Chapter 18: Chapter 1 8
Outside the sheriff's office, darkness engulfed the town in an eerie silence amidst the falling snow. The automatic generators roared to life, lighting up the room with a dim glow. Mark sat beside Stella, holding her hand and absentmindedly massaging it, his focus on Eben.
Mark observed Eben, visibly concerned, as he made the decision to check on Gus at the cell tower station. While rummaging through the drawers, he stumbled upon an unexpected item—a plastic bag containing pot. Perplexed, he turned to his brother, Jake, for an explanation. Jake clarified that it belonged to Helen; she used it to manage her cancer symptoms. Helen casually mentioned her small greenhouse inside the house, a secret she had kept from him to avoid any legal issues. All the while the stranger watched them silently.
Eben absorbed Helen's explanation, his eyes softening with understanding. He shook his head, choosing not to say anything more about it. He reminded her. "Stay on the walkie-talkie with me until the power's back." Helen nodded, while the Stranger grinned in expectation. He turned and headed outside, briefly glancing at Mark and Stella's closeness.
They watched him through the window, as he pulled out his gun and flashlight, preparing for the darkness outside. Later, they heard the engine of his vehicle starting, growing fainter as he drove away.
Mark heard a distant gunshot, but there was no telling where it came from. He noticed he's the only one who heard it. He squeezed Stella's hand and went outside to investigate.
In the darkness, he scanned the snow-covered area, his eyes gradually adjusting to the surroundings. He especially looked up at the roofs of each house, searching for any signs of movement. There was no one in sight. Mark lit a cigarette, his face briefly illuminated in the light. In the quiet darkness, he contemplated his next move, exhaling wisps of smoke into the cold night air. He took occasional sips from his thermos bottle, enjoying the warmth of the milked coffee.
He found a suitable spot to climb onto the station's roof, gaining a vantage point to better observe the surroundings. Using his Mosin-Nagant rifle's sight, he had acquired it from Andy's gun shop, he scanned the area, focusing on distant points to ensure he didn't miss any movement.
He noticed a group of people in the distance, huddling around a burn barrel. Seeing none of the sneaky vampires around, he jumped down from the roof.
Mark's fingers clicked the walkie-talkie button as he spoke.
"Hey, Billy, it's Mark," he said, his voice steady. "Stay safe in your house and arm yourself. There is a group of very dangerous people in town. If you can, gather your family and head to Lucy's diner. It's safer there. We'll join you soon."
Billy's voice crackled over the walkie-talkie, filled with concern. "What's happening, Mark? I just heard a gunshot."
After Mark explained the details, Billy accepted the information still a little sceptical though and said his goodbyes. A little later, with the door slightly opened, Mark heard Eben's voice crackle through the walkie-talkie from inside, informing Helen that they were being cut off.
**
'Attention, everyone! This is Sheriff Eben Oleson speaking! This is not a drill! Stay in your homes! Lock your doors! Load your firearms! I repeat, Barrow is under curfew!'
Inside his house, a man heard Eben's voice on a speaker growing fainter as he drove away. The man loaded his shotgun.
His window shatter, and a shadowy figure landed behind the table. Nervously, he aimed his shotgun at it while walking cautiously.
Suddenly, the man felt searing pain as his legs were slashed, and he screamed, collapsing to his knees. Stumbling, he managed to aim at the figure and shoot. The blast hit the side of the figure's face, sending it flying backward.
He looked at the thin, deathly pale man slumped on the floor, bleeding and unmoving. Setting his shotgun aside, he carefully checked his own wound. Distracted by his injury, he didn't notice the man on the floor quietly standing up, half of his face broken. In an instant, the pale man lunged at him, biting into his neck with a ferocious hunger.
He screamed in horror, desperately trying to fight back against the relentless attack. The pale man, with his razor-sharp teeth, didn't budge, his grip tightening on his victim's neck. He struggled, kicking his legs in all directions until his strength left him, his feet growing weaker as his blood continued to be drained. With a final death cry, he stilled, his body succumbing to the pale man's relentless assault.
Moments later, after the pale man finished draining the man's blood, he stood up. He sniffed the air, his eyes entirely black, scanning the surroundings as he looked outside the window. His face had already healed; the only trace left of his earlier wound was the bloodstains on half of his face.
