Inanimate

by Deryck Jason

  “Well should we check it off the list?” Graham asked, continuing “We might as well, at least we’ll know exactly how many there are left.”

  Oates stepped forward. “Here, I have it.”

  Oates handed MacNamee the list.

  “Does anyone have a pen?”

  Lynch lifted a black biro from a desk beside him and handed it to MacNamee. As the doctor unfolded the list he happily scrubbed Bear’s name off of it. He was in a slightly better mood, knowing that the creature that killed his wife was now gone.

  “How many are actually on the list Doctor?”

  Matthew asked as he wondered how many others he didn’t know about. MacNamee read them out loud.

  “Dummy, two smaller dummies, Doll, Clown, Dog and Soldiers.”

  MacNamee’s mood started to fade. His mind was taking him back to Connor’s room and the dolls he had with him. His brain was telling him he was missing something but he didn’t know what it was. Just then, Anne unintentionally pieced it together for him.

  “Has anyone seen Jessica? She was here a minute ago? I brought her some candy.”

  “Jessica!” MacNamee blurted out.

  “What?”

  Jacobs asked, the mood in the group switching from optimism to concern.

  “The doll Jessica had, it’s the one from Connor’s room! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier!”

  “Betsy?” Oates asked, suddenly realizing the implications of MacNamee’s words.

  “Yes! Shit, we need to find her!”

  “You mean one of those things was with us the whole time?” Oates barked. “Why was it brought in here?”

  “There was no way we could have known the little girl would bring one in with her.” Jacobs defended his actions. “There must be hundreds of dolls in this town, how could we know that one was the one we were looking for?”

  Oates bit his tongue. Jacobs was right, they couldn’t have known, but that didn’t change the fact they were still in this predicament. Matthew, terrified, started rambling.

  “Jesus Christ, I was with her, I mean I actually sat with her! All the time she had one of those things with her!”

  Proactively, Graham spoke up.

  “We’ll find her. If we split up into three groups, two can look and one can wait here in case she comes back.”

  Graham aimed his words at Jacobs for approval. When the sergeant nodded he then looked at Oates for the same approval.

  “That alright with you Sheriff?”

  “Ok” said Oates “But me and Lynch lead the teams, since we know the station layout, it can be quite a complex place to find your way around.”

  Lynch stepped forward.

  “Ok let’s divide into three teams of three, with three of us staying here in the main room…”

  Lynch was interrupted by a knock on the window. Something outside was knocking and everyone tensed up. Oates and Jacobs moved towards the window, followed by Lynch. Graham and Murdoch stepped in front of the rest of the group to protect them. With a nod between them, Jacobs and Lynch drew their weapons while Oates prepared to open the blinds. Matthew slinked back behind Anne in order to keep safe. MacNamee sat at the desk, motionless; waiting to see what was outside. Oates kept his hand low. Starting with three fingers he counted down, Jacobs and Lynch prepared to fire. After the count of one Oates yanked the cord, forcing the blinds open. Everyone held their breath until they saw Billy standing at the window, gesturing for them to open it. Oates flicked open the lock and slid the window open. Outside, Donna sat on the front of a motorbike wearing all leather, only her hair protruded from the sleek black helmet. Billy had a leather jacket on but regular pants underneath; his leg injury had made it difficult for him to change.

  “Billy, what are you doing here? I thought you didn’t want our help.” Oates asked stubbornly.

  “I don’t, I just thought I’d let you know I killed one of them.”

  “I killed one of them you mean” Donna interjected.

  “Ok, we killed one of them” Billy amended, looking back at his fiancé with a smirk.

  “Which one?” Jacobs asked, moving closer to the window to check Donna out.

  “That stupid dog thing” Billy said casually. “Well anyways, just thought I’d let you know. We’re leaving for a few days.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Lynch

  “I don’t know yet, just going to drive for a while. The bar will be here when I get back. It’s not like we’ve had many customers these last few days anyways.”

