The continuing fictional story of a town in crisis...
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DARKENING
STURGEONS
Chapter Twelve
by John L. Harmon
Sheriff
Benjamin Straker stands, yearbook in hand, in shock and awe at the chaos spread
out before him. It is something akin to
a science fiction film, and Joe, the dispatcher, is correct…it is a
madhouse.
Cars,
trucks, and vehicles of every shape and size line both sides of the street in
front of Sturgeons Police Headquarters.
All creeping along, moving in the same direction, as motorcycles zip in
between and around with flagrant ease.
Honking, revving of engines and profanity-laced shouting add an urgent
and terrifying ambiance to the unbelievable sight.
He quickly
assesses that he will need protection amidst the crowds. Shutting the solid door and walking
determinedly to his office, Ben gives Joe a, “What the hell is going on out
there?”
Joe
follows, answering the best he can with what information he has gathered from
emergency calls and overheard conversations.
“The disappearances are getting to people, so they are fleeing
Sturgeons.”
“Fleeing
Sturgeons,” Ben mutters in contemplation as he sets the yearbook on the desk
and unlocks the cabinet in a corner of the Sheriff’s Office. His thoughts turn to Miranda, Ned, and
Sheriff Lester Lawrence. They all fled
Sturgeons, leaving him to pick up the pieces.
Now, more than ever, he understands what his mother must have felt when
his father abandoned them…overwhelmed, helpless and alone.
Just like
his mother, Ben is neither helpless nor alone.
Shutting and locking the cabinet, he turns to Joe with an order. “I’m needed out there, Joe. Stay at your post and try to soothe the fears
of anyone who may call.”
“Will do,
Sheriff.”
“You’re a
good man, Joe.”
Sheriff
and Dispatcher leave the office and part ways at the enormous front
counter. Before Ben ventures away from
the safety of indoors, he whips out his cell and calls Chief Deputy Woodhouse.
“What is
your location, Clyde?”
“I was
just getting ready to report in,” Clyde mentions for no particular reason. “I tracked the white van to Gordon’s. A man and a woman just entered the bar in
that odd way Ms. Minch described.”
Ben pauses
for a beat, deciding the best course of action. “Stay put, Clyde. Don’t engage.
I’ll be there a-sap.”
“Careful,
Ben. Sturgeons is a hotbed mess right
now.”
“I know.”
Sheriff
Benjamin Straker shoves the cell in his pocket and grabs the handle of the gun
of Lawrence holstered at his side. He
doesn’t want to use it, but he finds comfort in the fact he can if the need
should arise. Mentally prepared as
possible in such a confusing situation, he opens the solid door and steps out
into vehicular bedlam.
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