eris-anansi

[eris-anansi]

Dreamwood 1999

Episode 7: Dreamwood Anonymous

Parker and Thomas investigate the disappearance of a body from the local morgue. Meanwhile, Randy and Keith learn about a new local support group.

CW: Depictions of violence, murder, guns, graphic descriptions, typical horror stuff.

Associated Song:  AG - Ghosts in the River

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Thursday, October 14th, 1999.

It was the middle of the afternoon on another cloudy Thursday in Dreamwood, Massachusetts. Parker and Thomas were called into the morgue to investigate the disappearance of a body that was recently admitted. Parker’s gray impala pulled into the parking lot and Thomas sat beside him in the passenger’s seat smoking a cigar. 

Thomas glanced out at the short, rectangular building and said, “Y’know, usually this is where we’d go after a crime. It’s not everyday that the morgue is the crime scene.”

“This isn’t the strangest thing we’ve had happen to us as of late,” Parker sighed, climbing out of the car. 

Once they entered the front lobby, the receptionist guided them to the next room where they stood face to face with a man of average height dressed in blacks and greys. He wore a black suit with a grey shirt underneath, matching pants, and matching gloves. A diamond ring adorned his glove’s ring finger. Parker found it interesting how he wore the ring over his glove. He had specks of greying facial hair, and though he was wearing a baseball cap it could be inferred that the rest of his hair looked the same. He must’ve been somewhere in his 50s. 

“You must be the detectives. Caldwell’s son, I presume?” He looked at Parker in particular. He greeted them with a smile, holding out his hand. “My name is Dr. Joseph Chronis.” 

Parker shook his hand. “Parker Caldwell,” he introduced himself. “Pleased to meet you, Dr. Chronis.”

“Chronis? Don’t that mean ‘Time’ in Greek or somethin’?” Thomas blinked.

Dr. Chronis laughed. “That would be ‘Chronos’. Chronis comes from Polychronios, an omen name meaning ‘may you be long lived’. I’ve been told that my family is blessed, and yes I do work here.” 

“Ironic considering your line of work,” Parker commented. 

“I suppose,” Dr. Chronis gave a nod, amused by Thomas’ curiosity. “Though right now I am more interested in our vanishing cadaver.” 

“I was just about to ask about that. Do you have any identification of the body? That’ll help us a lot.” 

“This conversation would best be had in my office. Come, right this way.”

Dr. Chronis led Parker and Thomas into his office, a quaint little white and gray room with a desk and two pieces of furniture. The office was a bit messy, papers littered the desk and Parker spotted some fairly large cobwebs in two corners of the room. Two milk white spiders the size of huntsmen crawled about, and the mere sight of them made Parker feel uneasy. He never did like spiders.   

Chornis motioned to the two the seats in front of his desk and the detectives sat down. Dr. Chronis reached for a folder and opened it, turning it to face Parker and Thomas. On the file was a name, a face, and some details. “Our Houdini’s name is Fred Dorsey. A week ago he went missing during a hike and he was found by a roadside just a few days ago with mysterious wounds.”

Parker recognized the name. Darcy and Cicero were among the group that found Dorsey’s body and they described him as having suspicious puncture wounds in his skin.

“Dorsey,” Thomas repeated. “Ain’t he the guy who had holes in his neck?”

“That’s him, yes,” Chronis nodded. “When I checked out, he was right where he was when I left him. Stiff as a board. Then, I check in the next morning, and he’s gone. Like he just… got up and walked away. No evidence of him ever being there, and no evidence of him leaving. I thought I was going hysterical.” The longer Chronis talked, the worse of a feeling Parker had. He would have scoffed at the idea of a body ‘getting up and walking away’ if he hadn’t witnessed weirder things in recent times. He was beginning to entertain the thought whether he liked it or not. 

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” Thomas said. “You’re not crazy. I believe your story, but what I don’t believe is the fact that no one’s seen this guy since he disappeared. Someone’s got to have seen somethin’.”

“We’ll ask around about any sightings. Ask if someone’s seen anything suspicious in the area,” Parker decided. “Is there anything else you can tell us about Fred Dorsey?”

Dr. Chronis shook his head. “Unfortunately that’s all I know.”

“In that case thank you for your time. The next time we speak I hope to have good news.” 

Parker stood up from his seat, followed by Thomas. Before he turned to leave he took one last look at the cobwebs on the ceiling and said, “Consider doing something about those? I could feel those spiders eyeing me the entire time we were in here.” Thomas echoed him with a hum and a nod, “Those things give me the heebie-jeebies.” 

Parker walked out of the office with his partner and the thought of the bloodsucking undead on his mind. Today was surely going to be eventful.

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2:59 PM.

Randall Skinner and Keith Costello paid a visit to the Dreamwood Recreation Center. They had heard that a group of people were renting out one of its conference rooms for a meeting, and the subject of the meeting in question piqued their interest. 

“Dreamwood Anonymous,” Randy read the poster aloud. It was nailed to the wall beside the closed door at the end of the hallway to the right of the receptionist’s desk. 

“I’m glad these folks know how to use proper directions, unlike my family reunions. It’s so damn easy to get lost out there when all of your relatives live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere...”

“The least anyone could do is put up signs,” Keith nodded in agreement. 

Randy knocked on the door. It did not take long for someone to answer it. He watched the knob turn and the door open to a tall man standing in the doorway. He wore a brown vest over a white shirt along with a pair of pants that matched the vest. Keith was impressed by the way the man’s shoes reflected the light in the hallway. They were strikingly clean. The man himself had shoulder length red hair and silver eyes, and he greeted the detectives with a friendly smile.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Skinner and Mr. Costello,” he said. 

“That we are,” Randy nodded. “And you are?...”

“Green,” the man answered. “Casper Green. I’m the coordinator of the Dreamwood Anonymous Support Group. It’s great to finally meet you both, you arrived just in time. Please– come on in.” He stepped aside so that Randy and Keith could enter. 

“Thank you, Mr. Green,” Keith gave him a nod as the two entered the room.

“Please, call me Casper. Soon we’ll all be friends here,” Casper said with an assuring smile. His aura was welcoming above all else. 

“Right then, Casper,” Keith blinked with mild suspicion about him, as was his nature when met with kind gestures from strangers. Or anyone for that matter.

“Pleased to meet’cha, Casper,” Randy shook his hand on his way in. 

The walls of the conference room were painted a dull shade of cream with matching linoleum floors of a brighter yet equally uninteresting shade. The space was illuminated by ceiling lights and open windows which let in what sunshine breached the cloudy sky above. Arranged in the center of the room was a circle of chairs where five people sat together.

One man– a short fellow with messy light brown hair and freckles– glanced at Randy and Keith. “You two– you two are detectives,” he observed. He wore a plain white shirt and brown pants.

“Not on duty today,” Randy told half the truth. “We’re here for the club.”

The man nodded in understanding. “I can only imagine.”

“Find a seat, gentlemen,” Casper said. He moved to one of the chairs and sat down himself. Randy and Keith found two seats in the circle. 

Casper clasped his hands together. “Alright, let us begin with introductions! Who would like to introduce themselves first? We’ll go around in a circle.”

“I’ll go,” The man in the white shirt volunteered. 

“Alright. Tell us your name and then tell us why you’re here.”

He shifted in his seat and let off a shaky breath before speaking. “Hi, everyone. My name is Harvey.”

“Hello, Harvey,” everyone answered in unison.

“...and a month ago I had everything that gave my life meaning ripped away from me. My house was invaded, destroyed, by a monster. He took everything from me that day. My wife, my daughter. Gone in an instant. The police tried to tell me I imagined the whole thing, that I must’ve been hysterical, that it was just a wild animal or something. They didn’t believe me until they saw the damn thing themselves. I heard they killed it, but that doesn’t give me any satisfaction. I’d give anything to see my family again.”

Casper gave a silent nod. “Loss is a difficult thing, Harvey. There are no words of consolation that could ever be enough. You are very strong to be sharing that with us. Remember, we are all here because we have experienced a great loss that we cannot explain. The folks outside might think we are crazy, but here you are among people who share your pain. We are here for you, Harvey.”

The others nodded in agreement. 

“I lost my husband to the same damn beast,” a woman chimed in across from Randy. “Killed on duty ‘by a wild coyote’, that’s what the police told me,” she scoffed bitterly. 

Keith felt a chill down his spine, he recalled being in the room on that day. He was certain that the woman sitting across from them was the wife of Officer Quincy. 

“I mean who’s ever heard of a god damn coyote mauling a police officer, slaughtering him like– like a fucking animal?” The woman’s voice grew more brittle as she spoke. “I just don’t get it. I thought we made the right decision, moving to a peaceful and quiet town…”

“I had the honor of working alongside your husband,” Keith spoke up. “He was a brave man. Strong, resilient. I heard he stood his ground, he didn’t run like a coward. He didn’t deserve what happened.”

“Yeah, it’s real fucked up,” Randy offered. “A lot’s been that way lately. It’s starting to get to me.”

Randy waited for someone else to speak, but he soon realized that eyes were now on him. They were waiting for him to introduce himself. He blinked. “...Uh, my name is Randy.”

“Hi, Randy,” the crowd answered in unison. 

“...and I’m a detective from the Dreamwood Police Department. I’ve seen a lotta things in the last month that’ve made me question some things. I won’t lie, these days I have a hard time getting up to go to work in the morning. Just a few weeks ago I saw one of my fellow officers eaten alive from the inside out by an airborne parasite, and turned into a malformed shell of his former self. I had to light the poor bastard on fire. If this is even a fraction of what the soldiers in the war have to go through, then I admire their courage even more so. I almost wanted to turn in my badge that day.”

The others nodded in understanding. “I can only imagine the toll that your job must take on you,” Casper sighed. “The world around us is changing so fast. In a few months the 90s are gonna be over and it’ll be the year two-thousand..” He scoffed in disbelief. “Twenty zero zero. Imagine that. I doubt this is the future any of us imagined…”

“Sometimes it feels like the world is moving on without me,” Randy admitted. 

“I know that feeling all too well,” Casper nodded in the detective’s direction. “I am all too familiar with the sting of losing someone whom you love dearly. In fact that is why I started this group. In times like these, we need our community more than ever.” A warm smile graced the man’s face as his silver eyes glanced across the room. “I am so glad all of you are here.”

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Parker and Thomas sat in their car about a block away from the morgue. They had gone up and down the street, asking locals if they had seen anything odd in the area in the last few days. No one had seen anything.

“What are we gonna do, Parks? Either the whole town is blind or the dead man is a god damn escape artist.”

“Someone’s got to have seen something, Thomas. We haven’t interviewed everyone just yet.”

“We’ve interviewed seven.”

“Well you know what they say, Tommy. Eighth time’s the charm.”

“No one says that!-”

A sudden knock on the driver’s seat window caught both the men’s attention. Thomas reached for his gun but paused when they saw the man standing outside. He wore a long brown coat and baggy pants to match. He carried a white sign that they were unable to read because it was facing away from them. Thomas thought the guy looked like he had been in the wilderness for weeks. He recognized that look right away.

“Good grief, that’s Crazy Pete,” Thomas mumbled. 

Parker blinked. “Who’s Crazy Pete?”

The man motioned for Parker to roll the window down. 

“Parker, don’t.”

“What if he has a lead?” 

“Yeah, and what if he’s just wasting our time?”

“We’re grasping at straws here,” Parker pressed on. “We have a body that disappeared from the morgue, a killer still at large, and no one’s seen a damn thing. At this point if Santa Claus himself fell from the sky and proclaimed that he knew who did it, I’d be willing to hear him out.” 

Thomas saw no point in continuing to argue. With a defeated sigh, he rolled the window down. “Heya there Pete. How you doin’ this afternoon?”

Crazy Pete’s wild eyes peered into the car as he spoke hastily, “You guys are here lookin’ for the Night Man aren’t you?” He had the disposition of a feral dog. 

Once again, Parker blinked. “...That depends, do you think he robbed that morgue down the street?”

He nodded his head and smiled. “A crafty one, that Night Man is. I saw ‘em, though. Yesirree. You can bet your bottom dollar I saw ‘em.”

“Can you give us a description?” Thomas leaned in from behind Parker. 

“All black. Black shirt, black pants, black shoes. Scar on his left hand. All gross and gnarly-like.”

“Scar on his hand…” Parker murmured to himself. 

“Did you get a good look at his face by chance?” Thomas asked.

Crazy Pete shook his head. “Nuh uh. He was gone before I could get a better look at ‘em. Over the fence and into the night…”

“Did you see which way he went?” Parker asked.

Pete extended a long, boney finger past the car and towards a collection of towering pine trees. In the direction of Devil’s Lake. Thomas’ gaze followed his finger. 

“Well ain’t that some–”

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Two hours passed surprisingly quickly, and before Randy and Keith knew it the meeting had drawn to a close. People filed out of the conference room and made their way to wherever they had parked their vehicles. Keith followed Randy out into the hallway where they both glanced at one another.

“Well?”

“That was… weird.”

“Weirder than any family reunion I’ve ever attended, and that’s saying something.”

“Do you still believe the man who killed Jackson Caldwell was in that room?” Keith asked his partner. “I’m leavin’ the possibility open, why?” Randy answered. 

“Because, Randy, all I saw in that room were a bunch of lost, confused, and frankly scared townspeople seeking a community in crisis. Because that’s what human beings do.”

Randy scoffed at that. “And anyone stupid enough to dump all of their problems on a bunch of random strangers is setting themselves up for blackmail, manipulation, or some other form of foul play. Anyone could blend into that group to gather information on the other members… perhaps with the intent of choosing their next victim.”

“If that’s the case, then I guess you’re pretty stu-” Keith paused, glancing at his partner in mild disbelief. “Wait, Randy… are you saying that you didn’t mean what you said back there?”

“You thought I did?!” Randy snorted. “Listen, I said what I needed to say to earn their sympathy. Their trust. And you see? It worked! Each and every one of them told us everything we needed to know.”

“Really? How so?” Keith asked. 

Just as Randy was getting ready to answer Keith’s question, a man in a grey coat pushed past Randy and Keith on his way out of the conference room. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, damnit!” Keith shouted after him.

The man ignored him and pushed on, seeming in a hurry. Both Randy and Keith caught a glimpse of his eyes for only a few seconds. Two red dots stared back at them. Keith blinked twice out of reflex but when he looked again, the man was gone. Randy was already following him.

“Ah, hell- Randy! Wait!” Keith ran after him.

They both ran out into the lobby and looked outside just in time to see the man climb into a vehicle. A dark red Volvo with a busted headlight. The car started with the roar of an engine and pulled out of the parking space before making a sharp turn and speeding out of the parking lot leaving the cacophonous sound of screeching tires in its wake. 

Randy and Keith stared for a moment before Randy said, “You saw that, right?” 

Keith nodded. “Red eyes.”

“And that was the guy who spoke the least during that entire meeting,” Randy said. “Like I said, Keith, I know how these monsters think.”

“Yeah, yeah, but where’s that bastard going?”

“We’re about to find out. C’mon, he can’t get far. The red lights are a bitch in this part of town.” 

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The distant sound of a crow carried over Devil’s Lake when Parker and Thomas stepped out of the car. They stared out at the seemingly endless expanse of crystalline water beyond the shore. Alongside the shore, a narrow winding road slithered between the grass and rocky terrain. Parker had situated his vehicle off to the side of the road. 

“Well, here we are then. You see anythin’, Parks?”

“Grass… more grass… water… clouds…” Parker mumbled. The frustration in his voice grew with each word.

“The road does go on,” Thomas offered.

“And it only leads to a bunch of farmhouses and scattered residences,” Parker said. “The chances of us finding an undead vampire there are slim. Especially with the sun out.”

“You sound crazy, Parks. Have we just accepted we’re dealing with vampires here?”

“Fred Dorsey’s body was drained of blood. Last night, it supposedly got up and walked out of the morgue. I think I’ve been in this town long enough to figure out what kind of cruel trick it’s playing on us now.”

“See the thing is, I know you’re spot on but I don’t wanna accept it yet. My brain has a strong prejudice against new information. I like to live in a world where we still solve normal cases and catch normal criminals.”

“A couple weeks ago we prevented supernatural terrorists from unleashing a madness-inducing super soldier serum on our police department,” Parker deadpanned. “You’re gonna have to accept that sooner or later.”

“I choose later,” Thomas replied.

Parker was about to continue the banter with his partner, but two black dots in the background caught his eye over Thomas’ shoulder. They rippled between the trees in the distance. “Tommy,” Parker whispered, “Turn around.”

Thomas quickly turned around and he too saw the dots between the trees. “Oh, sweet Mary...” Parker drew closer to the woods until he was only about twenty feet away from the silhouettes. Following Parker’s lead, Thomas hid with him behind a tree. Up close, the dots were now two figures shrouded in hooded robes. 

“Now just what the heck are they doin’?” Thomas whispered.

“No clue, but it probably has something to do with our missing body...”

“He said he would be here by now,” one of the hooded figures spoke in a hushed tone.