  Billy put his helmet on and turned, limping back to his bike. The cops said nothing as he got on and sped off into the night. Oates closed the window, locked it, and lowered the blinds again.

  “So that’s the dog off the list,” MacNamee said as he scored the name off.

  “Anyway Deputy, you were saying?”

  CHAPTER 40

  Outside, darkness had finally settled on the town of Staunton allowing the streetlamps their full right to an eerie glow. The parking lot received another visitor, one that cast a long shadow thanks to the streetlamp overhead. Dummy moved stealthily across the tarmac to the building that housed his targets. When he arrived at his destination he bumped into his smaller cohorts. Keeping communication brief Dummy’s shrill voice was quiet in the open night.

  “You found a way in?”

  The smaller dummies shook their heads in response.

  “Well keep lookin’!”

  The two smaller ones obediently ran off in opposite directions around the building, searching for ways into the structure. Intermittently banging on doors and windows, they sent echoes throughout the station while simultaneously causing chills within its inhabitants.

  Alone still in a hospital room, Doctor Crass sat thinking of his wife, and how he would cope if he were to lose her. His phone vibrated loudly on a small table next to him, rousing him from his thoughts. Assuming it was MacNamee he picked it up without looking.

  “Greg, there’s still no word.”

  “That’s alright Doctor Crass, this isn’t Greg.”

  Crass thought about the voice for a second, he recognized it after a long moment.

  “Frieda?”

  “Good job Sir!”

  Frieda sat on his couch, which was now torn up and slashed open. His condo was in ruins, broken glass and splintered wood lay all over the place. His slow, emotionless voice threw Crass through a loop. Frieda had never called him on his cell before, in fact, Frieda had never spoken to him outside the hospital before. Right now, the young doctor’s voice did not seem like a pleasant one.

  “Frieda what do you want? How did you get my number?”

  Crass had no patience for Frieda right now; he had too much on his plate to pretend even in the slightest that he liked him.

  “What do I want? How did I get your number? …I’m fine by the way, thanks for asking.”

  “Frieda I’ve had a bad night…”

  Crass was losing patience rapidly.

  “Oh you have? Well then let me be brief. I’ve had your number for a while now, I’ve had it just in case I ever worked up the courage to call you and tell you what a prick you are!”

  Crass looked genuinely puzzled as Frieda continued.

  “But it’s alright; I know you don’t mean to be. It’s just who you are. But, answer me this Doctor. Would it ever have killed you to maybe once say ‘Good job Frieda’ or ‘How’s your day doctor?’ Just anything at all, anything that might suggest you have any respect for me whatsoever.”

  “Frieda are you drunk?”

  The only logical reason Crass could think of as to why Frieda decided to call him like this was the involvement of alcohol.

  “I wish. If I was drunk then I’d know the thoughts in my head would go away after a good night’s sleep but they won’t, because I’m not. I’m not… I’m not anything. Not anything to you, or to anyone else at the hospital. Not anything except a fucking joke.”

  Crass realized Frieda was having se
rious issues now and decided to put his feelings about him on hold. He switched into psychiatrist mode.

  “Frieda, come on now, I’ll be at work in a few days, we can talk about this then.”

  Frieda laughed emptily.

  “Even that little kid mocks me. That little fucking psycho kid! He wants to kill me. But that’s not the way I’m going out. I’m not gonna let some little kid scare me like that.”

  “Frieda, don’t worry about a thing. Connor Williams is locked up tight in his cell, you don’t have to worry about him.”

  By saying Connor’s name, Crass made him into a real person instead of this monster that had the ability to kill. He hoped that by humanizing Frieda’s fear, he could make him realize Connor was only a child.

  “But I am worried. I worry about my safety while that boy is around and my safety is something I should not have to worry about.”

  Crass began to feel weight pressing on him; so many problems were just begging him to buckle.

  “Look Frieda, Wilma is sick, let me talk to you later. How about I call you tomorrow?”

