Fall Prey: The Hunt Read online

  “It’s the strangest thing,” said Nelson, returning at last. “Weeks of endless calls, and now here we are, on the verge of finishing a whole shift without a one.” He handed Asher his coffee and the bag of donuts before returning to his side of the vehicle.

  “You want someone to commit a crime?” asked Asher, the hint of a smirk on his face. He pulled a donut out of the bag and took a bite, careful to hold onto the bag and coffee cup as he opened the cruiser door.

  “Of course not.” Nelson frowned back at him from across the hood. “It’s just kind of weird. When we partnered up nearly two months back, we had this giant spike in violent crime. Kidnappings, assaults, a slew of gruesome homicides, and now nothing all of a sudden.”

  “Bound to see a drop at some point,” Asher shrugged, taking his seat and placing his coffee cup in the drink holder. “You ask me, we were due for it. Been running us ragged for weeks. About time we had a break.”

  “You said it,” replied Nelson, returning to his seat and slamming his door shut. He started the engine and backed up, turning the vehicle around before returning to the street.

  They continued onward, toward one of the few typically foliaged areas of the city. The liberal frosting of ice upon the trees gave the neighborhood a storybook quality. The ice and snow had a purifying effect on the sad-looking homes and buildings, masking the weathering of old age and disrepair.

  “Hey, so how’s your mom doing?” asked Nelson, taking an opportunity to extinguish the near silence. The only sounds came from Asher as he hungrily wolfed down his donut. “I know it’s been a while since I last asked.” Concerned though he was, the older officer’s eyes remained on the road, his hand steady on the wheel.

  “Oh, she’s doing pretty good,” Asher said through a mouth full of strawberry-glazed donut. “Went down to the psychiatric hospital this last weekend to see her.” He gulped down the last of his pastry and took a sip of coffee to clear his throat.

  “They going to let her out anytime soon?” Nelson asked as though he walked on eggshells.

  “I don’t know.” Asher shrugged, placing his cup back in the drink holder. “She committed herself, so it’s up to her. She was kind of just there to get away from that empty house, I think.” His voice grew somber. “Been real quiet since both my brothers passed.”

  “Yeah, that depression can be some bad stuff.” Nelson shook his head in understanding. “It’s very understandable. Both her oldest sons dead and so close together.” He sounded woeful. “What ailment did you say they both had?”

  “Duchenne’s muscular dystrophy.” Asher sighed. “It’s a terminal illness.”

  Nelson groaned as though in pain. “What were their names again?” He frowned, trying to remember. “Sorry, memory’s not what it used to be.”

  “That’s OK,” Asher smirked apologetically. “My oldest brother was Cyrus, and our middle brother was Talon. Talon died first with pneumonia, and Cyrus died about six months after that of heart failure.”

  “I can’t imagine.” Nelson shook his head regretfully.

  “I think Mom will be released soon, though.” Asher changed the subject, wanting to talk about something more positive. “She’s tougher than you would think.”

  “Give her my best when you see her again.” Nelson placed a fatherly hand of reassurance on the young officer’s shoulder.

  “Will do.” Asher nodded as Nelson returned his hand to the wheel.

  Asher glanced out the window once more. The bulky figure trudging through the snow and down the sidewalk in front of them caught his attention. As they drove closer, he saw that the individual was likely a homeless man, his form obscured by multiple layers of clothing. Only his eyes and beard were visible under the stocking cap he wore. His outer coat was camouflage.

  Nelson gave the man a brief passing glance as they eased by, losing interest and shifting his gaze back to the road.

  “I know you’ve been asked this a lot by everyone, including me, but how is police work stacking up compared to your time in the Army?” asked Nelson.

  “I don’t know,” Asher nearly sighed. He had grown tired of people asking him that question. “They’re just different animals, OK. I wasn’t in the Army all that long. Didn’t even stay for the full three-and-a-half years for initial enlistments. Got an early discharge.”

  “There has to be some difference.”

