The Package
"So you found the body only forty five minutes ago, ten minutes after Mike had dropped you off to fix the house?" The examiner asked Tom as he knelt above the corpse.
The corse was solid stone, wearing a flannel shirt, the face seemed to had been melted off.
"Yes sir," Tom said.
"What did you see coming out of the laundry room again?" The sheriff asked.
"I saw a man in an orange jumpsuit, wearing a porcelain comedy mask," Sarah says.
The sheriff raised an eyebrow before looking at her wrist and nodding his head.
"We will look around, now go home," The sheriff said before leaving the house.
No one said anything on the drive to the lodge.
When they returned she immediately sat in her temporary room and immediately opened her journal.
'Whatever killed the man that they'd found in my home today I need to find it before they do'
I need answers.
I need to know what the fuck is going on in this town.
The sheriff is a good guy, but he knows more than he is letting on, and the fact I bet that "Hospital" had everything to do with it.
His own son had died but he must have been forced to keep quiet somehow.
He has the perfect job and salary so, he doesn't need money...
Was he threatened? And if so...
Who is involved?
What is that building for?
I have to get on the inside.
Three hours later, the house is dark in every cabin except Sarah's. A knocks sounds from the back door. She takes her bat and opens the door to see nothing but a package on the ground with a note.
'I'm not what you think I am, I need to do this to survive'
Opening the odd package, inside was the white comedy mask.
'I am not putting this on there nice try,' Sarah thought bringing the package and note inside. She immediately began to focus on a cork board. Red yarn stretched from pictures of dead bodies, old news article pieces even photographs of the odd men in suits and lab coats.
All tracing back to the large white building just north of town limit.
Nice conspiracy board. A voice spoke.
"WHO THE FUCK JUST SAID THAT?!" Sarah answered holding her bat.
On the table with the package.
Sarah looked at the mask.
Looking right at me there.
"Ok, how the fuck can you speak?!" Sarah says still holding the bat.
Only you can hear me, put the bat down please, I just want to talk.
She lowers the bat but doesn't put it down and sits on the bed.
"So, you wrote the note?" She asked in a whisper now fully aware of how loud she is.
"Yeah, also why the conspiracies?"
"Better question, what the fuck were you doing in my house?" Sarah responds.
"Chasing a D-Class,"
"D-Class?" She stared at the photo of the man in the flannel shirt.
"A detainee of the SCP foundation, they have people on death row, and use them for lab experiments with anomaly's such as myself,"
"You're saying there's more like you?"
"Not exactly, one of which that escaped with me mailed me here,"
Sarah somewhat began to panic. Mike and Tomas are toast if this guy comes here.
"I assure you he won't hurt anyone here. He will come at some point tomorrow if we're lucky,"
"I'm sorry, we?" Sarah was ready to snap the mask in half.
"Me simply being here is dangerous, but you want answers...don't you?"
She didn't protest. Despite being a mask, he was right.
"Like it or not, we are in the same boat now, the only human, I can trust now...
Is you,"