by Paul Sating
“Hmmm.” Doubt dripped from Jerrod’s expression. There was no way she’d fool him so she turned a focused gaze on that man at the front of the room, the man who would hopefully provide the answers they needed.
“We met with authorities and experts from across the Tri-Counties today to gather information and develop a plan going forward,” Sheriff Bitterman announced when the crowd quieted. “For those of you who haven’t read the report from the County Tribune Online or only heard rumors, there was an incident yesterday at a work site in the foothills of Sunrise Peaks that involved some of our citizens. The impacted families live here, in Rotisserie.”
“Lance was killed!” An irate voice yelled from somewhere in the crowd.
The fat in Sheriff Bitterman’s cheeks wobbled as he tried to speak. Her mother tsk’ed and murmurs spread across the room.
“A poor choice of words, I admit,” the sheriff continued.
“Typical politician!” A man with a gray horseshoe of hair rose from his chair, dismissing the sheriff’s answer with a quick flip of his arm.
“Please, please,” Bitterman pleaded, sensing he was losing control. “My sincerest apologies. I misspoke.” The crowd grumbled over his apology. “We can confirm that yesterday there was an incident in the foothills where our neighbor, friend, and community member Lance Webster was indeed killed.”
The low snipes turned into a roar. The sheriff waited until small pockets of quiet spread influence across the room.
“We know there have been a lot of rumors surrounding Lance’s death. We’re trying to get good information as quickly as we can and, I promise, as soon as we know something, you will know. Right now, everything is sketchy and we’re still trying to piece it together. The last thing we want to do is create more fear through bad information.”
“What you should do is tell us what’s going on,” a mother of one of Serenity’s classmates, barked. “Our kids are scared. We’re scared. How am I supposed to make my kids feel safe if you’re not telling us anything?”
“Ma’am,” the sheriff answered, “that’s what I’m trying to do. Now, if we can please hold all questions and comments until the end, I'll cover what we do know.” That satiated the throng. “A group of youth leaders and teenage volunteers went to the foothills to do routine reforestation. It was at this event that something happened.”
Serenity’s temper spiked, her grunt turning into a sound approaching a growl. Tears welled-up in the corners of her eyes. This was exactly why she didn’t want to come to this stupid meeting. So much more than something happened! Jerrod crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, acting like none of this bothered him. He wasn’t at the volunteer event, but he’d seen it. Trying to play tough guy was so typical and so infuriating.
Hundreds of faces filled the room, but none of them reflected the anxiety boiling inside her. People needed more. Serenity's heart thumped in her chest as she felt the urge to speak. Then her gaze fell on Deputy Rodgers across the room, looking her way. He raised his eyebrows as if to tell her he had no idea what the sheriff was going to say. Patience was in that expression, like what she’d seen last night. She bit her tongue.
“From witness reports we have determined Lance was killed while the work crew was cleaning up after a day of planting trees. At approximately five in the evening, just as they were about to leave the site, they were attacked by…a…some sort of…by an animal.”
Pandemonium rattled the room as it erupted in questions and disbelief. Sheriff Bitterman matched their volume, thick lips pressed right against the microphone, distorting his voice. “We have a lot of information folks, but most of it is contradictory and we’re trying to hash out what the animal was. This isn't about being deceptive or secretive. I promise. What we can tell you is that whatever attacked the crew was a large animal and extremely aggressive. Based on the witness statements, we cannot stress this enough, do not get any ideas about going in search of this animal. It’s considered extremely dangerous.”
Smart comment. If there was one constant about Rotisserie, it was its absence of entertainment, leading people to do the dumbest things to create fun for themselves. She wouldn’t put it past half the people in this crowd to think they could ‘rassle’ this creature into a hero’s welcome.
“How can we hunt it down when we don’t ev’n know what we’re lookin’ for?” a husky, young man shouted above the commotion.
Everyone turned back to the sheriff. He fidgeted, his bottom lip flapping. “Well, the, uh, the reports are…inconsistent.”
“What do you mean inconsistent?” someone else piped up.
