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Chapter 12 - When the Fairy Tale Ends
🕑 Added 2024-09-08 14:27:44 +0000 UTCIt felt like madmen were lurking behind every tree, in every bush. The feeling made Cass jumpy, causing her to flinch at every shadow that wavered under the headlights of the police cruiser. The situation was hardly helped by the fact that Mark had remained dead silent ever since leaving the old farmhouse, uttering not a word when Cass had removed the alien and shoved it in a haystack, or when she’d almost shut her foot in the car door. He didn’t seem angry… just tired. Cass couldn’t blame him
She was tired too. She kept seeing the dead man in the corner of her eyes. Not only that, but Cass had noticed a faint ringing in her ears. It was nothing major, and for the longest time she thought it was just a figment of her own imagination. But when their surroundings were this silent, the sound could no longer be ignored. Cass, unfortunately, knew precisely what had caused it. She was lucky to get away with only a little bit of ear-ringing after being in a gunfight in such an enclosed space like the police station.
Those thoughts and the ringing in her ears consumed Cass’s mind. It was like her head was a ship caught in an inescapable whirlpool in the middle of the ocean. Swirling over and over again in the same waters. The dead man in the station. The ringing in her ears. Worry over her dad.
“Hey Mark,” Cass suddenly spoke, her voice breaking through the almost claustrophobic silence of the police car and causing Mark to give a startled jump in his seat. “Why did you come back from college early?”
Mark stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights.
“… What?”
“You came back early from college. Why? Did you really ace school like everyone is saying, or did you just get bored and skip?” Cass idly repeated her question. It wasn’t anything urgent, nothing but a topic to lift her mind out of the whirlpool for a few minutes.
No one answered her. Cass diverted her eyes from the road to glance at Mark for a few seconds before turning her attention back to the gravel road. The early evening sun drew the shadows from the trees across the road, but there was still just enough light to see by.
He looked empty now. Silent and empty. From the brief glance Cass took, a feeling had even welled up that if she took her finger to poke him in the side, it would just go right through him like she was prodding a ghost.
“Oh, Ted’s out grilling.” Mark suddenly spoke, pointing toward a jolly-looking man standing in front of a run-down house. His cheeks were ruddy, sunburned, and wind-beaten, and the smell of whatever he was grilling made her stomach cry out piteously. Cass blinked in surprise. Even though she was the one driving, their arrival in the city limits was a surprise. Perhaps… her mind was a bit more distracted than was healthy.
“Smells good.” Cass smiled. She waved at the man, who shouted a ‘Heya!’ back that was only partially understandable through the closed car windows. Mark closed his eyes, appearing to drink in the scents of burgers and bratwurst sizzling on the smokey grill. Not only was the smell delicious, but the fact that they’d just passed Ted’s house was a sign her house was about a block or two away.
The neighborhood was seemingly unchanged. That realization sank into her stomach as an utter oddity. The world felt so different now, but the place Cass grew up in remained the same. Ted still grilled in his front yard after work. Norry, the widow down the street, still looked to keep to her same routine of weeding her garden around the same time every evening. She was out there now, working away at keeping her pet project looking as immaculate as always. Joe from next door walked past the slowed police car, his attempts to prevent his dog from eating a pile of cat poop on the side of the road keeping him from noticing Cass’s borrowed vehicle rumbling by.
Then they reached the end. Cass’s house, the back of her dad’s car poking out from the open garage, left haphazardly in place.
She parked the cruiser and glanced at Mark, who looked at her in turn.
“Well.”
“Well.” Mark replied, looking unsure.
“I’m going inside. You should come, too.”
Mark nodded. He silently opened the car door while Cass did the same, stepping out into the driveway. Outside of the car, the evening air was cool, a slight breeze that ran against Cass's face like a cool hand caressing her brow. Even from here she could still smell the burgers from Ted’s grill. She could hear the exasperated shouting from Joe’s direction. Cass smiled slightly. It seemed his dog managed to eat that poop after all.
“Cass.” A strained voice greeted them. Cass turned her head to look at the door, seeing her dad standing in it with the screen door popped open. “Why don’t you two come in?”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Cass sat on the couch in the living room, with Mark next to her like some silent guardian statue. Her dad sat opposite on a chair with his feet resting against the coffee table in the middle. His ginger hair was ragged, and bags hung low under his eyes. A clear indication of a lack of sleep.
“I’m glad you two are safe.” Chief Thomson eventually said, shooting them both a tired smile. “Mark… you’re looking better.”
But before Cass could launch into what they thought the alien had done, Chief Thomson held up his hand to stop them.