“Indeed. He is not one to be late, he speeds like no other…”

Thomas listened closely to their conversation. “Sounds like they’re waitin’ on someone…”

The figures walked farther into the woods, turning their backs to the detectives on their way. Parker spotted an identical purple symbol etched into the back of their garments, a sigil that vaguely depicted a statuette with two writhing tendrils on either side of its body.

His eyes widened at the sight of the sigil. “My God…”

Thomas noticed it too. “Wait a second, isn’t that–”

Earlier, in “Deja Vu”…

“I don’t know what I saw in the tunnels, but I know that I can’t explain it with logic or reason. The enemy built bases underground and… those bases had shrines. Shrines to what I don’t know; but there were these… golden statues,” he told Thomas, recounting one of the shrines he stumbled upon. He sipped his glass of alcohol before he continued. “They were all statues of the same woman. Some were the size of small dogs, others were pocket-sized.”

“Shrines in a communist country can’t be good,” Thomas said. “There’s no way those folks are praisin’ God, that’s for sure. What did the woman look like?” 

“That’s what I thought,” Parker nodded. “She looked like a mermaid- only with octopus tentacles instead of a fish’s tail. She wasn’t wearing any clothes, either.”

“Sounds like my kinda woman,” Thomas joked with a smirk. It was difficult to tell which part he meant, or if he meant all of it. “I bet you see the darnedest things in communist encampments.” 

“You definitely do,” Parker exhaled. Thomas could tell he was under a considerable amount of stress. 

“Hey,” Thomas offered a hand to his friend. “We gon’ figure this out, y’hear me? Everything’s gon’ be just fine. We both done handled worse things. You survived a war, and I survived college,” he grinned. 

“I just wish everything made more sense,” Parker replied. He took another, larger sip of his beer. “I thought I’d escape the chaos when I was discharged. It seems to have followed me.” Just like Nathan said, he thought to himself. 

“And we’ll send the chaos runnin’ back with its tail between its legs,” Thomas offered. “We’re cops, ain’t that what we do? Uphold order?”

And now,

Thomas’ eyes remained fixed on the sigils. “...The chaos.”

“Yeah, that’s a pretty accurate symbol to those statues I saw in that encampment,” Parker confirmed. “That’s her. The Golden Lady.”

Thomas blinked. “Why’s she purple then??” 

“Shhhh!” 

A car’s engine could be heard approaching now. The sound grew louder until they saw headlights glaring against the trees. A dark red car with a noticeably damaged left headlight pulled up in front of the two hooded figures before the lights flickered off. The car door opened and out stepped a man Parker and Thomas had never seen before. He wore a grey coat over a lighter grey T-shirt, beige pants and dirty brown shoes. His dark hair was short and curly. Perhaps most striking, though, were his deathly pale complexion and bloodshot eyes. 

He spoke with a snarl, “Sorry I kept you waiting. Traffic was killer,” he said. “I would’ve cut through it but I saw police on practically every street. Someone must’ve committed a crime recently,” he smirked. Thomas saw the glint of a noticeably sharp canine poking between his lips. 

The hooded figures seemed amused. One of them chuckled softly. “I’m sure there is an ongoing investigation. Many cases to solve these days I imagine. The authorities must be at their wit’s end.”

“I don’t believe this,” Thomas mumbled in Parker’s ear. “They’re mocking us. They’re making fun of us right now.”

The red-eyed man laughed, “Oh that’s just mean. You’re aware the Caldwell boy is back in town, yeah? You’d best be careful. I’ve heard he’s pretty persistent. He’ll whip those bumbling fools into shape real quick, and the next thing you know you’ll have bigger problems than clueless cops.”

“Oh, we know,” one of the figures replied.

“In fact…” the other started.

And in perfect unison, they finished, “We’ve been waiting for him.”

Right at that moment, the figures’ heads snapped in the direction of the tree where Parker and Thomas thought they were hidden. 

“Fuck!”

Thomas drew his gun and opened fire quickly. In the blink of an eye, the two hooded figures vanished into the woods leaving only the red-eyed man behind. Thomas’ bullets collided with the trees.

Parker cursed under his breath and said, “Don’t kill him, Tommy. He has some explaining to do.”

“And what makes you think I’ll tell you a damn thing.” The man flashed a toothy smile, baring both his fangs for the detectives to see. 

“We know you killed Fred Dorsey. Well, you didn’t really kill him, did you? He’s probably out there somewhere looking for another victim. Am I right?” Thomas kept his gun leveled at the man’s head.

The man cackled, “You think you have everything figured out, don’t you?”

“Honestly, no, I’m taking shots in the dark here. It’d be nice if you started answerin’ my questions.”

“I have your answer right here.” As if daring Thomas to fire his weapon, the red-eyed man reached toward his own pocket. He did not seem to be in a rush.

“Tommy, don’t!-”

BANG.

BANG BANG BANG BANG.

Bullets tore through the man in quick succession and he quickly collapsed to the ground. However Thomas had not fired a single shot. As a matter of fact, he was just as surprised as Parker. Then again, ‘surprised’ did not begin to cover all of the emotions Parker felt in that moment.

Standing behind the body was none other than Detective Randall Skinner holding a smoking gun. Keith Costello stood beside him. Randy flashed Parker and Thomas a grin and said, “You’re welcome. Why you didn’t take the shot is a mystery to me, Wheeler, but you’re lucky Keith and I were tailing him.”

Parker could see nothing but red. The gunshots and the sight of Randy Skinner took him back to the day when Randy shot the shapeshifter up on Lover’s Lane. The shapeshifter Parker intended to interrogate. Now made the second time that Randy had derailed Parker’s plans. 

“Sometimes I wish you’d ask questions before taking action, Randy,” Thomas sighed. “That guy you shot was our lead.”

Randy threw his hands up in defense and calmly replied, “I humbly apologize. I saw your lives were in danger and I merely sprung into action, as per my training... The man was clearly reaching for a gun.” He motioned to the curved black object sticking out of the vampire’s left pocket, it was indeed the handle of a handgun. 

The taunting tone of Randy’s voice rang in Parker’s head. Within his mind Randy’s voice was distant despite him being so close.

“I’m sick of you,” Parker said. Hatred dripped from his voice, something they had never heard from him before. All eyes fell on him, and Thomas was particularly perplexed. 

Randy started to laugh. “Oh man, the Caldwell brat is throwing a tantrum. He’s used to getting his way, I suppose.”

“This is the second time you’ve gotten between me and a case, Randy. I’m starting to think you have a problem with me.”

“No, really? Is it that obvious? Couldn’t be.”

“If you have something you’d like to say to me, why don’t you go ahead and say it? Your passive aggression is grating.”

“It’s simple, really. I’m a Skinner, you’re a Caldwell; your family’s been a thorn in the side of my family since we both landed on Massachusetts Bay. You’ve stolen everything from us time and time again. Way I see it, you shoulda stayed wherever you ran off to. Manhattan, Bangkok, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re not here. I should be police chief! Me! Not you, not any other Caldwell. Me.”

Quiet fell over the forest for several seconds until a short chuckle breached the silence. That chuckle became laughter. Hearty, earnest laughter from Parker Caldwell.

“Is that it? Family bullshit?” Parker snorted. Thomas and Keith heard the click of a gun’s safety going off before they saw Randy staring down the barrel of Caldwell’s pistol.

Keith’s eyes widened. “Holy motherf–”

“Why don’t we settle it here then? Get it over with. Handle our quarrel like men. An old fashioned gun duel. Whoever walks away brings honor to their family line. That’s what you care about, right? Your honor? Bloodline bullshit? How’s that sound, huh?”

To Thomas and Keith, Parker sounded like he had well and truly lost his mind. Randy stood frozen like a deer in headlights. 

“Come on, Randy!” Parker egged him on. “You were talking big a minute ago! About how I should’ve never come back, how you’re gonna be police chief one day! If you kill me, you’ll be a hero to your family. No one will stand in your way of being chief someday. Now’s your chance to go down in Skinner history, my boy.” 

“Hey, uh– Parks? You feelin’ okay?”

“No, Tommy. I’m disturbed. I thought I was standing face to face with a man. All I see in front of me is a coward.” He lowered his gun and clicked the safety back on. 

Keith swore he saw Randy flinch at the sound. Up until now, he had only seen Randy bark orders at people and put the fear of God into his subordinates. He had never seen his partner express fear before, but then again he had also never seen anyone stand up to him. A first time for everything, he supposed. 

Parker turned back towards the car and walked off. “Come on, Thomas. We still have a case to solve.”

What followed was a minute’s worth of events which transpired within seconds. Before Parker knew it, he was hurtling towards the nearest tree and laying on the ground at the foot of the evergreen before his brain even processed the collision. Like a thunderclap after lightning, the shockwave of pain washed over his body. He couldn’t get up.

Not so far away he heard gunshots and loud cursing from Randy before he too was struck down by a force moving too fast to be seen. Keith and Thomas’ attempts to shoot down the moving target were to no avail. Keith cried out in pain as his gun was knocked out of his hand, leaving a slash across his palm, and he still hadn’t seen what had done it. Thomas’ eyes scanned the area and he soon realized that the body was missing. There was nothing but a pool of blood where the dead man should’ve been.

Laughter carried through the woods growing more distant by the second. Thomas was the only man left standing, he stood there in a daze surrounded by his wounded comrades.  

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Friday, October 15th, 1999.

10:05 AM.

“A vampire?”

“That’s right,” Thomas gave a nod of confirmation. “We found ‘em in the woods. He practically confessed to it before another one of our boys shot ‘em. He had fangs and everything, eyes bloodshot red.”

“Now we know that Fred Dorsey was likely turned,” Parker said. “But that still does not explain the eyewitness account of someone carrying the body out of the morgue...”

Chronis stammered, “Turned?? Do you mean–” Both the detectives nodded. The mortician hunched over and placed a hand on his temple. “This isn’t real.”

“Unfortunately it’s very real, and it means we’re going to have to find the body as soon as possible. Before more turn up.”

“...Last night we lost two more,” Chronis said.

“What.”

“I arrived at work this morning and found two more bodies missing.”

“We need ID. Immediately!” Parker demanded.

Chronis put down two photographs on the desk. Parker quickly took the photographs and pocketed them. The mortician shook his head. “What the hell is going on, detective?”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Chronis. We’re going to get to the bottom of this. You don’t have anythin’ to worry about,” Thomas reassured him. “We’ll let you know when we recover the bodies.”

“This time we’ll make sure they stay dead,” Parker added.

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11:13 AM.

“What do you reckon this is, Harrison?”

Officers Sharon Cicero and Joe Harrison stood in a clearing in the middle of Dreamwood Forest, the shore of Devil’s Lake not far away. Their eyes were glued to a particularly eye-catching sight that lay in front of them.

Fully erected gallows, constructed from wooden planks and complete with a tied noose, stood in the center of the forest clearing looking out into the lake. A smiley face was etched into the base of the wooden platform like some kind of cryptic taunt alongside a peculiar phrase. “Sleep sound while you still can.”

“Some kind of message?” Harrison tried. “But for who?”

Cicero shook her head. “Beats me. I know one thing for damn sure, this thing wasn’t here yesterday…”

“Newly built. Designed like some kinda weird intimidation tactic…” Harrison mumbled to himself. He turned and looked across the lake. 

In the far distance, he could somewhat make out Nathan Caldwell’s house on the opposite end of the lakeside. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[eris-anansi]

Dreamwood 1999

Episode 6: Beautiful Gifts

Parker and Thomas chase a serial killer who dismembers his victims and scatters them across town. The case becomes more complicated when their first lead brings a challenge of faith.

CW: Murder, graphic depictions of violence, dismemberment

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Associated Song: Nina Simone - Feeling Good

Saturday, October 9th, 1999.

A grey mass of clouds hung overhead reflecting upon the surface of the dark, murky Devil’s Lake of Dreamwood Forest. 

Off the shore, forensics in plastic yellow suits trudged through the deep waters in search of only God knows what. Parker, Thomas, Officer Darcy, and Jeffrey Woods stood at the scene watching the men in protective suits do their work. 

“How many have they found so far?” Parker asked.

“Three. All of them are digits,” Jeffrey answered.

Officer Darcy grimaced. “You mean severed fingers? Heaven have mercy…”

“Any identifiable fingerprints?” Parker pried for more answers, less fazed than Darcy was.

“That’s what we have to find out now,” Jeffrey said.

A voice carried from their right, “Found the hand!” They announced.

Thomas audibly blanched as he watched the forensic guy wave the hand in the air. The men gathered the recovered fingers and the newly discovered hand, and began counting their findings.

“One finger is missing,” they determined.

“Forget the damn finger.” Thomas shook his head in disbelief then said, “Where the hell is the rest of the body?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, at Nathan’s House…

Nathan’s wife Mariah sat on the balcony of their old-fashioned house, gazing out at the vast body of water in front of their house. All around her, trees surrounded the lake and the house as far as her eyes could see. She breathed in the cool air of Dreamwood Forest and listened to the birdsongs it offered. She wondered how such a beautiful place could harbor so much terror. 

In the background the radio played the afternoon news. “This week, the third in a string of mysterious disappearances in the downtown area. An ongoing investigation into the whereabouts of the three victims continues.”

Mariah sighed and quickly turned the radio off. “Is there ever good news on the radio anymore?” She pulled herself out of her chair and started to make her way back inside, having had enough of the radio and the scenery. The sun never seemed to shine on Dreamwood, anyway.

She descended the wooden spiral staircase and entered the downstairs kitchen, where she found Nathan bent over a table and scribbling on a piece of paper. She looked at him in mild confusion. “I thought we agreed I would handle the shopping list,” she said.

Nathan looked up. “Huh? Oh, this isn’t the shopping list. It’s something else,” he mumbled that last part, as if he were trying to avoid any further questioning.

It did not work. “Well then what is it?” Mariah asked him.

“Nothing important. It’s nothing you need to worry yourself about, dear,” he told her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “...Honey, are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” he answered simply. “Trust me, it’s nothing.”

She could tell from his demeanor that he wanted to be left alone. She decided it best not to pry, at least for now. “Whatever you say, Nathan. If you need me I’ll be upstairs.”

A knock brought their attention to the front door. Before Mariah could say anything, Nathan said, “I’ll get it.” 

He grabbed the paper off the kitchen counter and took it with him on his way to answer the door. He opened the door and found the mailman-- a short and stocky man with brown hair-- standing in the doorway with a box. He greeted Nathan with a fond and familiar smile. “G’mornin’, Nathan. I do believe this one’s for you.”

“Mornin’ George, thank you,” He took the box and set it down beside the door. “How’ve you been? How’s the wife and the kid?”

“They’re doing great, and how about yourself?”

“Oh you know how it is. Taking it day by day. You take care of yourself now, George.”

“You as well,” the mailman said before he turned to leave. He caught Mariah’s inquisitive eye over Nathan’s shoulder on his way out. 

Nathan picked up the box and offered Mariah an ambiguous smile as he passed her. He carried the box down to the basement, letting the door close– and lock– behind him.

Mariah stared at the door for a moment, gears turning in her head.

What was her husband up to?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the police station…

In the forensics lab, Jeffrey was scanning the fingerprints of the severed hand. 

“Have we identified the… hand, yet?” Parker asked.

Jeffrey looked at the screen in front of him. “Victim’s name was Audrey Garrison, age thirty-nine,” he answered. “She went missing last Friday. She was unwed but she has two children out of wedlock. No information about them, though. Until we can find the rest of her body we can’t determine a cause of death either.”

“It’s pretty damn obvious what killed her though, right?” Thomas stepped into the room. “She got dismembered, for Christ’ sake.”

“The details are murky,” Jeff clarified. 

“Do we think Ms. Garrison is one of the missing persons who’ve disappeared in the last two weeks?”

“It’s very likely. This isn’t the only case of body parts turning up in and around Devil’s Lake, Officer Cicero found a foot belonging to another victim two days ago. We could be dealing with another serial killer.”

“Do we think this has anything to do with the other string of disappearances starting two months back?” Thomas asked. 

Jeff shook his head. “Less likely. That one hasn’t turned up any bodies yet.”

“Two months back?” Parker questioned.

“Yeah, a week or so before you got here people started disappearin’. The chief is real frustrated by that case. We’ve found no leads so far,” Thomas explained.

If Parker’s memory was right, that was the week his father was hospitalized. It seemed coincidental, but it was worth noting. He’d keep that in mind for later. “Interesting…” He murmured. “Anyway, is there anything on the hand that could indicate what exactly happened to Garrison?”

“We’d have to find the rest of her to solve that mystery,” Jeff said. 

“And how do you reckon we’ll do that? She could be anywhere beneath Devil’s Lake. Hell, she might not even be in Devil’s Lake. We’re graspin’ at straws here.”

There was a knock at the door. It was Officer Darcy. “Parker, somebody wants to see you.”

“My brother, I’m guessing.”

“No, actually… it’s a young lady talkin’ somethin’ bout a body buried in the woods. Says she knows where the body is.”

Parker blinked. “You can’t be serious.”

“Buried?” Thomas echoed incredulously.

“She sounds pretty adamant,” Darcy replied. 

“And she’s outside?”