With quivering cheeks, the sheriff’s lips continued moving as if he was whispering a secret incantation he wanted no one else to hear. When he didn’t answer quickly enough, the room felt hotter.
“Well?”
“Come on!” A middle-aged man in a grimy baseball cap yelled as he stood and made a hurrying gesture.
Serenity’s history teacher, usually a very reserved man, joined in, shouting, “Speak up!”
More were getting to their feet with each second. Chairs toppled over. The floor compacted as the crowd outside, sensing something important was happening, tried to force their way inside. More voices rose, yelling at the sheriff with joint frustration and fear, a swell drowning each other out.
“Oh, dear lord,” Ida moaned. She grabbed Serenity’s hand; Serenity let her.
Sheriff Bitterman was caving under the pressure. His hands wrapped around the podium, knuckles whitening as his grip tightened. Serenity feared he was going to keel over with a heart attack.
The words were out of her mouth before she had a moment to consider the consequences. “Because he doesn’t know what it looks like! No one does! It looks different to everyone!”
“Shit.” Jerrod snickered under his breath.
Like a slow-moving tide, a wave of silence rippled across the room. Too many eyes were on her now. Serenity swooned, her mother’s tightened grip the only thing that stopped her from falling on her face in front of all these people.
If asked a thousand times about the crowd’s reaction, she’d swear a thousand times that not a soul blinked, breathed, no one moved. Three hundred people, most of them many years her elder, eyed her as if she were the animal Sheriff Bitterman was talking about. Her mother’s grip clenched harder, hurting Serenity’s hand. What was a comfort was now a message to shut up.
“You’re not funny, young lady,” a woman with lawless hair snapped.
Before Ida could defend her, another a man's voice boomed through the throng. “She’s telling the truth!"
Deputy Rodgers pushed his way to the podium, drawing scrutiny away from Serenity. Once there, he grabbed the microphone from his boss without asking.
“Listen, everyone.” He radiated confidence. “I know this sounds crazy. You want answers and we’re all on edge but, please, we’ve got to work together. What this young lady is saying is true. I was among the first to get to the group, taking reports last night. Each of them believed what they witnessed. And I believe them.” Firmness rang through again, even stronger this time. “I do not doubt for a moment they’re being forthright and honest.”
Contentious mutters trickled through the crowd.
“This animal the sheriff mentioned was difficult for every person to describe last night. But we need to give them that chance and that will take more time than we have here, and” —he raised his arms as the crowd rumbled and Sheriff Bitterman fully dissolved into the background— “that isn’t going to happen. I remind you we are in the middle of an investigation that involves the death of one of our own. Let’s focus on the important reasons we brought everyone together.
"Something is in the desert. We don’t know what it is, but we do know it is extremely dangerous. Do not go looking for this thing. Let me be clear; we’re not just talking about the foothills. In the past few weeks I’ve taken reports from locals that saw this animal in other locations in and around Rotisserie,
from the Scales to the front of the mountain range.”
The restrained citizens broke at news the monster was spotted as close as The Scales. That made it much more real. The woman with lawless hair hugged her husband. Grimy baseball cap guy rubbed his face with a sweaty palm. Serenity’s teacher stood still.
“This is a very serious situation.” Deputy Rodgers’ voice dropped an octave, taking an ominous tone. “We’re facing something unknown. It is with that in mind that we’ve taken precautionary measures. We’d like all citizens with personal weapons to stick around after this meeting. Also, and we realize this will upset some of you, but we need to institute a curfew. Starting immediately, we require all residents to be inside their residence by nine o’clock. We are confident that if we all act together, we can stay safe from this threat and appropriately address it. Please help us by complying with these new standards. Thank you.”
Serenity tugged her mother’s hand, indicating the front door. The room was stagnant, and she wanted to get away. Serenity led the way through the torpid portions of the crowd, her mother and brother in tow, until she was blocked by a knot of people still trying to get into the room. Jerrod slipped in front and used his bulk to cut through. Serenity placed a hand on his broad back, encouraging him forward when they bottlenecked.
