I hopped out of my car and pulled my hood low, stepping onto the narrow muddy path that led to Tidbit. The sky was still overcast, heavy clouds threatening rain, casting everything in a dim, shadowy light.
The path was tight, bordered by tall fences on either side, with a slight slope I had to climb. The air was filled with the occasional rustle of wildlife. Some of the sounds hinted at larger animals, maybe a bear or something just as big. Fortunately, there hadn’t been any reported attacks in this area. The fences seemed to be doing their job—if they weren’t, places like Tidbit wouldn’t even exist. I recalled a rumor about a photographer spotting a lion in these parts once. Weird place.
Ahead, a small group approached, likely heading to the gas station market for supplies. I kept my head down; people in West Antapolis weren’t exactly fans of cops, whether from Preternatural Affairs or the regular force. We were despised equally.
“...Yeah, I heard it,” one of them said, his voice low but uneasy. “People are being hanged! Sheesh. Scary.”
“I know, right? Wish we’d left the city with Dad. I’m really regretting staying now.”
“Vampires and wraiths are everywhere,” the first one replied. “West Antapolis or not.”
“Well… I guess you’re right. This is… like a loop. You can’t just escape it.”
As I neared two wooden posts spaced about twenty meters apart, I recognized the entrance to the Caravan Park.
A large cloth banner stretched between the posts read, "Welcome to Tidbit!" in faded, cheerful letters. Holiday decorations—over-the-top and garish—wrapped around the posts, attempting to create a festive atmosphere. To me, the flashing lights and tacky trimmings made the place look more like a seedy carnival than a warm community.
Tidbit seemed quiet this morning, surrounded by trees and tall grass. At its center stood a large, oval-shaped fountain, featuring a marble angel statue. Its right wing was broken, and water trickled from its mouth into the basin below, recirculated by a hidden mechanism.
Around the fountain, a few people lounged outside their RVs, drinking and chatting, while others gazed idly at the sky. Children ran through the trees, their laughter ringing in the still air, shielded from the breeze by the thick foliage. They say Tidbit had at least over fifty RVs, and over 150 people.
“C!” a voice called out, breaking the stillness.
I turned and saw a young woman about my age waving from a few meters away.
“Seku,” I greeted as I walked toward her. “How’ve you been?”
“Good, good. Managing,” she replied with a grin. “But I’m guessing you’re not here to hang out with me?”
“Looking for someone,” I said bluntly. “A landlord named Kilo Pud. Heard he lives in a windowless RV or something.”
“Oh, yeah, I know him,” she said, pointing. “Head that way, pass the blue RV, then turn left. It’s about ten, maybe twenty meters ahead.”
“Thanks,” I said, already moving. “Take care.”
“You too, C!”
I followed Seku’s directions and soon arrived at the windowless RV. The door was slightly ajar, and the muffled sound of a blaring TV spilled out. I pushed the door open a little farther and listened. A deep snore rumbled from inside.
Taking a step back, I knocked firmly on the door. The snoring ceased, followed by a raspy cough. A moment later, an older man shuffled to the door and cracked it open.
He was likely in his seventies, bald with a fringe of gray hair. His bathrobe was faded and looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks—it smelled about the same. The man was reeking alcohol and something faul.
“Kilo Pud?” I asked.
“Yah?” he grunted.
“Preternatural Affairs,” I replied, flashing my badge. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about Jacob Dun.”
“Who?” he said, scratching absentmindedly at his side. “Oh, oh, that guy. Yeah, I remember him. Sorry, my memory ain’t what it used to be.”
“Hmm.”
“So,” he said, stepping outside, “ask away.”
“How long did you know him?”
Kilo squinted at me, scratching his head as if trying to pull the memory from a fog. “Four weeks? Maybe five. Can’t remember exactly.”
“Where was he staying before he rented your place?”
“His brother’s, from what I heard.” Kilo shifted his weight, glancing toward the fountain. “Then they had a fight, and he left. Found himself a new home.”
“Did he ever tell you why they fought?”
“We weren’t pals, kid.” Kilo snorted and gave me a look like I’d asked something ridiculous. “I’m his landlord, not his nanny.”
“Hmm.” I muttered, tapping my fingers lightly on the badge clipped to my belt. “What about alcohol? Any history there?”
Kilo chuckled dryly, his laugh rough like gravel. “Nah, he was clean. No booze, no crystal. Straight as an arrow, at least from what I saw.”