Darcy gave a nod in response.

“Then take me to her.”

“I’ve gotta hear this one,” Jeff mumbled and opted to follow Parker, Thomas and Darcy. 

Officer Darcy led them outside to the main lobby where a series of seats were arranged on either side of the receptionist’s desk. Sitting on one of the seats was a girl who looked to be no older than sixteen. She had messy brown hair and wore a sweater that was colored a pale shade of pink. She stared at the floor until she heard their approaching footsteps, and her eyes latched onto Parker. He found the way that she stared at him rather unnerving, she seemed to stare right through him as if he were transparent.

“You must be Parker Caldwell,” she said.

“I am,” he answered slowly. “And you are?”

“My name’s Madison,” she basically mumbled. “Did that officer tell you why I’m here?”

“He did. And personally I’m disappointed,” Parker sighed. “We’re dealing with a very serious situation here, and all a kid like you can think about is how to get your fifteen minutes of fame with some prank. You do realize lying to law enforcement is a serious offense, don’t you?” 

Madison blinked unfazed. “Why would I lie? I won’t get a laugh from lying to the cops,” she deadpanned. “Especially not about something like this.”

“I think what my partner means to ask,” Thomas started, “Is how do you know where it is?” He hardly believed the girl himself, but he was curious to hear what she had to say regardless. 

“I don’t know, I just…” She hesitated, as if she knew her answer would arouse skepticism. “I saw it in a dream,” she said. 

Parker, Thomas, Darcy, and Jeff all looked at one another. At that moment they appeared to have an unspoken conversation. Thomas looked incredulous as always, while intrigue was written clearly on Jeff’s face. Parker and Darcy shared a tired expression. 

Madison’s face contorted with mild annoyance. “You don’t have to make faces at each other. I know it sounds stupid.”

“No, we believe you,” Parker said.

Thomas looked at Parker almost as if to say, ‘We do??’

“It’s the best lead we’ve got. There’s no harm in following it.” Parker glanced back at Madison. “Now, can you lead us to it?”

Madison nodded. “It’s a long walk from here, and you’re gonna need shovels. Can you drive?”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wind rolled across the countryside. Dark clouds– darker than usual– hung over Dreamwood Forest. It made Thomas nervous.

The group had driven to some remote location in the middle of the forest and Parker, Thomas, Jeff, and Henry Darcy were all digging with shovels near a massive pine tree that Madison had led them to. 

“Christ, I see somethin’.”

Beneath the grime and soil, Thomas stared at what he soon realized was a finger sticking out between the earth. Jeff immediately went to grab it with his gloves.

“Jeff!-” 

Thomas’ voice did little to stop him. Jeff pulled the finger out of the dirt with ease, breaking it free with no limb attached. “...We found the missing finger.” 

“Oh, that’s gross. That’s just– that’s disgusting...”

Parker glanced between Madison and the finger, hardly able to believe that the girl was right after all. Madison met his gaze and said, “Keep digging. You’re close now.” Parker nodded silently and turned to his crew. “You heard her.”

The men continued to dig and, after another five minutes, they unearthed the beginning of a torso. Digging around it gave way to arms, and then legs, and fairly soon they had found their missing body. Thomas stared in disbelief and Darcy struggled to hold in his breakfast. Jeff glanced back at Madison and asked, “How… did you do that?” 

Madison stared back unblinking. “I told you. I saw it in a dream. Rather vividly, too. I woke up crying,” her tone was matter of fact. Any emotion she may have felt was nowhere to be seen or heard now. “She may not have had any family in this town but she still deserves a proper burial. We owe her that much.”

Parker and Thomas nodded in agreement. “We’ll see to that. You don’t have to worry.”

“And now that you believe me, this next part’s going to be a lot easier,” Madison said. 

“Next part?” Parker questioned.

Madison took a deep breath before her next words, her shoulders rising and falling as she did. “I know who killed her.”

“You what?”

Officer Darcy, who had only just recovered, placed a hand on Thomas’ shoulder for support as he said, “Can we slow down for just a moment? My head is spinnin’ over here.”

Thomas gave Darcy a supportive pat on the back and said, “Why don’cha head back over to the car and take five?” He then turned his attention back to Madison. “Well then, who’s responsible for this?” He asked. 

“He’s a local, you see him everyday. He delivers your mail and he lives next door to Officer Darcy, on 3rd and Prescott,” she glanced in Henry Darcy’s direction. 

Officer Darcy’s head quickly turned towards Madison as she spoke.

“His name is George. George Truman. And he’s my father.” 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“I don’t know what it is, I just… I just get the impression that my husband is hiding something from me.”

It was two in the afternoon. Mariah Caldwell strolled down main street with her best friend Leah Stewart. Mariah had run into her in the middle of a grocery errand, and the two quickly decided they were both in no rush. Some catching up was in order.

“All men have secrets, Mary,” Leah responded with emphasis. “And you forget– Nathan might still be grieving.” 

“I’m still grieving too,” Mariah said. “I don’t understand why we can’t grieve together.”

“Men grieve differently.”

“And how I wish they didn’t,” Mariah sighed. “I wish Nathan’s first instinct was to talk to me, rather than close in on himself. And he’s received the third mysterious package this week.”

“Mysterious package?” Leah questioned. 

“Yes! I’ve seen him carry boxes into the basement and disappear with them. He’s been keeping the basement locked recently, too.”

Leah’s brows furrowed. “That is weird.”

“Okay, so it’s not just me.” Mariah breathed a sigh of relief. “And the last time I asked him about it, he just told me not to worry. Like- how am I not supposed to worry?”

Leah nodded along, processing Mariah’s every word. “If I were you, I would give him some space. He’ll come and talk to you when he’s ready. How long has it been since you noticed him acting strange?”

“In the last month or so,” Mariah answered. “Around the time his brother moved back from New York. I think his brother coming back may have caused some memories to resurface… Nathan never did speak much about his childhood, but I always did get the impression that he didn’t have many fond memories.”

“I can imagine Jackson Caldwell being a very strict father,” Leah nodded. 

“I just want to know what he’s keeping in that damn basement…”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The suburbs of Dreamwood were where the town’s most financially stable residents lived. These included doctors, bankers, business owners, and some members of law enforcement-- including Benjamin Bowers and Henry Darcy. The streets were populated with beautiful homes made of stone, brick, and hardiplank with sturdy rooves and green front yards. Residents poured a ton of disposable income into making their neighborhood scenic, investing in tree saplings and exotic species of flora. It certainly paid off because Locklear was the greenest community in Dreamwood, Massachusetts. 

On 3rd and Prescott, Dreamwood Baptist Church– a tall, foreboding castle-like structure– stood across the street from several homes. Parker Caldwell’s gray impala pulled up to the lawn of one of the houses across the street from the church. 

From the passenger’s seat Henry Darcy looked out at the brick house in front of them. He didn’t have to look very far to see his own home standing right next to it. He couldn’t help but shudder at the thought that he may be living next door to a serial killer. 

“This is the place,” Madison confirmed. “This is where I live.”

“And you’re sure he’ll let us in?” Parker asked.

“He will if he wants to prove that he has nothing to hide,” Madison replied. “I know he isn’t dumb. It’s your job as cops to outsmart him.”

“Right…” Parker blinked. He wasn’t used to being talked to like this, especially not by a kid. 

They climbed out of the car and set foot on the premises. At Truman’s porch Parker glanced at Thomas and studied his expression to see what he was thinking. Thomas returned the look, as if to say ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this’. Parker’s expression let him know that the feeling was mutual. Parker gave three knocks on the door.

The door opened shortly after, and a woman stood in the doorway. She had shoulder length blonde hair and wore a flower pattern dress. She greeted the officers with a smile. “Good afternoon officers, can I-” She paused when her gaze lowered and she saw Madison standing with the detectives. “Goodness, there you are! We were wondering where you’d gone and wandered off to.” The woman then addressed the detectives. “Thank you for finding her. She likes to pull these disappearing acts, I don’t know what’s up with her.” 

“We’re actually here to see your husband, Mrs. Truman,” Parker said. “We’d like to ask him a few questions.”

Mrs. Truman’s expression dropped, turning into a worried frown. Her husband’s voice chimed in from the other side of the door. 

“Yes sir, that’s me,” A stocky brown-haired man appeared next to Mrs. Truman and gave Parker a friendly smile. He then raised an eyebrow at Madison. “What’s she doin’ with you?”

“Like I said, Mr. Truman, we’d like to ask you some questions,” Parker persisted. “It shouldn’t take too long. May we come inside?”

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” George asked in a lighthearted tone. 

“That all depends on how you answer our questions, don’t it?” For once Thomas’ tone was quite serious. 

George glanced between the men and his expression slowly turned from friendly to concerned. “Oh. I see. Why don’t you gentlemen step inside?”George led the officers into a quaint living room and the men sat down around a coffee table. Madison stuck by the doorway that divided the foyer, the living room, and the kitchen. Mrs. Truman offered them drinks and they declined. 

“What’s going on, detectives?” George asked, sounding more worried than anything. 

“We have reason to suspect you in the possible murders of three missing persons, including Audrey Garrison,” Parker explained. 

George’s expression shifted. He leaned back in his chair, shoulders shifting with indignation. “And what led you to such a conclusion?”

“A hunch,” Parker answered vaguely. He knew that if he told George the truth that would only open an even bigger can of worms and potentially land Madison in danger. “If you’d be so kind, we would like to search your house.” 

“I’m an honest, hardworking man. You cut me and I bleed red, just like the rest of you. I’m an American citizen, Mr. Caldwell, and I don’t have to entertain these wild accusations.”

“Tell ‘em, George,” His wife chimed in from the corner. Madison observed silently. 

George’s eyes narrowed. He scowled at Parker. “You’ve got some nerve comin’ ‘round here, scaring my daughter, and then accusing me of murder in front of my family. You’re a far cry from your brother, that’s for sure. I’d suggest you come back with a warrant.”

George was right and Parker knew it. He couldn’t search the house without reasonable suspicion, and right now the only evidence he had was Madison’s word. She may have found the body, but there was no physical evidence that tied the body back to Truman. At least not yet. Tensions in the room were high as Thomas, Jeff, and Henry looked to see what Parker would do or say next. 

“I will,” Parker replied. “Then we’ll see how much nerve I have.” With that, Parker stood up from his seat and started to make his way into the foyer. Madison stepped out of his way and they exchanged glances, with Parker giving her an apologetic look. He was sorry that this had to be dragged on longer than it should’ve, and more than that he was sorry that she was put in this situation in the first place. Mrs. Truman’s cold gaze followed Parker as he left the house. 

Thomas blinked as he murmured a curse under his breath. He quickly followed his partner outside, leaving Jeff and Darcy behind. 

“Thank you for your time,” Officer Darcy said as he prepared to leave. 

Jeff nodded silently. “We apologize for the disturbance,” he added.

Once the men were gone, George breathed a deep sigh and looked toward his family. “Those men didn’t scare you too much, did they?” He asked Madison. “They interrogate you?” 

Madison shook her head. “It was fine, dad. They only wanted to ask me some questions.”

“The nerve of that Caldwell,” George gritted his teeth. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once they were outside, Parker breathed a shaky sigh. Doubt started to settle in, and he was unsure of how well he had handled the situation. Frankly he wasn’t used to dealing with suspects like George Truman. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Parks,” Thomas’ voice chimed in from his side. 

“I don’t. This case frustrates me,” Parker answered honestly.

“I know the feeling,” Officer Darcy said. “Under any other circumstance I’d say that the girl is delusional, but she was able to locate the body. That means either she killed Garrison herself, which I can hardly rationalize, or she’s right about her father. I’ve got a hard time rationalizing that one, too.”

“But somehow it still makes more sense,” Jeff added. Parker and Thomas nodded in agreement. 

Darcy still looked conflicted. He rubbed his temples and sighed, “Everything about this makes my head hurt.” 

“Jeff, I need you to find something-- anything-- off of Garrison that proves Truman is guilty. We’ve got a body now, not just a hand. There has to be something there.” 

Jeff nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mariah’s thoughts followed her into the darkest hour of the night. As a result, she found herself awake at three in the morning while her husband was still fast asleep. She quietly snuck out of the bedroom and into the hallway, looking back only once to make sure she hadn’t woken her husband. Nathan still slept peacefully despite the minor noise. 

She continued down the hall, passing the room that once belonged to her daughter. It was not every night that her gaze lingered on that door, but tonight it held her attention. Neither she nor her husband had ever touched that room since that fateful night, and it was going on three years now. She wondered if they would ever be able to enter-- much less look at-- that room ever again without feeling a sharp pang in their chest. It would be a long while, she thought. She passed the door and descended the staircase, making her way to the kitchen. If she couldn’t sleep, she figured she might as well help herself to a midnight snack. 

Mariah entered the kitchen, and she would have turned the light on if she wasn’t more observant. Through the window on the far opposite end of the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of a silhouette standing between the trees outside. She could faintly make out a black shirt, matching pants, and a white mask that vaguely resembled a mannequin. 

The figure seemed to stare back at her, but she didn’t get the feeling that she had been seen. After all, she was standing in the middle of a dark kitchen. Still, there was a strange masked man standing outside of their house. That was enough to be alarmed. She quickly rushed back upstairs back to the bedroom.

“Nathan- honey, wake up-”

Nathan woke up in a tired daze, “Wh- whuh? What’s going on?”

“There’s a masked man outside,” Mariah whispered. “He’s standing near the kitchen window.”

Once he heard that, Nathan shook off the sleep like dust and before Mariah knew it, her husband was already on his way downstairs armed with a handgun. She followed him downstairs. 

Nathan entered the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room and the view beyond the window. Mariah caught up behind him and started to point to the window. “He’s right-” She paused for a moment. “...Right there.” She paused because she didn’t see anyone where the masked man used to be. “I swear he was right there.”

“Don’t worry, I believe you,” Nathan said. “I’m calling the police.”

“You mean your brother?”

“Whoever picks up the phone.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday, October 10th, 1999. 

Parker Caldwell arrived at work exhausted. He swore he nearly fell asleep at the wheel. It was all because he had been awake all night trying to make sense of the Garrison case. He hoped he would receive some good news from Woods. 

He entered the building and walked through the front office, passing the clerks and making a beeline for the forensic lab. At this point there was only one man he wanted to see. 

“Jeffrey!” 

Parker’s voice startled Jeffrey out of his focus. He was heavily concentrated on a computer screen before Parker walked into his office. 

“Please tell me you found something.”

“Parker, Jesus Christ-” Jeff coughed. He shook his head and replied, “Actually, I did. One moment.” 

Jeff rode his office chair to the other side of the room to pick up some papers from another table. He contemplated riding the chair over to Parker, but figured it was best to walk instead. He showed the papers to Parker, revealing them to be printed x-ray scans. They depicted unusual wounds Parker quickly identified as some kind of blade, but they were oddly shaped for knife wounds.

“Stab wounds? They don’t look like they were done with a knife, though.”

“That’s because it’s not a knife,” Jeff answered. “It’s a box opener. The killer slit the victim’s throat with a box opener.”

Parker blinked, taking a moment to process this. Then he looked Jeff in the eye. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, definitely. I’m thinking that George Truman is an idiot.”

“And we have ourselves some physical evidence. We can take him in for questioning. If he resists, well that only tells us even more,” Parker thought aloud. 

As if right on time, Thomas Wheeler appeared in the doorway. “Parks, thank god you’re here. I just got off the phone with your brother. He says some masked lunatic tried to break into his house last night.”

Parker and Jeff both looked at Thomas, then looked at each other. 

“...Also, I think I saw Madison on my way here. Looks like she’s waiting outside again.”

Parker immediately went outside to go and find Madison. Thomas and Jeff followed him to the lobby where, once again, Madison was there to be found. Instead of sitting she was pacing around the lobby while she waited for them. She stopped when she saw Parker. 

“Madison? What’s going on?” Parker asked.

“I had another dream,” Madison said plainly. “This one was vivid. I know where another one of the missing women was buried, and I know who my father is going to kill next.”

Those were words Parker never thought he would ever hear out of a child’s mouth, and yet here he was, solving a murder case with the help of a psychic teenager. He glanced back at Jeff. “...Go find Darcy and Harrison. We’re going to need more than one team for this.” 

“On it.” Jeff went off to go find them. 

Parker returned his attention to Madison and asked, “Who’s his next target?”

“I think you know her,” Madison said. “I remember her face. She has dark hair, brown eyes… no-- purple? Her eyes are purple.”

“That’s Mariah. That’s– that’s my brother’s wife.” 

“She’s in danger. She has been for a while. Someone is stalking her and I think it’s my father. I know he’s seen her before. He remembers her.”

First the Rake and now this. It seemed his family could never catch a break. All that Parker knew right now was that he had to put a stop to this before Nathan caught wind of it and did something reckless again.

“We’re going back to your father’s house. We found enough proof needed to take him in for questioning.”

“He’d be leaving Church right about now with Mom,” Madison said. “It’s just across the street from our house. Dreamwood Baptist.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was one of those rare days in Dreamwood, Massachusetts where the sun shined bright over the town. The sunlight reflected beautifully on the trees of Locklear’s gated community. 

