by Joshua Grove
“Sheriff Blackwood is at the hospital,” Janet said once she had been briefed on what had happened. “Only Sam and Damien are here.”
“Where the hell is the rest of the force?” Tim asked from the backseat, astounded that the half dozen other cops were nowhere to be found.
“I haven’t been able to reach them all evening,” Janet said. “I keep trying every half hour.”
“Try St. Mark’s,” Geraldine suggested. “I know three of our guys are probably there at a finance meeting. Though why they haven’t answered their phones is beyond me.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Janet said, obviously frustrated with herself.
“We’ll call the sheriff and let her know we’re on our way back to the station. She can meet us there.”
“Copy that,” Janet said. “I will keep trying to find the others.”
Aaron replaced the radio in its holder and pulled out his phone to call Anna.
Geraldine stared at the road as she drove down the deserted street.
Ralph wished he were at the high school, enjoying a hotdog and watching football.
Tim folded his hands in his lap and looked out the window, searching for shadows.
* * * * * *
2
Trevor walked back into the station as nonchalantly as he could. His mind was swirling with anxiety, excitement, and makeshift plans.
I need silver, he thought. He tried not to make eye contact with Janet. He went into his mother’s office to get the keys she kept in her top right drawer.
“What are you doing?” Tommy asked.
“I’m getting a pen from Mom’s desk,” he answered. Luckily Tommy went back to reading his dumb book. He slipped the keys into his pocket and flipped his brother off on his way out of the office. That way Tommy wouldn’t wonder what he was doing. As he strode past Janet he was trying to remember where the station kept its weapons. When he was younger his father had shown him some of the guns and bulletproof vests.
“Oh, shit,” Trevor mumbled when he realized he knew exactly where the arsenal was located. He walked through the break area that now smelled like pizza, and then past a small room with four cubicles. At the other end of that space was a large door with only a single lock. He wondered why it wasn’t under heavier protection. If he could break in with such ease, what was stopping anyone else from doing it? Then again, there were usually more than just two cops here. With Damian and Sam in the video room and Lisa chatting with Janet, he knew he had a few minutes to figure out what he could take with him.
As he pulled the keys out of his pocket he began to wonder if there were cameras in the room. Paranoia tried to rein Trevor in from making foolish decisions, but to no avail. He ignored it, thinking he was following his gut by chasing the werewolf. This was his opportunity to become what all monsters feared. A hunter. A hunter of werewolves, vampires, and any other creature of the night that dared to toy with him and his mad skills. He just had to figure out what those skills were.
Trevor opened the door slowly, slipped through, and shut it behind him. If his life had a soundtrack, a choir would have sung “Ah!!” the moment he stepped inside and saw the many kinds of guns, knives, and other awesome weaponry. The room was about twenty feet long, and the wall facing the door was filled with a plethora of guns. This was some crazy shit for a small town of a few thousand people. He was so excited he wasn’t sure where to begin. The silver of several knives seemed to glisten in the halogen lighting, so he decided to begin there. On the floor were several duffle bags of various sizes. He picked up a mid-sized bag. Although it would be heavy as hell during the half-mile walk to the school, Simon could carry his own bag once he got there.
As he grabbed a few knives and dropped them in the bag, Trevor’s sense of adventure was almost too much to handle. He figured that four knives would be plenty, assuming that there was only one werewolf on the prowl. He moved on to the guns, choosing four Beretta 90s. He zipped up the bag and laid it on the floor. Taking a larger duffle bag, Trevor then snatched two Winchester 1300 shotguns, gently laying them in the bag. He moved to the opposite wall and began loading up on ammunition.
“What’s this?” he said to himself as he noticed the hollow sound of the drawer of ammo. As he pushed down and forward, he heard a Click sound and the bottom slid back to reveal additional bullets. To his shock, they were silver. He stared at them for a moment, wondering why the police would have silver bullets. Fortunately they were the perfect match for the Berettas. Trevor scrounged around other drawers, hoping to find silver shotgun shells but couldn’t locate any.
Well at least I have some for the handguns, he sighed. He grabbed 400 rounds, figuring that would be more than enough to bust a cap in the werewolf’s ass. Having read books about werewolves, vampires, and zombies most of his life, he felt prepared for whatever the night would bring. He glanced at his watch. Almost 8:30pm. The game would be over soon so he needed to get moving so he could catch Simon before he left. He zipped the second bag, slung it over his shoulder, then grabbed the smaller bag on the floor by the handguns. As he made his way toward the door he noticed several flare guns hanging on the other side of it.
“These might come in handy,” he said. He knew that in some werewolf lore they were frightened of fire. He grabbed four guns plus twenty flares, and opened the bag with the Winchesters. He laid them down carefully and smiled. It was time to get this party started.
As he reached for the door, he noticed several radios sitting on a shelf.
“I might need these,” he said, grabbing two of them. He clipped them on his belt and opened the door. It made a creaking sound as he tried to close it, wincing at the sound and hoping no one had heard him. Relieved that there was a side exit, he slipped out the door and into the lot reserved for cruisers. He briefly considered stealing one, but knew it would be better if he just walked to the high school. By the time anyone realized he was gone, he would already be with Simon.
