The thunder growled defiantly as the harsh rain drops played a symphony on the roof of Officer William’s cruiser. He stared at the exterior of the small town police station. Its malfunctioning neon sign barely pierces the black of the night. Only a faint blue glow can be seen “south carolina county sheriff” flickered faintly in and out.
The handprint on the Officer's forearm still stung with a sharp heat. The stranger's grip had left a deep impression in his skin that was now raw and hot to the touch. In his seat he considered what he was sent here to do. This wouldn't be the first time someone had met their end at his hand. This was different though, last time he was defending himself from old bill drunk with his smith and wesson. This man was defenceless.
He had checked the shift rotation tonight. There was only one officer assigned to the station's control room. The older Officer Anthony that had hours ago advised Williams to burn his shirt. He was known for falling asleep and slacking off. Just the other week he missed a call from father Oldbury about some kids messing around the church graveyard. He was no stranger to a write-up.
All other shift units were deployed on patrol. Officer Willams had made sure to avoid their routes on his way to the station. He had listened to the radio chatter and made sure that none were nearby or would return to the station any time soon. The worst case scenario he could claim he was just here to follow up on Mr Carmichael’s mad ravings.
The Officer stepped out of his vehicle. Donning a long black coat and dark leather gloves he made his way towards the station's rear entrance. With the code as simple as it was it was surprising that break ins didn't happen more often. zero , four, zero, seven. Independence day. The doors lock disengaged with a loud thud and the blaring buzzer announced its movement.
He stepped inside praying that the antiquated officer did not hear him. Stepping into the control room a radio played a late night talk show where the host questioned a country music star on his latest album. The old Officer sat passed out in his chair in front of a phone and security monitors. Their grey glow illuminated his shallow wrinkled features as his head hung low blissfully unaware.
Officer Williams made his way to the holding cells. Due to the station's small size there were only two. Mr Carmichael was due to be transferred to the county court in the morning to await trial. This was the Officer's one chance to do what was asked of him. The heavy metal door to the cells swung open revealing a shaking pale form hiding under the cot of the cell.
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“He sent you here didn't he? I told you he had seen you!” Mr Carmichael laughed nervously as he looked towards the Officer. “What do you know about the man in the sunglasses?” the Officer pulled up a steel chair in front of the cold steel of the cell. The crazed man ran at the bars gripping them tightly and pressing his face between two of them.
“You’re fucked now. You spoke to him. He told you to do something. He crawls in the dark and he will drag you there with him.” the man frothed at the mouth a he spat out his words “he told us. He told us that we would be magnificent” Mr Carmichael slumped to the ground as he laughed to himself. This man was beyond the ability to provide information.
“Why’d your wife cut herself open? Did you two even know she was pregnant?” Officer Williams leaned towards the man. Still hoping for some answers. Mr Carmichael’s head snapped to meet the Officers. “Kill it. You have to kill it. The other one…. They told us it needs to die. He cant be allowed to get him. It showed us. It showed us what would happen.”
The frail echo of a man convulsed with laughter on the floor. “What other one? Who are you talking about?” the Officer snapped. “I know what you’re here to do. Just do it. Promise me you will kill the boy.” Mr Carmichael’s tone was serious now. Whatever madness had befallen him did not taint these words. No more information could be prised from him as he was nothing but a quivering ball of fear.
The Officer pushed open the door back out of the cells in frustration but careful not to wake the sleeping old man. In his gut he knew what must be done. Zero, four, zero, seven. The code for the evidence room was exactly the same as the back door. A colossal oversight on the departments part. He quickly paced over to large white cardboard boxes labelled “narcotics.”
He took out the small plastic bags that Mr Carmichael had attempted to flush and a couple of dirty hypodermic needles that had been alongside them. No one would question it. In the heat of the moment he wasn't properly searched and in the grief of losing his wife he would overdose in his cell. All Officer Williams needed to do was be the spark to the fire.
Rushing back into the holding cells Officer Williams placed the bags and needles on the floor along with a lighter and a spoon from the cafeteria within reach outside the bars. “He only asked me to get rid of you. Didn't say I had to do it.” Mr Carmichael cried as he reached out a hand and took what was offered.
The large metal door closed behind Officer Willams as he let out a long sigh. The weight of what he had done had not dragged him down yet. “Burn it. Trust me” stood before him holding a VHS tape was Officer Anthony. His sunken features conveyed a look of deep understanding. “You did what was asked of you. Protect the boy and you won't see him again. I'll give you twenty minutes and then I'll make a big show of it. Don't respond none. Claim you were exhausted from today.”
Officer Williams stood dumbstruck who was this stranger that he knew other Officers in his force. What was this stranger? “Don't ask him for anything in return. You don't want him to have your debt." The frail officer crooked his neck from side to side. Loud snaps and pops of ancient bone echoed through the barron station. On the loose neck skin of the old man showed the burn marks of two long thin fingers of an all too familiar hand.