The infinite growlers

Chapter 2

"Good morning! I hope you're feeling good now?" Mark said, staring down at Thrain as he sat next to him.

Thrain looked at Mark as if he were some sort of seer. Mark understood the look on his face. "Well, you told me before you left for home yesterday."

Finally, Thrain let out a sigh of relief as he adjusted well in his seat and took out a book. "Man! Have you done Mr. Thomas' assignment?" he asked Mark immediately as he remembered.

"Yeah," Mark replied, staring down at him.

"Please, let me have it."

Mark sighed and opened up the zip to his bag, taking out his assignment notebook. As soon as Thrain caught a glimpse of it, he grabbed it from him.

"Come to think of it, you left school very early yesterday and you're yet to do your assignment? This is the first year, and you are already slacking off," Thrain kept continuing to write without paying much attention to what Mark had just said.

"You aren't answering my questions, man!"

"Okay, okay, the thing was... I don't know, but yesterday in class I wasn't merely distracted..."

"But you got the answer right," Mark interrupted. Thrain stopped writing and stared at him.

"My bad! Continue."

"It felt like I was being stalked or watched, either of the two, and then I stared out the window..." Thrain paused his writing and looked at Mark. "I saw a figure with glowing red eyes."

Mark gazed at him emptily. "You made it up, right? Because it just doesn't sound real."

"Fuck! I know you won't believe... What does sound real to you?" Thrain said, almost raising his voice.

"Okay, I'm listening," Mark replied, staring blankly as he listened earnestly.

"At night yesterday, I saw another figure. It had the same red eyes. No! It was silver and gray, with red eyes."

"What? I hope you're being honest here?" Mark asked as Thrain's words finally caught his attention.

"Yeah, what's the problem?" Thrain asked.

Mark brought out an old, ancient journal and began flipping through its pages. The journal was filled with all sorts of strange hand-drawn diagrams. Thrain continued writing, thinking that Mark didn't want to take him seriously, but when he finished his assignment, he looked at Mark only to see him dripping with sweat.

"But it's winter, man," Thrain chuckled.

Mark slowly shifted his gaze down to Thrain and muttered a few words. "You've been marked."

"Marked? For what? By whom? And why?" Thrain asked, barely understanding what Mark had said.

"Good morning to you, my fresh students. I trust your night was good, since mine was the best..." a voice interrupted their conversation.

Mr. Thomas, their teacher, entered the classroom. "First things first, your assignments," he chuckled.

The students, including Mark and Thrain, began passing their assignment books to the front table.

"Good! 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... 57, 58! Okay, now it remains two more assignment notebooks. If those two don't submit, I'll give them detention for a whole day," Mr. Thomas said.

"Mr. Thomas, Ethan and Fiona seem to be missing in class today," a student pointed out.

Mark stood up slightly, staring towards their seats to confirm if they really weren't in class. They had indeed skipped. He knew something would go wrong, which was why he declined their invitation yesterday. Who goes to a picnic in the woods at night, he thought to himself.

"Any reason why they aren't in school today?" Mr. Thomas asked, looking around the class.

"No, Mr. Thomas, they didn't say anything about it to any of us, I guess," another student answered.

"Okay, they have friends in this class, right?"

"Yeah, Mark and Thrain," the student replied, pointing his fingers at both of them.

"You guys should check on them and give reports tomorrow, am I clearly understood?"

"Yes, Mr. Thomas," they replied, looking blank.

"You seem to know where they went... right?" Thrain asked, his face showing curiosity.

Mark ignored him and kept his eyes fixated on the board. He didn't like being questioned, especially when he knew about it.

The class came to an end quickly. Mr. Thomas left the classroom after giving them the assignment, chuckling to himself.

Mark clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He stood up, placed his bag on his back, and signaled for Thrain to stand up.

"Are we leaving that early?" Thrain, who had been exhausted throughout the class, grumbled.

"Yes, I have to get to studying since I'm yet to know a lot," he replied.