Trevor followed the beaten path between the police station and the high school. Since there was an active DARE program in the school, sometimes officers would stroll back and forth between the buildings. Trevor figured they were just trying to scare kids and keep them from smoking weed. Drugs never really interested him, but he still felt it was unnecessary to worry about such stupid shit. Tonight, however, he was grateful for the government’s paranoia and war on drugs. This way no one would see him. At least no human would see him…
Fear and excitement filled his belly, and he quickly dropped his bags so he could pull out one of the Berettas. He fumbled with the ammunition, keeping an eye out for any movement in the small clumps of trees and bushes that sporadically lined the path to the school.
“I’m ready for you, mother fucker,” he said between clenched teeth, holding the loaded gun in his hands. He aimed it into the trees for good measure and, feeling good about his chances, continued his journey. The sounds of the football game were gradually getting louder, a sign that the home team was winning and the game was about to end. The band began playing the fight song, this time faster and louder, and more cheers erupted. The game was over and he still had a quarter mile to walk. Trevor started to jog, the weight of the bags making him breathe heavily and sweat through his jacket, even though it was probably only 45 degrees outside.
As he reached the school he exhaled deeply and bent over, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He had made it in time. Several cars were pulling out of the parking lot, horns honking and people cursing. Usually a cop would be there to manage the traffic, but tonight they were otherwise occupied. Trevor watched as people tried to leave, ignorant of the murders and evil that lurked all around them in Crimson Falls. He hid behind a tree and waited. When he saw the silver, 2004 Honda Accord Coupe pulling into the line to exit, he sprinted to it.
“Christ on crutches!” Simon yelled as Trevor banged on the passenger window.
“Let me in, asshole!” he screamed. Simon unlocked the car and Tre
vor threw the bags into the backseat. When he climbed into the passenger side and slammed the door, still panting slightly, Simon just stared at him in disbelief.
“Dude, you are a freak!” he laughed. “What the hell are you doing? You scared the living shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” Trevor said with a grin.
“Where have you been? I thought you were coming to the game tonight?”
“Some serious shit is going down tonight, man,” Trevor said. His voice was teeming with raw vigor and stimulation.
“What have you done now?” Simon said with a sigh.
“It’s not what I’ve done, dude. It’s what we are going to do.”
“Like hell we are,” Simon said as he raised his hand in the air. A horn honked behind them, reminding Simon to move his car forward to stay in line. “I’m not getting involved in another one of your schemes. Remember the last time I agreed to go along with one?”
Trevor huffed and rolled his eyes. “I told you I was sorry. I didn’t mean for the car to explode.”
“What the hell did you think would happen when you threw a lit firework into a friggin’ gas tank?” Simon laughed, but with very little humor.
“It’s nothing like that,” Trevor said. “So you know how we’re always talking about werewolves and shit?”
“Uh, yeah,” Simon stuttered, obviously wondering where Trevor’s train of thought was headed.
“Well, there’s a werewolf in Crimson Falls, and it killed old Acorn Alan.”
Simon said nothing.
“Dude, did you hear me? It’s real, Simon. It’s real. I saw it.”
“Whatever, Trev,” Simon said, shaking his head.
“Check it out,” Trevor said as he pulled the Beretta from his pants.
Simon gasped. “What the hell? Where did you get that?”
“From the station. And the bag back there has three more of them, along with some Winchesters.”
Simon stared at Trevor, unsure what to think and how to handle it.
“Dude, I saw it.”
“Saw what?” Simon asked, exasperated.
“I saw the werewolf. And it almost killed me and Sam.”
“You’re full of shit!” Simon yelled, uncomfortable with the arsenal in his car.
“No, dude, listen.” Trevor relayed the events of the night as the Honda crept toward the exit. By the time they were able to leave the parking lot, he had fully briefed Simon on what had happened and what he was planning to do next.
Simon shook his head again.
“You don’t understand, man. They have silver bullets! Why would cops have silver bullets?”
“So if they have silver bullets, then they know what they’re doing,” Simon retorted. “How would we stand a better chance than them?”
“I doubt my mom or dad ever knew about that. Sheriff Kelly was cool, but he was into some pretty weird shit. I think he believed. But without him, you know, since he’s lying dead in the woods, it falls on us to take this beast out.”
“This isn’t a Stephen King novel,” Simon pointed out. “And we’re a far cry from Van Helsing. How do you think this is going to pan out for us? We either die or become werewolves, too. We’ll end up killing our families while they sleep.”
Trevor smiled.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because you believe me.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do,” Trevor insisted. “If you didn’t believe me you wouldn’t have said we are going to end up turning into werewolves. You know it’s true, dude. You’ve always believed. That’s why we’re best friends.”
“We’re best friends because you’re cool and I’m a total dork,” Simon argued.
“No, I’m a dork who has style,” Trevor corrected, laughing. “And if anyone knows more about this shit than I do, it’s you. Shit, dude, you’ve written short stories about this kind of stuff. I can’t do it without you.”