The church bells rang and the congregation of Dreamwood Baptist Church were gathered outside after service, many of them were beginning to return home. Among them were George Truman and his wife Joanne. Parker’s grey impala-- along with two police cars-- pulled up in front of the church, causing George to pause. Thomas had taken shotgun and Officer Darcy sat in the backseat. Madison sat next to him in the backseat staring coldly at her father. 

Parker stepped out of the vehicle and approached Truman. “George Truman, you are under arrest for suspected murder of more than two missing persons in the last two weeks.”

George scoffed. “You can’t be serious.” His eyes began to survey his surroundings.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will- George!”

George suddenly bolted for the street. Both Parker and Officer Darcy rushed to catch him, but he was already in the middle of the street. Madison watched him, mumbling from the backseat, “He really shouldn’t have done that.”

Thomas blinked. “Who’re you tellin’.”

Just as George ran out into the street, a red car swiftly rounded the corner and was unable to stop before it rammed straight into him. The collision sent George sprawling across the concrete, scraping his face in the process. Churchgoers gasped in shock, and Joanne screamed, “George!”

Thomas grimaced, then glanced back at the girl in the backseat. “Did you know that was gonna happen?” Madison avoided eye contact and did not answer his question. Thomas snorted, “Holy shit.”

George was slowly pulling himself to his feet. The driver had rushed out of the car to check if he was okay, but George shouted at the man to stay away from him. Meanwhile Parker was catching up. George was in no condition to run, but his stubbornness drove him to limp away from the scene as quickly as he could. Parker inevitably caught up to him, though, and grabbed his hands in order to cuff them.

“...Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney,” Parker began to escort Truman to the police car as he finished reading him his rights. 

Joanne started to protest from the crowd of frightened onlookers. “Just what do you think you’re doing?! My husband is innocent!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Truman, but we have testimony from your daughter saying otherwise. In addition to that, forensics doesn't lie,” Parker said. “Before we got here, Madison pointed us to the location of one of the bodies. Officers discovered your husband’s hair at the site where the victim was hidden.”

Joanne blinked, processing what she was hearing. Her right eyelid twitched, her gaze settling on her daughter in the backseat of Parker’s car. “...You. You’re a traitor to this family. Look what you’ve done! You’ve torn this family apart! I hope you’re satisfied, I know you always hated us.” Her voice dripped with potent venom directed at her daughter. Darcy flinched at the harsh words that were delivered, hardly able to believe what he was hearing from the girl’s mother. Joanne carried on and on, to which Madison rolled up the window. 

Parker ignored the wife’s insults and threats and shoved George into the second police car. He addressed the driver, “Take him downtown, yeah?” The driver gave Parker a salute and drove off after Parker slammed the door in George’s face. Joanne screamed after the car. The other churchgoers were beginning to quickly disperse, leaving Joanne by herself on the street corner. 

Parker and Darcy walked back to the impala and climbed inside. Thomas greeted Parker with a solemn look. “We got ‘em, brother. We got ‘em.” Parker leaned back in his seat and breathed a long sigh. “...It’s over.”

Madison glanced between them. “So- so what happens to me now? I can’t stay with Mom. She’s… well… you saw her.”

Darcy looked at Madison. “You live just next door, yeah? Pack whatever you need and bring it over. You can stay with me and my wife from now on. We don’t have any kids, unless the dog counts, but hell-- we’ve always wanted one.”

Madison’s eyes lit up at the mention of a dog, which was the most emotion they had ever seen from her yet. “You’re being for real right now?”

Darcy nodded quickly, doing his darnedest to hold back a tear. “I’m being for real,” he said. 

“Well that takes care of that,” Thomas nodded. “Man, I love a happy ending.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that afternoon, the boys all gathered in the office over glasses of whiskey to celebrate the solving of the case. As per usual, Thomas was already halfway drunk. Parker, on the other hand, made sure not to drink too much. Henry Darcy, Officer Harrison, and Officer Cicero were also among the group. Joe Harrison was a tall and skinny man with blue eyes, ginger hair and a matching mustache. Sharon Cicero was a woman of average height with short cut blonde hair and dark green eyes. She had a tiny scar under her eye that reminded Parker of the one Nathan had on his cheek. 

“Here’s to another case solved,” Thomas raised his glass. “And to Dreamwood becoming a little more normal again. In fact– here’s to normalcy.” 

Everyone had lost count of how many toasts there had already been, but they still clinked their glasses and amen’d to that. Everyone except Henry, who had been noticeably silent most of this time. 

“You alright, Darcy?” Thomas questioned Henry. There was genuine concern in his tone. “You been awfully quiet. What’s on your mind?”

“...He was my neighbor,” was all Henry could say.

The group nodded and murmured in understanding. Parker placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “He was one bad apple. Dreamwood isn’t full of killers, I know that much.”

“We don’t know what we’re sharing this town with anymore,” Henry said. “None of us know anything. I used to think I could trust my neighbors, but after the things I’ve seen lately I… I don’t know anymore. And that terrifies me.” There was a certain desperation in the man’s voice now. Parker could tell he was speaking not as a police officer, but as a man with a wife and loved ones. 

All Parker could do was nod in understanding. He didn’t know what to say, and even if he did, he wasn’t sure if words were appropriate. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mariah heard the basement door close shut. It was roughly one in the morning, and she had been sitting in the dark of the kitchen looking out through the window at the night sky. She counted on Nathan passing her on the way to the basement and she knew he would not see her. 

These past few weeks his midnight trip to the basement had become a ritual. One too many nights she had woken up in the middle of the night only to find her husband not by her side. She wondered if he even checked for her when he would leave, if he had even noticed her absence tonight; or was his routine a robotic one? Perhaps it was true that men were more prone to tunnel vision. Once they settle into a routine, you’d be damned to make them focus on anything else. She only wished he would let her into his world so that they may share their grief together. 

A crackle of the leaves outside brought her attention back to reality, and to the window once more. Nestled between two trees, Mariah saw that familiar white mask staring back at her with its hollow eyes. Supporting it a body clad in a black shirt and matching cargo pants, carrying a small leather briefcase. It stood silently. 

The two would study one another for quite some time.

Until finally,

The White Mask vanished back into Dreamwood Forest.

[eris-anansi]

yeah Romeo and Juliet suuucks they should’ve both survived at the end and lived happily ever after instead. but of course the writer kills them both off for shock value.

[eris-anansi]

Dreamwood 1999

Episode 5: Malice

After several notable businessmen are found dead, all lines trace back to a local lab facility that claims to be a wildlife research center.

CW: Implied murder, depictions of violence, character death, suicide

Associated Song: The Arctic Monkeys - This House is a Circus

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Friday, October 1st, 1999.

“Mr. Wilson– come out, It doesn’t have to end like this!”

A desperate policeman called through a megaphone out to the man inside of Dreamwood National Bank. The building was currently surrounded by police and police vehicles. 

Parker and Thomas had just arrived on the scene and found Officer Darcy by one of the cars. “What’s going on here, Henry?” Parker asked.

“Hostage situation. That guy in there’s got an assault rifle and ten civilians. We aren’t sure what he wants yet and we’re trying to gain control of the situation.”

Parker nodded. He understood all he had to, as far as he was concerned. He started to approach the officer holding the megaphone.

“Parks, what are you–” Thomas started to ask, but he found it pointless to even continue.

Parker walked up to the officer with the megaphone and took it from him. The officer blinked, but did not protest. He let the Caldwell have his way. Parker spoke through the megaphone,

“This is your last chance to come out with your hands up. We have the entire building surrounded. There are helicopters and snipers. You are being recorded.”

No response came from inside the building. 

“I will only repeat myself once. The building is surrounded, you are trapped inside. We have snipers on the next roof over. Come outside with your hands up, or you will be forcing our hand.”

“Forcing your hand?!” A voice erupted from the inside of the building. Bitter laughter followed as the front door came open and a shape emerged. It was the shape of a tall and muscular man holding a rifle. His face was rough, but he was no older than Parker himself. He wore a bulletproof vest and a buzz cut. Parker swore he could clearly see the veins on the man’s face. Pulled alongside him was a bank teller, and the man had the gun pressed against his temple. 

Officers sprung into action, quickly leveling their weapons in the gunman’s direction. “Drop the weapon! Drop the fucking weapon!”

“Let the man go,” Thomas added. He remained focused on the bank teller, who was doing his best to remain calm under the insurmountable pressure.

Parker did a double take, squinting at the man for a moment. He swore he had seen him somewhere before but was struggling to retrieve the memory. 

“You’re forcing my hand, god damnit,” the gunman cursed, pressing the gun farther into his hostage’s temple. 

“Put the gun down, and we can talk about it,” Parker remained calm despite everything. He spoke in an even tone and kept his voice low but audible. 

The gunman scoffed at Parker. “That’s easy for you to say. Everything’s easy for you, Caldwell. Everything’s easy for you.”

“Please–” The bank teller pleaded. “Please don’t hurt me. I already gave you the money.”

Parker raised an eyebrow at the gunman. His first instinct was to respond directly to the comment, but he remained focused on the mission. “As long as no one is hurt, your sentence won’t be so severe. How does ten months in prison sound? If you kill that man, it’ll be ten years.” 

The gunman laughed out loud, “Are you- are you threatening me?? I’ve already lost everything,” he responded evenly. His eyes were wide and unhinged-- but something else was off about them. “You have no idea what it’s like, do you Caldwell? Being anyone but yourself. When you come back from the war, your return is celebrated-- but when I come back from the war, all I get is an eviction notice. Now my wife can’t afford her medication.” 

Parker remained steadfast. “I understand, sir, but–”

“No, YOU DON’T!” The gunman shouted. “None of you do! Look at you,” his eyes scanned the street at every officer pointing a gun at him, absentmindedly lowering the gun in his hand. 

Now that the gunman had lowered his weapon, Parker saw an opening. It would be risky, but he made his name based off risky maneuvers. 

The gunman continued on his deranged rant. “You’re all looking at me like I’m some kind of animal. I’ve had a long, hard fucking day-- do you have any goddamn empathy?!”

The bank teller started to cry. 

“Would you shut up for five minutes?!-”

BANG.

A gunshot rang out as Parker fired at the gunman’s leg. He stumbled back through the doorway and out of sight. The bank teller screamed and quickly made a run for the safety of the nearest police car. 

Parker breathed a deep sigh of relief. The hostage was secured. His gamble paid off. 

He didn’t have long to celebrate, though, as the gunman was seen charging out of the building at a frightening speed. Gunshots fired, and many missed him. Parker only had two seconds to register what was happening. The gunman, now without his weapon, was running straight at him. 

He could now clearly see the man’s face-- and his eyes. His eyes were pitch black with no discernable irises or sclerae, and the veins and arteries on his face appeared to pump black blood. Parker quickly withdrew his pistol and fired three rounds into the man’s chest, and he collapsed backward only several feet away from him. The man’s words flashed through his mind, along with the more recent images of his face. 

Thomas’ voice sounded distant when he asked, “Parker! What the hell just happened?!” Parker looked to his right and saw Thomas run to his side, kneeling down to inspect the body. His black eyes gazed up at the sky unblinking. Thomas stared in utter disbelief. Parker answered the only way he knew how to. 

“I… I don’t know.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday, October 3rd, 1999.

“I don’t think the stock market crashed recently, so how likely do you think it is that three businessmen offed themselves in the last four days?”

Parker, Thomas, Jeff, and a forensic team stood in a trashed bedroom fixated on the ceiling fan in the middle of the room from which a man’s body was hung by a noose. He had been quickly identified as one of Dreamwood’s wealthiest residents who owned a notable gambling casino in Boston. 

“Not likely at all,” Jeff cautioned. “This room is full of signs of struggle, and on top of that… what the hell is that, tar?” Jeff pointed out a thick black substance leaking down the side of the body’s face.

“No, actually- what is that?” Thomas squinted at it.

“There’s a note in his pocket.”

Jeff reached into the pocket and read the note aloud. “The truth is like a lion, you don’t have to defend it. Let it loose and it will defend itself. Signed, C.I. To Anderson.”

“Anderson?” Parker blinked. ”Who is Anderson?”

“Who is C.I.?” Thomas questioned further. 

“I’m thinking they mean the Anderson Facility,” Jeff concluded.

Last Parker left Dreamwood, he knew Anderson to be a research facility concentrated on the study and documentation of local wildlife. Most people were never allowed to enter the Anderson building, and it was widely understood that the U.S. government had some sort of stake in the entire affair. What that stake was had always remained unclear. If this murder had something to do with Anderson, then maybe today would be the day he would find out for himself. 

“That old glorified nature center?” Thomas questioned. “What bone could some murderer have to pick with those guys over there?”

Parker’s eyes narrowed as he thought aloud, “Maybe we should ask them.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Anderson Facility was a highly secretive place. It was heavily guarded at all times, and those permitted to enter were sworn to secrecy with all things concerning what was actually held inside the facility. Few local politicians were ever documented entering, and even fewer officers of the DWPD. 

However, Parker Caldwell was a special case. He was a Caldwell, for starters. He was also the son Jackson spoke highly of. His return was not only anticipated by Dreamwood’s public, but also by the superiors over at Anderson- including Mr. Anderson himself. 

When Parker arrived in the company of his partner, Thomas Wheeler, the metaphorical red carpet was laid out for them. The security on patrol were notified, and immediately made way for the two men to enter through the state-of-the-art automatic, electric fence gate which served as Anderson’s first line of defense.

Anderson was an outwardly humble building; it didn’t appear that large, and it looked to be a simple two-floor, rectangle shaped building made of brick. It was surrounded by a fence and under the constant watch of men clad in bulletproof armor. It silently overlooked the outskirts of Dreamwood, Massachusetts.

The interior, as Parker and Thomas would come to discover, was a portrait of opulence which contrasted greatly with the exterior of the facility. Marble floors, sterile white walls, and a mosaic ceiling spoke volumes to the kind of man the owner of the facility- Rory Anderson- would prove to be. 

“All of this for a wildlife research facility?” Thomas chuckled in disbelief. “I’m glad I chose to experience this sober.”

They were escorted down a long hallway by two identical receptionists- blonde women dressed in all white. “Mr. Anderson will see you now,” they said.

Thomas looked around at the place, whispering a breathless, “Wow.”

Parker simply stood and waited for Anderson. 

“It must be a special occasion when I’m visited by one of Jackson’s sons,” Rory Anderson hummed. He appeared out of a door in front of the two men. He was a prim and proper man with a clean shaven face and slicked back brunette hair. He wore a maroon suit with a white shirt and black tie. He held out an empty glass and one of the receptionist’s poured some expensive alcohol into it.

“Thank you, Margaret,” he nodded to the woman. He glanced to the men. “Care for a drink?”

“I try not to drink on the job,” Parker declined. Thomas nodded along with Parker, “Same here,” he lied shamelessly. 

“Very well. In any case, I’m eager to give the new Caldwell on the block a tour of our wonderful facility. I believe it’s what Jackson would have wanted me to do.”

“You knew my father??” Parker blurted.

“Everyone knew your father, Parker. Don’t ask obvious questions now,” he answered simply. “Although all of your burning questions will be answered in due time. Walk with me.” Rory turned on his heels and started down the hallway, expecting Parker to follow.

Parker and Thomas started to follow him, but Margaret and her twin appeared in Thomas’ way. They paused. Rory paused. He glanced back and said, “Your friend will have to wait in the lobby. I’m not sure if he can be trusted.”

“I’ve known Wheeler all my life,” Parker said. “If he’s not going, I’m not going. Simple as.”

Rory seemed mildly frustrated by this. He hummed, “Very well. The cowboy can tag along.” He continued down the hallway.

“Cowboy?” Thomas blinked. He mumbled, “I’m not a cowboy,” as he followed Parker who followed Rory. 

As they continued down the hallway, their surroundings changed. Windows in the walls gave way to peer into some rather interesting rooms and museum-esque exhibits. Among the exhibits were a plot of earth imprinted with a gigantic footprint simply labeled ‘Yeti’, and the skeleton of a three-headed human specimen. One window allowed Thomas to peek into a room containing an oversized Phoneutria nigriventer- a giant Brazilian wandering spider nearly the size of a large dog.

Thomas whistled. “This really does put the ‘wild’ in wildlife.”

“What do you do here?” Parker questioned, his eyes felt like heat vision against the back of Rory Anderson. 

“Surely you didn’t come all this way just to ask me that,” Rory responded. 

Parker narrowed his eyes as they continued to walk.

Rory simply chuckled. “You really are Jackson’s son. Welcome to the Anderson Research Facility-- not to be confused with the boys over in Silicon Valley. We do not specialize in eccentric machines here, we are in the business of studying that which lies outside of the realm we call ‘normal’. In a perfect world, we protect Dreamwood from the unnatural.”

“Seems like you’ve been slacking on your job then,” Parker observed. “My friend here and I have had to deal with some pretty odd cases in the last few weeks. The type of cases we can’t explain with basic science.”

