Why don’t I attack them?
The man before me is tall, six foot two, and weighs one-seventy-five. According to his license, that is.
Maybe I’m startled…wounded from taking down this guy? So I run. Where do I go? I look around and my eyes land on a creek bed that’s been dry until tonight. It goes under a bridge and into a wooded walking area.
I’d go there. Hang back, and watch them discover the body, get enjoyment out of the shock and horror, maybe. Then I notice several pieces of bent grass and I know the perp went this way. Chances are he’s long gone by now, unless he’s one of those really fucked up psychos who gets off watching law enforcement inspect his handiwork. Though if he was jerking off as he watched us work, at least he’d leave evidence behind.
The rain has slowed to a fine mist, and the clouds are thinning. I carefully pick my way through the grass, moving next to what I think could be a trail and trying not to disturb potential evidence. I get to the bridge and notice footprints.
I click on my flashlight and bend down. The prints look fresh in the mud.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter, and stand, ready to call to Tiffany to come over and get photos. Before I open my mouth to get the words out, something moves through the trees just feet from me.
My hand goes to my gun and I swiftly move off the bridge, emerging into the forest. The light doesn’t reach beyond the trees, and mud squishes beneath my feet. I exhale, breath clouding around me, and wait.
The woods are riddled with deer. There’s a good chance that’s all it was. But there’s an even better chance it wasn’t. Adrenaline surges through me and I look around, scanning every inch of visible forest. I like the chase and find thrill in hunting down the bad guys.
Because I always win.
Twigs snap yards from me, and a dark shape jumps from the shadows.
“Police,” I order, raising my gun. “Freeze!”
The fucker takes off, and so do I, chasing him deeper into the woods, boots splashing in muddy puddles. I leave the path, holding out a hand in front of me to keep low-hanging branches from scratching my face.
I come to a sudden stop at the top of a ravine. It goes down sharply at least twenty feet, only to rise up again in an even steeper incline. The bottom is filled with a few inches of rainwater.
Holding my flashlight and gun out, I whirl around. The forest is silent, save for my beating heart. I take a deep breath, fill my lungs with air, and exhale slowly. Everything is silent.
Too silent.
I spin around, looking at my surroundings. Where did he go? Keeping the gun in my right hand, I lower my left and reach for the walkie I always wear on my belt when investigating crime scenes. I know he came out here, and I need to call for backup.
My fingers close around the walkie, but I never pull it from my belt. Something jumps down from the tree above me, red eyes glowing like embers in the night. It opens its mouth, letting out a low growl. Thick, yellow saliva drips from a row of sharp, jagged teeth.
My heart leaps in my chest, and I stand there, stunned, like a deer in headlights. And then another comes down behind me, hitting me square in the back. I pitch forward, and my gun and flashlight fall from my hands, sliding down into the ravine.
The thing in front of me growls again and then lunges forward. I duck and avoid being hit. Instead, I tumble down the incline and into darkness.
5
My body tumbles down, gaining speed and then coming to a harsh stop at the bottom of the ravine. Cold water seeps through my clothes, but I don’t have time to stop and think about it. I scramble up, looking at the top of the ravine.
What the fuck?
My heart is racing and I reach for my walkie on my belt, yanking it free. Water drips from the thing, and nothing happens when I push the button to talk. What a piece of shit.
I exhale and step back, water sloshing around my feet. I don’t have my gun, but I’ll be damned before I give up. I blink, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the dark, and pick up a rock, ready to bash whatever attacked me over the head.
Clouds move over the moon, offering just enough light for me to get a glimpse of my surroundings. The ravine is steep on either side. I could scramble up, but if those things are at the top, I’ll be walking into a trap.
Shivering, I run through the water and jump onto land the first chance I get. I shake my walkie, trying to get the water out of it, and press the communication button again. This time I hear static.
“This is Detective Bisset requesting backup immediately,” I say. Someone answers, but I can’t make out what they say in return. Chances are, they couldn’t make out what I said either.
“Just fucking help me,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “Get your ass here and help me.” A strange sensation runs through me, leaving me a tad disoriented. It’s a wonder I’m still standing after the night I’ve had, actually.
I clip the walkie back on my belt and pick my way up the side of the ravine. Teeth chattering, I look around. Whatever jumped from the trees is still out here. And it’s not one psychotic killer, it’s two.