“I don’t know, dude. This is pretty far out there.”
“Well, look at it this way. If I’m full of shit and there really isn’t anything out there to kill with our silver bullets, we’ll have a good time running around and shooting at stuff.”
Simon didn’t say anything, but Trevor could tell he was making headway at getting him to agree. They drove toward McDonald’s so Sam could have his ritual double cheeseburger after game night.
“Simon, listen. I don’t ask for much. Ever since Dad left, you know, I’ve been a little messed up.” He looked out the window, trying to avoid eye contact. Trevor had always been uncomfortable with sharing his feelings.
“I know, man,” Simon said.
“So I’m asking you now. I need your help. I want you by my side when we take this werewolf out. This can be the beginning of a whole new life for us. Partners in werewolf hunting. We can be like Sam and Dean Winchester on Supernatural, only cooler.”
Simon laughed as he pulled into McDonald’s. He turned off the engine and stared at the many people making their way in and out of the restaurant.
“So, what do you say. Partners?” Trevor asked as he pushed his hand toward his best friend.
“Partners,” Simon groaned. “I hope I don’t regret this.”
“You won’t!” Trevor howled with excitement. “Now, let’s get something to eat. That will give us time to talk strategy. Get me whatever you’re getting.”
“You’re not coming in?” Simon asked.
“No, I think it’s best that no one sees me right now.”
“I don’t even want to know why that is,” Simon laughed. “I’ll be right back.”
Trevor smiled as he watched Simon greeting people and making his way toward the long line. He felt frightened, thrilled, and a little nauseous. The time had finally come for him to embrace his destiny.
The party he started at the station had now officially begun.
CHAPTER TEN
Strategies
1
Anna stood in the small, makeshift hospital room outside of the morgue where two doctors were bandaging Michael’s neck wound after having put a patch over his right eye.
“I’m telling you, I heard your voice in the woods!” Michael yelled. “You were there!” He was angry, trying to understand why Anna wasn’t admitting to being in the woods.
“I promise you, Michael, I have been at the station. You know I wouldn’t lie to you.” Anna was deeply concerned about what Michael had experienced. Who had been in the woods, imitating her voice and pretending to be her? She had known Michael since the day he joined the force nearly five years ago. Only 27 years old, he was bright, strong, and stable. She did not doubt his clarity or his sincerity.
“And you’re saying that the man who attacked you, and who held you hostage and tortured you, was Alan Brickton.”
“Yes, Sheriff. I’ve already told you that. He’s not dead. Bastard must have faked it.”
Anna was having a difficult time trying to reconcile her trust in Michael’s clarity and the impossible nature of his claims.
“Michael, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Alan Brickton is dead,” Anna said.
“No,” Michael insisted, shaking his head and frustrating the doctors who were tending to him.
“I give you my word, Michael, that Alan’s body is in the next room. At the morgue. I just saw it not ten minutes ago.”
“But how is that possible?” Michael said, tears streaming down the left side of his face from the combination of rage, pain, and fear.
“I don’t know, Michael, but with God as my witness we are going to find out.”
Anna knew Michael trusted and liked her, so she hoped that he would remember that and attempt to calm himself. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe more slowly.
Anna noticed Anish standing in the corner of the room, a solemn look on his face. She smiled at Michael and joined Anish.
“What do you think?” Anna asked softly, trying to avoid anyone hearing their conversation.
; “He seems to believe that a vampire has found its way to Crimson Falls,” he said. Anna studied his face and couldn’t tell if he actually believed in vampires.
“You’re hard to read,” Anna said with a smile. She wasn’t sure how to ask Anish if he believed in vampires. So she decided to say nothing and wait for him to talk first.
“He’s been through quite an ordeal,” Anish finally said.
“Do you think he’s delusional?” she asked, thinking perhaps her choice of words may have been a bit off the mark.
“I do not,” he said simply.
“But how could he be in his right mind? Certainly you don’t expect me to believe vampires are real.”
Anish snorted. “Whether or not you believe in something does not determine its existence.”
“What do you mean?” Anna asked.
“Do you believe in God?” he asked her.
“Of course I do.”
“Does your belief in God make God real?”
Anna had to think for a moment. She had always believed in God, but had never really given it much critical analysis. “I suppose not,” she admitted.
“So your not believing in vampires does not negate their existence,” he said.
“I suppose that’s true as well,” Anna confessed. “Do you believe in vampires?” She almost laughed at her question. What’s next? She thought to herself. Do you believe in Sana Claus?
“I do not believe, but I do not disbelieve, either,” he informed her. “I have found it more fruitful to keep an open mind. In other words, I think most anything is possible.”
“Okay,” she said cautiously.
“We must look at the evidence that has been put before us,” Anish said in a deadly serious tone. “And we have not yet seen all there is to see.”
“So, in your opinion, what would be the next logical step in figuring out who’s behind all this?” Just as Anna finished the question, her cell phone rang. It was Aaron Peterson.