“It may be possible that some anomalies have slipped under our radar,” Rory admitted. “We have been a tad overwhelmed as of late. Since Jackson died, things have been on a downhill spiral. Rest assured that whatever you faced was not the full brunt of the storm. We have been hard at work. It’s only recently that we’ve suffered a personal blow.”

All of this information hitting Parker at once left him with so, so many questions. The implications of Rory’s statement was also not lost on him- and it terrified him. If the last few weeks were apparently the least horrible thing that could have happened, what else could be out there?

“Storm?” Parker echoed, his voice bending in confusion.

“Personal blow?” Thomas ventured.

Rory stopped in front of a door. He waved a hand, and the door slid open on its own- like something out of Star Wars. “Step into my office and we can discuss it further in comfort.”

The office was a charming cross between a 1920s workspace and a Roman temple- with old fashioned furniture and architecture harking back to the age of jazz and swing, complemented by statues and images of Roman emperors and men of legend. 

In the middle of it all, in front of Rory’s desk, stood a young woman with a pointed stare and long, red hair. 

“Rory, we need to talk.”

Rory did not seem at all surprised by her sudden appearance and responded with a quaint grin, “Alison, I want you to meet detectives Parker Caldwell and Thomas Wheeler.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rory sat down at his desk and reached for a bottle of bourbon, refilling his glass. Parker and Thomas sat at the opposite side of the desk at the two leather seats provided. Thomas practically sunk into the seat-- he could get used to this.

“I didn’t know you were going to be giving them a tour of the facility,” Alison said. She stood off to the side of Rory, carefully examining the two detectives. 

“You’ll have to pardon her, above all else she is very security minded,” Rory explained. “It’s alright, Alison. Parker here is a Caldwell, and his friend is trustworthy. They’ve seen enough already and it’s high time we give them an explanation.”

Alison cleared her throat and glanced back at Parker and Thomas. “I heard Rory say ‘Caldwell’ earlier but it didn’t register. You are Jackson’s son?”

Parker gave a nod.

“It’s nice to meet you then, I only wish we could be meeting under better circumstances. I never met Jackson myself, but I’ve heard of him and the Caldwell family. I’m not from around here-- I’m from Europe-- but I understand what your family has done for the people here and I admire that.”

Rory nodded in agreement. “You have our sincerest condolences. I hope the person who murdered your father is soon brought to justice.” 

Parker nodded his thanks and, eager to change the subject, began with his series of questions. 

“So, you said you recently suffered a ‘personal blow’. Would this by chance have anything to do with the deaths of the three businessmen in the Dreamwood area? We ran background checks and found that they all were key investors of yours.”

Rory nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m afraid it does.”

“A few days ago, we dealt with a hostage situation involving a gunman with superhuman speed and strength,” Parker continued. “I shot him in the leg and he just… got up with no problem.”

“Like some kinda supervillain,” Thomas added.

Parker blinked at Thomas before proceeding, “Does this also have anything to do with you?”

For a split second, Rory’s cool demeanor was disturbed by a brief twist in his expression. “So they are using the formula…” He mumbled.

“Formula?” Parker raised an eyebrow. “What formula?”

Silence hung over the room for several seconds. Alison glanced at the floor from where she stood. The silence broke when she began to speak.

“As you know, we have been locked in a bloody stalemate with the East for the last two years. We lose more lives in the Gray War every year and if our soldiers are not delivered back to their families as corpses, they are delivered back as walking corpses. Empty husks of their former selves. Patriotism is beginning to wane. We had intended to create something that would give our military an edge against the East. A special serum that would enhance the strength of our soldiers-- a super soldier serum, if you will. And we succeeded. Though, like most good things, it proved to have adverse effects.”

There was that bad feeling again. 

“I think one of the most noticeable effects was the… violent outbursts. Rampages that would last for up to an hour if the subjects were not contained. Containing them also proved to be difficult as the strength enhancement worked remarkably well. They would also bleed this black, tar-like substance from their eyes which resembled the formula in color and consistency but differed in chemical makeup. Even after the initial outburst was over, the radical cosmetic and behavioral changes… they lingered. The subjects remained very violent and very unstable. Their bodies ultimately could not handle the serum and shut down after a day or so. The formula seemed to be… incompatible… with the human body. We were so close to a breakthrough, but several days ago somebody managed to breach security and steal the formula--”

“As well as our first surviving test subject,” Rory added.  

“Jesus H. Christ,” Thomas mumbled.

Something shifted in Alison’s eyes when Rory spoke. Parker struggled to read what it was. 

“And it is highly imperative that we retrieve the formula-- and Subject 009-- before they can be used to their fullest destructive potential,” Rory finished. 

“I wish you’d stop calling her that,” Alison said. “She’s a human being, Rory.”

“A very dangerous human now,” Rory corrected. “It’s likely that she’s killed people.”

“Do you have any idea who would want to steal from you? Any enemies?” Parker asked.

“We work for the United States government,” Rory Anderson plainly stated. “Their enemies are our enemies. Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?”

Thomas sighed, “Wonderful. Just wonderful. We have another black-eyed superhuman on the loose, and possibly an enemy of the U.S. government in our town with their hands on a super serum.” 

“We have reason to believe whoever stole your super soldier serum has also been leaving messages for you,” Parker continued. “They’ve been leaving behind notes signed by a ‘C.I.’ One such letter quoted, ‘The truth is like a lion. Set it loose and it will defend itself.’ Is any of this familiar? Any idea who C.I. might be?”

“Communist intelligence?” Alison tried.

“A bit of a reach but it’s as good a guess as I would’ve offered. Frankly I have no idea who C.I. could possibly be,” Rory answered with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“What I can tell you, though, is that every businessman who’s been murdered by this C.I. character so far invested in the development of the soldier serum at one point or another,” Alison said.

“There we go. Our first connection,” Thomas nodded. “What else do you know? Are there any other investors we should know about?”

Rory and Alison glanced at eachother, as if to check with the other if they had the same thought. Parker noticed the realization in their eyes steadily growing into dread.

“What is it?” He asked, growing impatient. 

“Well, one of the people who poured considerable funding into the project was the Mayor.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

City Hall.

Dreamwood’s City Hall was getting ready to close, and Mayor Norman James Rogers had just turned off the lights in his office and was making his way out the door. On his way he passed the door to his secretary’s office. 

“I’m out for the night, Paula,” he announced without waiting for a response. 

He walked down the hallway with its beige painted walls and carpeted floors. After a short walk the hallway opened up into a wider room where two elevator doors stood on either side. Rogers called for one. The door soon opened, and he stepped inside. Only when he was inside the elevator did he acknowledge the man who already stood off in a corner of the compartment. He wore a black trenchcoat with a scarf which concealed all but his rough facial features. He had dark brown eyes and messy grey hair. A flat cap sat atop his head. 

“Where’re you headed?” The man asked Rogers.

“Down,” Rogers answered. 

The man said nothing in response, but he pressed for the roof of the building. 

“What the-”

“Don’t say a word, don’t scream,” the man spoke calmly, cutting Thomas off. He flashed the metal of a pistol from inside his trenchcoat. 

Rogers quickly threw his hands up in defense and slumped against the elevator. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was 10:52 PM.

Parker and Thomas rushed into the front lobby of City Hall, their guns at the ready. They weren’t sure what they would face at this hour of the night.

The first person they encountered was Paula, an office worker who was on her way out for the night. She paused at the sight of the two detectives, gasping in surprise. “What’s going on? Am I in danger?”

“That’s what we’re wonderin’,” Thomas replied. “Where’s the Mayor?”

“Last I heard from him he was on his way out the door. Why? Do you think something’s happened to him?”

Parker began to answer, “We have reason to believe Mayor Rogers may be in-” He was cut off by a distant cry for help that sounded an awful lot like Rogers. Parker narrowed his eyes and finished, “...Danger.”

Parker and Thomas made a beeline for the elevator, calling it down and taking it all the way up to the roof. 

Up on the roof, the two found Mayor Rogers standing at the edge of the building with another figure they didn’t recognize. He wore a dark trench coat and a flat cap, and his face was obscured by a scarf. He was holding a gun to Mayor Rogers’ head. 

“Hey!” Thomas called over. He pointed his own gun at the masked man. “Stop right there!”

The man paused and looked over at Thomas and Parker. Mayor Rogers breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh, thank god! It’s the Caldwell boy.” Frankly, he looked terrified. He clearly wasn’t used to having attempts made on his life. 

“That must be Mr. C.I.,” Parker concluded looking at the masked man. 

“You’d be wrong!” The masked man responded with a chuckle. His voice was gruff and raspy. “You’re makin’ a mistake, assumin’ C.I. is only one person.”

“I’d be happy to learn more about C.I. between the comfort of an interrogation table,” Parker hummed. “Now would you care to throw the weapon down? You’re outnumbered and we’ve got more boys on the way.”

“Outnumbered?” The man scoffed. “You really ought to be more aware of your surroundings.”

“Huh?-” Thomas started to look around, but it was already too late for that. A blur darted across their vision, Thomas’ gun fired off but there were no casualties. In seconds, Thomas was knocked to the ground by a second figure dressed in all black. Parker spotted the insignia of a red dot on the back of what must’ve been the attacker’s uniform. He quickly aimed and fired at the attacker once he got a clear shot. 

The figure in black cartwheeled out of Parker’s line of fire and landed several feet away. Parker and Thomas could now see her clearly. She had long, black hair, and pale skin with highly visible black veins and matching eyes. 

Thomas quickly pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself off. Meanwhile the masked man was slowly backing Mayor Rogers closer to the edge of the building. 

“Looks like we found Subject 009,” Parker said. 

“Quit standing around and help me!!” Mayor Rogers demanded. The masked man shouted at him to shut up. 

The distant beating of helicopter blades drew closer and closer from the sky. The masked man and Mayor Rogers were bathed in a spotlight that seemed to descend from the heavens, and a voice shouted through a megaphone.

“Drop your weapon and put your hands where we can see them! Step away from the Mayor!” Choppers had surrounded the roof of the building, and they could see armed policemen aiming from inside. 

The masked man did as he was told, discarding his gun and raising his hands to the sky. 

“That goes for your friend, too!” The officer with the megaphone shouted again.

009 started to make a run for it. Snipers opened fire, unleashing a hail of bullets that seemed to go right through her. Much like the black-eyed gunman Parker confronted before, she moved too fast for them to get a clear shot. He watched as she leapt off the edge of the roof and disappeared into the darkness below. Meanwhile, Thomas had already made his way to the edge of the building and was in the middle of handcuffing the masked gunman. The helicopters were landing. 

“You’ve got so much explaining to do when we get back to the precinct,” Thomas mumbled. 

Parker focused on Mayor Rogers. “You alright, Mr. Mayor?” 

“Now that I don’t have a gun pointed at me anymore,” he replied as he dusted off his suit. “Thank you, Caldwell.” 

“Don’t thank me. This would’ve gone differently if I hadn’t called reinforcements prior to us getting here. I had a feeling the test subject would be involved.”

“This town’s going to hell, I’ll tell you that much,” the Mayor scoffed. “Thanks to this whole debacle I’m going to be late for dinner. My wife’s going to have my head for the main course.”

From their right, the masked man cackled. 

“What’s so funny, tough guy?” Thomas inquired, making sure to keep a tight grip on him. 

“Being late for dinner is the least of his worries, that’s what,” he answered in a low voice. “I said you made a mistake assuming there was only one of us. Killing the mayor wasn’t even going to be the main event.”

“Main event?” Thomas snorted. “What’s this, some sorta carnival performance? You’re an awful clown. Stop bein’ so cryptic and give it to me straight, damn you.”

“Why should I? You’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

Losing his patience, Parker grabbed the masked man by the collar and looked him straight in the eye. “Alright, listen here. You’re going to answer our questions. First being-- where are you keeping the Malice formula?”

“What time is it?” The masked man inquired. 

Thomas checked his watch. “11:01, why?” 

He started to laugh again. “Ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?”

“Until you find out exactly where I left it. I think you’ll find it to be fairly close to home.”

“Close to home…” Parker murmured before the realization hit him. “Oh god, the police station.” He shouted to the helicopters, “We have to go back to the police station!”

“How are we gonna get there in ten minutes?!” Thomas asked. 

Parker’s gaze settled on one of the helicopters that had landed. “We’re going for a ride,” he decided. He ran to the helicopter. Thomas glanced over at one of the officers that had joined them. “He’s all yours now. We’ll meet back at the station if y’all get there in time.”

Parker had already climbed into the helicopter and wasted no time issuing orders. He told the pilot to make a beeline for the police station. He figured they were dealing with a bomb and it was likely located somewhere on the roof of the building. Within no time, the helicopter was taking off for the police station. Thomas caught the aircraft just in time, climbing in just as it lost contact with the ground. 

“Whaddya think we’re dealin’ with, partner?”

Parker could already see the station in the distance. “Some kind of bomb likely containing the Malice formula. If it detonates, we might have an entire police station of black-eyed mutants on our hands.”

“Fuck…”

“That’s why we have to disarm the damn thing at all costs. The lives of all of our men are at stake.”

“Right.”

The pilot announced that they were nearing the roof of the police station now. It was only a block away from City Hall, so it wasn’t that long of a trip. Parker told the pilot to drop them on the roof and they prepared for whatever they were going to face when they got there. 

“Eight minutes,” Thomas said after checking his watch. 

“Alright, Tommy. You ready?”

“Do I really have a choice here?” With a grunt, he pulled himself up and leapt down from the helicopter. He rolled across the ground, performing perhaps the most graceful fall of his entire life. 

Parker followed close behind. He surveyed their surroundings looking for any sign of a bomb. He heard a faint beeping noise close by and followed it to an air vent behind the roof entrance. There, he found a jet black metal device the size of a soccer ball placed above the vent and secured by a claw. The device bore the same insignia he saw on the black-eyed woman, a red dot in a red circle. It beeped away, displaying a timer that read seven minutes and counting. Behind a glass, he could see the black liquid that filled it.

“We found our bomb,” Thomas said, appearing behind Parker. “Now how the hell do we disarm it?”

“See if we can open it or something,” Parker said more to himself than anything as he went to do that. He found a hatch where the device could be opened and he pulled it open exposing different colored wires inside. Two wires were yellow, one was green, one was red, and the last wire was blue.

Thomas shook his head with a sigh, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“The whole station is depending on us. Which wire, Tommy?” Parker pulled a small blade from his trench coat pocket. It was sharp enough to cut the wires. 

“Red one feels too obvious. Go ahead and cut the green one, Parks.”

Parker took a deep breath and reached inside of the bomb, carefully placing his blade next to the green wire. “Hope you’re right about this, Tommy.” He closed his eyes, and--

“What are you two doin’ up here?” 

A voice grabbed Parker and Thomas’ attention. They looked in the direction of the voice and found an officer shining his flashlight in their direction. 

Parker showed his badge. “Relax, we’re DWPD just like you. Don’t panic, but there’s a bomb over here and I’m working to disarm it.”

“A bomb?!” The officer responded incredulously. “You can’t be serious. Let me have a look at it.”

Parker hesitated, glancing up at the officer and looking him over. “...Hey, can you show me your badge real quick?”

He heard the click of a gun. 

“Don’t waste your time, Parks,” Thomas said. He’d already aimed his pistol at the officer. “I’ve never seen this man before in my life, and I don’t need his badge to know he’s a fake.”

The officer’s expression shifted, something dark glinting in his eyes. He flashed a sinister smile and whistled. As if on cue, 009 sprung out of the shadows and lunged at Thomas, catching him off-guard. At the same time, the officer pulled out his own gun and fired at Parker, hitting him in the leg.

“Fuck!-”

Parker hissed in pain but he kept a tight grip on his knife. He managed to cut the green wire just before the officer shot him again, this time in the shoulder. He dropped the knife and saw the timer skip from five minutes to two. They just lost an extra three minutes, and Parker’s right arm was going to be a struggle to use from here on.

“Wrong wire, bucko,” the ‘officer’ sneered. He threw off his cap, revealing a bald head with a tattoo engraved on his forehead that was nearly identical to the red dot insignia. 

Parker cursed looking at him. “Who the hell are you people?!”

“The saviors of the new world,” the bald man answered with a demented smile. “We will begin with flushing out what remains of the Caldwell family.” He leveled the gun to Parker’s head.

BANG.

The man cried out and dropped his gun, grabbing his bloody hand and looking around for the source of the gunshot. He caught Thomas inches away from him just in time to receive a harsh knee in the crotch. He went down in an instant, and from there Thomas sweeped him to the ground. He was knocked unconscious. 

Thomas whipped around and sidestepped an attack from 009. He was hesitant to engage in hand-to-hand combat with 009. He wasn’t sure if he could hold his own against someone powered by government sanctioned steroids. 

“Parks, I could use a little help here.”

She snarled at him, lunging forward and grabbing in his direction. He ducked and rolled out of the way. “Parks!!”

Parker glanced between his partner and the ticking bomb. They only had thirty seconds left on the clock. His heart sank. “Keep her distracted,” he spoke calmly. “I know what I’m doing.” He hardly believed it himself but he needed to. 

