On the Offensive.

     When I made it back to my camping spot, I opened up the otter case. Another series of clues waited inside of it. It was exactly what I knew would be in there, but I wasn't excited to find more riddles. There was a small flash drive, with all the identifiers scraped off, It was brushed aluminum, with a green plastic Ω embossed on one side. There was a tag on it that read 
"Do not put this into your computer. Save for the database."
     There was also a small voice recorder in the box, as well as a fresh box of ammunition for my pistol.
 How considerate. I grabbed my headphones and plugged them into the recorder before pressing play. It was a second message from Gregory Faulkner.


     "I'm glad you've made it this far. I realize that at this juncture things are probably getting more dangerous for you. In fact, I imagine that you found this location through a violent encounter. Hopefully you figured out the knife puzzle in a more peaceable way. Regardless, thus far you have likely been acting on the defensive. Today, you will begin acting on the offense.You have a Flash drive with you, it contains a copy of a virus which will download all of the files from whatever computer it is plugged into, and remove them from the computer. It will load them onto a secure server. I can't give you the address of that server yet, but when the virus has been activated, it will remove itself from the drive, and there will be instructions on a document there. I know, all of what I am saying is hard to believe, but I'd hope that by now you can take this at face value: I have been trying to do good for the world. There is a horrible secret out there, and I need your help to expose it. If telling you was enough, I would, but for now, please trust me. At the end of this ordeal, everything will make sense to you, and you will have changed the entire world for the better.
     Now, there are two more things I need to tell you: first of all, the location of the database. I won't encode it this time, but only because of the second thing I am telling you. Anyway, Go to 37.585951,-104.283482. There will be a small airstrip there, and it will be under surveillance. It's expected that no one will go there, so it isn't guarded regularly, but you can't be too cautious. There will be a metal panel on the airstrip, it is the entrance to the bunker. Inside, you'll find the Database. Find a console you can plug the drive into, and when the symbol lights up, pull the drive, and get the hell out. It takes about fifteen minutes for a guard to arrive when the alarm has sounded. 
     Now. The second thing I need to tell you is that you are not alone. There is another man trying to fight the fight you are fighting. For his sake, I can't tell you his name, but his initials are S. C. Shit, the recording is about to run out. Friend, I know that you must resent me, and I know that I am asking too much from you, but I promise you, this is for the good of everyone. thank"


     The recording ended. Maybe he was thanking me. Maybe he was thanking god. It didn't matter to me. For the first time in close to a month, I wasn't alone. 

Dead End

     As it turns out, the answer to the riddle was incredibly simple. Actually, it was impossibly simple. Go ahead, google the letters "DED END DRV WTNY TEX". Apparently the only reason it was weird looking was to save space. And I had been stressing about it. How embarrassing. That said, it was still expecting me to drive to texas. seriously, it takes almost en entire day to drive there in good traffic. I decided to take my sweet time. I spent a day in Arizona, three in New Mexico, one in El Paso, and finally I arrived in Texas on the twentieth. My leg was mostly healed by now, but the cut on my back cracked whenever i bent down, so it hurt like a sonofabitch. I waited as long as I felt like I could before finally heading to Dead End Drive. Seriously, the most Ominous road name I have ever heard.
     It was a short road,a sort of dirt cul de sac with four houses ringing it. Past the back of the dead end was a thick patch of trees, and behind that, beautiful lake whitney. I decided to scope it out in daylight, using my backpack to go inconspicuously. I parked up the river bank a couple of miles, threw on some mountain-ey clothes, and my backpack. I hiked up the shore, savoring some views and such. When I got to the actual dead-end, I feigned a rest, settled down against a tree and "relaxed". I spent about twenty minutes running my eyes across everything I could see. I thought that what i was looking for would be near the houses, because of the address, but I couldn't seem to find anything. I spent about an hour looking around, not finding anything. I had come too late in the day, because the sun was headed down, so I decided to try again the next day.
     The next day, I made sure to go early in the morning, to make sure I had a full day to search. I went to a local sports shop and bought an inexpensive collapsible fishing rod, then went to the shore again. I spent all day fishing and searching. I'd cast out a bait and scramble around the trees and rocks nearby. It was probably about two thirty when I finally found it.
     There were two runoffs on either side of the actual dead end, turning the shore into a nice even curve. The runoffs were washed out, mostly sand and piles of rocks. It was one of these piles where I noticed what I needed: the number thirteen etched onto the side of a boulder. It was small, anyone could have missed it, but I got lucky. It seems amazing to me how much of this depended on me getting lucky, but I've been pretty good so far. Well, i've done alright.
     I tried to push the boulder over, but that thing was incredibly heavy. I ended up having to lever it over using a branch from one of the trees. I sifted through the sand, and found a circular shape. I scooped around it and revealed the lid of a five-gallon paint bucket, buried in the sand. I pried it open and found another container inside, The word Otter was on the outside of the smaller box. I turns out that otter makes waterproof containers, which is a good thing, because it looked like the bucket had been cracked by the rock. A shallow layer of water was sitting in the bottom of the bucket, with thick algae growing in it.
     I pulled in my line, gathered my gear, and headed back to my camp for the night.

