"None that I can think of, sir." Derrick answered.
Steve groaned.
And by this time, some of you must start to wonder what exactly was on the typing paper that the police were reacting so strongly to.
It's a symbol. A symbol of no significance at first glance.
A circle and something that resembled that of a pen forming an 'X' in the middle while beside it was a tiny '13'.
There was a note below that said, "Building will explode at 1:40." And Derrick has the typewriter to thank for that.
And that symbol was found next to all of the twelve people who died in a horrible way just recently. The only difference was the numbers.
The first one was found dead inside his house. Soaking in his bathtub. His tongue pulled out and was left hanging by the side of his mouth, all his fingers dismembered, his genitals cut off and never to be found. And by the wall right above his head was the exact symbol except that the number was '1'. It was written with his own blood.
The second one was found at the side of the road. He met the same fate with the first victim. His tongue pulled out, fingers dismembered, and missing genitals. And instead of '1', '2' was written on the side. It was carved on the mahogany tree he was leaning on.
There have been twelve victims so far. And Derrick 'just so happened' to have the thirteenth number.
"Okay, Derrick. Thank you for cooperating. And what I'm about to tell you next might surprise you but… I believe your life might be in danger."
Steve tapped the table. He was thinking of a better way to word out what he was gonna say next.
"But uh, don't worry. The police will protect you." He said while putting a calling card on the table and slid it to Derrick's direction. "Call us when you feel like someone's following you or notices anything amiss. And tell us where you're gonna be staying tonight. Your apartment exploded, right?"
Derrick furrowed his brows and cocked his head to the side. "But sir, if what you said is true, can't I just—just stay here at the station though? I would be safer here, don't you think?"
Derrick wasn't really nervous since he knew the ones on the paper were fake. And the typewriter didn't tell him about potential threats either. 'But aren't you trusting it a bit too much? A sentient typewriter? Really?' He suddenly thought. 'Any sane person would have thrown it out already or have it exorcised. Seriously. What's wrong with me?'
"But then the killer would just move to another victim. And since we have no idea who the next victim is, there's no way for us to help and… potentially catch the killer. We don't want another corpse to take care of. That's why we need you to act like you know nothing. Act like you normally do, Derrick. Is that fine with you? Can you help us, Derrick?"
'Even if you say that, I'm not even the killer's real target so what's the point? But then they'd probably suspect me if I refuse here.'
"Okay, sir. Please take care of me from now on."
And just like that, Derrick was released and all his things returned to him.
Then fatigue overcame him. The last few hours were so stressful for him that when everything was finally over, he suddenly became so tired that there was nothing he wanted more than to plop his head on a soft pillow.
He checked the time on his watch, it reads 5:45. It was starting to get dark. "Ha! I'm too tired to go apartment hunting." He sighed.
"An overnight stay, please. How much?" He said to the woman at the front desk. He was at the Mini Stop Hotel.
"That would be two thousand five hundred Kwarts, sir. Free WiFi, free parking, room service, and spa."
'I don't care about any of those. 2,500 Kwarts is way too overkill for an overnight stay but whatever, I feel like I'm gonna pass out if I walk any longer.'
"Okay, miss. A room, please."
The woman did something on her computer then she opened the cabinet behind her, revealing rows and rows of keys. She took one and gave it to Derrick.
"Here's your key, sir. The room number is on the holder. Have a great stay."
'Room 203, huh. Whatever.'
When he got the key, he excused himself and headed to the second floor. "There you are!" he cheered when he finally saw his room.
He would toss all his things to the side before he would go to the bathroom for a quick shower, then he would sleep.
Yes. That was the plan before he heard a tapping sound from the suitcase.
'Ugh! What is it this time?'
Grumpily, he took out the typewriter and placed it on the bed.
*tap! *tap!
It started typing on its own then a fresh typing paper came out.
-- MUST FIND LINDA SMEDRY. –
Derrick frowned when he read that.
"That woman next door? Why her this time? What's with her?"
*tap! *tap!
-- DERRICK MUST FIND LINDA SO HE WON'T DIE. LINDA IS THE PROTAGONIST, NOT DERRICK.--
"HA?! Are you broken or something? And why would I die? Can't you just, like, tell me so I could avoid it? No need to make unnecessary human contact."
*tap! *tap! *tap
-- LINDA SMEDRY IS NEEDED TO FINISH THE STORY.--
"Story? What story?"
*tap!
-- THE STORY THAT I WROTE.--