"Huh! That doesn't sound like study to me… it's those mystical stuff again, right? You are yet to tell me what it means to be marked."

Mark gazed at Thrain for minutes before adjusting his glasses. "Later!" he muttered, leaving him standing. Thrain followed closely behind.

"Argh! This freak attitude of his, stylish snub, had resurfaced again."

Finally, they both arrived at Ethan's house. The house was not what Thrain had expected; it was a bungalow with an old structural design. The thing was, it was completely isolated. The house stood alone.

Thrain dusted his legs on a doormat he found closest to the door and began to knock. He knocked for minutes without getting any response. He called out for Ethan but still only received a resounding echo.

"Please, lift your foot off the mat," Mark requested, leaving Thrain wondering what he planned to do with a doormat.

Mark bent, lifted the doormat, and took the key placed underneath it.

"What! I've been shouting for minutes, and you stood there, knowing where the key was?" Thrain said kindly, losing his cool.

"Sorry, I just changed my approach, and it was obvious he wasn't home," Mark explained.

"I know, I just wanted to confirm," Thrain said, rubbing his nose. "But it took you so long?"

"No problem," Mark said, barging in. "Wow." Thrain stood there amazed. "The inside looks entirely different from the outside. And by the way, how do you know where he puts his key?"

"I've been here a few times," Mark replied.

Thrain began to reflexively look around, but he couldn't even find a picture of Ethan or his family.

"He lives alone," Mark said, as if he could read through Thrain's thoughts.

"Oh. No wonder it's so clean in here."

"Thrain, let's get going."

"Why? We haven't checked around some more."

Based on the condition of the house, it's obvious he didn't sleep at home last night.

"Huh. And how did you come to that conclusion?" Thrain asked.

"The table... it's dusty. Ethan has always been the clean type," Mark observed, using his sharp eye to scan the surroundings.

Thrain was left mesmerized, wondering how quickly Mark had noticed the details.

"So, where do we go next... Fiona's house?"

"No."

"Then where?"

"To the woods."

...

Mrs. Anderson walked into the police station, her heart heavy with worry and fear. She had never been there before, but she knew that this was where she needed to go to report her missing daughter, Fiona.

The receptionist looked up as she approached the desk, and Mrs. Anderson hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Excuse me, I need to report a missing person. My daughter."

The receptionist nodded sympathetically and motioned for her to take a seat while she called for an officer.

Mrs. Anderson sat down, her hands shaking as she tried to keep herself together. She couldn't imagine what could have happened to her daughter, who had always been so careful and responsible. It didn't make sense.

After what felt like hours, a tall, muscular man in uniform appeared and introduced himself as Officer Johnson. Mrs. Anderson explained the situation to him, tears streaming down her face as she spoke.

"She left home last night, assuring me she'll be home today after class," Mrs. Anderson said, her voice barely above a whisper now. "She's never gone back on her words before. I've tried calling her cell phone, but it keeps going straight to voicemail. I even visited her school, and they claimed not to have seen her around the school premises."

Officer Johnson listened carefully, jotting down notes as she went along. "Do you have any idea where she might have gone?" he asked.

Mrs. Anderson shook her head, feeling hopeless. "No, I don't. She's never given me any reason to worry before. I don't know what to do."

"We'll do everything we can to find her," Officer Johnson assured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Can you give me a recent photo of her and any other information that might be helpful? We would also need something that has her scent."

Mrs. Anderson nodded, grateful for the officer's kindness. She pulled up a recent picture of Fiona on her phone and dug into her bag to find a handkerchief that Fiona had recently used.

She handed them over to Officer Johnson with shaky hands. Mrs. Anderson answered his questions to the best of her abilities, desperate for anything that might help find her daughter.

"Mrs. Anderson, the investigation into your missing daughter will commence immediately, and I assure you we'll find her. So, I would like you to go home and maintain a positive mindset... I'll take my leave now," he said as he stood up from his seat and smiled at Mrs. Anderson before walking away.

Mrs. Anderson felt relieved and reassured that everything would be okay.