“This is so futile,” her mother proclaimed from behind her.
Serenity chanced a look over her shoulder, relinquishing contact with Jerrod, and nodded in silent agreement with her mother’s sentiment. She turned to find Jerrod…
…and ran into the old man with the brown wool jacket.
“Hi, Serenity.” He smiled with yellow-stained teeth. “I can tell you all about the creature you saw, if you’ll buy me a cup of coffee.”
10
“I’d like to talk to you about it,” the old man named Patch said as he leaned back, the tired upholstery creaking as he adjusted. The lack of customers in the diner made this even more awkward, even though the three of them sat on the opposite side of the large U-shaped booth.
Serenity stared, imagining she looked dim-witted. Having introduced himself on the walk down the block to the diner, Patch had lowered her inhibitions about talking to him. Her mother seemed interested as well, since no one had gotten any answers from the sheriff. Patch promised answers about the monster that had attacked them, but Serenity was also worried how he kept showing up at the right place and time, something she didn’t clue her mother in to. Not yet.
“So talk,” Ida said.
The old man’s gaze lingered too long as if he was searching for something in Ida's eyes. After an eternity, he blinked slowly, a sad smile spreading across his face. “Thank you.”
The man’s warm expression wasn’t reflected in Ida’s stoicism.
“Why are you called Patch? Is that really your name?” Jerrod spoke up for the first time since they’d entered the diner, filling in the silent discomfort.
Patch chuckled before rubbing his palm up and down both cheeks. “Look at this beard. Not impressive, is it? Got the name when I used to have friends. Can’t grow a beard to save my life, even at my age. Matter of fact, I imagine a boy your age could outgrow me.”
“He’s not allowed facial hair,” Ida said.
Patch’s eyes danced across the three. A moment of tension, so narrow that the most careful observer might have missed it, passed, and Patch threw his head back and laughed. It was so infectious that Serenity couldn’t stop herself. She and Jerrod joined the old man. Ida didn’t. Ida never laughed.
“Well then, there’s one less person I have to compete against. At least for a few years,” Patch said.
Ida's flat tone communicated that this conversation would not dawdle. “What is it you want with my family, Patch?”
“The thing I seek ain’t malicious, promise, sure as I’m sitting here. I’m an old man with old man dreams and aspirations. I ain’t looking to harm anyone; my word is my promise.”
“The last time I took a man at his word I ended up married too early and a mother too young. You’ll excuse me for asking questions, but I’m sure you understand.”
Patch answered by focusing on Serenity. “What you said, in that town hall; you’ve had some amazing experiences recently?”
“I guess.”
“It’s strange, seeing it. Especially twice in such a short time.”
Serenity scratched the mosquito bite behind her ear, even though the itching had gotten better over the past few days. Developing a nervous habit?
Her unease registered with Patch. “Allow me to start over? Like you, I have come face-to-face with the creature.” He wrapped liver-spotted hands around his coffee.
“When did you see it?” The cautious question sounded stupid coming out of her mouth.
“Long before you blessed this world with your presence. I was young, young, dumb and excited by the possibilities of life the first time I saw the Screecher.”
“Screecher?” Jerrod asked.
“You saw it so you might understand where its name comes from,” Patch said. “It was first called the sand screecher, on account of it living in the desert. Can’t remember when, but people just started calling it Screecher.”
Goosebumps popped on Serenity’s skin.
“It didn’t do any screeching,” Jerrod said, his brows pinching.
“It did on Warbler Mountain,” Serenity said. When it ripped a man in half. Serenity shivered, trying to force the memories out of her head.
“I’ve got a few more rounds with the Screecher than you do.” He chuckled, but it was hollow. “It has a long history with the Counties and a small group of its people.”
“Then why haven’t we heard anything about it before?” Serenity asked.
“You’re saying some people knew about this…” Ida struggled to say the name. “Creature, yet we’re just hearing about it now? No one thought to warn others? Ever? What kind of people would do that? And tonight? In the VFW. Are you telling me those were fabricated reactions by a bunch of people who already knew about this thing? These children might act foolish sometimes but one thing I’m not is a fool.”