“I’m certain the story is strange, but another time. Cass, I’m happy to see you, but it was plain stupid to come here. The situation is bad. I want you and Mark to go back out to wherever you were hiding. Don't!" Her dad raised his voice to stop Cass from interrupting and then continued. "Don't tell me where you're going. Just go, hide there for at least two – no, three weeks. I have some sandwiches in the fridge, but take my hunting rifle just in case you have to catch some food. Leave. Now. I can’t have you involved. Dangerous men are walking about.”
Cass stood up to protest, but once more before she could get a word out edgewise, Chief Thomson shot to his feet. His eyes weren’t on her, but instead on the window. The blinds were closed. There was no way to see out, or in. Yet, as she took a step back in alarm of her dad’s behavior, Cass’s ears picked up the crunch of gravel. A car was being parked in the driveway.
“Rifle, sandwiches, go out the back!” Chief Thomson barked out the orders, leaving absolutely no room for an argument.
This time Cass didn’t try to speak. Whoever was coming, her dad was worried, maybe even scared. She didn’t know if he was scared of whoever was in the car, or what would happen if they were seen together.
She didn’t want to find out. If her dad wanted them gone, they would go.
Beside her, Mark tugged her arm.
“Come on.” He whispered. “Your dad’s fine. Mostly. You get the rifle; I’ll get the food. We take the back door and hide ‘till the coast is clear.”
“Yeah.” Cass shook her head and ran for her dad’s office while Mark legged it for the kitchen.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Mr. Moon parked his car right behind the police cruiser in Chief Thomson’s driveway. There wasn’t much room to work around. Not with the Chief’s car in the garage and the police cruiser haphazardly parked in the driveway.
Dag stretched, heaving himself out of the car and walking over to the curb for a quick smoke. Meanwhile, Mr. Moon headed for the house. The door opened, Chief Thomson standing in the center of the doorway with a questioning look on his face.
Mr. Moon shook his head.
“Still nothing. Have any of your men radioed in?”
Chief Thomson continued to stand in the doorway, his eyes roving around the surroundings. First they rested on Mr. Moon, then watched Dag light up his cigarette, onto a bird flying overhead, before finally falling back on Mr. Moon. He almost looked like he was silently considering something. But what?
“Nothing.” The chief eventually replied. “Quiet as a grave.”
“I see.”
The two men continued to stand where they were. Mr. Moon on the porch, Chief Thomson in the doorway. Mr. Moon tilted his head.
“Should we begin discussing patrol routes for tomorrow?”
Another moment passed, and then as if nothing had happened, the chief stepped aside to let him in.
“Yeah. My officers should be filtering back in soon, but we don’t need to wait for them.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Cass’s blood felt like ice in her veins. She was in her dad’s office, just having removed his hunting rifle from where it was hanging on the wall, when the man came to the door. She could clearly tell her dad was stalling him.
Any moment he could walk in.
Cass’s hands scrabbled through the drawers in the desk in the middle of the room, searching for the boxes of ammo she knew were around somewhere. Anything .30-06 would work for the old Winchester rifle. Soon enough they brushed against a cardboard box, which Cass pulled out and dumped in the pockets of her windbreaker. Mission accomplished; she scooted out the door to the kitchen just in time to encounter Mark with a bunch of sandwiches in his hands…
And for her dad to let the man in.
Cass and Mark froze. They were out of sight of anyone from the living room for now, but if the man went further in, he might see them. The back door was still a hallway away. If they went for it they would be seen. Normally Cass wouldn’t care. This was her house. She lived here with her dad.
However, there was something about her dad’s tone that made her disregard that option. He was worried, utterly unwilling to have her even tangentially involved in this mess. Furthermore, he’d stalled the man from immediately entering the house. He wanted to give time for Cass and Mark to escape. He didn’t want them to be seen.
Right. Pantry it was. If her dad didn’t want them seen, they could hide until the man left, or make a break for it if they went into the office to talk.
Cass shooed Mark into the small walk-in pantry near the back of the kitchen. It was no larger than a small hall closet, enough for some shelves and a little room to walk in. With two people inside it, the pantry was quite cozy. Cass inched the door closed so it wouldn’t creak, and left it cracked open less than an inch since it would make some sound when fully closing shut. That action was just in time, as when Cass peeked through the crack, a man in a suit walked into the part of the living room that was visible from the kitchen.
He was tall, slim but not skinny. The man almost resembled a lithe feline predator given human form and shoved in a business suit. He was no muscleman, but there was clear energy packed in his frame. Truly, the blond-haired man oozed the vibes of some no-nonsense government agent. The only part of his ensemble defying that aura of grim authority was a striped blue tie hanging around his neck, like a bluebird settled on top of a pile of charcoal.
