Rest had brought with it no comfort; even as deep and withdrawn as his
dreams had been the restless mob had found him there. Kicking and
screaming, tearing at his body they had devoured him, glutting themselves
upon his flesh and then basking in their self-righteousness. Fat and proud,
drunk on their own arrogance, they looked liked cherubs wracked by tumorous
ill will.
One nightmare replaced another, for his eyes awoke to the continued confines of the rusty jail. Though now, a new tremor erupted from his core of sanity as the body was no longer there as the bloody smears leading to one of the other private rooms. Whether it dragged itself, or some scavenger of this blighted vision claimed it for itself, Jeremy did not care. Leaving whatever outcome alone in the room, Jeremy exited into the hallway.
Being unfamiliar with the greater part of the police headquarters layout, Jeremy was glad to see a sign. Though dented with bullet impacts and a dirty red tinge, it still pointed down the hall with the word 'garage' written on it. A few doors lined the hallway while the door apparently leading to the garage sat at the end. Escaping this place in any manner possible seemed like a reasonable goal to Jeremy at this point, and a car would certainly aid him the task.
Unfortunately, after walking to the door and testing it, the door seemed to be bolted shut from the inside. Daunted Jeremy debated whether or not to blast the door open with a couple of shots. Deciding at last to not waste the bullets or the chance that something else might find him by the noise, he began to check the doors. All but one door was locked, and on entering he gagged.
The dispatch room was stepped and lined with scaled down workstations, but that could barely be determined from the carnage. Everything was scattered, papers sticky with fluids covered the floor, the desks looked burned and scarred while the computers all seemed to have some component smashed. Two bodily shapes occupied the room as well. Hanging from the ceiling beams was a large bundled form, covered completely in strands of curled phone cord; a puddle was forming beneath it, though Jeremy thought for a moment that it twitched. The other body was at one point a female officer, though now, she was sick extension of the oversize city map. Scars and rivulets of blood were designed so as to follow the curving lines of the city streets, and the body was stapled to the wall with wood staples. The flesh was slowly pulling away from the body and it looked as if any moment the body inside might just slip out of its overstretched skin. Something. Something flickered then; a desk lamp bravely shined in one of the rooms corners. Cautiously Jeremy approached the desk. A few clips capable of fitting his pistol rested off to the side of a note. It was from the Sheriff to the dispatcher who must have sat at this desk.
To: Deputy Gregory
About: W.C.
Destroy this note once you're finished
reading it Gregory.
Keep an eye on Deputies White, Smith, Gonzales
and Heinz. These are the most likely suspects in the
smuggling. Two or more are involved with the drug
ring pushing W.C.
Report any unusual locations their vehicles stop
at to me. Check their vehicles after their shifts. We'll
take no further action until we can collect further
evidence.
I know I don't have to tell you this, but be
careful.
Attached to the note was a small photograph of a plant with the caption 'W.C.' on it.
Thud.
Jeremy swung around. Only a fleshy coat hung against the map now. Recovering quickly, he realized his arm had swung the gun up almost immediately at the sound. Perhaps he was even more on edge than he had thought. A pacifist all his life and now resolutely waving a gun around, it seemed to him almost as horrible as the world he was now exploring.
A sound akin to a mucus-y yawn interrupting a moan gurgled from around the map area. Leveling his gun at the sight of the noise, Jeremy waited. Something's meaty head slowly rose, swinging with a broken neck and pulped muscle, it made a difficult target. Once its chest was visible Jeremy let loose three rounds. Rupturing the aged muscle seemed to do nothing more than make a sound like punching into ground meat. Only on the fourth short did it stumble and slump backwards.
Jeremy hustled it into the adjacent room.
It was a small room with only a door on the opposite side and a payphone in the center. No furniture or much grime, only a swinging overhead light and some aged concrete and steel walls. Examining the phone revealed that the phone was cut from the main box, but that didn't stop it from ringing only a few moments after he first laid eyes upon it.
"Hello?" Jeremy asked cautiously, nervous as to what sort of things might assault his ear.
Static.
Then quiet. A sound. The sounds of a busy dispatch room, then police sirens, gunfire, then such a sound as to carve itself upon his mind. The dragging of such a weight of metal along the ground that the ground itself might buckle coupled with footsteps that could cut through any silence.
A panicked but whispering voice chanted "The red devil; he's coming to get me. The red devil; he's coming to get me," before fading into static.