A Message in Blood.

     The fight at the cemetery had shaken me up pretty bad, but I stayed pretty clear headed, and drove as fast and as far as I could. The cut on my back was excruciating, just throbbing, but I knew it was more important to ditch Ingram before I worried about that. It was another half an hour before I found a place to settle, another cheap cash-only hotel outside of town. Before I went in to get a room, I figured I should hide the stuff in my car, so I reached for the gun and the knife. I emptied the shells from the gun, and put it in the glovebox. Then I grabbed the knife. The entirety of it was covered in blood, the frosting had held the blood in place, and helped it spread across the metal. I wiped it on my pants, they were really bloody already, and noticed something. Not all of the blood had wiped off. Some of the etching on the blade was deeper than the rest, or had a different texture,  or both, it was hard to tell, but the knife had held on to some of the blood. It spelled out:

    " DED END DRV " On one side, and "WTNY TEX" on the other.

     Great, more mystery code bullshit. I sheathed the knife, and hid it under the seat for now. then I put on my longest coat, to cover the wound, and ordered a room. Then I went back out to the car, grabbed my stuff, including the gun and the knife, and went onto the hotel room.
     I'll spare you the details of my self-surgery again, but let me say that it was crude, bloody and used both mirrors in the hotel bathroom. That night, I ordered a pizza and passed out with blood soaking through my bandages, and a bunch of stupid letters running through my head.

A knife at a Gunfight.

