"Silent enim leges inter arma."
~Marcus Tullius Cicero
Eighteen
The yelling and screaming was unusual, but it didn't cause Rutledge to stir from his interview with Will Carroll. Faraday was out there, and at least three or four other officers. Any kind of commotion would have been simple enough to handle. But when gunshots went off, Rutledge jumped out of his seat without a word and left the interview room. The mystical, mumbo jumbo that Carroll was spouting about the book he found could wait, and those handcuffs were going to prevent his detainee from going anywhere.
He wanted to yell out immediately upon leaving the interrogation room, but if there was some kind of hostage situation, his instincts told him that it was better to have the element of surprise on his side. Hundreds of thoughts were firing off as he dug into his back pocket for the key to the gun box located against the wall outside the room. While he was unlocking the box and reaching for his sidearm, he looked down for the first time, and noticed the dense, knee high fog that was spilling through the station. He looked up the hall towards the station lobby and to the stairs behind him, unable to see the floor in any direction.
Somewhere lost in his thoughts and fears of the worst, cries and shouts began to take form. The immediate problem the detective was faced with was that the sounds were coming from both directions; the lobby and downstairs, where the holding cells were. What the hell was going on here, Rutledge thought to himself? He didn't know where exactly the gunshot had come from, although he guessed it would be the lobby. None of the offenders locked up in holding were violent, although there should have been an officer down there just to keep watch. The shouts weren't ceasing, so Rutledge had to make a fast decision. He drew his gun out in front of him and started down to the holding area.
The fog seemed to cling to the stairs, so that even when he descended, it remained level at around his knees. He was familiar enough with them that he avoided stumbling his way to the bottom landing. Stopping at the wall to peak around the corner, Rutledge didn't really know what to expect, but what he saw was even more startling than he could have imagined.
Along the left side of the wall was a giant general population cell, that could or should hold a maximum of about ten to twelve people. It only held two inhabitants right now in Jeff Traber, who was picked up outside of Carroll's house, and a frequent flier junkie named Kenny Singler, who had what looked like some type of snake latched on where his neck and shoulder blades met. Despite this, Singler was not so much fighting back as he was giving in, his eyes rolled back in his head, the real battle perhaps over by the time that Rutledge got down here. The screams were coming from Traber, who wedge himself in the far corner, cramming his entire body against the bars in some vain effort to squeeze through them. On the other side of the room, Will's roommate Rory was frantically motioning towards them from his single cell once he saw Rutledge appear.
"Get them out, get them out!" Rory exclaimed repeatedly.
Rutledge kept his gun in one hand and sorted through the keyring in his other, moving quickly towards the cell door. He found the key almost immediately, but in his haste was having difficulty getting it to slide in. Jeff's cries didn't cease, or help matters, but finally the detective was able to get the key in and open the door.
As soon as the door opened and those rusted iron hinges squeaked, the snake's head snapped its attention up to Rutledge, allowing blood to gush out of Singler. At that moment, the detective could feel his eyes bug out as he stared at it. The animal was not a snake; it was like nothing he had ever seen before, a creature straight out of Lovecraftian lore. The thing coiled its body and slowly opened its jaws remarkably wide, so that its tiny black dots of eyes were no longer visibly. Inside its mouth were layers of sharp teeth, with the largest around the outside layer. The detective couldn't see where its body ended, but he would guess that this thing was able ten feet long. It was horrifying, yet mesmerizing at the same time.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Rory shouted from his cell. "Shoot the fucker!"
At those words, Singler slumped forward and fell to the floor. Without making a sound, the creature shot forward through the air directly at Rutledge. The detective raised his pistol instinctively and fired off two shots. The first shot fired true, blowing the top part of the creature's jaw, while the second buried itself somewhere in its body as it fell a foot shy and fell through the fog to the floor. Rutledge swept his gun down to the floor, moving it from side to side in anticipation of an attack. Keeping his gun in his right, his left hand shot out to grab Jeff's arm and pull him away from the corner.
"Get out of here, kid." Rutledge ordered, not taking his eyes off the ground. Jeff moved deftly around him and broke out in a run towards the stairs, not stopping until he was out of the basement. A detainee escaping was the least of Rutledge's concerns and let the kid go without a warning.
"Officer, detective, whatever," Rory shouted again, "you need to get me out of here in case that thing's still alive. What the hell was that?!"