The static continued even as Jeremy brought the receiver down from his ear. What was all that he wondered? Red devil? That scraping metal sound?
The static continued.
One nightmare replaced another, for his eyes awoke to the continued confines of the rusty jail. Though now, a new tremor erupted from his core of sanity as the body was no longer there as the bloody smears leading to one of the other private rooms. Whether it dragged itself, or some scavenger of this blighted vision claimed it for itself, Jeremy did not care. Leaving whatever outcome alone in the room, Jeremy exited into the hallway.
Being unfamiliar with the greater part of the police headquarters layout, Jeremy was glad to see a sign. Though dented with bullet impacts and a dirty red tinge, it still pointed down the hall with the word 'garage' written on it. A few doors lined the hallway while the door apparently leading to the garage sat at the end. Escaping this place in any manner possible seemed like a reasonable goal to Jeremy at this point, and a car would certainly aid him the task.
Unfortunately, after walking to the door and testing it, the door seemed to be bolted shut from the inside. Daunted Jeremy debated whether or not to blast the door open with a couple of shots. Deciding at last to not waste the bullets or the chance that something else might find him by the noise, he began to check the doors. All but one door was locked, and on entering he gagged.
The dispatch room was stepped and lined with scaled down workstations, but that could barely be determined from the carnage. Everything was scattered, papers sticky with fluids covered the floor, the desks looked burned and scarred while the computers all seemed to have some component smashed. Two bodily shapes occupied the room as well. Hanging from the ceiling beams was a large bundled form, covered completely in strands of curled phone cord; a puddle was forming beneath it, though Jeremy thought for a moment that it twitched. The other body was at one point a female officer, though now, she was sick extension of the oversize city map. Scars and rivulets of blood were designed so as to follow the curving lines of the city streets, and the body was stapled to the wall with wood staples. The flesh was slowly pulling away from the body and it looked as if any moment the body inside might just slip out of its overstretched skin. Something. Something flickered then; a desk lamp bravely shined in one of the rooms corners. Cautiously Jeremy approached the desk. A few clips capable of fitting his pistol rested off to the side of a note. It was from the Sheriff to the dispatcher who must have sat at this desk.
To: Deputy Gregory
About: W.C.
Destroy this note once you're finished
reading it Gregory.
Keep an eye on Deputies White, Smith, Gonzales
and Heinz. These are the most likely suspects in the
smuggling. Two or more are involved with the drug
ring pushing W.C.
Report any unusual locations their vehicles stop
at to me. Check their vehicles after their shifts. We'll
take no further action until we can collect further
evidence.
I know I don't have to tell you this, but be
careful.
Attached to the note was a small photograph of a plant with the caption 'W.C.' on it.
Thud.
Jeremy swung around. Only a fleshy coat hung against the map now. Recovering quickly, he realized his arm had swung the gun up almost immediately at the sound. Perhaps he was even more on edge than he had thought. A pacifist all his life and now resolutely waving a gun around, it seemed to him almost as horrible as the world he was now exploring.
A sound akin to a mucus-y yawn interrupting a moan gurgled from around the map area. Leveling his gun at the sight of the noise, Jeremy waited. Something's meaty head slowly rose, swinging with a broken neck and pulped muscle, it made a difficult target. Once its chest was visible Jeremy let loose three rounds. Rupturing the aged muscle seemed to do nothing more than make a sound like punching into ground meat. Only on the fourth short did it stumble and slump backwards.
Jeremy hustled it into the adjacent room.
It was a small room with only a door on the opposite side and a payphone in the center. No furniture or much grime, only a swinging overhead light and some aged concrete and steel walls. Examining the phone revealed that the phone was cut from the main box, but that didn't stop it from ringing only a few moments after he first laid eyes upon it.
"Hello?" Jeremy asked cautiously, nervous as to what sort of things might assault his ear.
Static.
Then quiet. A sound. The sounds of a busy dispatch room, then police sirens, gunfire, then such a sound as to carve itself upon his mind. The dragging of such a weight of metal along the ground that the ground itself might buckle coupled with footsteps that could cut through any silence.
A panicked but whispering voice chanted "The red devil; he's coming to get me. The red devil; he's coming to get me," before fading into static.
The static continued even as Jeremy brought the receiver down from his ear. What was all that he wondered? Red devil? That scraping metal sound?
The static continued.