  “I trained to be a paratrooper, but after I finished basic they decided not to deploy me. So I ended up at Fort Campbell in Tennessee, just riding a desk and filling out paperwork all day. It reminded me of sitting at school filling out worksheets. I always hated that.”

  “Police work has to be better than that.”

  “Well, it does get you out,” Asher admitted. “Cruising the beat is way better than just sitting at a desk all day. Don’t save you from the paperwork, but at least you get out and do something.”

  “Uh, huh,” Nelson chuckled. “Never can get away from the paperwork, Blackthorn.”

  “Sure can’t,” Asher smiled. “Being a cop has been way more exciting than my time in the Army.”

  “Attention, all units! Attention all units in the area!” The radio blared, nearly causing Asher to jump into Nelson’s lap.

  “So much for the lack of calls!” hollered Nelson. “Let’s get to it.” He shifted gears, causing their cruiser to make a U-turn in the middle of the street before speeding off into the night.

  * * *

  Asher and Nelson’s cruiser headed down the frosty, snow-covered street, lights and sirens blaring all the way. This part of the city was nearly identical to the area they had patrolled earlier. The buildings and houses lay concealed by the snow, the same wintery magic spell cast upon everything but the slushed-up road.

  Asher leaned toward Nelson, frowning when he saw the speedometer. Despite the noticeable increase in speed, they had yet to reach 30 mph.

  “Can’t we go any faster?” Asher snapped, unable to take any more.

  “On these roads?” Nelson yelled over the sirens, oblivious to Asher’s attitude. “I don’t think so!”

  Asher sighed, slumping in his seat. Nelson was needlessly over-cautious, regardless of road conditions. They were in the process of responding to a call involving four missing officers, yet the senior officer still drove below the speed limit.

  “There it is!” Asher proclaimed as they approached an ugly, snow-drenched, yellow house.

  Two abandoned police cruisers sat beside the curb outside the house, the lights flashing and the sirens silent.

  Nelson lurched to a stop, parking in one of the few empty spaces lining the opposite side of the street.

  Asher removed his heavy coat and climbed out of the cruiser. He found yet another police car parked farther down the road just as he turned to slam his door shut. The young officer smiled. He wasn’t at all surprised that they were not the first to arrive.

  The two officers stood in the road on either side of their cruiser, one a young, Black man of average height and the other a short, squatty Hispanic man in his mid-thirties. Asher recognized both of them. The Black officer was Aaron Pritchett, and the older Hispanic officer was Jim Hernandez.

  Asher had attended the Academy with Pritchett, and they knew each other on a first-name basis. He considered each of them to be good cops, both hard-working and agreeable. Asher made his way towards the other two officers, careful not to step in the street sludge. Nelson followed several yards behind.

  “Sup, Ash?” Pritchett extended his fist for a bump. “You grow some more?”

  “Ha, ha,” Asher laughed sarcastically before frowning. Everyone made wisecracks about his height. Asher bumped Pritchett’s fist with his own.

  “What’s the situation?” asked Asher as he leaned on their cruiser and looked over at Hernandez.

  “It doesn’t look good at all,” said Hernandez from the other side of the cruiser. “We got four officers missing. Dispatch hardly knows a thing.”

  “That’s never good,�
�� said Asher, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, I know, right?” Hernandez’s regret was apparent. “They tried to radio dispatch before they went in, but it was all just a bunch of static. Everything went quiet after that. We received some noise complaints from those living in the area. They said they could hear screaming coming from the house over here.” Hernandez pointed to the less-than-beautiful house in front of them. “A domestic disturbance, possibly an assault. Taken altogether, it suggests the officers are down in there.”

  “Doesn’t really matter what kind of disturbance it was,” said Nelson, now standing beside Asher. “We need to find those officers.”

  “They didn’t want to call in SWAT?” asked Asher.

  “Pssh… No,” said Hernandez, a cunning smile on his face. “It hasn’t reached that point yet. Understaffed as it is.”

