Homecoming (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller #1)

  ***

  Big John Talbot had a quandary on his hands.

  John was currently patrolling Duncan Road, on the lookout for who-the-hell- knew-what, but his thoughts were a thousand miles away. He knew he should be paying attention to the task at hand, but there were some hard questions nagging at him, and he just couldn’t shut them out.

  He had never wanted to be anything other than a cop. When he’d been a kid, he had never wanted to be a firefighter or astronaut. In high school, when other kids had been talking about college or trade schools, John had kept his sights set steadfastly on the Academy. At sixteen, however, he’d lost the middle finger of his right hand in an accident, and his dreams of the Police Academy had gone down the drain.

  He had found renewed hope when Bob Lyle had hired him on as a deputy. Some people viewed it as only a step above a rent-a-cop, but to John, the job was a godsend. He even had aspirations of running for sheriff when Lyle decided to pack it in, hence the moral dilemma he was now facing.

  On one hand, he was Lyle’s deputy, and it was his job to support the sheriff and follow orders without question. This was something that John usually had no trouble with, but in the past few weeks, it had become increasingly difficult.

  Sheriff Lyle had never been in the habit of explaining his orders or the reasons behind them, but since the disappearances had started, he had become downright closemouthed and openly hostile to anyone who questioned him. Normally, this wouldn’t have overly concerned John. Lyle could be a moody person, and when he was in a bad mood it was wise to avoid him as much as possible. But John saw something lurking behind the sheriff’s unusually gruff disposition: fear. Something about this whole affair was spooking Lyle, and badly.

  Then there was the sheriff’s insistence that there be no outside help. This puzzled John most of all. Even an isolated town like Shallow Springs was hardly cut off from the rest of the world. News travelled quickly via the internet and cell phones. There was no way in hell they would be able to keep a lid on this for much longer. It made more sense to contact the state police before the state police contacted them, wanting to know what was going on because someone read something on one of the social media sites.

  The final straw, as far as John was concerned, was that Lyle was hiding something from them. It was as obvious as the nose on the sheriff’s face. If Lyle knew something and was keeping it purposefully hidden, then there was a chance that this whole thing might blow up on him. And if that happened, not only would Lyle go down in flames, but his whole department would go with him. John’s dream of one day becoming sheriff would die as quickly as his dream of the Academy had.

  Big John couldn’t allow that to happen. He needed to find out what it was the sheriff was hiding, and once he had that information, he would have to decide which path he should take. If it looked like Lyle might be able to control the situation, he would go on being the obedient, faithful deputy he had always been. If it turned out Lyle was in over his head, well…then there might be a call made to the state boys, after all. John considered himself as trustworthy as the next fellow, probably more so, but he was also no fool. He knew that there was nobody to look out for Big John except Big John.

  The cruiser’s headlights cut a bright arc into the desolate night. John was moving slowly. He was in no particular hurry; Lyle wanted him patrolling the area until three AM, at which time Jeff Thacker would show up to relieve him. It was going to be a long night. There was no traffic. Most of the other deputies would have pulled over and grabbed forty winks, but John, his mutinous thoughts notwithstanding, was a good cop and took the safety of the public seriously.

  He thought he saw movement at the edge of the dark woods to his left, and he stopped the cruiser and activated his spotlight. The tree line was suddenly awash with a brilliant light. Though there was no wind, some of the lowest tree branches swayed as if they had been recently disturbed.

  “Somebody there?” John called in his most authoritative voice.

  No answer came from the trees.

  John put the car in park and hit the blue lights. He got out of the cruiser, hand resting on his firearm, and studied the woods. He started to walk closer to the edge of the road, thought about it, and reached back into the cruiser. He pulled his riot gun from its retaining clip, checked to make sure it was loaded, and then began to move cautiously toward the shoulder of the road. Whatever it was that had Lyle on edge had infected him, and he was suddenly unwilling to take any unnecessary chances. John was a big guy, but he had seen the mess at the scenes of the abductions. He wasn’t about to end up a blood splatter on the pavement.