Rutledge hesitantly flicked his foot out, lightly tapping it a few places on the floor until he came across what he was looking for. He took a breath, wondering if this was one of those life altering mistakes before reaching down and grabbing the slimy tube-like creature and hoisting it up. Thankfully, it was dead, a smattering of brown liquid covering its face where a section of its mouth had been blown off. Rutledge threw it down and left the cell, closing and locking it behind him, just to be on the safe side he told himself.
"No idea, kid." Rutledge said. "It's dead though, that's good enough for now. You should be safe in here."
"Seriously?!" Rory responded, bringing his hands up to the bars. "Who knows if there are more of those things? Let me out of here, it's bullshit that I'm locked up to begin with. You got that dirtbag Will, that's all you care about, right?"
"Point taken." Rutledge replied with a light shrug. It was true that they had no plans to prosecute Rory over a fistfight, and it was a pretense to pick up Carroll. He quickly unlocked the cell and opened it before his eyes went wide again. "Oh shit, upstairs!"
Rutledge turned and sprinted up the stairs before Rory could say anything, leaving the collegian no choice but to follow. The set of doors and the ceiling had muffled most of the sounds coming from the lobby, but the shouts and screams had once again greeted the detective. He slowed down as he approached the doors, leaning against the right of the door frame and getting his gun ready.
"What's happening in there?" Rory asked as he filed behind the detective.
"Nothing good," said Rutledge, "stay close to me and stay alert!"
With a nod, Rutledge went to open the door, but it flew inward due to the crashing body that went through it. Jeff's mouth was agape, nothing but silence escaping as he scrambled to his feet and ran towards the emergency exit behind them. Rutledge peaked around the frame and was hit by the absolute mayhem that was filling up his station's lobby. There were three civilians standing on the desks, the male amongst them bleeding from the foot, and the older of the two women repeatedly striking a pinned creature with a crowbar. The thing was in pieces and obviously dead, that brownish blood squirting everywhere, but she was undeterred. One of his officers were lying on top of another desk, unmoving, a crimson mask where his face used to be. Officer Maitland was perched on a windowsill, bleeding from several different places, barely hanging on to his gun. Further into the room, on top of the administration desk, two other officers, Royster and Calais, were standing back-to-back. Calais had her gun out, while Royster brandished a baton.
"Detective, watch your feet!" Calais called out.
"Where's Faraday?!" Rutledge replied while Rory went to move around him but tripped to the ground. Rory let out a surprised cry.
"I think that civilian just tripped over him, sir." Calais said.
Rory jumped back to his feet, a fire axe in his hand, and scrambled to stand on one of the desks. Rutledge just looked down, not wanting to take the chance in bending down to get his hand bitten off.
"Those things?" Rutledge asked.
"Nah, sir," Royster replied while shaking his head, "he caught friendly fire while we were under attack."
Rutledge didn't know how he felt about that. One side of the coin, the idea of a fellow officer being accidentally shot was a tough pill to swallow. On the other hand, he saw what one of those things did to Singler and there was plenty of other evidence in the station lobby. If Faraday had died quickly, maybe it was for the better. Rutledge knew that the fallen sergeant was the station's most capable officer, which filled him with even more dread than he already had.
Realizing that he was the only one standing on the floor, Rutledge scurried up onto the nearest desk as quickly as his slightly overweight frame would allow. Looking back over to the civilians, he finally recognized the woman with the crowbar as being that reporter Karen London. She was still beating the hell out of the dead thing, and although she had been a pain in the ass before, like most reporters, she kind of had an action-movie heroine thing going on.
"Miss London," Rutledge said after clearing his throat, "I believe it's dead."
Karen finally stopped, looking up to Rutledge, then realizing that all eyes in the room were on her. She rested the crowbar against her shoulder and exhaled in a way that made it seem like she had been holding her breath the entire time.
"Yeah, well, you never know lieutenant…"
"Detective." Rutledge replied cutting her off.
"Okay, well, sorry lieutenant detective," Karen started, pointing at the remains of the thing now with the crowbar, "this could be like one of those bugs that reattaches itself, or grows its limbs back, and quite frankly, I don't want my tits bitten off!"
Her proclamation caused another wave of temporary silence. Dawn inched a step or two away from her.
"Alright, I guess I understand that as much as I can." Rutledge said, looking over to Maitland, who had grown even paler than he usually was. "Maitland, how're you doing over there?"
The older officer's uniform was stained with blood in a few different places. He struggled to adjust himself on the window ledge, his eyes half-closed; he could only give out a groan in response to the question.