**
Mark re-entered the station, finding them engrossed in a board game in tense silence. From inside the cell, the Stranger's voice slithered.
"No way out of town. No one is coming to help. You can feel it. That cold ain't the weather.. That's death approaching." he murmured, his whispers cutting through the silence.
Jake snapped, "Shut up!" but Helen, calmy said, "Ignore him, Jake."
The Stranger continued his words, "Who do you think they're gonna take first? The woman who thinks a man can help her? The kid... sheriff's kid? The old gal or the shithead?"
Mark's grin widened in amusement as he patted Stella's back reassuringly.
"Shut UP!" Jake snapped. In a fit of frustration, he hurled a game token at the Stranger. It dropped just outside the cell. Unfazed, the Stranger stared at it, a smug expression on his face. "Oh... yeah... thank you for the plastic," the Stranger said, eyeing the game token. "I can snap that apart and pick the lock." He grinned, teasing leading him on.
"No, you won't," Jake said.
Before Stella and Helen could stop him, Jake hurried toward the cell. However, Mark intervened just in time, pulling Jake back and preventing him from going further.
"Nice try," Mark said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "But I doubt a little 'plastic' will get you out of there. You're not as clever as you think."
Jake's face fell as he realized he had been duped. His embarrassment deepened, and he looked away.
Ignoring Mark, the Stranger sat on the edge of the cell bed, his eyes fixated on them. The room fell silent.
Suddenly, Eben burst inside the station, his eyes ablaze. He opened the cell and gripped the Stranger's collar, slamming him against the cell bars. The Stranger winced in pain as Eben cuffed his hands upward inside the cell, rendering him powerless.
Eben's expression was a mix of intense rage and sorrow, the shock of discovering Gus's fate still fresh in his mind.
"All right, time to talk. Where are they? Where are they?!" Eben's voice sliced through the air, demanding answers. After the second question, he landed a hard punch on the Stranger's jaw. The room reverberated with the impact.
The Stranger whimpered, pain evident in his eyes.
"Who did that to Gus?" Eben's tone sharpened.
"I don't talk to dead men," the Stranger muttered, whimpering.
"What are they?" Eben's uncertainty seeped into his voice.
"I don't talk to dead men," the Stranger whispered, before suddenly shouting, "I don't talk to dead men!" His words grew frantic, accompanied by foaming at the corners of his mouth.
Next to Mark, Stella, her voice filled with concern, asked, "What happened to Gus?"
Eben hesitated, unsure how to break the news. "Someone.. took him apart." He replied with a heavy sigh before continuing, "They pulled down the communication lines too."
"You're all dead!" The stranger shouted.
He checked the magazine in his pistol while Jake and Helen paced restlessly.
"If everyone followed curfew," he said, his eyes briefly glancing down at the stranger in the cell. "His friends won't have many places to hide. I'll find Billy, then we'll work our way from South Street toward the pipeline."
"I'll join you too." Stella added.
Mark looked thoughtful but remained silent. He had already marked her with the teleportation tattoo earlier in the alley so it's fine. He understood her decision, even if he didn't agree with it.
"I can handle it," Eben said, his tone resolute, denying her.
Stella looked Eben in the eyes. "Right now, you, me, and Billy are the authorities. It'd be stupid not to take more help. Whatever your faults, you're not stupid."
Eben knew she was right, but he didn't give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Instead, he turned his gaze to Helen, silently contemplating the situation.
"Do you need to go home? Take Jake with you," Eben suggested, considering Helen's well-being.
Helen reassured, "We've got the walkie-talkies, we'll be fine."
Eben kept watching her, making sure.
"We'll be fine," she emphasized once more.
Eben nodded in appreciation to Helen, then turned curtly to Stella.
"You drive, I'm riding shotgun," he instructed.
Stella swallowed her temptation to talk back as she watched Eben go outside. Mark, whispering with a grin, teased, "Where's my kiss goodbye?"
With an eye roll she said, "Later. Stay safe and wait for us here."
As she bid farewell to Helen and Jake, Mark efficiently retrieved his bag from the table and handed out two shotguns along with a box of shells to her. She was surprised by that but refrained from asking any questions due to the pressing urgency of the situation.
She thanked him and followed Eben outside.
Mark overheard Eben's question from outside.
"So you and Mark?"
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