“Damnit, Parker!” Thomas blocked a swing from 009 and felt his heart nearly jump out of his chest. He was way too close to the subject for his own comfort. 009 threw a round kick at Thomas’ head that nearly knocked him to the ground. He stumbled back, grabbing his head when he saw his cowboy hat hit the ground. 009 wasn’t finished quite yet, the black-eyed supersoldier continued to advance. 

Meanwhile Parker had just cut one of the yellow wires to no avail. Now all that were left was a blue wire, another yellow wire, and the red wire. He had fifteen seconds. Sweat ran down the side of his face like a river and he was having a hard time keeping his breathing steady. 

“Come on, come on… think, Parker. Which one is it?” His eyes darted from the blue wire to the yellow wire, the red one not even being a consideration. The black substance inside of the bomb was starting to reach a boiling point. Ten seconds. 

“Do something Parks!!” Thomas’ voice carried from behind him. He wrestled with 009, who was trying to grab ahold of his gun. It took all of Thomas’ willpower not to just shoot the damn thing. Rory made it clear he wanted the subject alive.

Five seconds on the clock now. 

Four. 

Three. 

Two.

One.

Parker cut the red wire. The timer came to an abrupt stop with a second to spare. With the last of his energy he reached into his coat and pulled out his taser gun, and fired at 009. She spasmed, then crumpled to the ground in front of Thomas. He laughed a little in disbelief, just happy to still be alive and sane.

“Jesus Christ,” Thomas dropped to his knees. “Never make me do that again, Parks.”

A maniacal laugh carried across the roof, pulling the attention of the two detectives. Their gaze fell on the bald gunman in the police uniform who Thomas had knocked out previously.

“It doesn’t matter!” He proclaimed. “Dreamwood will fall all the same, it’s written in the stars! Order is fragile and temporary, but anarchy is forever! The natural state of all things! Long live the Chaos Insurgency! Long live the Chaos Insurgency!” He shot up, pulling himself to his feet and making a mad dash towards the edge of the building. 

All Parker and Thomas could do was watch as the madman threw himself off the roof of the police station and into the oncoming traffic below. They heard car horns blaring and tires screeching followed by a loud crash as he hit the bottom. 

As the noise settled, Parker and Thomas glanced at eachother. “...Chaos Insurgency?” Thomas questioned.

“I’m losing too much blood for this,” Parker coughed, gripping his shoulder wound. 

“Christ, let’s get you downstairs.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Following the standoff, Parker was taken to the police infirmary where his gunshot wounds could be treated. He was informed that the first Chaos Insurgency agent had also committed suicide in custody, leaving them with no one to interrogate. Subject 009 was returned to Anderson, and Rory thanked Parker and Thomas personally for averting what could have been a national crisis. 

Parker lay on his infirmary bed staring off through the single window in the room. It must’ve been two in the morning now, but he still couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep. He had too much on his mind. 

Thomas stood at his side studying his expression. “I know that look. Somethin’ is troubling you.”

“What isn’t?” Parker scoffed. “What the fuck is a Chaos Insurgency.”

“Beats me,” Thomas answered with a shrug. “All I know is they managed to give Rory a real run for his money and almost did us in, as well as the Mayor. We had a real run of good luck tonight.”

“Those weren’t Easterners… they weren’t communists… they looked just like you and me. They were able to blend in with the cops.”

“I know, it’s strange. Not everyday do we have to live in fear of our own neighbors.”

“What’s happened to our hometown, Tommy? First my father and now this. What changed to allow things like this to happen?”

“I dunno, brother.” Thomas glanced at the window, peering out at the full moon in the sky. It had an unnatural red tint to it. “I’m startin’ to think that nothin’ changed at all.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Deep inside the Anderson Facility, Rory Anderson and his assistant Alison watched as armored guards hauled Subject 009 on a gurney back into a small metal cell behind a reinforced steel door. Her pure black eyes stared back at them like two black holes, with no telling what may have been going on inside her mind. 

Alison glanced at Rory. “What kind of monster have we created, do you reckon?” 

“Something powerful enough to bring the Chaos Insurgency out of hiding. I take that as a sign we’re onto something,” Rory concluded. He wore a smug grin on his face, truly believing this to be an accomplishment. 

Alison blinked slowly. “Parker Caldwell proved himself to be a valuable ally today, but I fear if you lead him to believe you do not have the town’s best interest at heart he may become an obstacle,” she advised. “Tonight put us on his radar.”

“I’m well aware and I am preparing for the possibility,” Rory said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a cigar. Alison passed him a match and helped him light it. Rory took a long drag of the cigar before he spoke again. “Frankly my dear, Caldwell’s radar is the least of my concern. Something much bigger is coming soon, something even bigger than Jackson’s prodigal son.”

“I know, Rory. I know.”

“Then surely you must understand why the development of the Malice formula must continue with haste. Mere mortals alone cannot stand against the adversary that is on its way.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Lore Note:

“The Chaos Insurgency” is a rival organization in the SCP Foundation mythos.

In the Dreamwood AU, ”Malice” is an early form of the “Liquid Hate” serum from which Jane the Killer is born.

[eris-anansi]

Dreamwood 1999

Episode 4: When They Hatch

Dreamwood is plagued by pigeon overpopulation and the police department is tasked with decreasing their numbers. What begins as a clever attempt at population control involving fake pigeon eggs takes a disastrous turn.

CW: Implied murder, graphic depictions of murder, depictions of violence, character death, body horror

Associated Song: underscores - trustfall!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday, September 13th, 1999.

Dreamwood was no big city, but it shared some common problems with big cities. Among them being pigeons. Winged rats, as the townsfolk called them. The flying vermin had plagued Dreamwood for years, and the people were starting to look to the town’s leadership to do something about their feathered adversaries. Responsibility inevitability fell to the Dreamwood Police Department. 

Chief Bowers sat in his office on the phone with a rather important man. “Yes, Mayor Rogers. I’m well aware of the gravity of this situation.” 

“You say that, but I still feel the need to remind you,” the voice on the other line began, “I am receiving urgent letters every day about birds invading homes. Just yesterday Farmer Dale reported having his kitchen raided by a gang of the damn things! It’s a war zone out there!” 

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Mr. Mayor.”

“Make them disappear! Whatever it takes!” 

The voice of a secretary in the Mayor’s background could be faintly heard informing him of another pigeon-related report, before Rogers hung up suddenly. Chief Bowers sat quietly in his chair for several seconds processing the situation. “Pigeons,” he mumbled to himself as he set the phone down.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the forensics lab, Jeffrey Woods was examining the body of the shapeshifter Randy had shot. He was perplexed at the fact that its DNA tested to be almost perfectly identical to Thomas Wheeler’s– but moreover he was fascinated. He wondered if it had died in the form of the Zodiac Killer, would the real killer’s identity have been revealed through the DNA test? It was ideas like these, cases like these– those which dwelled in the land of the esoteric and the macabre– that fueled Jeffrey’s passion for his profession. He lived for exactly what this was. in the background, an old television atop a desk played Dracula’s Daughter, an old black and white horror film from the 1930s. A reclusive yet undeniably talented investigator, Jeffrey’s life seemed to revolve around the darkness. 

When he heard the beep of a notification from his desktop, he switched gears and made a beeline for his computer chair. He sat down and checked the source of the automated noise- a message he had received in a private chat room conversation between himself and an anonymous salesman. A salesman whom he believed had something that Chief Bowers would find incredibly valuable given the current situation. The salesman had confirmed that he in fact still had more of his product in stock- enough for Jeffrey’s elaborate scheme. Pleased with the results, Jeffrey smiled and typed his response.  

There was a knock at the door, then a low creak as it opened. Parker Caldwell entered the room. He took a look at the television screen then the metal slab on which the shapeshifter’s body laid. He took a breath before asking his question.

“Who is he, Jeff?”

Jeffrey nearly jumped in his seat. He spun around in the office chair and met Parker’s gaze. “Jesus christ– good morning to you, too, Parker… I honestly can’t give you a definite answer. His DNA is interacting with our database in a very strange way.”

Parker paused for a second. “...What does that mean?”

“As far as we know his name is Thomas Wheeler and he’s a detective working for the Dreamwood Police Department. His parents are David and Margaret Wheeler, he’s thirty-six years old, and he was born and raised in Dreamwood, Massachusetts. He has no criminal record. Do you see the problem here?”

“Yeah. I see the problem. The Thomas we know is outside cracking jokes with Officer Harrison and Officer Darcy. This is… frustrating. All of our leads seem to stop at a dead end.”

“That tends to happen when we try to apply logic to the illogical,” Jeffrey observed. “Some things are beyond our limited human comprehension, and meant to stay that way.”

Parker blinked. “What are you saying, Jeffrey?” It always got on his nerves when Jeffrey got like this.

“I’m saying that we’ve exited the realm where cases are solved with clues and evidence. The nature of the thing on that table is completely detached from our world.”

Parker glanced once more at the TV screen playing the old vampire movie. He chuckled a bit, slowly wrapping his head around what Jeffrey was saying. “What, you mean like vampires and ghosts?”

“Something like that. I mean, how else would you explain what you and the other guys encountered on that hill? What about in the woods? Or in the interrogation room? Dreamwood does have a history.”

Parker scoffed, choosing to brush him off and get back to work. “Come back to me when you’ve found me some solid, tangible evidence, yeah? This is a serious case, Jeff.” 

With that, he walked out of the room. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thursday, September 16th, 1999.

It was business as usual at the Dreamwood police station. Secretaries typed away at their computers and officers answered phone calls. Parker, Thomas and Officer Darcy stood on a platform overlooking the offices, watching their coworkers go about their duties as they themselves engaged in casual small talk.

Two officers carried boxes into the Dreamwood police station, passing by desks and officers. Parker Caldwell watched them pass by, and gently nudged the shoulder of Thomas who stood beside him. 

“What do you figure is in those boxes?”

“Heck if I know, but I’m certainly gon’ make it my business,” Thomas said with a smirk. 

The officers carried the boxes up to Chief Bowers’ office, setting them on the chief’s desk. “Your delivery, sir.”

“Ah, there it is! It was supposed to arrive today.” He observed that the boxes were marked ‘FRAGILE’ in red ink. He raised an eyebrow at the two officers, “You handled the boxes with care, yeah?”

The officers nodded. “The contents should be fine.”

“And what might the contents be?” Thomas’ voice appeared behind the officers. A smug and curious Wheeler made his entrance with Parker and Darcy in tow. 

“A little idea of Jeffrey’s– imposter eggs we can plant in pigeon nests across town to trick the pigeons into reproducing less. Jeff thinks this could be the key to slowing the growth of our pigeon population,” Bowers explained.

Thomas chuckled. “I’ll give Jeffy Woods one thing: he is a diabolical genius. This might just work.”

Darcy frowned. “Tricking pigeons? That feels a little cruel.”

“Part of our job description is literally shooting things,” Thomas reminded him. “This is a lot less cruel than just shooting the birds, don’cha think?”

“Where did you get the eggs from?” Parker inquired. 

“Jeff ordered them off of some website on the internet. Personally I don’t really understand computers but I hear you’re able to shop on them now,” Bowers said.

Thomas nodded. “This technology thing seems to be the future.”

The other two officers started to open the boxes, unveiling several dozen artificial eggs in each box. One officer lightly tapped the eggs and hummed. “Huh. It’s hollow.”

“That’s weird,” Bowers commented, but he didn’t think much after that. He simply shrugged it off. “The pigeons oughtn’t notice.”

Thomas sucked his teeth and said, “Hopefully we aren’t underestimating these birds…”

“In a few weeks time we should have our answer,” Parker said. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday, September 27th, 1999.

Over the weekend, the police department launched a campaign against Dreamwood’s pigeon population. Fake eggs were planted in nests all across the small city and kept under careful surveillance. Even a few pigeons were tagged with cameras. 

The whole affair felt like a waste of time to Parker; a hindrance to his greatest concern, which was getting back on the Jackson case. But alas, no leads had turned up since the shapeshifter. Damn that Randy, he would find himself thinking. That Skinner bastard. Because of Randy, he thought, he and Thomas had been put on pigeon-camera duty. Yes, it was all Randy’s fault. Parker should be out there being a goddamn American hero right now.

“I swear I already done seen that same leaf get blown by twice now,” Thomas observed, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He leaned back against his chair staring at the monitor with an expression that only began to convey the heavy boredom that Parker felt right now.

“I still can’t believe they’ve got us doing this,” Parker sighed.

“Hey, don’t take it personal– if it makes you feel any better I bet Randy and Keith are in our same spot right now.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, no.”

On the monitor the two men watched a pigeon circle a nest of eggs tucked away in a tree not far from Devil’s Lake, two out of the three were fakes planted by the DWPD. The bird appeared to be none the wiser. It had been a couple of hours now, and the pigeon hadn’t seemed to notice. Parker and Thomas carried on with their conversation.

“I swear Randy has it out for me,” Parker continued. “He glares at me whenever I enter a room.”

“Well he is a Skinner,” Thomas hummed. “Last I heard your family and his family have quite the history.” He purposefully understated said history.

“The Skinners have been trying to steal this town up from under the noses of people like my father and my grandfather for generations. They’d run Dreamwood into the ground if they ever did.”

“And I don’t doubt that,” Thomas chuckled lightly. He tapped his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. 

“That’s part of the reason why Jackson wanted me to run for mayor. Follow in his footsteps. The whole reason why I ran away in the first place.”

“I remember, brother. I remember. And look at you now– fulfilled his dying wish of returning home, and now you’re leading the effort to solve his murder. Fate is certainly a cruel mistress. You think Randy thinks he has a shot at the mayoral campaign this season? He is a fairly popular detective.”

Parker snorted. “The idea is laughable. He would be crazy to go along with it.”

“I got a feelin’ we have yet to see just how crazy that man really is. But I got a question I been meanin’ to ask you, Parks.”

“Yeah?”

“Back in the interrogation room with that demon lady, she implied that you were hidin’ somethin’ from the rest of us. She said, ‘Tell him what you stole’.”

Parker felt a small chill run down his spine. He was afraid of being put in this position– one in which he would have lie to his best friend. 

“Now, I figured that she was just tryna screw with our heads so I tried not to think much about it,” Thomas said. “But lately I can’t take my mind off it. It was almost like she knew you.”

“I never met her before in my life,” Parker said. 

“Well do you know anything about her whole thing with your apparent theft?” Thomas asked again more directly. 

“Thomas, look.” Parker pointed to the monitor. The pigeon had landed in the nest and seemed to be inspecting the eggs. It prodded at one of the fake eggs with its peak with an uncharacteristic roughness.

“Ah, hell,” Thomas cursed. “They’re figuring us out.”

Abruptly, the pigeon pulled its head back and cocked it in apparent confusion. 

“What’s it doing now?” Parker mumbled.

Thomas shrugged audibly. “Heck if I know. Do I look like a birdologist?” 

The two men soon realized that the egg had cracked. 

Wait- it cracked?

“Parker, what the fuck.”

“Thomas– is it supposed to do that?”

“I was gon’ ask you that! But we really should be askin’ Jeff, he was the one who ordered ‘em.”

“Wait, maybe we just lost track of the eggs. Maybe that one isn’t one of ours- maybe it’s real.”

The pigeon continued to watch the egg intently, as if waiting for something to happen. The crack spread until both the bird and the two detectives were able to peer inside of the egg which seemed to contain nothing but a black void.

“Officer Sterling said the eggs were hollow…” Parker recalled aloud. He had a bad feeling all of a sudden as he continued to observe the live footage, the feeling was similar to that of watching the series of events leading up to a highway accident. From the hole in the egg emerged a thin ribbon of smoke, quite like the smoke from Thomas’ cigarette. The only difference is that it was completely black. It rose into the air and seemed to frighten the pigeon. The sentiment was shared among Parker and Thomas.

“That’s definitely not one of its eggs,” Parker confirmed. 

Upon contact with the smoke, the pigeon promptly fell on its side and violently convulsed. Red foam bubbled at the edges of the bird’s mouth and spilled from its open beak. Parker and Thomas watched the brutal display in horror, unsure what to make of it. The pigeon continued to twitch for dear life as its body appeared to shrink-- no, flatten-- no, deflate like a balloon. It was as if the air was sucked out of the bird’s tiny body, leaving nothing but a hollow husk of a thing. 

Thomas’ jaw was at the floor at this point. He repeated, “Parker… what the fuck.”

Parker’s eyes were glued to the monitor. He might not’ve even heard Thomas at that moment. His bad feeling was indeed validated, but nothing in the world could have prepared him for this.

Then, somehow, it managed to get worse. The pigeon… inflated again. It seemed to be recovering from its previous condition, but it was soon clear that its proportions were all wrong– it looked like an amateur artist’s interpretation of a pigeon given high definition life and color. It was horribly uncanny. It scurried on its wings as if they were front legs, and darted down the tree out of the camera’s sight. 

Parker and Thomas both looked at eachother.

“Remind me, Thomas, how many eggs did we plant out there?” Parker asked.

“At… at least twenty of ‘em,” Thomas answered. The gravity of Parker’s question was sinking in fast.