  “No Doctor Crass. You’ve never cared about me before; I don’t see why you should bother now, goodbye!”

  Frieda hung up, leaving Crass in the hospital waiting room alone once more.

  The two smaller dummies returned to the parking lot after circling the building, looking for a way in. Dummy looked down at his smaller counterparts who shrugged their shoulders in unison, silently telling their superior they had failed. Dummy looked carefully around the building, his eyes rolled fluidly around as he scanned what was in front of him. Dummy was about to send his minions on another scout when they heard a noise. A distinctive click caused them all to turn towards a back door in unison. All three stared as the door swung open. The sight before them caused the trio to smile broadly. Betsy had opened it from the inside, offering entry to the demonic dummies. The two smaller dummies giggled and jostled with each other as they ran inside the building. Dummy himself walked slower, appreciating the teamwork Betsy was showing. Standing before her, Dummy nodded graciously. She returned the nod and allowed Dummy entry as well. Betsy was about to close the large brown door when she spotted something else in the parking lot. With a smirk, she admired the sight of Basket standing tall on the tarmac, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. Although the dolls were all different, there was no competition between them, simply admiration for each other’s work. It was due to this admiration that Betsy held the door while Basket skipped across the parking lot before jaunting past her into the dark hallway. She quickly scanned the area to make sure there were no more visitors to be let in. Quietly she pulled the door shut before snapping the handle off in a fearsome show of strength. Looking down the dark hallway, she smiled. She knew tonight was the night that would see the most blood.

  CHAPTER 41

  Oates, Murdoch and Matthew moved through the underbelly of the station. Murdoch had heard colleagues of his refer to this area of a police station as the “bowels” as this is where all the “shit was stored.” Although the Sheriff’s police station was smaller than the city police station, both of them used this lower floor for much the same purposes. Interview rooms, jail cells and offices were what were down here but Murdoch couldn’t help but notice that most of these rooms were not being used. He could tell this from the fact they had to keep turning on lights. Not just to the individual rooms themselves but to the corridors as a whole. You would never turn off the lights in a corridor of the city police station because there was always someone using it as passage to get from one place to another. He never mentioned any of these thoughts to Oates. He knew Oates was not stupid so he had to assume the Sheriff already knew the station was unnecessarily large for the purpose it served.

  As Oates had said many a time to many a person, the station was full of “wasted space” but right now it was something else. Right now that “wasted space” had become “places to hide.” As he searched rooms his thoughts drifted back to Mayor Shannahan who denied him permission to have the building redesigned on more than one occasion. Yes, Sheriff Oates was glad Mayor Shannahan was dead.

  Matthew held his gun awkwardly. He didn’t mean to sound ungrateful when Deputy Lynch cracked open the gun locker and handed him “a piece,” he just didn’t want to admit he had never actually used one before. He had, in fairness, racked up many hours on shooting games on his games console at home but that was hardly important right now. Right now there was no pause button, no exit option and no extra lives. This was not a game and he did not feel safe, but, thanks to his pride forbidding him to tell the truth he was standing in a quiet corridor, guarding the backs of two men who were relying on him not to miss a target if the opportunity arose. The cowardly young Matthew stood, legs akimbo, watching Oates and Murdoch search rooms simultaneously, while using a series of nods alone to communicate. Cold air blew softly on his back. A man, comfortable in his position might have realized this air was coming from a recently opened door but Matthew was not that man. Instead he alternated his glances between nervous looks over his shoulder and shaky looks ahead. He did not want to think what would happen if something did actually approach him. He simply prayed that it didn’t. Pain pulsed from his leg wound. Aside from doors being barged open there was not much noise down here. His brain decided that focusing on his own pain was better than focusing on what might happen to him in the near future. He hadn’t lost much blood, the wound had dried up but it was starting to get infected, and that was where the pain was coming from. Again, his pride had stopped him asking for help to get it properly dressed so it was only going to get worse. Every few minutes he would use one foot to scratch at his wound which was getting itchy due to the infection, leaving himself off balance and even more vulnerable. He wanted to go back upstairs; something seemed off down here, something seemed not right. Still he knew he had to stay, he was not about to admit to Murdoch and Oates that he was afraid. His pride would not allow that.

