped his phone. “You stabbed me!”

         "Why are you announcing your injury?" The young man said as Luke writhed in immense pain.

         “Adam, what the hell?” Said Evan. “At least let the tension build.”

         The sound of a battle cry was heard as a middle aged man rushed Gerald and struck him in the head with the book.



Amy Dole witnessed this and realized: “Am I the only sane person here?”

         The other female looked to her. “Probably. I'm Nicole by the way.”

         “Amy.” They shook hands.

         “Oh don't mind me,” said Luke on the ground, “I'm just bleeding to death. Don't all go out for help or anything.”

         Nicole said. “So this guy told me my boyfriend's life was in danger.” She pointed to the other man on the floor.

         Evan/Ted/whatever the hell his name was, added, “He was probably lying. Everyone in town knows about you and George. Hell even George's wife knows. This prick was probably trying to pull a 'Ted Bundy' and do terrible things to you.”

         Amy walked over to the door. Adam rushed her. “NO. NO. Nonononono, NO.” He took a second to compose himself. “We don't want another Amy Frile.” (He was referencing a long convoluted crime that happened a year ago.)

         “Amy Dole.” She corrected.

         Evan/Ted walked over. “Perhaps we tell you what's going on?” Adam walked away.

         “Or call the freaking police. I'm dying.” Said Luke from a distance.

         Amy nodded. “An explanation would be nice.”

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Wednesday, Septermber 12th, 2012, about 8:00 PM

East Hillsborough County Community College

Manchester, New Hampshire



“So why do you want to be called 'Evan'?” Adam asked.

         “I don't like my real name. When I can, I'll legally change it.” Evan took a sip of his soda.

         Adam nodded. “So you why do you need me?”

         “Well,” Evan's voice became quiet, “so I was told that there's more money on the market for true-crime than there is, just-fiction.”

         “Go on.”

         “You know how you said you have nothing to lose? Please tell me you remember this?” Evan asked trying not to sound patronizing.

         “Still don't.”

         “Well all of the good stuff is taken. So I figured, you know,” Evan made a gesture.

         “'You know' what?”

         “You know, we – make one.” Evan took a sip of his soda.

         “So like method writing.” Adam waited for a response. When he didn't receive one he continued, “you know how there are actors who get into character. I'm mean into character. They try to portray as much realism as possible. That's this plan. You want to make it a true crime so you make it a true-crime.”

         “You don't even know what I'm planning.” Evan said.

         “Well reveal.”

         Evan rubbed his own hands and acted like he was giving him a pitch for an idea. “So imagine. A few people, about four to sixteen of them, locked up in a library by a mad man. That's you. One by one they go down. And it's up to their wits to survive, but the mad man is more cunning.”

         “So what you're saying is that you want to make a slasher flick, but non-fictional?”

         “Sure. But I'll be there to monitor. And you'll be there to – dispatch them. You go down as a unique case and people will study you for years to come, and morbid people will praise you, like that idiot author, Michael William Barker.”

         "'Michael William who'?" Adam asked.

         "Just some pretentious prick who thinks he's clever. Let's get back on topic, please?"

         Adam nodded. “Right. So... How will I escape?”

         Evan waited for this question. “One of two things. You sacrifice yourself and leave a somber note behind, or you-”

         “Okay. That's easy.”

         Evan felt almost offended, for some reason. “You don't really have to die.”

         “If I'm going down I want to make it glorious.”

         “Fair enough.” Evan nodded.

         Adam leaned in. “What will we tell them, the – victims?”

         “I'll wing it.”

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Sunday, October 8th, 2012, about 12:05 AM

Ryanston Public Library

Ryanston, Massachusetts



“So are you going to let us know what's happening or are you going to stare longingly in her eyes?” Nicole stated.

         Evan pointed to Adam. “He plans to kill us. And I'm stalling so he doesn't.”

         A shriek of pain came from an unfamiliar voice. It was the book wielding man. He was stabbed, by Adam, in the back.

         “Can you stop stabbing people, for like seven f--king seconds!?” shouted Amy.

         Adam shrugged. “Not really.” He looked to Nicole. “You do magic tricks?” He asked as he pointed at the cards she was shuffling.

         Nicole looked over. “I bet I can make one of us disappear.”

         Nicole saw Luke crawl towards the air soft gun. So did Adam as he walked over to it. Picked it up and stabbed Luke in the back of the neck. Luke dropped. Adam put the air soft pistol on the closest counter.

         “Oh my god, is he dead?” Amy's composure was dwindling.

         “As dead as those two.” Adam pointed to the Gerald and the book wielder.

         Adam walked towards Amy and Evan and blocked the front entrance. “No one is leaving.”

         Evan walked to Luke's body. He looked at the women in the group. “You guys get the other two.”

         Nicole was not liking this. “Say that again, but with more sanity.”

         “We can't bury them but let's give them some dignity.” Evan said as he dragged Luke's body across the floor.

         Amy shrugged. “He's right – I think.”

         Nicole picked up Gerald. Is this irony? I think it's irony, she thought as she dragged him. She followed Amy and Evan to a study room.

         “Sit them up.” Evan said. “It's the best we can do.” He placed Luke on a chair.