“You kicked him out because he couldn’t pay rent, right?”
“Uh-huh.” He folded his arms, his gaze hardening as if defending himself from blame. “Gave him five warnings. Five. He didn’t listen, so yeah, I kicked him out. Last I heard, he went to shack up with his girlfriend.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Did Mire ever talk to you?”
“Mire?” He frowned, genuinely puzzled. “Who’s that?”
“Jacob’s girlfriend,” I clarified. “You don’t know her by name?”
He shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Nah. Didn’t even know his last name ‘til you said it. Dun, right? Poor kid, getting murdered like that.”
“Did Jacob have enemies?” I pressed, watching his expression for any flicker of insight.
“No.” Kilo said firmly, but then hesitated. “But… there was this one time. Heard him yelling inside his place. One of the neighbors busted in to check on him.”
“Yelling?” I leaned in slightly, curiosity piqued. “Was he attacked?”
Kilo waved a hand dismissively. “Turns out, he was having a nightmare or something. Screaming about a school, I think.”
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“A school?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s what the neighbor said. Other than that, I don’t know much about him.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Okay. One last question: Was he acting strange before the murder? On edge? Agitated?”
Kilo tilted his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “He did say something weird. Wanted to ‘try things’ before he died.”
I straightened. “Try things?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged, his robe shifting slightly. “Didn’t say what. Just that he didn’t want to go out without, you know, trying stuff. The kid had cancer. Guess he didn’t want to go out quietly.”
I let the information sink in, my mind racing to piece it together. “May I check his RV?”
Kilo sighed, rubbing his face. “Sure, but I rented it out to a couple. Don’t be tearing the place apart, alright? And bugger off before midnight. I don’t want complaints.”
“I won’t take long,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “Just need to check a few things.”
He grunted, retreating inside the RV. Seconds later, he reappeared with a set of keys. “It’s the small one behind that tree.” He jabbed a finger in the general direction. “The door’s tricky. Hold it up when you unlock it, or it won’t budge. Oh, and the place hasn’t been cleaned up yet. Just so you know.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“And don’t break anything!” he barked as I turned to leave. “You break it, you pay for it!”
I waved a hand over my shoulder, not bothering to look back. “Noted.”
I slowly walked toward the RV, tossing the keys in the air before catching them. As I approached, nothing seemed particularly unusual about it—nothing stood out. It was just smaller than the other RVs.
I unlocked the door as the landlord had instructed and stepped inside. The space was cramped. To my left was a small kitchen with a single counter, but no sink. Across from it was a small space with a sink, and next to that was a door leading to a bathroom.
Looking to my right, I saw a lone bed in the corner, positioned just beneath the RV window. Beyond that, the driver’s and passenger seats had been turned into makeshift couches.
“Hmm,” I muttered. “Let’s see.”
I began rummaging through the drawers, checking the counters, and even searching under the mattress. There wasn’t much space to cover, so it didn’t take long. Just shy of five minutes later, I was done. Unfortunately, I came up empty-handed. No clues. I wasn’t sure how anyone could even live here. The place was smaller than my bathroom back home. Then, next to the bathroom door, I noticed two pink panties lying on the floor… this place was—weird.
As I turned to leave, something caught my eye under the bed—a piece of paper. I changed my mind about leaving, crouched down, and grabbed it. It was a photo of Jacob with a woman who had her back turned toward the camera. The woman didn’t look like Mire—her hair was blonde, while Mire’s was brown. On the back of the photo, someone had written: "My life, my love, my everything. You gave me a second chance. I love you."
“Hmm,” I muttered, studying the picture. “Who is she? And the photo... it looks off. Something’s weird about it.”
I rolled the picture up and tucked it into my coat pocket, then searched the RV one last time. But there was nothing else. With a sigh, I left the RV. Just as I stepped outside, my phone rang, and I answered.
“C,” Leo said, his voice steady. “The box is clear. We’re about to open it in fifteen minutes—just waiting on the last checks. When will you be at the station?”
“Half an hour,” I replied.
“Okay, we’ll wait for you. Be quick.”
“Hmm.”
—
I parked my car and hopped out, the damp evening air clinging to my clothes. Mud caked my boots as I climbed the steps to the station, leaving smeared footprints behind me. Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, and the faint aroma of stale coffee lingered.
At the far end of the room, Jane and James were huddled over a laptop on a coffee table. They sat on the worn-out couches, their postures tense. The glow of the screen illuminated their faces in the dimly lit corner.