  Brian found himself in a similar situation to Matthew, except Brian had used guns before. He used to hunt with his father years earlier and so, he had been chosen over the inexperienced Anne to accompany Graham and Lynch on their sweep of the upper floors. Brian still had a buzz going from his day’s alcohol intake so he was nowhere near as scared as he would have been had he been here sober. Brian was well aware of where his sudden courage was coming for and he was thankful for it.

  Deputy Lynch and Detective Graham operated with the same level of professionalism and Oates and Murdoch, both pairs worked silently which Brian watched their backs. The main difference here was that these three were checking large rooms filled with desks, laid out in much the same way as the main floor where Jacobs, MacNamee and Anne remained. Both Lynch and Graham were alpha-males, but there was no butting heads here. A mutual respect and a primal desire to find a missing child bonded them in camaraderie. Because of the fact the desks provided low hollows for things to hide in, this search was much slower than the other. Although Jacobs, Oates and Lynch all had radios, they were for emergencies only. They would only use them if they found Jessica or Betsy and at this point none of them knew Betsy had allowed others in, as far as they knew, it was one on three and they liked those odds. Quickly, the trio’s eyes scanned the room, while intermittently calling out Jessica’s name and listening for a response. The three kept to the left hand side of the room, they did not want to split up into the middle of the desks for fear of being ambushed from one of the many hiding spots, instead they were following Lynch’s hunch that Jessica would be on the roof. The only basis he had for this hunch was that he knew that would be where he would go if he were a kid. If she were not on the roof they would check the rooms more thoroughly on their way back down to the main room.

  The three men kept tight to the wall, watching for any movement. When they reached the door to the staircase, Lynch instructed Graham to stay behind while he and Brian checked the roof. Despite the fact that Brian did not want to thin out the
numbers he was happy he was not the one being asked to stay behind, alone in the room. Graham instantly acknowledged the common sense behind the logic of one remaining behind to cover the door, watching the other two’s back so he put up no fight. Lynch and Brian scuttled off through the door to the staircase as Graham vigilantly stood watch.

  No one had thought much about Tony Oates, all alone in the damp downstairs. Everyone was too caught up in the hunt for Jessica and before that their thoughts of self-preservation had allowed them to forget about Tony. He didn’t mind though. In his mind he was safe from any outside dangers; he would never have thought the station could be compromised. In his mind, the station was a fortress, when in truth it was poorly guarded at best. It was simply too big to be fully protected by the small group that were holed up there but Tony Oates did not think this way. He lay on his cot reading the book he brought with him. The hero in his book was a down-and-out, sent to an island with to join other down-and-outs in manual labor. Tony related to the main character in the way that this societal reject ended up becoming the hero of the story. In Tony’s mind, he was the hero. This is how he thought of himself. This is what he believed.

  Bars all around him signified that this was the “drunk tank.” If he had stepped into the holding cell, solid walls would have offered him way more protection but less visibility. Tony wanted to be able to see a threat coming and that was why he chose bars over walls. Natural light was scarce down here and Sheriff Oates like that. Apart from a small tinted, window, all the light down here was artificial. A series of lights above the cells and a couple outside were the main source of light down here day or night; and as Tony was about to found out, the problem with artificial light was that it could be switched off. The switches by the stairs had always been there, there had never been a problem with having them so accessible before. Oates liked his men to have the option of turning out light as a punishment to unruly detainees, or as a reward to well behaved ones. Oates had realized years earlier that darkness was an effective, non-violent way of controlling inmates. Up until now however, Tony never gave a thought to the positioning of the light switches in a police station, but he was about to start wishing he had.