  “I want you to move slowly out of the woods,” he said. “Towards me. And I want to see your hands.”

  There was a faint rustle, then something that sounded like a hushed conversation. John tensed and leveled the shotgun at the sound. He couldn’t be sure, but it had sounded like a woman’s voice. He realized that he had not radioed in when he’d stopped, a flagrant breach of protocol, and he silently cursed himself.

  “I need you to move slowly into the light,” he ordered, but his voice now carried less authority than apprehension. He had messed up badly. He should have at least told dispatch his position, and probably should have called for some backup, given recent events. He could still call in, but he would have to back to the car, a move that could be perceived as fear or weakness.

  He decided to risk it. There was no doubt in his mind that someone was out there in the dark, and since they had not responded to his commands, it was likely that they were up to no good. He began to back slowly toward the cruiser, keeping his eyes glued to the woods in front of him. The sound of his shoes scuffing against the pavement sounded much louder than it should have.

  “Help me,” a female voice drifted from the forest. It had come from just beyond the reach of the light. John stopped and listened. The woman had sounded weak, hurt.

  “Ma’am? Are you injured?” he called.

  “Help. It…it hurts,” came the reply.

  The voice sounded faint and pained, but Big John knew that if it walked like a duck and talked like a duck, it probably was a duck. And this was probably a trap. He resumed his slow retreat toward the cruiser.

  “Just stay put,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady and even. “I’m going to call in and get an ambulance out here.” And a bunch more cops, he thought. He was within a few feet of the car when something bolted from the woods. It was small, like a child, but it was coming at him incredibly fast. If he had stopped to think about it, he probably wouldn’t have pulled the trigger. But he acted reflexively, and the shotgun discharged with a deafening roar. His attacker was spun around by the impact. The thing gave an ear-splitting shriek and fell twitching to the pavement.

  John looked at the thing. It appeared to be some sort of grossly deformed child. It’s features were grotesque, though whether or not that was a result of the shotgun blast, he couldn’t tell. It didn’t appear to be bleeding, but its skin was smoking from the heat of the pellets. Incredibly, it seemed to be shaking off the effects of the gunshot.

  “The hell?” Big John said softly. He instinctively knew that he had discovered something Lyle already knew, that this thing was part of the truth the sheriff was hiding. The thing was fearsome- looking, for sure, but it was relatively small. John had a hard time believing that this creature had attacked and killed eight grown adults, most of them men.

  There was a shrill cry from the woods, and suddenly dozens of the creatures came bursting from the darkness. John did not even consider firing again. He turned and dove into the cruiser, shoving the shotgun in ahead of him. He was able to pull the door closed just as several small bodies slammed into the car with enough force to rock it. Though terrified, he retained enough sense to realize he had no chance of surviving if he stayed and fought. He jerked the cruiser into gear and stomped the gas. His left rear tire rolled over one of the things, and it emitted an unearthly howl as it writhed on the roadway. br />
  John glanced into his side mirror and was horrified to see that one of the things had latched onto the rear door handle and was doggedly hanging on. His window was down, and he had the dreadful notion that the creature was going to climb its way up the side of the car and jump inside. Steering with his left hand, he grabbed the shotgun with his right and thrust it clumsily out the window. He was turned awkwardly in the seat, and the car began to veer between the narrow lanes. He aimed as best he could through the side mirror.

  The thing saw what was coming, but the cruiser was moving fast and it didn’t seem to want to relinquish its death grip on the handle. John squeezed the trigger, and the creature was blown away with a quickly fading scream. He tore the hell out of the side of the car as well, but was lucky enough not to puncture his tire, at least. The gun’s report set his ears to ringing.

  John spent the next several minutes nervously checking each of his mirrors to make sure nothing else was hitching a ride with him. After several miles, he began to calm down. The first order of business was to get back to civilization, somewhere with bright lights and other people. Then he would have to decide what he was going to do. He was going to have to make a call, but whether it would be to Lyle or the state police, he didn’t yet know.

  He sped toward Shallow Springs, thinking the town to be a safe haven.