Another man soon followed, somehow even more of a giant than Mark was. He had to be… at least a good six, maybe six and a half feet tall? The second man was built like a tank, but also wore a charcoal black business suit like his companion. His fists were like meaty boulders, his arms like telephone poles, his muscles poking out from under his suit like thick cables running down his arms. Several brutal scars ran up and down his face, hinting at untold stories of battles fought and won.
“Starsky and Hutch, if Starsky was on steroids and Hutch was dead inside.” Mark whispered. Cass punched him in the shoulder so he would shut up. Even at first glance, she was beginning to understand fully why her dad didn’t want them involved. The first man… her mind raced, and without the benefit of knowing his real name, she mentally tagged the title ‘Blue Tie’ to his face. The other man earned the nickname ‘Steroids’.
Blue Tie, though he was dwarfed in size by Steroids, there was something about the way he carried himself. It didn’t just unnerve her, it downright freaked Cass out. It was as if his eyes were empty, hinting at a man who cared little about anything other than completing whatever task he was on at the moment.
She inched her face closer to the crack in the door.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Mr. Moon’s eyes ran over the living room, glanced into the kitchen, and then settled on a window that looked out into the front yard. The house was empty aside from the three men in the living room. He brushed aside the curtains to study the yard. The sun, hanging low in the sky, covered the world in its soft warm hues.
There was nothing abnormal outside. It was a perfect picture of small-town life in the suburbs. Mr. Moon turned away, glancing at one of the pictures hanging on the wall. Unlike the other bare handful of pictures on display, this one showed a girl in her late teens, with bright ginger hair swept up behind her head in a simple ponytail. Her smile was full of kindness and warmth, the sort that felt like it was radiating out from even the picture itself. Her hands displayed a double thumbs up from where the girl leaned against a pale blue car. It was Rambler, from the look of it. Similar to the one left outside the station. Well, Ramblers were somewhat popular.
“Your daughter?” Dag offhandedly guessed, his eyes tracing Mr. Moon’s sight and landing on the picture.
“Yes. My daughter Cass. Mr. Moon, you were saying something about patrol routes?” Chief Thomson said.
Mr. Moon turned his attention back to the matter at hand.
“Patrol routes.” He began, moving over to sit on a chair adjacent to the coffee table. “What we have now should be changed up. Different times for different streets. It may provide nothing of substance, or it may keep the Russians on their toes. Additionally, I would like you to announce a curfew, while prioritizing all citizens to follow a ‘flee and report’ approach to any suspicious individuals.”
Chief Thomson’s mustache twitched.
“What we need is a posse. The longer those animals stay in my town, the more people are bound to get hurt. I don’t have enough officers to fully flush them out. We need numbers. We need more men with guns.”
"What we don't need is untrained civilians coming in the line of fire." Mr. Moon countered, his tone soft and smooth, but with steel underlying it.
“That’s why we ask for volunteers. The department has a list of men in the town who know how to use a gun and are willing to help if push comes to shove. We temporarily deputize them, which gives us more guns and people that know the lay of the town.”
“Still civilians.” Dag grunted.
“What?” Chief Thomson stood and began to pace, his arms held wide in exasperation. “I understand what you gentlemen are concerned about, but those men are already cop killers. It’s only a matter of time before civilians get caught up! I keep expecting someone to radio in with that exact message! I wish there was any other way, but we simply don’t have the manpower to do this. With a posse of volunteers we can try and clear this up before the inevitable happens. Or maybe you can use those Federal badges of yours to commandeer men from nearby jurisdictions. Maybe where they ignore me, they’d listen to you. Either one works for me.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Cass pressed herself as close to the door as she could without running the risk of moving it. Her dad and Blue Tie were arguing over something. It was bad enough that her dad's voice was even starting to rise in volume. Meanwhile, Blue Tie remained as cool as a cucumber. Steroids hardly moved during it all. Not even to talk, though when he did, rumbling tones like rocks sliding down a mountain spilled out of his mouth.
Just what was….
Cass’s eyes widened. Her dad’s face came into view. He was still in the living room, but was walking over to the phone near the entrance to the kitchen.
“No. Enough is enough.” She heard her dad say as he walked. “If they weren’t proven murderers, I would be willing to play the long game on this. But they are, so my responsibility is to take them out before another killing spree happens. We don’t have time for a search and stakeout job. With my authority as the Chief of Police, I am calling together a posse. Drag me through the courts after. I don’t care.”
Blue Tie followed her dad up to the phone. His body was partially masked from Cass’s sight by her dad’s form.
“Is there no way I can convince you otherwise?”