"Hang in there." Rutledge said, looking around the station again. Royster, Calais, can one of you reach the first-aid kit under the desk over there?"
"Negative, sir," Calais replied, "Jeanette took the kit with her into the conference room with Mr. Perez."
"Okay," Rutledge said, looking in that direction, seeing the door closed and the shades drawn, "well, I can probably get there quickly and…"
"One of those things is in there!" Paul blurted out from his spot on the desk nearest the conference room. "It killed them both, I can see them through the blinds!"
Rutledge's face fell. There was something to be said about a police officer's ability to reconcile the death of one of their own. He had known Faraday for a little over ten years, and although nothing much happened in this town until today, there was always the possibility that one of them could fall in the line of duty. But Jeanette and old Mr. Perez were civilians. It was his job and his department's job to keep them safe, to make sure that they were never close to any lines of fire or danger. Despite the unusual circumstances, if there was one place they were supposed to be safe, it was the police station. He did not want to have to go in there and look at them, but Maitland needed something.
"So, one in there," Rutledge started, "any idea how many more we're looking at?"
"The one in the conference room…" Maitland said with a wince as he struggled to remain upright, "…I killed one, it's down under that fog somewhere…"
"I killed one too!" Karen added a little too enthusiastically, pulling out her phone and pointing it at Rutledge. "Detective Rutledge, have you ever seen anything like this before? Are these things linked to your recent arrest of William Carroll?"
"You're doing this now?!" Rutledge asked incredulously.
Another gun shot near the front of the room cut through any building tension there may have been between the detective and the reporter. Calais had fired her gun into the ground, a ricochet reverberating somewhere nearby, causing everyone to instinctively wince and look around, as if they could see an anticipating an incoming bullet. Royster crouched down and blindly swung his baton.
"There's at least one more in here other than the one in the conference room!" Calais shouted. "I swear I just saw some movement."
"This isn't right," Dawn stated, shaking her head, "it's like this fog is alive. The way it just conceals the floor…I've never seen anything like it."
"Watch your backs over there," Rutledge said, then looking at Rory, "and I need you to watch mine, okay kid?"
Rory narrowed his eyes and followed Rutledge's gaze to the conference room door. After a deep breath, Rory nodded in understanding, tightening the grip on his fire axe, and taking a step to the edge of the desk. He raised his head to lock eyes with the detective once more, who held a hand up as he began to search the desk he stood on. Kneeling now, he opened the top drawer and immediately plucked out a coffee mug that was designed with an army fatigue style camouflage.
"Okay," Rutledge said as he stood once more, "I'm going to throw this coffee mug in that opposite corner away from everyone else, and hopefully that thing, wherever it is, will take the bait."
"How the hell are we supposed to know it took the bait if we can't see?" Rory asked.
The detective let the question hang there for a few seconds while attempting to come up with a sufficient answer. Ultimately, all he could do was shrug. "Maybe it'll knock into something?"
"You're not really inspiring much confidence, detective."
"Yeah, tell me about it." Rutledge responded in agreement.
"Does anyone hear a creaking sound?" Karen asked, swiveling her phone around the room. Everyone fell silent again, the only sounds were light groans that were coming from the wounded Maitland. Rutledge fought the urge to quiet the middle-aged officer, but that happened organically, and now the faint noise was amplified throughout the quiet station lobby. It did not take long to find its source; the door to the conference room was slowly swinging open inward, inch by inch until it was wide enough that a person could have slid through. The room collectively held its breath, as if waiting for the thing in there to announce its presence, even though it could have already come out and they would have been none the wiser.
"Paul," Karen said in a harsh whisper, "can you see anything in there?"
"I see the old guy dead on the couch, that's it."
"That guy's name was Mr. Perez." Dawn stated.
"My insensitivity tends to go out the window when I'm bleeding," Paul retorted with a look of annoyance shot towards Dawn, "I'll make amends when this is over. Oh wait, I forgot…"
"Oh my God," Maitland interrupted, gingerly shoving himself off the windowsill, "will the both of you just shut up so I can hear this thing coming and ice it?"
No sooner than Maitland finished speaking, both remaining creatures shot out from the fog. He was a second too late getting his hands up, as the two simultaneously latched on to his neck. It happened so fast that the only registered reaction across the room was shock as they watched Maitland stumble backwards, smacking his head on the windowsill and disappearing below the murky surface. That silence filled the room again, and this time the sounds being amplified were a few seconds of stifled gurgles, followed by a low hissing once those gurgles stopped.