  Several additional cruisers pulled up on the opposite side of the street. All the flashing blue and red lights lit up the area, giving the primarily white expanse a festive feel, like a wrong-colored Christmas.

  “Be back in a moment,” said Pritchett. “Gotta make sure these guys are in the loop.” He took off toward the newly arrived officers, watching his footing as he made his way through the slush.

  “Not much to look at, is it?” asked Nelson, nodding toward the house.

  “Think I threw up that color once,” said Asher, straight-faced. “Probably after I ate a bunch of corn.”

  “Looks pretty bad, even with the snow covering it,” said Hernandez. “Roof and porch could use some help. Looks like they’re a little lopsided. Siding is coming loose.”

  Asher squinted, scrutinizing the house further. It was impossible to see inside, the windows covered with thick curtains of an unknown color. The house had a foreboding and sinister look to it, a presence attributed to more than just the poor street lighting. Asher felt an awful pain in his stomach when he looked at it. He grew even more uneasy about the fate of the missing officers.

  “We ready to do this?” Pritchett swaggered back toward the cruiser, both thumbs in his belt as he turned to stand in front of Asher and Nelson.

  “Four-man clearance?” Asher turned to Nelson, knowing what the answer would be.

  “It looks like the house is pretty small, so I don’t think we’ll need any additional personnel cramping up the place.” Nelson motioned the rest of them to follow him across the street. He led them past the abandoned cruisers and onto the sidewalk, taking the four over the lawn to gather on the house’s front porch.

  Asher turned his head, distracted. He thought he had heard an aerial drone. He immediately turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

  “OK. Pritchett, we’ll have you enter first, then Hernandez, then Blackthorn. I’ll enter last and clean up,” said Nelson with a grin.

  Asher pulled his 9mm from its holster, holding the weapon in his right hand, flipping on the attached flashlight. All four officers went silent, lining up to the left of the door in the assigned order.

  Thump!

  Pritchett kicked the door in with little effort, the hinges already free from the frame. Their entrance was flawless, speed, surprise, and force of action intertwined in a symphony of precision. Pritchett entered first and went right. Hernandez entered immediately to the left. Asher moved around Pritchett from behind as he continued onward along the wall.

  The light from each of their flashlights danced about the room. Their quick entrance allotted them little time to notice the blood-covered floor and the broken furniture. Two individuals lay motionless on the floor amid pools of blood.

  Asher stepped on something slick and squishy. Unwilling to look down, he remained focused on securing the room.

  Nelson entered last, going to the left and passing behind Hernandez to secure his sector. Each of them held their positions, Nelson stepping toward the nearest body, squatting down, and checking for a pulse.

  “Uh, what?” Nelson gasped. He found most of the man’s neck torn out, his hand touching moist, pulpy tissue. A hand suddenly shot up from beneath the corpse, grabbing him by the wrist, holding him there in a solid, iron-like grip.

  A second hand sprang up, grabbing Nelson by the back of the neck. The hand violently snapped the bones in the officer’s neck, tearing through flesh and severing his head from his body. Nelson fell in a bloody mess, his head bouncing across the floor, the blood spewing from his neck like a gory geyser.

  Asher and his companions opened fire, a torrent of lead sent flying.

  The dark, man-shaped assailant sprang from underneath its cover, launching itself at Pritchett and catapulting both of them into the wall. The creature regained its feet almost instantaneously and rushed at Hernandez with impossible speed despite the fire from his gun. It tore into the officer’s arm with sharp claws, twisting the limb free from the body. The sound of snapping bones reverberated throughout the room.

  Hernandez screamed like an electrified cat, dropping his gun to grab his decimated shoulder, dark-red blood flowing from the wound.

  Asher reloaded, firing bullet after bullet into the creature’s torso. He took a quick step to the side, avoiding Hernandez’s severed limb when the monster tossed it toward him.

  The creature snarled, driving both its clawed hands in under the screaming man’s ribs and tearing through his torso, separating the upper and lower halves of his body. Hernandez fell to the ground in a shower of blood and tattered viscera, his intestines spread about the place like pulverized sausage.