“We need to alert Bowers. Quickly.” Parker got up out of his chair and rushed to the office. Thomas followed quickly.

Chief Bowers had just gotten off the phone with Mayor Rogers again and appeared to be in a great mood. He wore a rare but not unusual smile that Parker had learned indicated good news- otherwise the chief was most often a stoic and serious man much like himself. 

“Great timing, Caldwell! Mayor Rogers just informed me that the pigeon population has started to drop in the last week and is expected to continue. Our efforts seem to be having the desired effect!”

“Yeah, about that–” Thomas started,

“One of the eggs hatched.” Parker blurted before Thomas could finish.

Chief Bowers blinked slowly, processing what Parker told him. “One of our eggs hatched?”

“Yes! One of ours!”

“Caldwell, how is that possible?”

“We’ve got footage, chief. Parks ain’t lyin’.”

Once they got through showing Chief Bowers the footage, his face had turned noticeably pale. He now understood why Parker and Thomas were acting so urgent. The images of the pigeon deflating and emerging a shapeless monstrosity danced fresh across his psyche.

 “We’re still holding some of these eggs in the forensic lab,” he realized aloud.

Without a second thought, Parker bolted out of the office and made a beeline for the lab. Thomas ran after him and so did Bowers. 

Jeffrey and Officer Darcy were standing over a table with the eggs still in their box when Parker came charging in. He stopped in the doorway to catch his breath, then looked at Jeff. “Woods, you’ve got some explaining to do.” Thomas and Bowers weren’t far behind.

Jeff paused and looked at Parker. “Huh? Explaining?”

Darcy blinked like a confused dog. “Is something going on?” He was holding one of the eggs in his hand. 

“Did you know the eggs would hatch? Did you know they’re hatching??”

“Hatching??” Jeffrey’s voice bent in disbelief.

“So you’re right where we are,” Parker sighed. “Where did you get those eggs?”

“A website for pest control services,” Jeff explained. “I spoke to the seller one-on-one through a chatroom or something. Are they really hatching?” He sounded more interested than concerned.

“Yes, damnit!” Thomas said. “Can you contact the seller now? Maybe he can tell us how to fix it.”

Jeffrey turned on his computer and typed the website’s URL into the address bar. He clicked on the link, only to turn up a screen that said ‘Page Not Found’. It seemed the website did not exist. He blinked. “That’s weird– I could’ve sworn that was the address…”

“Jeff- what did we order in those boxes?” Chief Bowers asked, trying his best to keep his composure.

“I don’t know! I thought they were regular fake eggs!” Jeffrey was growing frantic as well.

Darcy glanced between his colleagues. “Guys– I don’t understand, why is everybody yelling?” 

“Darcy- put the egg down,” Parker spoke calmly. 

Darcy didn’t ask any questions. He put the egg down gently- just before it started to crack. He gasped, “Did- did I break it?”

“Darcy!” Parker shouted in a panic. “Get away from it!” Parker, Thomas, and Bowers clamored for Darcy to get the hell away from the egg.

But it was too late. He had already inhaled the black ribbon of smoke that escaped the hollow shell. He recoiled, his face going pale and his eyes widening. His body let forth a violent retch as he leaned over the table, before he rushed to the nearest bathroom at the end of the room and slammed the door. From the other side, Parker, Thomas, Jeff, and Bowers could hear violent heaving. 

Then, the sounds came to an abrupt end. The silence somehow felt worse.

Jeff, who was closest to the door, slowly got up from his chair and backed towards the detectives and the chief. Parker watched the door carefully, and Chief Bowers had begun mumbling a silent prayer. 

Then the door creaked open.

Parker, prepared for the worst, reached for the gun on his hip. Thomas did the same. Bowers was the last to react. 

“D..Darcy?...” Thomas called out weakly. He wasn’t sure if Darcy was still Darcy anymore, and he sensed that he and Parker were on the same page. Parker’s gun was already aimed at the door, something Thomas still couldn’t bring himself to do. 

Officer Darcy emerged from the bathroom and collapsed on his knees in the doorway, breathing heavily. He coughed. “Jesus christ– what was in that egg?? It smelled awful-”

Parker slowly lowered his weapon and rushed to Darcy’s side. Thomas let out a sigh of relief, “Oh, thank god.” Parker inspected Darcy for any signs of adverse effects– and found none. He seemed perfectly fine aside from puking his guts. “I guess it only affects birds,” Parker thought aloud.

“What only affects birds??” Darcy asked.

Parker was hesitant about showing Darcy the footage after what had just happened. He disregarded the question and turned his attention back to Thomas and Chief Bowers. “We need to track down those other eggs.”

Bowers nodded affirmatively. “Right. Before more start hatching.”

That was when Keith made his entrance. “Chief– we’ve got a situation.”

The chief turned to Keith and said, “If you tell me one of the eggs hatched…”

“How did you know?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Parties were dispatched to the two locations were hatching eggs were reported. Parker and Thomas led a party- including Officer Darcy and three other officers- to investigate an area closer to town where another egg had hatched. The nest was located in a tree near a road leading out of town, and Officer Sterling was currently climbing the tree to reach the nest. When he reached the branch where the nest was situated, he shined his flashlight down on the nest. 

“Parker, Tommy– this isn’t good!” He shouted back down to the squad.

“What is it, Sterling?” Parker called back.

“There used to be four eggs- one of ‘em was ours. But now there’s only two. One of them is the one we planted, and the other one ain’t. But it don’t look like a regular pigeon egg either, it’s more the size of a goose egg- it’s way bigger.”

“Those things have already started laying eggs…” Thomas murmured. 

There was a surprised shout from the tree. Parker and Thomas saw black smoke rising from the tree branch, but they could not see the nest nor Officer Sterling. Soon, they heard Sterling begin to cough violently. 

“Oh, fuck…” Parker whispered to himself.

Up in the distance, Sterling violently heaved- much like Darcy– only Darcy had sounded mild in comparison. From what they could hear, Sterling was fighting for his life. What they heard was confirmed when a heap of blood rained down from the tree– Sterling’s vomit.

Parker, Thomas, and the other officers quickly backed away from the tree. A guttural shriek rang out and carried across the forest. It was at that point Parker reached for his gun and aimed at the tree, prepared to shoot the first thing he saw rear its head from within the leaves. He was certain of one thing- that shriek wasn’t human.

“Sterling?” Parker called out.

The leaves rustled. Something traveled quickly across the treetops, and was soon out of earshot. 

Once they felt safe enough to investigate the nest, they found that Officer Sterling– and the egg– were both gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“That’s all of them?”

“The ones that didn’t hatch, yeah.”

Randall and Keith’s squad had managed to recover a sizable number of the eggs, and brought them somewhere isolated at the outskirts of town. Parker and Thomas’ group joined up with them along the way. They stood in front of a crude pile of eggs, Randy holding a container of gasoline in one hand and a box of matches in the other. He fully intended to set fire to it all. 

“And what about the ones that did?” Randy asked, his eyes narrowing.

“There are more that didn’t. We’ll cross that other bridge when we get there,” the officer responded.

“I like that answer. That’s a good answer. You’ve got good answers.”

Randy turned his attention back to the pile of eggs. He began to pour gasoline over them. “I’m gonna send you abominations back to hell,” he grumbled as he shook the container over the egg pile. 

“You do realize that we’ll have to hunt down the hatched pigeons after this, right?” Parker pointed out. “They’re going to lay more eggs, and they seem to reproduce faster than the real pigeons do.”

“Nobody said you can’t be out there doin’ that right now, ‘stead of tellin’ me what to do,” Randy replied. He pulled a matches stick out of the box. “Swear to Jesus I’m gonna kick Jeff’s ass when I get back to the station. None of this would have even happened if it wasn’t for that freak.”

While Randy wasn’t paying attention, a squirrel scurried to his feet and began scratching harmlessly at his leg. “What the-” he looked down, and saw an oddly shaped animal prodding at his pants. Upon further inspection, he found that it wasn’t a rodent at all. Parker identified it before Randy did- it was a pigeon. And not one of the native pigeons, either. 

Randy stumbled back, while at the same time Parker fired his pistol at the pigeon. The impact of the bullet spun the malshapen bird around and it dropped sideways, it chuffed out a cloud of smoke and flattened like a balloon losing air. More pigeons emerged from the forest, some with uneven wingspans- some wings larger than the others, some wings bloated and outsizing the rest of their bodies. They were cheap, gruesome imitations of birds. Parker and the rest of the DWPD wasted no time mowing them down.

“Good God!” Randy exclaimed. 

Parker wasn’t finished, though. He nudged Thomas and alerted the others to approaching rustling in the nearby leaves. Something was headed towards them- something bigger than a pigeon. 

The air fell silent. The men waited as the rustling drew closer. 

And closer. 

And closer still. 

Until they caught the glimpse of something that their brains struggled to make sense of.

What emerged from the trees was a mass of flesh more than seven feet tall, constructed in ways that barely made sense. Parker couldn’t tell if he was looking at the creature’s front or its back. Its elbows were folded inwards. It dragged itself across the ground like a slug. Strands of hair hung freely from a large pulsing bulb which appeared to be its head, though no distinguishable facial features were visible. Still, Parker had a feeling he knew what he stood facing- or rather who. The creature’s half-torn clothes- the remnants of a police officer’s uniform- gave away its identity. 

“...Officer Sterling?” Parker’s eyes widened in horror at the realization.

At this point Officer Darcy was holding back tears. “Oh… oh God…”

The creature froze at the mention of its name, as though some part of him still clung onto his old identity. It was quickly overridden, though, as it let out a gurgling growl at the armed men and began to charge. It dragged itself towards them to the best of its ability, its arms unfolding and reaching forth with sharpened, elongated nails. The men opened fire on the monstrosity wearing Sterling’s skin, but bullets did little to deter the abomination. 

Randy lit his match stick and hurled it into the pile of a dozen or so eggs. Thanks to the gasoline, the fire ignited quickly and soon spread to Officer Sterling. Both he and the unhatched eggs went up in a storm of flames.

A shocked Darcy gazed at the spectacle, the dancing flames reflecting in his eyes. He didn’t hear Parker, Thomas, and Randy shouting at him that it was time to run. Thomas had to tug on Darcy in order to get his feet moving, he was barely even aware that he was moving until the fire almost wasn’t in sight anymore.

Then he saw something else.

Beyond the fire, from within the dense forest, Darcy saw two pairs of green eyes staring back at the detectives. They were attached to a figure shrouded in a long trenchcoat and a wide brimmed hat. Darcy was sure the eyes would linger in his memory for years to come. He felt them clawing at his very consciousness.

More importantly, he swore he had seen those eyes somewhere before. Somewhere recent.

“Darcy! Snap out of it!”

He snapped back to reality and was now focused on Parker- the voice that had pulled him out of his stupor. 

The men retreated into the woods as the fire roared on in the distance. Sterling’s agonized screams carried for miles in the frigid autumn air.    

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the police station, Parker, Thomas, Randy, Keith, and Officer Darcy sat in silence. They had been doing so since the hour after they escaped the forest. 

They were stuck in a daze as they sat around processing the events of the day. It was hard to believe that it had all began with something as simple as pest control.

A voice spoke up suddenly. It was Officer Darcy’s.

“That… could have been me.”

Darcy had thought back to the time he inhaled the smoke. He thought he was going to die in that room, but through some miracle he turned out fine. After he saw what had become of Sterling, who suffered a similar fate, it had caused his life to flash before his eyes.

“...Why wasn’t it me?” He mumbled seemingly in a trance.

“Life works in mysterious ways, Henry,” Thomas exhaled. He had gone through three glasses of bourbon already, and the bottle was still close by.

“We were just lucky those things seemed to be in some kinda early stage of development,” Randy said. “I don’ think they had fully learned how to mimic nature yet. But they coulda learned if we let ‘em live a bit longer. I know they could.”

“Then let’s hope we destroyed them all,” Keith audibly thought. “I would hate to think what could happen if one of those things learned how to perfectly mimic a pigeon– much less a human being.”

Henry Darcy looked back at his friends, and with the most sincere expression he’s ever had, he said, “There is something truly, deeply wrong with this town. I’ve felt it before, but I know it now. There was something else watching us back there...”

Parker nodded slowly. “Yeah, I saw it, too.”

“The green eyes?” Thomas questioned.

“The eyes, yeah,” Parker confirmed. Judging by the look in his eyes, he was deeply troubled. 

“I couldn’t look away from them at first,” Darcy admitted. “I felt like a deer in headlights. It was a strange feeling, something I’d never felt before. Something… primal. It was like-”

“Standing face to face with your natural predator?” Parker guessed. 

“Yes- yes, exactly,” Darcy nodded.

Parker hummed. “Up until today, I didn’t think it was something possible for humans to feel. I thought it was only exclusive to animals.” His gaze turned to a nearby window and he gazed out into the cloudy distance of Dreamwood, Massachusetts. He wondered if he’d be able to see the sun in Manhattan.

“I thought we were at the top of the food chain.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note 

The storyline of this episode is heavily based on the r/nosleep story “The Pigeons Around Here Aren’t Real” by Manen Lyset.

If you enjoyed this episode especially, you will surely love their work!

[eris-anansi]

SCP-682 “HARD TO DESTROY REPTILE”

[eris-anansi]

Dreamwood 1999,

Episode 3: Seeing Double

Parker and Thomas become convinced that the Zodiac Killer has resurfaced in Dreamwood. Meanwhile, Detectives Randall Skinner and Keith Costello investigate a murder with similar characteristics to the recent attack that shook Dreamwood two weeks ago.

CW: Implied murder, graphic depictions of murder, depictions of violence, character death

Associated Song: The Neighborhood - Afraid

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thursday, September 9th, 1999.

It was a cold September night in Dreamwood when Death reared its ugly head once again. This time, it struck the rural area on the southwest end of town. A lone farmer was found in his one-floor house, lying in a bed drenched with his own blood. His house largely remained untouched and there seemed to be no sign of forced entry. 

Detective Randall Skinner surveyed the gruesome scene laid out before him. Gears turned in his head. This was the second murder committed this month following Jackson. Surely there had to be some connection. Such occurrences were uncommon in such a small city. Petty theft was the most common plague in Dreamwood, he thought.

Randall overheard the forensic investigator on the scene mutter to himself, “Just as I thought...” This piqued his attention. He asked, “What do you mean, Woods?” He practically barked.

The forensic examiner, who had also been present for the car crash caused by the Rake, turned to Detective Skinner with wide and observant eyes. His flinch at the sudden and loud quality of Skinner’s voice was just barely noticeable. He had long and wild black hair, skin pale like snow, and wore a typical navy blue forensic uniform. “I’m pretty sure we’re dealing with the same thing we saw at the hospital,” he answered. “We have a serial killer on our hands…” The way he said those words sounded almost ecstatic, almost thrilled. That was what Randall couldn’t stand about Woods, his perceived affinity for the macabre. Frankly it freaked him out, and the longer he worked with him it soon became grating– like a nagging wife. The same reason Randall wished he never met Jeffrey Woods was the same reason he had decided he would never marry. 

Randall tried to mask his disgust at Woods’ attitude towards the whole situation as he asked, “And how do you know that?”

Woods’ answer was simple.

“Thirteen stab wounds.”

The realization hit Randall so fast, that he barely registered the next words out of Jeffrey’s mouth.

“Just like Jackson Caldwell.”

Caldwell. There was another thing that nagged at him. No word in the English dictionary properly described the visceral emotion he felt whenever he heard that name. Hatred was too soft, loathing wasn’t quite sharp enough, vitriol was pretty close but still did not quite summarize the full range of his feelings toward the Caldwell family. When he heard Parker Caldwell had left Dreamwood all those years ago he jumped for joy. To him, it was the nail in the coffin of the Caldwell family; Jackson had just retired a year prior. He never took Nathan Caldwell seriously, the whole town knew he wasn’t like his father or his father’s father. He thought the reign of the Caldwells over Dreamwood had finally come to an end. It was what his family had dreamed of for decades; it seemed as though since the founding of Dreamwood in colonial Massachusetts, the Caldwells and the Skinners had been adversaries. Two powerful, influential families known for their pack mentality and tendency towards picking up firearms. Randall thought, with Jackson and Parker Caldwell out of the picture, he could bring glory to the Skinner family name by moving up the ranks of the police force and giving Dreamwood its first Captain with the last name ‘Skinner’; but when Parker returned to Dreamwood and joined the force, a factor he hadn’t calculated for was introduced. For the first time, his plan seemed to be under threat. He’s been noticeably tense ever since. 

“Thirteen? Are you sure? Count again, won’t you Jeff?” Randall insisted.

He shook his head. “I already counted three times. I’m sure it’s thirteen and the victim died in his sleep. It’s almost identical to Jackson only in a different setting. Isn’t this exciting?? Dreamwood’s first serial killer!”

Randall didn’t seem to think so. Not in the slightest. Nothing related to the Caldwell family meant any good for him or his kin. This could only serve to harm his own ambitions. “Sometimes I wonder if you ever quit talking,” he spat. 

