Crimson Falls (The Depravity Chronicles) (19 page)

“But I can’t see
anything,” Tim said.

As they looked
around them, a sizeable splash caught their attention about ten yards ahead of
them. They crept toward the sound. Tim saw something large lying in the water.
He didn’t want to believe it, but he felt sure it was Lionel’s body. As the
group stood over the body, Tim realized it wasn’t Lionel. The body was lying
face down, so no one was able to identify it.

“I’m going to
see if he’s alive,” Tim said, leaning down. He reached toward the body and
gently pushed it. “Can you hear me?” He felt foolish talking to a body he
instinctively knew was dead. But he didn’t want to simply turn it over just in
case the person wasn’t dead. “Are you conscious?”

No response.

“I’m going to
turn the body over,” Tim said. As he did, he almost retched. The body was
decomposing. Small, slimy bugs crawled from the mouth and nostrils.

“Jesus,”
Geraldine said.

The body was
unrecognizable. From the facial structure and torn dress shirt and slacks, Tim
knew it was a man. But he had been dead for several months, if not more.

“
HELP!
”
Lionel screamed. The sound seemed to come from above them. Tim looked up, and
sure enough there was a large hole overhead.

“That must be
where the body fell from,” Tim said as he shined his light above their heads.
Tim jerked his flashlight and shined it in front of him when they heard the
sound of someone running in the water not far from them. A dark shadow stood
not twenty feet from them.

Thud!

Thud!

The sound was
coming from above them, near the perimeter of the hole from where the corpse
was dropped.

Splash!

Splash!

The dark shadow
in front of them sprinted past them, knocking Aaron down.

“Ugh!” he
mumbled, standing up and rubbing his behind. “That bastard is fast.”

“So if he’s down
here with us, then who’s up there?” Geraldine asked, taking turns flashing her
light into the hole above them and into the dark behind them.

“HELP ME!”
Lionel screamed.
This time his voice came from above them.

“HELP ME!”
And now the
voice was behind them.

Tim’s flashlight
began to lose power, followed by Geraldine’s.

“Oh, you’ve got
to be joking,” Tim said. “This seriously cannot be happening. I just changed
these batteries!” He felt like he was trapped in a dream, or some Hollywood
movie. He almost laughed to himself when he expected Ashton Kutcher to jump
down from above and tell him he had been Punk'd. He shook his head, as if the
madness would seep out of his ears and into the wine water flowing over his
boots.

Thud!

Thud!

Splash!

Splash!

“HELP ME!”

“Lionel!” Aaron
shrieked. “Where are you? We can’t find you!”

Ralph began
shaking his flashlight. Although it didn’t die completely, it didn’t have much
juice left. “We need to get back to the house,” Ralph said as he continued to
shake it. “We’re gonna be stuck in the dark and I don’t want to be down here
when these blasted lights go out.”

From above their
heads, someone started to laugh. Tim shivered at the sinister tone. It sounded
like Lionel. Without warning, the shadow reappeared behind them. It was
blocking their path back to the cellar. It stood motionless, except for the
occasional heaves from its heavy, raspy breathing. Tim could hear it even over
the running water.

“Get ready to
shoot,” Tim whispered. The shadow must have heard him because it sprinted
toward them. In less than time than it took him to blink, it was standing in
front of them.

“Jesus!”
Geraldine shrieked as she came face to face with the shadow. She tried to raise
her gun but it knocked her down. Tim didn’t even see its arms move when it
shoved her. He drew his gun and fired, but all he hit was the wooden beam. He
felt breath on his neck and smelled a terrible stench. Another gunshot fired,
this time from Ralph, and he too missed the target.

“We need to get
out of here,” Tim said. “Now, on my count, we put our backs together and begin
moving toward the ladder. Make sure you have your guns drawn.”

“It’s too fast,”
Geraldine breathed.

“Do you suggest
we stay down here?” Tim asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Back to back,
now!” The foursome walked in unison toward the ladder, with Ralph’s light
shining toward the ladder and Aaron’s behind them. When they reached the
ladder, Ralph was the first to climb into the cellar. He shined his light around
the room to make sure it was clear.

“All clear!”
Ralph said as he reached the top. He reached his hand down to grasp Geraldine’s
forearm. Tim took the flashlight from Aaron and nodded at him to go up the
ladder. Once the third rung was free for him to begin climbing, Tim put his
hands on it. He looked forward and the shadow was staring at him from the other
side of the ladder. All strength seemed to flee his body and he felt a cold
chill travel down his spine. Tim was sure he was about to die. He shined the
light in the shadow’s face, but the shadow flicked the flashlight from his
hands. It abruptly ran into the darkness, leaving Tim standing on the ladder
and breathing heavily.

“Give me your
hands!” Aaron and Ralph screamed, their arms reaching toward him. Tim lifted
his arms and they pulled him up into the cellar.

“Did you see it,
too?” Geraldine asked.

“Yeah, but now’s
not the time to talk about it,” Tim said.

“But what about
Lionel?” Aaron shouted. He began to climb back down the ladder.

“You can’t go
back down there!” Tim yelled.

“But Lionel!”

“He’s gone!” Tim
yelled as he pulled Aaron back up and shook him. He looked Aaron in the eyes
and spoke calmly and soothingly. “He’s gone, Aaron. He’s gone. If we’re going
to save him then we need to get backup, or else we’re all going to be dead.”

“He can’t be
gone,” Aaron said, almost sobbing. “He’s still alive, just like Michael. We
heard him screaming!”

“If he’s alive,
then we’ll find him. But we cannot find him without more backup and a shitload
more weapons,” Tim insisted. He knew Aaron and Lionel had become like brothers.
As much as he could understand Aaron’s argument, the fact remained that if they
went down into that drain the chances were good that none of them would come
back.

Once Aaron had
calmed down enough to stand, they made their way back up the stairs and into
the kitchen.

Thud!

Lionel screamed
in the distance.

Thud!

“You couldn’t
pay me to go back down those stairs,” Geraldine said, laughing nervously. “Not
when that
thing
is down there waiting for us.”

“What are we
going to do now?” Aaron asked. Everyone looked to Tim for an answer.

Tim took a deep
breath and slowly exhaled. “We call Sheriff Blackwood and tell her we’re coming
to the station. We need to regroup and put together a search party. A heavily
armed search party. Even civilians would be helpful at this point. We just
don’t have the manpower to handle this. That’s Lionel’s only chance of
survival.” Geraldine nodded, followed by Ralph and Aaron.

“We’ll take my
cruiser,” Geraldine offered. She removed her gun from its holster and walked
toward the side door. She stayed at the top of the stairs and covered everyone
as they made their way cautiously toward the cruiser. Geraldine was the
sharpshooter of the group, with consistent, pinpoint precision. Once in the
Explorer everyone heaved a collective sigh of relief.

“We’re not out
of the woods yet,” Tim reminded them. He didn’t begin to feel safe until they
had pulled out of the driveway and onto the main road that led to the station.
Since he sat in the back, he told Aaron to call Janet and let her know they
were on their way to the station.

“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.