  Finally, the creature turned on Asher, finished with its butchery. Its eyes shimmered in the dark, an all-consuming fire of bloodlust contained within them.

  The beast howled, bearing its set of elongated fangs. It licked its lips and began to amble toward Asher, toying with him in much the same way a cat might with a doomed mouse. Asher kept his gun trained on the monster, his composure slipping as he prepared for his final shot. The fear caused him to forget the most basic protocol. He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger.

  The sound of his shot echoed throughout the house, and still, the monster didn’t fall. Asher could only stand there, waiting for the creature to tear out his throat.

  The creature screamed. Asher opened his eyes just as the monster fell backward onto the floor. His heart pounded at what felt like a thousand beats a second as he frantically felt his throat, making sure it remained intact. The young officer regained his senses and reloaded, keeping his weapon trained on the fallen monster. He stepped toward the body, ready for it to spring back to life. Asher kept his gaze on the bloodied corpse, scrutinizing it with the aid of his flashlight as he searched for any sign of a wound.

  He sighed when he found where his last round had landed. The shot had hit the creature in the face, somehow finding its right eye. The organ was a mess of blood and tattered gore.

  Asher’s heart jackhammered away as he emptied his magazine into the dead monster’s still snarling face. He wasn’t going to take any more chances if he could help it.

  Pritchett let out a soft moan from where he lay against the ruined wall. Asher holstered his weapon and raced over to the fallen officer, kneeling beside him.

  “You OK, Aaron?” asked Asher. He searched for the artery in Pritchett’s neck with his fingers, hopeful he hadn’t imagined the fallen officer’s moan.

  Pritchett moaned even louder when touched, the sound leaving his lips before Asher could find his carotid artery. Though the monster lay dead, the house was still full of potential dangers. He needed to move Pritchett outside.

  Asher felt a slight prickling on the back of his neck. He instinctively tried to brush whatever it was away, stricken with fear anew when he found a small dart buried in his skin.

  He attempted to speak as he fell to the side.

  Everything went completely dark before he hit the floor.

  Chapter II

  Avenge the Light

  Asher groaned, hitting his head on something hard and opening his eyes to find himself shrouded in darkness. He
lay against a thin metal wall, a black bag over his head and his hands bound behind his back with a zip-tie. His head felt as though it were swimming. Whatever drug the dart had contained left him groggy and dazed. Though disoriented, he could feel himself moving.

  The vehicle’s tires squalled, throwing Asher back onto the floor. He knew he was in a van.

  “Hey! Watch it!” A distorted male voice above him yelled, the owner slapping his hand against a thin, metal wall.

  Asher groaned again, finding the sound muffled by the tape covering his mouth. His mind remained muddled and rendered him incapable of perceiving how much danger awaited him. He lost all sense of time, the increasing pain in his back the only indication that it passed at all. Asher could only lay there, periodically making an effort to contort his wrists in such a way to escape from the zip-tie. Yet, despite his conundrum, his thoughts remained strangely calm.

  Asher heard the hum of a heavy garage door opening, and he felt things slow to a stop. Then, he could feel the vehicle begin to accelerate again, carrying him and his captors through the entryway.

  The mechanism sounded again, and the door slammed shut.

  Asher twisted his wrists around again and found he had regained the capacity for movement but lacked the nimbleness to escape his bindings.

  Several heavy doors opened and closed in quick succession. The van rapidly spiraled down a long, winding ramp.

  Asher pressed his body against the van’s wall, the vehicle’s dizzying movements mixed with the drug’s effects making him nauseous. He wished he could have remained unconscious.

  The vehicle drove through the final door, decelerating as it rolled onto flat ground. The tires shrieked, and the van suddenly came to a stop. The smell of burnt rubber permeated the air. Only the duct tape over his mouth kept Asher from vomiting.

  “Get the doors!” commanded the male voice from earlier. Multiple sets of booted feet quickly stepped around Asher.

  “What are you doing?” The man snapped. “Sit him up!”