Patch released the glass and wrapped his hands together, intertwining his fingers. “Ain’t taking you as one.” His tone was calm, controlled, so unperturbed by her mother’s provoking Serenity couldn’t help but marvel. Her father would have launched into a nasty tirade to avoid looking like a fool. “No, those people were frightened and ignorant. What I’m referring to are the few who have seen the Screecher. Before your family became ostracized, someone needed to talk to you. That someone is me. You ain't the first family I’ve had this conversation with. Sadly.”
“Who else has seen it?” Ida asked.
Patch winked. “Can’t be giving names, much as I won't be giving out yours.” He paused, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a black-and-white photograph. “But a lot more than you ev’n want to be knowing about. And I want to start with that.” He tapped the picture with a finger, then slid it between Serenity and her mother.
“Who is this?” Serenity asked.
“Marie, Sascha, Harold, and the little one is James. My wife and kids,” Patch said, a sudden sadness to his voice. His eyes lost vibrancy.
Jerrod leaned forward. “That picture has got to be from the seventies or something.”
Patch dipped his head toward the black and white. “That’s 1955.”
“You have a beautiful family,” Serenity said, meaning it and meeting Patch’s gaze.
“Had. That was taken the day before they died.” As if in a dream, Patch’s voice consumed her focus. “That is why I needed to talk to you.”
“What do you mean?” Ida’s voice was etched in ice.
But Serenity sat, unmoving. “What happened to them, Patch?”
“That be a long story. I could have a thousand lifetimes and still fail to explain it, ev’n if you had the patience,” Patch admitted. “The world was different then, filled with mad men holding mad power who woul
d stop at nothing to get what they wanted. Seemed like war and death sat around every corner, ev’n after we'd done away with the Krauts. Rumors said the Department of Defense was conducting secret experiments all over the place and the Counties were full of black-suited men looking for volunteers. They said there was good money in it. A lot of us in the plant were veterans of the war. We didn't need to prove anything to the government. But money? Money talked. So when those Black Suits came around, I was one of the first to throw my hand up to volunteer. Funny thing about kids, they never stop eating so I had to keep providing.”
Slightly confused what this had to do with the thing he called the Screecher, Serenity was fixated until the waitress stopped by to refill water and coffee. Patch patted her hand, blinking away the excessive wetness in his eyes. Her lips curled up and then she did something that convinced Serenity Patch was a person she could trust. The waitress, apparently oblivious to the odor emanating from that side of the table, laid a hand on Patch’s shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze.
When Patch spoke again, it was like they’d never been interrupted, his voice containing a poison that replaced the sorrow. “These government men tested an inoculation on us. That’s when things started going bad. They didn’t give us much information, saying it was Top Secret and all, but they did say the Commies had plans to unleash a viral pandemic on the United States. They needed to test a new serum that was supposed to combat this virus. Back then I’d’ve drank a gallon of gasoline if’n someone told me it’d save my children from the Soviets.”
“Did they?” Serenity asked.
“Not that we ever heard,” Patch responded. “That didn’t mean there weren’t other problems.”
“How so?” Ida leaned forward.
“The men started changing,” Patch said. Serenity scratched at the bite. Her breathing came shallower now. “Behaved strangely. Night after night, inexplicable things. And accidents, least that’s what authorities called ‘em in their official reports. Good many a man never came home after a shift. One night, this guy, Isaac, falls out, right there at the scrapper. Talking one minute, dead the next. We’re just recognizing he’s gone, and the boss man is already barking at us to get back to work. Not half an hour later this guy, Bill Jerkins…I’ll never forget that name, long as I live…he attacks another man, Joe Young. Puts him up on the stretch press…the equipment that stretches out sheet metal. Ties him right to the gripping jaws and…and pulls poor Joe apart, laughing the entire time. None of us saw what was happening until it was too late. Never knew a man could do that to another.”