The Darren-thing turned from Bill and reached down for Sam. Suddenly two gunshots rang out from somewhere in the building and distracted the beast’s attention: it recognized the sound of the thing that had caused its pain.
While the beast was temporarily distracted, Sam, despite being in tremendous pain, thought quickly and acted. He remembered James saying the beast had an injured ankle: the left one. Sam kicked out at the beast’s lower leg as hard as he could. His size thirteen boot connected on the beast’s injured ankle. The beast fell forward, landing right beside Sam.
Sam finally managed to roll on his back and get his pistol out.
The beast rebounded quickly, rising to all fours from its prone position.
As Sam brought the pistol across his chest, the beast lunged. It bit Sam on the neck, savagely ripping out his throat, windpipe, and all the major blood vessels.
Sam’s death throes caused him to fire his old.45 three times into the ceiling.
The video had just reached the part where the beast takes a bite out of Lana’s face when Chad heard something that sounded like a scuffle down the hall.
Chad Hudspeth certainly had his share of faults, but reacting slowly to threatening situations was not one of them. He immediately sprang from his chair, drew his pistol, and darted toward the door.
Before he reached the door to the hallway he heard a scream. His adrenaline surged, his grip tightened around his pistol. Chad threw open the door and burst into the hall, his pistol before him, ready for action.
The first thing he saw was Clara was running toward him screaming in terror.
Or was it Clara?
In Chad’s mind he saw the wicked looking beast walking right up to Lana Parish and ripping her apart. Was this Clara or was this the beast coming at him, ready to tear him apart?
Chad raised the gun and leveled it at her chest. “Stop!”
She kept coming, still shrieking at the top of her lungs.
Chad’s mind felt like it was going to explode. Although it was actually only a split second, it seemed like forever. Several pictures shot rapidly through his mind: The beast slashing into Mrs. Parish. Clara’s old, wrinkled, but always smiling face. The beast biting into Mrs. Parish’s face. The group picture of Clara’s thirteen grandchildren she kept on the wall of the dispatcher’s office. Mrs. Parish sliding dead from the beast’s grasp. Clara’s #1 Grandmother coffee cup. The beast as it prepared to pounce on Mrs. Parish’s cameraman.
Clara running at him screaming.
The beast.
He fired two rapid shots into her chest when she was within less than a foot from the end of his barrel. The hollow points reversed Clara’s forward momentum, sending her reeling backwards before she collapsed. Unmoving, she lay sprawled on her back in the middle of the hallway.
Up ahead Chad heard what sounded like more struggling coming from the dispatcher’s office. It began to sink that he had just shot Clara McClellan. He gazed down at Clara. Two bloody spots between her breasts marred her yellow sunflower blouse. Blood was pooling onto the floor from the unseen exit wounds in her back. Her mouth seemed to move once, then she was still, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling.
My God, what have I done?
A gasp, then a sob escaped from his lips. “Oh, no.”
Three shots rang out from the dispatcher’s office and Chad realized he had to pull himself together. The beast was still in the building. He advanced on down the hall, both hands gripping his pistol. His confidence shattered, his hands were now trembling furiously.
As he rounded the hall, he could see Bill in the far corner, laying on the floor with his back propped against the door leading to the booking room. Blood was all over the wall behind him and the floor below him, but his chest was moving. Bill was still alive. Sam was about halfway down the hallway, also slumped against the wall, his head to one side. Although Sam’s head was the other direction, but Chad could still see blood all over his face, and down the front of his uniform. Chad couldn’t determine if Sam was breathing or not.
Straight ahead Chad saw the second security door, which had been cracked open, slowly shut. He aimed at the door expecting it to swing open at any time.
“Who’s there!” Chad yelled
“Chad, is that you?” a voice, muffled from the multiple layers of steel came from the other side of the door.
“Yeah, come on out, slowly!” Chad said, advancing down the hall with his gun leveled at the door. He knew this probably wouldn’t work because the beast had proven itself to be far from stupid, and if Emilio or James was back there, they would more than likely think he was the beast, just as he had with Clara.
As he got halfway down the hall, he saw Bill’s arm slowly rise. Bill pointed at Sam.
Before Chad had time to realize what Bill was trying to tell him, a clawed hand ripped across his belly. Chad screamed and doubled over in pain. He looked down and saw his own guts hanging out of the horrible wound across his abdomen. The Sam-thing sprang up with remarkable agility. Still doubled over and still screaming, he spun on his heels and lurched for the door.
But the beast was on him before he made more than two steps. It landed on his back, sinking its teeth deep into the back of his neck. Chad quickly slipped into an unconscious state from which he would never awake.
The first thing James saw when he drifted to sleep was the front door of the Sheriff’s Department. The beast walked through the door, waved at Bill, and passed through the first security door.
Oh, God! Wake up!
It strolled down the hall toward the door to the dispatcher’s office and the second security door.
Wake up!
It reached for the doorknob to the dispatcher’s office.
James woke up. “It’s here,” he said, his voice drearily hushed as he came out of his sleep. He followed this weak statement with a loud cry, “It’s here!”
He got up and fumbled around in the dark for his pistol. The lights inside the cells were controlled from the dispatcher’s office. They kept the hall lights on and the cell lights off at night, so the only way for the current residents to control the amount of light in their rooms was how far open they kept the doors. And James’ door was shut. Only a minimal amount of light was peeking through the window set into the door.
James finally gave up his blind search and ran to the door, opening it for more light. Down the hall Emilio was also standing in the door to his cell. He was propped on the door’s edge without his crutches.
“What’s goin’ on?” Emilio asked
“That thing is here.”
Two gunshots suddenly rang out from somewhere in the building. It sounded as if the shots had come from just the other side of the unlocked security door that separated the cells from the rest of the building. Forgetting all about his pistol, he ran for the unlocked security door. Emilio limped along right behind him. James started to open the door, but Emilio stopped him
“Where’s your gun?” Emilio asked.
“It’s in my room.”
“Go back and get it. I’ll hold the door if that thing tries to get in.”
“Where’s your gun?”
“In the squad room. I left it in my desk,” Emilio said, leaning against the door.
James hesitated. “What if someone tries to get back here to get away from it?”
Emilio shook his head. “We can’t take that chance. Hurry and get your gun.”