Her dad paused, half-turning to look back at Blue Tie.
“No.” Chief Thomson said, his voice firm and unyielding. “The posse must be called. I wish there was another way, but I just don’t see one.”
Cass’s dad focused on the phone. He picked up the receiver and began to dial. His shoulder moved slightly, enough so that Cass could see more of Blue Tie than she could before. Blue Tie’s face was cold, his eyes empty.
“So be it.”
Blue Tie's right hand rose, dipping out of sight under his suit jacket. Cloth rustled. Chief Thomson dialed another number.
The next moment was over in a flash before Cass could even scream. Her dad’s body, Chief Thomson’s body, fell to the floor in a spray of blood that coated the surroundings. Blue Tie stood over him, a gun in his hand.
“Ah…” Cass’s mouth opened, but before she could make any more noise, Mark’s hand clamped tightly over her mouth.
“Dag. Search upstairs. I’ll take the main floor.” Blue Tie spoke to Steroids in quiet tones Cass could barely understand over the incessant ringing in her ears. It was far worse than it had been before.
Even though he’d just murdered a man, Blue Tie’s voice was rock-steady, calm to the point that a very distant part of Cass’s head, the part floating around in her mind that hadn’t quite processed the situation yet, wondered if this was a daily occurrence to him. Like buying milk at the store.
Then it hit her. Why would those two men, Blue Tie and… Dag, if that was Steroid’s real name, bother searching the house?
Why indeed.
Well, it was obvious. Cass had left the ‘borrowed’ police car out on the driveway. They thought there might be another officer in the house. A cowardly murderer like Blue Tie wouldn’t want witnesses.
Any further pondering on that subject was immediately drowned out by an unending wellspring of pure rage and grief that roared through Cass’s body. She began to struggle against Mark’s grip as Blue Tie’s form disappeared back into the main part of the living room, out of sight once more.
“Hey. Hey!” Mark furiously whispered in her ear. Mark’s words were so quiet that even though his mouth was right next to her ear, Cass could barely understand him.
"Cass." Mark whispered one last time, hands still securely wrapped around her arms and mouth. “I know. But they have guns. We have one hunting rifle. If we go out there we die.”
Cass threw every last drop of strength her body possessed to fight like a demon in an attempt to get free from his grasp, but it was useless no matter how she raged or squirmed. Mark was a football player twice her size. She’d seen him drunkenly dent metal with his fists and pick up grown men to toss like a pizza over his head as a prank. Her body sagged, the worst of the rage draining away to a low simmer consumed by a larger ocean of sorrow. Her dad was dead. Murdered right in front of her. His blood was covering the wall like a new coat of paint. And Cass couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
“Fine.” Cass hoarsely whispered once Mark removed his hand. “We can sneak out the back. But if that bastard sees us, I’m going to damn well kill him.”
Mark flinched and moved away, at least as much away as he could in the close confines of the pantry. On some level, Cass was able to recognize how scared and subdued the man was. How unnatural it was for Mark to constantly act like that. On some level that still caused a sense of pity for him. A sense that told her to get the poor guy out of here. But that was almost completely drowned out by the rest of her brain shouting to decorate the walls with Blue Tie’s brains.
Cass positioned her body in a better position to see out the crack in the door. The hallway leading to the back door was out of sight from the pantry. There was no one in the kitchen. Nor were there any visible people in the part of the living room she could see. Not other than…
Cass’s eyes hardened. She thumbed the bolt of the hunting rifle, easing it open to deposit a cartridge in the opening, and then easing it back. The metal rod shut with a ‘snick’ that sent a shiver of angry satisfaction down her spine. The rifle was a Winchester Model 70. Mainly used for hunting, but what the bolt-action rifle could do to a deer… it could also do to a person. At the range she would be at inside the house, Cass wouldn’t even need to use the scope. More than that, the revolver still sat heavy in the pocket of her pajama pants. While one hand held the rifle steady, her other hand dipped into her pocket, raising the handgun carefully and silently into the air.
She almost hoped Blue Tie would find them.
------
And now we see how serious Mr. Moon is with his task, keeping the balancing act of finding the alien and managing the number of people likely to discover its existence to something that can be handled by his team. However, with Cass and Mark witnessing the cold-blooded execution, perhaps this will make his task a bit more difficult than it already is. The question remains - will they escape Cass's house alive? Cass, of course, wars between her kind nature and the understandable rage at seeing her dad executed before her eyes. Meanwhile, the bodies are still cooling from Jack's rampage at the gas station.
As always, huge thanks to patreons, ninja editors, and all you lovely readers. Let's all keep trucking along!
Peace