“Hey,” I called out as I approached, pulling back my wet hood. “What’s happening?”
“Come, sit.” Jane gestured, scooting over to make space for me.
“What’s in the box?” I asked, settling beside her.
“Thumb drive,” she said, her tone clipped.
“What’s on it?”
“We’re about to find out.” Jane clicked on a file labeled I’m me.mp4, and the video began to load.
The screen flickered to life, and there he was—Jacob Dun. He fumbled with a camera, adjusting its angle. The setting was grimly familiar: the same alley where his body had been found, suspended by his limbs.
“Jacob Dun, your favorite boyfriend here,” he said, his voice shaky. “I’m going to tell you a tale, Mire. I hope… this video, uh—well. You know, I was…” He trailed off, visibly nervous.
He scratched the back of his head, bit his lip, and shifted uneasily, casting furtive glances around. After a sharp exhale, he steadied himself in front of the camera.
“I did it for myself,” he admitted. “At first, of course. I needed to help him. But then… I liked it. I liked it. West Antapolis corrupted me. This city is… this—I just, I don’t know…”
His voice faltered, and he paused, staring off into the distance. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.
“The school… it was a…” He groaned and bit his lip again, frustration on his face. “Ah, forget it. I’m not gonna tell her. No way.”
The video ended abruptly as Jacob’s hand reached for the camera.
“What was that?” I asked, leaning back.
“The videos were deleted,” Jane said, frowning. “But the tech team recovered them. There’s another one. Maybe it’ll shed more light.”
She clicked on the next file, and Jacob appeared on screen again, still in the alley.
“If you want to be loved, think with your heart,” he said, his tone bitter. “If you want to win, use your head.”
He smiled faintly, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. Rain pattered against the camera lens, distorting the audio.
“Every night, I have the same nightmare,” he confessed. “Is it because I used my head? Or my heart? Or… am I just a bad guy?”
He shook his head, his eyes widening as if he’d stumbled on a painful truth.
“Of course I’m a bad guy,” he said, answering himself. “But at least I lived, Mire. You changed me. And I’m going to atone for my sins.”
The video cut off, static crackling as the rain overwhelmed the equipment.
“School?” James murmured, leaning forward. “Atone for his sins?”
“There’s more,” Jane said, her voice tense. “Our guy liked to tell stories, huh?”
The next video played. The morning sun illuminated Jacob’s face this time. He held a photograph, his expression soft yet haunted.
“I love you, Mire,” he said quietly, staring at the picture. “I’ll always love you. I can’t stop looking at this. You look… damn ridiculous. You’re such a dork.”
The screen glitched momentarily before returning. Now Jacob was holding the photograph up to the camera. My breath caught—it wasn’t Mire. The woman in the picture was blonde and didn’t look like her one bit, her youthful face frozen in a carefree smile.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I answered, trying to keep my voice steady. “Leo, what’s up?”
“God’s massive balls, C,” Leo panted. “Mire… she’s not who she says she is! I checked with her mom—she kidnapped a girl here. I found her.”
“The kidnapped girl—she’s blonde?” I asked, dread pooling in my stomach.
“Y-yeah,” Leo stammered. “How’d you know?”
“Ah, fuck.”
Before I could process this revelation, the laptop screen flickered back to life, unprompted. A new video began to play.
Jacob appeared again, setting up the camera. He wore a bright yellow hood, and I could see the stars glimmering above. At first, the video seemed like just one of his ramblings. But then, when he took a slight step to the left, my blood ran cold.
His body—lifeless, nailed to the wall by its limbs—hung behind him. The forensics team was taking samples from the crime scene, reporters were crowding around, trying to ask questions to the cops... I could even see myself, smoking on the corner. Jacob—was dead?
And yet, there he was, alive, standing right in front of the camera as if nothing had happened.
I froze, my mind struggling to process it. Either I was high, or I was trapped in a nightmare.
“I know you’re watching this,” Jacob said calmly, his eyes piercing through the screen. “Please… leave me alone. If you don’t hurt me, I won’t hurt you. Okay? Please. Believe in second chances. Please. I’m sorry for hurting you and your brother. But please, stop.”
The video ended, leaving the three of us in stunned silence. The screen went black, our reflections staring back at us.
“Jacob’s alive… but dead?” James finally broke the silence, his voice cracking.
Jane exhaled sharply. “I think I need a drink.”
—