     I had just found in a suitcase, a gun, a knife, and $1500 cash in a suitcase. Now, I feel like I should tell you that I'd never held a gun before, much less fired one. Just keep that in mind.
Anyway, July, 2010, I had these few items, and no idea what to do with myself. I spent a long time wandering, studying the items i had on me now, Was the type of gun important? I tried to find out what type of gun it was, but as I've mentioned, I never sorted it out. The gun used to make me very uncomfortable, I'd try to avoid seeing it in my belongings. Of course, now it's almost an old friend.
     I spent the next few days thinking about where I needed to go next. I knew where I wanted to be, but I knew it was a bad idea, but I decided to go anyway. I spent a bit of the cash I had on hand at a thrift store to buy a black suit, and then, on July 12th, I drove to Natalie Emory's Funeral.
     The funeral was at the evergreen community cemetery, graveside. It was a warm day, lots of sun, but I was wishing it would rain. I was so incredibly guilty. It's really hard for me to express this kind of stuff, but I was close to tears the whole time. There were a lot of people there, maybe fifty, and many of them were already crying. She had really meant a lot to people, and for her to have died so young, it was terrible. I hid in the crowd, listened to eulogies, and thought all my apologies to Natalie. I hope she heard them, but lately, I doubt it. After the funeral, Everyone was invited to her parent's house for the wake. I decided not to go, and instead waited for everyone to leave. Then I approached the grave, and cried in earnest.
     That's when the bullet hit the dirt beside me. It was a narrow miss, but they were definitely aiming for me. I lept up, tears still in my eyes and looked behind me, scanning the field of stones. About six or seven rows of graves away, I could see him: Wilson Ingrams, pointing a gun my direction, and running toward me, with two guys with him. I got up and ran for cover as quickly as I could, cursing myself for coming to the funeral. I knew it was a bad idea, and I had been right. Ingram threw a few more shots at me, but I was behind a pretty large tombstone, so the first few hit that. I assessed the situation: I was sitting with my back to a tombstone, pistol in one pocket, and the knife in the other. The notes had scared me into bringing them. I took the gun out of my pocket, and checked the chambers, they were all loaded, then I took off my safety and peered out. Immediately, the rock by my head exploded, and a ringing pounded through my head. I considered doing the "look at the reflection in you knife" thing, but it was frosted, so I wouldn't be able to see anyway. So, out of desperation, I reached my hand above the stone and fired one shot. My hand flew backward, and the gun flew loose from my hand, landing outside my cover. "Fucking idiot." Ingram laughed the meanest laugh you'd ever hear, and called out "Are you kidding me? Guys, go grab this little shit" The gun was out of reach, there were two guys about to close in on me, and I had nowhere to run. I pulled the knife out of my pocket and braced myself.
     They came around both sides at the same time, I slashed wildly at one of them, and knicked his arm. He yelled and pulled back, but while I was facing him, the other guy threw an arm around my neck, holding me in a headlock. I tried to stab at him under my shoulder, it was stupid, but it seemed like the thing to do. I got a big gash on my back, but I managed to slash him up a bit worse. I was bleeding heavily, but I had enough energy to run. I grabbed the pistol, and started toward my car. The guy with the cut on his arm was after me instantly, so I fired at him with the pistol. My first shot missed, but the second one hit him in the shoulder. I got Stupid lucky at that point, because Ingram started firing on me, and missed with the first two shots. I tried to shoot back at him, but I was a terrible shot, and he was way behind me. I saved one shot in case he caught up with me, but as I lept into my car, I could tell he had stopped following. I threw my gun and bloody knife into the passenger seat, and started driving again.

Inside the case.

I drove onto the ten freeway, just driving to get anywhere, I had lost a lot of blood while I was unconscious, so I guess I wasn't thinking clearly. I wound up in Santa Monica, near the pacific park, There was a McDonald's there, so I snuck into their bathroom to wash up my leg, and to change my clothes. Then I left to try to find some actual food. It had been a long night, so I figured I deserved some real food before I opened that case. of course it was late at night, so I ended up settling for Denny's. Anyway, after dinner, I parked not far from the pier and finally opened the briefcase.

Inside of the case I found three things, a pistol and shells, an envelope with cash inside, and a knife, in a small leather sheath. The pistol was a revolver, an old-fashioned sort of gun with a box of shells next to it, and a packing tag attached that said "protect yourself". I'd tell you more about it, but I still don't know what type of gun it is, none of the serial numbers were on it, everything identifying had been scraped off, except for the number 13 on the butt of the handle. The envelope had 1500 dollars inside, in bills of every size. I think that was the first time I had ever seen a five hundred dollar bill. The last item in the case was the knife, another really old-fashioned item, weirdly tapered handle, almost an hourglass shape, with a wide, flat blade. The blade was frosted metal, an uneven texture, a blotchy sort of etching on the surface. The knife also had a tag on it: "Use Me".

So, I had about 4800 dollars cash on me, a gun and a knife. I felt like a criminal, chased down by arsonists, and a cop who killed out of spite. I hadn't thought about Natalie all night, not until I was sitting under a boardwalk, spinning the chamber of a revolver did I realize what had happened. Someone had actually died because of me. I sat under that pier for hours thinking about that. She had actually died. I didn't leave the pier until the sun started coming up behind me. I drove inland for awhile and found a cheap hotel. I locked myself inside with all of my stuff, and slept.

