Play@YSDC

"Me?!" sputters Craig, his fingers twitching in the direction of the door.

"Same thing as before," says Murray. "I'm trying to get out of here so I can go find Ash. Only someone keeps jamming doors. What's your beef with Craig, anyway?"

"Really," Jack said as if amused. "And instead of a surefire way of asking someone claiming to be the last witness, you are running away from him?"

"Who suggested that idea first?"

"You can't shoot me," murmurs Craig. "You can't ... you're dead."

He reaches back behind himself and grasps the door knob.

"I can't blame Craig for being scared of you," says Murray, "considering you're pointing a shotgun at him for no apparent reason. He's not even armed. Don't even think about shooting him. Now, if you know where Ash is, I'm all ears."

"No apprent reason, eh? Oh there are plenty of reasons, Detective. There's always plenty of reasons," Jack said, smiling.

"For instance, where did you first encounter this...Craig...person? And how did you get to that place?"

"There may be a reason," says Murray. As long as he keeps Jack talking, the guy isn't going to do anything stupid - he hopes. "That's why I used the word 'apparent.' You still haven't said what it is though. I met Craig in jail. I got there because I got a sudden headache as I was starting to drive here from the hospital and wrapped my car around a tree. I passed out and woke up in the same cell as him. Where are you going with this, and how would you know about it anyway?"

"And I suppose that he led the way?" Jack said, suddenly grinning. "He offered to show you the way to the theatre? Or maybe he offered to show you the way to...somewhere else... and you somehow found yourself in the theatre? Hmm?

Let me guess... he also was somehow with the knowledge relevant to Ash and when my voice came over the PA system, he suddenly offered... or mentioned said knowledge... and drew you away from me."

Jack cackled. "There is simply no way that you would resist getting more information about a certain Ash... unless you had a safer source of information... I bet that the information that he gave you was somehow related to the little drug cartel that the folks of this little town have... or maybe something that has potential to become a giant wild goose chase."

"Simply put, detective, he's using you... to further whatever kind of agenda that he may have. Looking at that tattoo that he has, it can't be anything good."

Craig has no visible tattoos. "Can you lower the gun now, please?" asked Craig. "We're not here to hurt you or cause any trouble. We ... just want to leave."

"I don't think so, Craig, I know all about you. You are one of those Order freaks, aren't you?" Jack hissed.

"Unfortunately you aren't leaving this theatre, Craig."

"You got some things wrong there," says Murray. "I showed Craig the way to the theater - you told me how to find it, remember? Does he have his own agenda? Sure. He wants to find Rochelle, and he thinks Ash might lead him to her, or failing that, that I could help track her down. I knew that already. The question is, Jack, what's your angle? What do you plan to do with Ash once you find her? And there's another thing you got wrong. You're not going to kill Craig." He watches Jack's reaction carefully. While it doesn't take someone with his perception to tell that the guy is as crazy as a bowl of Froot Loops, he hopes to be able to determine more than that.

"That's funny, because I gave you the wrong directions," Jack said, smiling again. "And I told you how to find it from the hospital, not the jail. So either you are the luckiest person alive in this world, or someone suddenly offered to lead your way."

"He wants to find Rochelle? Well, ain't that a coincedance for you to end up in an "accident" moment after you learn where Ash is and then be locked up in a same cell with some... guy... or whatever... who has an agenda of finding someone related to Ash! I can tell you where they are, you know...but here is another fact, detective. You ask for my angle? What I plan to do with Ash? I don't have an angle. I don't have a plan either. I actually don't care.

But why argue over this when it can all be resolved in a civilized manner? Craig, take off your shirt."

"Now I remember what happened," says Murray. "Craig was showing me the way to the hospital - that's where I left my car. I had hoped to go from there to the theater using your directions, but somehow we got turned around in the fog and ended up here first. And I don't see how he or anyone else could have caused my accident. I got a sudden severe headache. Look, if you really know where Ash and Rochelle are, why do you keep dancing around it? Is it because you don't want Craig to hear?"

Craig removes his shirt, revealing a lacy bra filled with fake breasts, and not a whole lot else. He has no tattoos, although he does have a couple surgical scars dimly visible in horizontal lines just beneath the black bra. "Satisfied, you crazy sonofabitch?"

"Wha," Jack said, seemingly unable to hold back laughter. "Really? Seriously? You did that to yourself? You are... you are crazier than I am!"

"Oh... dear..." Jack said, still giggling. "You know, I can still see it."

"You want to know more about what happened to Ash and Rochelle, detective?" Jack suddenly said. "Get rid of him. Shoo him away. Shoot him, I don't care. I don't want him here, in this part of the town."

"You're the one who told him take off his shirt," Murray tells Jack. "What did you think you were gonna see? What's it supposed to prove, anyway? You got a problem because Craig's a transvestite? Where I'm from, he'd be downright normal." He turns to Craig. "I'm not gonna walk out on you, but if you want to take this chance to get away from this guy, I won't blame you."

"Oh no, I'm from New York, so his appearence is normal to my eyes," Jack said.

"Now those surgery marks well..." he smirked.

"So he's had some surgery," says Murray. "Again, what's it supposed to prove? What are you driving at?"

"We should go," mutters Craig, dropping his shirt with a flash of real, raw anger in his eyes. The affront has obviously gotten to him. The humiliation. Then there's a sudden shock that hits him, as though some thought has slammed him, followed by a visible hit of adrenaline rushed fear which seems to leave him no calmer. "Keep your gun trained on him!"

"Will do," says Murray. His revolver has never wavered for a second all of this time. "You can unlock that door now. I'll back through once it's open."