"Maitland?" Rutledge asked in vain. "Maitland?!"
"We have to do something!" Rory finally shouted.
"Just stay where you are!" Rutledge responded, finally snapping out of the horrified trance he was in.
The hissing grew closer to the detective so that he was able to anticipate the next attack. It was only one of those things that darted up at him quickly, but he was able to duck and have it sail over his head. He swiveled around and brought his gun up, even though he had serious doubts as to whether he could shoot this thing out of the air. Across the room, Karen put her phone away and took her shoes off before leaping to a desk closer to the front door, showing a surprising amount of grace in her movements. Distress was strewn across Dawn's face as she thought about following but stayed put. Rory, perhaps sensing that Dawn did not wish to be left alone, traversed across the desks to reach her. She gave him a small, grateful smile.
"I know we don't want to let these things out into the public," officer Calais said, "but I think we should seriously consider getting out of here."
"They came from somewhere," Royster responded right behind her, "so who the hell knows how many more there are out there? Or what else is out there; Vidal never did come back."
"Vidal's a survivor," Calais stated, "he's probably fine."
"We can't risk anyone leaving here until those things are dead." Rutledge announced before giving an apologetic look to each of the non-officers in the room. "I'm sorry, but we can't risk these things getting out on the chance that this is an isolated incident."
Nobody responded to his statement. Everyone was too focused on the ground, waiting for the next assault, hoping that they wouldn't be targeted next. The wait was over after just a few seconds. On the admin desk, Calais whipped around just in time to see one of those eel-shaped monsters lunge at her. Luckily, the officer's gun was up, and she managed to crack the thing on the side of its head without getting harmed. It let out an unearthly cry, which caught the attention of Royster enough to turn him around. As if the attack was planned, the second creature jumped through the haze and latched onto the back of Royster's foot. The officer cried out as the thing tore through the achilles tendon, causing a stream of blood to spray outward on the desk.
"Ahh, fuck!" Royster screamed out in anguish, turning on his good foot and slamming his baton down, barely missing the thing as it darted between his legs, all the way through Calais legs and poised to attack the other officer. She aimed her gun down, however Royster's turn left him off balance from his tendon being severed, and before Calais could get a shot off, he smashed into her. Both tried desperately to regain their balance but were unable to steady each other and tumbled off the desk.
Seeing that both of those things were near the front, and without the proof of a third, Rutledge hopped to the ground and rushed forward as he watched his other officers fell. The others watched in silence and anticipation as Rutledge jumped on the administration desk, his gun drawn as Calais popped back up to her feet. Calais moved through the fog as if wading, reaching out for Rutledge's outstretched hand when she suddenly unleashed a scream. She turned her back to Rutledge and the rest of the room, where one of the things had latched on to her hip. Before Rutledge could react, Royster rose through the haze with the other thing attached to his neck, both hands on the baton as he held it high overhead and brought it crashing down on the creature's head. The force of the blow was enough to decapitate the thing and cause it to immediately let go of Calais, who scrambled onto the desk with Rutledge's help. The detective then reached out to Royster, but the other officer was already sinking back down to the floor, the writhing creature still firmly attached to him.
"I'm fine just help him," Calais yelled, hand pressed to her side as blood trickled through her fingers, "c'mon, what are you doing, there's only one left! Royster!"
Calais laid flat on her stomach and recklessly reached through the murk, and Rutledge did the same. It was all they could do to hope that they didn't pull back to find their hands bitten off, or that thing to jump and attach to their face like poor Jacobs. Rutledge was the first to lay a hand on something solid, and he pulled with all the strength his two-hundred pound plus frame could muster. Through the fog came Royster's hand, then his arm, which Calais seized and pulled as well. The rest of his body followed, and Rutledge gripped his sidearm again in anticipation of seeing the cursed beast, but it was no longer there. Royster's head came up slack, his eyes closed, blood seeping from the wound on his neck and staining his uniform. Rutledge didn't have to check for a pulse to know that he was gone. Calais let go and slammed her fist into the desk.
"I'm sorry," Rutledge said, letting go of Royster as well, "he'll be remembered as a hero. You can see to that once this is all over, right?"
The last comment was pointed at Karen, who simply nodded once in response. A banging at the front door caught everyone's attention, as the detective raised his gun.
"My gun, it's on the floor somewhere…" Calais mumbled softly, staring down at the ground.
"What the hell could this possibly be?" Paul groaned from his corner.