Rice Paper

I spent the next two weeks on the run. I didn't know where I could go. I was afraid to contact anyone I knew, in case it got them killed. I Spent most of my time locked up in hotel rooms, or sometimes hiding in campsites, thinking on the puzzle. It took me about two days worth of googling to figure it out. Turns out, the key was more than a literal key, it was also the key to the code. You probably saw it, the number seventeen carved into the face of it. It turns out it was a stupid simple code, offset the alphabet by seventeen digits, and it gives you:

4844 West Jefferson Boulevard, Los Angeles,

I admit, I spent a lot of those two weeks stalling. I was scared of what I was supposed to do. I also didn't know What to be looking for. Not to mention, if this was such a complicated mystery, why was the clue i was given so simple? It made me nervous, was it actually some sort of trap? I couldn't stop worrying.

So, instead of going to the address, I spent my time researching, or going to the bank. I Went to the bank as often as I could, pulling out the ATM limit every day. I'd try to find ATMs that didn't have an internet connection, so that I could pull out the daily limit more than once. I knew it was only a matter of time before my accounts were locked out. They finally did lock it up on the fifth of July, I had pulled out 3300 dollars cash. It was almost all of my savings anyway, but it still didn't seem like much. However, with all of my money pulled out, I realized I had run out of excuses.

It didn't keep me from stalling a few more days. I took my time, planning it out, I drove past the place once a day for three days and worried. Finally, on the eighth of July, I made my move.

I waited until nighttime to enter the building. I Approached by the back door, it was a security door with a big fat lock. Just as I had suspected, the lock was operated by the number seventeen key. I realize I keep saying this, but I still couldn't believe what I was doing. The building was a manufacturing shop, with a showroom in the front. They made japanese rice-paper doors. I got inside, and locked the door behind me, looking around the shop.

Then my phone rang.

My ringtone was incredibly loud, and scared the ever-loving shit out of me. I answered it quickly, just to shut it up. It was Natalie Emory, a girl I knew from my last job. We had had a thing going on a while back, but things never really picked up. It was weird for her to be calling me, apparently she had heard that I had gone missing, and since I hadn't answered my phone when anyone else had called, she thought she'd add her number to the list of people trying. I thanked her and tried to get out of the conversation, but she kept going. Apparently, she had been thinking about me, and wondered why things never really clicked with us. relationship stuff, in the middle of a burglary, great. Then I heard another voice, Detective Ingram took the phone and began to speak:

"Congratulations, Allen, you've really done it now. I have some terrible news for you, Allen. There are people coming to where you are. Don't bother trying to run, Allen. They are already outside" Lights flashed across the front windows of the building, and I began to panic. "Allen, I'm sorry about this." Then I heard the phone change hands, and Natalie was speaking again. She was crying. "I'm so sorry Allen, I'm so sorry!" Then- a single gunshot, and the phone disconnected.

Then I heard loud noises from outside, shouts, and then I smelled gasoline, and I knew what their plan was. I scrambled to find what it was I needed. I didn't know what I was looking for, scrambling around the building at full speed, running through mazes of japanese screens, I tripped through a showroom, and noticed a set of screens enclosing a corner. I rushed over to it, trying to pull it loose, but it was attached securely. The flames began at that moment, rushing from the front of the building, moving toward me. As the flames approached, I kicked the screen in, stabbing myself in the leg with a piece of the frame, and breaking it off in the process. Then I looked inside the screen and saw what I hoped I was there for: a small metal suitcase. I grabbed the suitcase and limped as quickly as I could to the back door of the building, trailing blood behind me. I fumbled at the door to un-lock it, and cursed at myself as the screens behind me began to blaze. It's hard to describe that kind of heat, even firefighters don't really know, covered in their suits. I managed to get the door open, and looked both directions. It was a narrow alley, and they had posted guards at either end. I decided to hop the fence across the alley, and aim for a main street. I wound up on exposition, across from some baseball fields. I limped to my right to my car, and drove away as fast as I could.

About half an hour of driving later, and I had to stop. the pain in my leg was overwhelming, and I knew I had to get the wood out of there, if I was going to prevent infection. I did it myself in the back of my car, using my leatherman knife to cut it loose, and the pliers to pull it out. about two inches of wood in my leg, not very deep, but very rough. It was lucky that I had parked in the middle of nowhere, because partway trough my "surgery" I woke up with the sun rising. I had blacked out while cutting out the stick. I finished pulling it out, and bandaged it up as well as I could. Then I started driving again. Just looking for someplace to hide.