Breaking into the library with a screwdriver and rubber mallet was crude but it got the job done. Stuffing them back in his backpack with the few other supplies he'd managed to gather together (a butcher knife, an extra belt, salt, flashlight, rubbing alcohol, a rag, rope, and four former chair legs sharpened into stakes), he pulled the flashlight back out, clicking it on and sweeping the light across the room and over the ceiling as the door closed behind him.

Going into this alone was more than a little nerve-rattling, but it was a hell of a lot better than sitting on his hands. The house having actually let him out made it feel like a now or never moment. That or maybe a trap. Probably the latter knowing how these kinds of things tended to go. But nothing had stopped him from getting here. It was just eerily quiet and dark, the town somehow feeling even more fake at night. Like an abandoned set.

Carefully picking his way toward the card catalog he left the lights off, not wanting to broadcast that someone was in here. Pulling out one of the drawers, if only to see if the cards had anything written on them at all, he winced at the sudden loud scrape and creak of the thing opening.