The door suddenly swung open, a man spilling in from the force in which he slammed into it. Breathing heavily and favoring his shoulder, Officer Vidal looked around the room in wide-eyed wonder. Before he could say anything, the creature shot up through the mist on a direct arc towards Vidal's face. Swiftly, he brought up his gun and fired twice, both bullets ripping through the creature's body. It omitted a shriek and flew backwards as brown liquid sprayed in a four-foot radius, specks flashing onto Vidal's face as he stared with his mouth agape. Everyone watched in shock as the thing smashed into a desk, the force cutting it in half where the bullets had entered.
"Uhm," Vidal started, slowly lowering his gun, "was that a python?" He began to look around the room, seeing everyone standing on desks, and the body of Jacobs. "Detective, what…what the hell happened?! Who the fuck did that?! Why the fuck are you all standing on desks?!"
With a gulp, Rutledge stepped down, and the rest cautiously followed suit, except for Paul who stayed glued on his desk in the corner. Rory used his axe to try and sweep through the fog as a means of dispersal, which of course wasn't working. Karen moved over to Dawn, the two women huddling together and slowly making their way to the center of the room with the other officers.
"That thing you killed," Rutledge said, using his hand to lower Vidal's gun, "there were others. They killed Jacobs, officers Maitland and Royster. We also lost Sergeant Faraday. Mr. Perez and Jeanette are in the conference room, also dead. Hopefully, you got the last of them. What happened to you out there? Did you see anything?"
Vidal shook his head, a look of shock still etched on his face as he took everything in. "See? No, I got turned around in the fog out there and lost my way back. I didn't see anything, certainly not any of those things?" Finally, the officer looked back up to the detective. "It got the Sarge?"
Rutledge just nodded in response, finding it hard to believe as well. Faraday was the closest thing the station had to an action hero, a guy who always seemed prepared for any situation and never panicked.
"I'm sorry about your fellow officers," Dawn began, "but what about Will? Is he still here?"
Shit, the detective thought to himself. With everything that was happening, he completely forgot about Carroll in the interrogation room. He had closed and locked the door, there were no windows in there and no fog when he left, so Carroll should have been fine, right? More importantly, all of this started right when Carroll was brought in. Maybe he would have the answers to the unexplainable.
"I'm sure he's fine," Rutledge replied, motioning to Vidal, "come with me to check on him really quick. Calais stay here with everyone else. And someone's going to have to get the first aid kit out of the conference room."
Rory nodded and headed there, axe in hand as Rutledge and Vidal moved quickly through the room and towards interrogation. Both men had their guns drawn and held low. Rutledge approached the door first, looking through the small window in the door. His eyes went wide, obscenities spewing forth as he swung the unlocked door open and barging in with his gun raised. Vidal followed closely behind him into the now empty room. Sure enough, the room had been untouched by the encroaching fog.
"Dammit! How the…" Rutledge kicked the chair over into the corner, "…how the hell did he get out of here?!"
Vidal poked his head out of the room, looking up and down the hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked down to see the floor, which gave him reason to pause. It was the first time he had seen the floor since he reentered the police station, and now that he was looking, he could see the fog slowly beginning to dissipate.
"What's going on?" Rutledge asked, barging over and almost knocking the younger officer down. He looked down at the floor and let out an exasperated sigh. "At least we can see our feet again."
They rounded the corner to the emergency exit and leaned into it, but it wouldn't budge. Rutledge pushed again but was getting nowhere. They returned to the main lobby.
"Carroll's gone!" Rutledge announced, looking specifically towards Dawn and Rory. "Either one of you know anything about it?"
"She's been with us for the past couple of hours." Karen said.
"That guy deserves to be locked up," Rory replied, shaking his head, "no way I'd help him escape. But that little junkie who works for him would."
It took a moment, but Rutledge buried his hands in his face. Jeff Trabor, the kid who was locked up downstairs and past them when they came upstairs, heading towards the emergency exit. With everything going on, he thought the kid was just freaked and wanting to get out of there. It was entirely possible he broke Will Carroll out of the interrogation room. Now the one person who might know about this attack was in the wind.
Just then, somewhere off the distance, they heard a siren. It wasn't like the ones on their cruisers or even ones that an ambulance or fire engine would make. To Rutledge, it sounded like one of those he heard when he was a kid, when every year or so they would have a drill and get underneath their desks. Like an air raid siren almost. The noise was gradually increasing in volume, giving the feeling that something was getting closer. One by one, fingers and hands went up to their ears. And then the group noticed that the walls were starting to peel.