         Amy and Nicole followed suit. For, what seemed like forever, no one said a word.

         “So I guess we should know each other?” Nicole looked around the room. “I'm Nicole.”

         A pause.

         Amy spoke up. “Well, I'm Amy. Ted, no wait, Evan, and I know each other from college.”

         Evan sighed. “I'm Ted. I use Evan Sablethorn as a pseudonym for my writing.”

         “A color and a plant? That's a silly last name,” scoffed Nicole Rosengelb. “You're a writer?”

         He nodded. “Well - yeah.”

         “That's cute.” She stood up and left the study room.



Amy watched Nicole leave. She looked to Ted and asked, “was there ever a bonfire planned?”

         “No. Just booze and music. 'Bonfire' sounds more inviting.”

         “Did you invite Adam?” Amy asked.

         “Yeah. Then he told me he wanted to kill us. I thought he was joking, but clearly...” Ted gestured to the bodies.

         Amy needed as many distractions as possible. “So what do you write?”

         He shrugged. “Mainly mysteries. I'm working on a non-fiction as of date, though.” He put his back-pack on the table. “I have one of my fictions with me, care to look?”

         “Sure.”

         Ted pulled out a series of sheets and plopped it on the table. Amy picked it up and read the first very short chapter. “Can I be honest?”

         Ted laughed. “Of course.”

         “I don't like it.”

         Ted nodded. “Why not?”

         “Well...” Amy paused. Then, “your main character's name is, Jack. He's a writer, the first scene in the story is him waking from a dream, and he describes what he looks like in the mirror. And that's the first three pages.”

         “Explain.”

         “I don't know how to say this without sounding rude.” Amy wondered how fragile his heart would be, “but, all of those are amateur mistakes. It's everything an editor hates from first time authors. No wait. Not 'hates'. They loathe it. You should feel ashamed of yourself and this craftsmanship.” She said this in, what she thought was, the nicest way possible.

         All Ted could saw was, “oh.”

                   Adam walked in. “We're missing the other girl.”

         Amy needed more information than this. “What?”

         Adam looked to her, “Shut-up.” He looked back at Ted. “She left. She ran out. We're screwed.”

         Amy felt foolish for not seeing the truth. She looked over to Ted and realized what was happening. No. Not like thi-



Adam saw Nicole walk to him she was shuffling the deck with professional grace. “So what's this all about?” She asked.

         Adam was excited to tell but he had to keep a portion of it a secret. “Think of it as one large poem.” He looked at her cards. “So what's with the cards?”

         Nicole smiled. “Want to see a magic trick.”

         He wondered how this would go. “Sure, I'm down.”

         She shuffled the deck then displayed the cards' backs in a fan like fashion. “Pick a card. Don't show me.”

         Adam picked the queen of spades.

         “Memorize it.” She commanded. “Then give it back to me.”

         It was easy to memorize this card. He gave it to her.

         Nicole took it and began shuffling. “Now I want you to memorize it. Close your eyes and imagine holding it. Imagine the feeling of it's raised ink and the smell of it's presence.”

         He imagined it and let his mind wander. The door behind him opened. Adam opened his eyes and Nicole was gone. “Shit.”

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Monday, October 8th, 2012, about 1:10 AM

Nicole Rosengelb's Home

Ryanston, Massachusetts



On the way back home she found out how much time had gone by. It didn't seem like that long, but at the same time it felt like forever. Nicole parked her car. The moment her keys left the ignition she was overcome with guilt. “Amy. Evan.” She whispered. Nicole began cursing a collage of swears while beating the steering wheel. I have to go back. She started the car back up and drove to the library.

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Sunday, October 8th, 2012, about 1:15 AM

Ryanston Public Library

Ryanston, Massachusetts



Nicole opened the door slowly and checked to see if it was safe. She walked inside and grabbed the airsoft gun. She heard the sound of whimpering from the study room. She opened it and saw Evan and Amy, sitting on two of the chairs. Lifeless. Adam was struggling to keep it together.

         “He wanted this to be all about him.” Adam said to Nicole. “He only wanted the money. He didn't look at like it was-”

         Nicole shot him with the air soft pistol. Point blank range. Adam shrieked in pain and dropped the knife. She picked it up. Adam stood up and walked to her. He tried to grab the knife while trying to appear stoic, but she shot him again. The pellets left him bleeding. They weren't deadly, but they were effective.

         Nicole felt annoyed. “You know I have the upper hand. I don't mind if your trying to come off as tough, and cool headed, but this? This is just – pathetic.” Those words sounded so familiar. She stabbed Adam in the throat. “I'd like to compliment your absurdly sharp knife, by the way.”

         He lost balance and fell on the chair. It leaned back but the wall caught it. Nicole pushed him upright. She assumed he was dead. Nicole gathered books and newspapers and made a pile at the door of the study room.

         Nicole held the queen of spades card in her left hand and a lighter in the other. She lit it and watched the fire lick the edge of the card, and when it was aflame, she loosened her grasp and watched it fall among the pile. She left the building, refusing to turn back. She entered the car and drove off.

         Nicole took a swig of the soda she bought earlier. “Dammit. This is diet.”