Jeffrey visibly shrunk at his words. “Well, in any case, this means we should start asking around if anyone’s seen anything or anyone that didn’t belong. Like maybe someone from the hospital. The expressionless woman from two days ago?”

Randall dismissed Jeffrey’s suggestion, turning on his heels to leave the room. He took one look at a crooked painting that hung above the fireplace in the rustic living room, before he made his way outside.

The sky above was grey with clouds. The wind was noticeable but not heavy, blowing through the nearby cornfield. Crows circled over the farmhouse, he could hear their caws. Outside the farmhouse, another detective waited for him– a tall man with neatly cut and curly black hair, fair skin, and smokey blue eyes. He always had a carefree look about him, in contrast to Randall who always seemed on edge. “Whaddya think, Randy?” The detective asked him. Randall’s eyes scanned the surrounding area and he said, “We should ask around. See if anyone’s seen anything out of the ordinary. This murder is linked with Jackson, so we oughta be lookin’ for someone who had access to Dreamwood State Hospital. Staff maybe. Or a former patient, like that freaky mannequin lady who made Officer Smith disappear,” Randall concluded, paraphrasing Jeffrey’s idea as if it were his own.  

“No one’s seen the mannequin since the interrogation room. Last ones to see ‘er were Thomas and Parker.”

“I know, Keith,” Randall spoke through gritted teeth. “I know. And I thought I told you not to say that name in my presence.”

“What name? Par-”

Once he saw the pitch black stare Randall pointed in his direction, Keith knew when he had pushed his limit. His smug attitude faded and he gave a quiet nod.

“...Right. Sorry.”

“Get in the car.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Friday, September 10th, 1999.

12 PM.

The cliff overlooking Dreamwood Forest had been dubbed a lovers’ lane several odd years ago. As such, it was often the site where couples parked their cars for the most extraordinary view in town. The cliff provided a view of the forest that spanned from Devil’s Lake to the mountains on the opposite end of the forest. It was a portrait of untouched nature. It was often a tranquil location, a sight of beauty.

However, what was to be found on this particular day was anything but that. A parked car at the edge of the cliff, which was found to be empty. The front window on the right had been broken. Twenty feet away from the car, a barbaric array; countless severed arms, legs, and chunks of flesh arranged in a bizarre pattern in the grass. In the center, the heads of the two victims were propped up. The area was filled with the stench of death, and flies buzzed all around. They had been here for awhile it seemed, presumably since last night.

Parker Caldwell and Thomas Wheeler stood a good distance away, taking in the scene while forensics went about their usual ritual of setting up tape, collecting evidence, and taking photographs. Jeffrey Woods approached the two men holding a folded piece of paper.

“Who’s the unlucky couple?” Parker asked.

“Darryl Stevens and Lisa Grant. Both are students at Dreamwood State University- or… were. It seems as though they were both forcefully dragged out of the car and… well… one can only imagine what they endured shortly after. It’s like something out of a horror movie.”

Thomas shuddered. “It has ‘satantic ritual’ written all over it. Gives me the jitters.”

“I was getting to that,” Jeffrey nodded. He unfolded the paper, showing the two detectives an obscure symbol that he had drawn. It was a circle with a cross inside, with both the vertical and horizontal lines breaching the circle’s borders. It resembled crosshairs. 

Parker slowly raised an eyebrow. Thomas mumbled something under his breath. “That’s… I’ve seen that before, haven’t I?” He glanced at Parker for confirmation. Parker nodded. 

They both watched as a small grin formed on Jeff’s face. “A little more than thirty years ago this symbol had our country in a chokehold,” he said. “Does ‘the Zodiac Killer’ ring a bell?” 

That was when Parker realized, and Thomas started to run his hands through his hair. 

“Oh, God help us…”

----------------------------------------------------------

1:05 PM.

Randall Skinner and Keith Costello’s trail led them to the home of a doctor from Dreamwood State Hospital, a cozy house in one of Dreamwood’s more affluent suburban neighborhoods. The two sat in a living room across from the doctor, an older man with grey hair and a stern look. He wore a suit and tie.

“It’s an awful shame what happened to Jackson. Words can’t express the service that man did to our city, to our country. The Caldwells are truly a pillar and ol’ Jack was no exception.”

“Yes, yes,” Randall nodded along, fighting to keep his resentment at bay. “The man was a hero. That’s actually why we’re here.”

“Oh?” The doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. Dr. Watson, you were reported to be one of the staff on the scene at the time of the tragedy,” Randy explained. 

“Yes sir, I was the one who charged the nurses with keeping an eye on him.” Dr. Watson confirmed.

“Then you might be able to tell us what happened then? Perhaps what went wrong?” Randy pried. 

“It all happened so fast, and I still find myself replaying the moments in my head even now. We never saw anyone out of the ordinary, nobody who looked like they didn’t belong. There weren’t even any reports of suspicious individuals leaving the building after the fact. It just… doesn’t add up. Makes me think one of our own was the one who did it, but there aren’t any grounds to press charges.”

Randy and Keith knew that better than anyone. They knew forensics couldn’t find any fingerprints, much less a murder weapon. It was like Jackson’s killer vanished into thin air. It was that thought which led to Randy's following question.

“What about the week after? The other incident at the hospital?”

“You talkin’ about the lady who killed– no, nearly ate two of my co-workers?”

“Yes. I mean exactly that. Do you think she might’ve had anything to do with Jackson’s murder? Do you know where she even came from?”

Dr. Watson took a drag from a pipe. “Listen, officer, there are a lot of recent events that I can’t explain. A lot of ‘em I haven’t even fully processed yet. I think you and I are in a similar boat here. Given that she appeared out of thin air, I think it is very safe to say that she could have had something to do with Jackson. It’d take something like that to pull it off.”

Keith made a mental note of the doctor’s words. For Randy they slowly sunk in. He realized that Watson was just as confused, if not moreso, than the police department. This case proved more frustrating each passing day. He wanted nothing more than to be the one to catch Jackson’s killer, he knew that would be a hefty score for the Skinner family name– and yet things seemed to be complicated by the factor of the unexplained. His goal was so close, yet so far; and it was all due to pesky details that made no logical sense. To say it made him angry would be an understatement. 

A distant thud broke Keith’s train of thought, and his head turned in the direction of the sound. Randall’s eyes followed. The source of the noise seemed to lie behind the door to Dr. Watson’s basement. Dr. Watson noticed the two men’s attention had been diverted and asked, “Somethin’ catch your ear, gentlemen?”

Randall nodded toward the door. “What’s in there?”

“The basement.”

“Do you mind if we take a look inside?”

“You can’t search my home without a warrant, officer.”

“Is there any reason I should want to?” Randall’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. 

Dr. Watson smiled in return. “I shouldn’t think so. We’re on the same side, sir. We both want justice for the Caldwells.”

Randy almost scoffed. Almost. He contained it. 

“...Which is why I don’t mind at all,” Watson finished. 

As if on cue, Randy and Keith rose from their seats and made their way to the basement door. Dr. Watson’s eyes followed them. Randy grabbed the doorknob and turned it, the door opened with a creak. The two detectives were met with a long and narrow staircase, and their eyes trailed down until they spotted movement at the base of the staircase. A silhouette writhed in the dim light. 

“What the fu…”

Randy couldn’t finish this sentence. Before he could, Keith suddenly pulled him out of the way of the door. The next thing he saw was Dr. Watson running at him with a sledgehammer in hand. Keith acted quick, throwing a right hook across Watson’s jaw. The force of the punch sent the doctor staggering towards the edge of the staircase, where he proceeded to tumble down into the basement.

Randy blinked several times, processing what just happened. “You saved my life, Keith,” he said in disbelief.

“Randy– look.” Keith pointed to the base of the staircase. “Look at that.”

Randy glanced down. “What is it–” He paused for a moment. “...Oh. Oh shit.”

“You see it too?”

“Yeah… yeah… I don’t know what I’m seein’, but I see it.”

“Randy. It’s moving.”

Keith quickly reached for his pistol. 

-----------------------------------------------------

2:30 PM.

If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Beginning with the Woodland Beast, then Jackson’s murder, then the woman with metal teeth, it seemed as though this would be the most eventful fall season Dreamwood’s seen in a long time. Now it was revealed that the Zodiac Killer himself may be active in Dreamwood. Chief Bowers wondered if he would ever know peace again as Parker and Thomas delivered the news. 

Just the day before he had heard from Randy and Keith that they had caught a lead on the Jackson case. It was common knowledge at the police department that Detective Skinner and Detective Costello were following a case with striking similarities to Jackson’s. Between the two cases, Bowers felt like he had found himself smack in the middle of a significant run of awful luck. 

“The Zodiac Killer?” He repeated, tiredly, letting Thomas’ words sink in. “Are you sure Tommy?”

“This is either that or a very elaborate prank, and I don’t know anyone dedicated enough for the latter,” Parker supported Thomas’ statement. 

Bowers thought aloud. “How old must he even be after all these years?”

“Not too old to work just like the good old days,” Thomas asserted. “I always thought he’d turn up again, I just never thought it’d be so close to home.”

There was a knock at the door and an officer was let in. He informed Chief Bowers that they had received a call. 

“Chief– the Zodiac’s been sighted.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some minutes earlier…

The sound of tires skidding across pavement startled the nearby wildlife as a police vehicle pulled up on the scene. Randall Skinner and Keith Costello pulled up in front of an abandoned warehouse located in the far north of Dreamwood, close to the old Anderson Facility which was often compared to Area 51 in the sense that nobody quite knew or understood its purpose, other than the fact that the government had something to do with it. The warehouse though was a place that hadn’t seen any excitement since the colonial era, in that regard it was something of a local relic of the past. What was once a large factory– and part of a coal mine– had been reduced to a rotting cadaver of a building, its metal frame colored with rust and mold. 

“A face only a mother could love,” Keith mumbled, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He glanced at his partner for confirmation. “You saw it run in here, right?”

“I know what I saw,” Randall gave a nod. “Whatever killed Jackson, it’s in that building. And I’m gonna be the one to catch it before that Caldwell runt.” Without another word, he marched in the direction of the warehouse. Keith heard the click of his partner’s gun. He felt as though they were in over their heads, but he didn’t dare suggest that. He followed Randy into the warehouse. 

The warehouse seemed to ache and groan with every step they took in the cold and dank facility. Randy didn’t care, though, and was only concentrated on following the trail of the thing they chased there. Keith soon lost him as he took a sharp turn down a corridor.

“Randy!” Keith shouted after him to no avail. “God damnit, Randy-” He ran after him. He hated how reckless his partner could be at times. Randy’s path led Keith down a long metal hallway that creaked and wailed with every quick step that he took, at times he thought the floor would give out underneath him. At the far end of the hall, two shadows danced across the wall seemingly locked in hand-to-hand combat. Keith distinctly recognized one of them as Randy, but the other was foreign to him. It did not look like Dr. Watson– or the thing posing as Watson that they chased here– but rather something else entirely. He ran down the corridor, hoping to assist Randy and bring a quick end to the fight, but it ended before he got there. 

Keith ducked as he saw Randy’s body soar through the air over his head. He heard a crash as Randy hit the wall and slid onto the floor.  “Holy shit–” Keith rushed to check on him. The first thing he did was check Randy’s pulse- he was still breathing. His living status was confirmed by a grumble of, “Get the hell off me,” as he pulled himself to his feet. His eyes searched for Dr. Watson, who he did not find. Instead, he found a tall bulky figure shrouded in an all black clad in metal armor with a square-shaped helmet over his head. He wore a matching black cloak marked with a white crosshairs symbol- identical to the pattern Parker and Thomas found in the woods. The figure was making a quick getaway. Keith noticed right away. Randy, though he struggled to find his balance, was reaching for his gun. 

“The bastard’s getting away!” 

“Let him! We need backup!” Keith insisted. 

“We’re at the edge of nowhere, you know how long it’ll take them to get here?? I can finish this right now!”

“Randy, that man– no, that thing– sent you flying like you were a stuffed animal. Do you honestly think we can take it down by–”

“I haven’t tried shooting it yet.

“Don’t you recognize that getup? That’s the goddamn Zodiac Killer!”

Randy grumbled something incomprehensible. 

“I don’t care what you say, I’m calling Bowers.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Not long after Keith’s call, several police vehicles had pulled up to the warehouse. More were still on the way. Detectives were supposed to be arriving as well, but they hadn’t arrived yet. Randall and Keith were currently giving one of the officers a rundown of what happened. 

Officer Henry Darcy, one of the newer officers, was having a hard time following the ramblings of a very disgruntled Randy. “So… so let me get this straight– you fought the Zodiac Killer and he threw you?”

“Over twenty feet!” Randy confirmed. 

Keith nodded. “I was there. We ordered backup because of that.”

The young officer simply blinked. “You realize how absolutely bonkers that sounds, don’t y–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Randy snapped. “I swear this town’s going to hell, I know what I saw! Keith can back me up! I need a small squad of men to track down and capture him. Throw in a tank while you’re at it.”

Darcy stumbled over his words. “You’re talking way too fast, sir. Please slow down– and I don’t think we need a tank.”

“One of America’s most wanted serial killers is loose in Dreamwood. I don’t think tanks are too drastic.”

“Are we even sure we’re dealing with the Zodiac? I mean- you know what we saw at Dr. Watson’s house,” Keith cautioned. “Darcy is right, we need to slow down and think about this.”

While the three men talked, another police vehicle was parking in front of the warehouse. Darcy glanced over at the car just in time to see Parker Caldwell and Thomas Wheeler climb out of the car.

“The only thing I needa think about is which one of my shelves I’m gonna mount the Zodiac Killer’s hea- . . .” Randy trailed off as his gaze fell on Parker. Keith could almost see Randy’s eyes turning red. 

Parker simply greeted the two detectives and Officer Darcy with an easy smile and a nod. “Good afternoon, you must be Detective Skinner. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Randy’s rage dissipated almost too quickly as he gave the Caldwell a cordial smile. “Parker Caldwell, I’ve heard a lot about you. Mainly about your little escapade in the forest, and then the living mannequin from the hospital!” Randy chuckled. “You’ve been making quite a lot of noise since you returned from New York. You’re the talk of the whole police station.”

Parker blinked. “Am I? I hadn’t noticed.” Randy would proceed to quietly seethe.

“Oh, thank God! Detective Caldwell! Maybe you can talk some sense into these two,” Officer Darcy gestured to Randy and Keith.

“Hey, don’t lump me in with him,” Keith raised his hands in defense. “I do not support the tank idea in the slightest.”

“Gentlemen,” Thomas began with his usual southern drawl, “How about we rewind a bit? Explain to us just what in God’s name happened here first of all.”

Keith began to explain everything that transpired up until this point; from the farmhouse to Dr. Watson’s suburban home and what they saw in his basement. They revealed that what they discovered in Watson’s basement was, in fact, another Dr. Watson– tied up with his mouth taped shut. He recounted the story of how he and Randy chased the second Dr. Watson, the one they had questioned in the living room, all the way to the warehouse. 

Officer Darcy blinked slowly, like a confused cat. “That… does not explain where the Zodiac Killer came from.”

“What if we’re not dealing with the Zodiac Killer at all?” Parker suggested.

All eyes were on him now. 

“This is going to sound crazy, but–”

“Just spit it out,” Randy insisted, growing anxious. 

“-What if the same thing that was impersonating Dr. Watson has been impersonating the Zodiac Killer all along? What if it was also behind the murder at the farmhouse? We could be dealing with some kind of shapeshifter,” Parker said. “A shapeshifter that’s reenacting different crimes.”

There was a long pause before Thomas replied, “That does sound crazy. Crazy seems to be the word of the month, though.”

“So we’re quite literally dealing with a copycat?” Keith scoffed. He lowered his head and mumbled, “I need to move to Boston.”

Parker nodded. “Skinner’s right about one thing- we do need a search team to find this thing. If I’m right, it can disguise itself as anyone– even one of us. We’ll have to be vigilant. We can try setting a trap for it- maybe back at lover’s lane…” He trailed off as he devised a plan.

------------------------------------------------------

4:30 PM.

Two hours later, and the sun was setting. What remained of its warm embrace cast a dim orange light upon the trees of Dreamwood Forest, and provided a gorgeous spectacle for the couple- a brunette man and a blonde woman- who sat in a parked car at the edge of lover’s lane. They remained blissfully unaware of the fact that they were being watched as they stared off into the sunset.

Concealed in the leaves, the armor clad figure observed the car. It seemed to be determining the best time to strike. It had done this many times before, and the motions were all too familiar. Sunlight slipped further and further from reach, and the Zodiac– or whatever was under that mask– decided that now was the best time to take action. It slowly approached the car, the voices of the couple growing closer, building anticipation. The only color it saw was red. Soon the Not-Zodiac found itself standing in front of the driver’s window, gazing in at the man who sat at the driver’s seat. The window rolled down slowly as the man turned his attention to their new company. 

Staring face to face with the Not-Zodiac was none other than Officer Darcy, who offered it a friendly smile and a, “Great evening for a walk, isn’t it?” The next thing the Not-Zodiac knew, it was staring down the barrel of a gun. The woman who sat in the car lifted her head, revealing Thomas Wheeler in a wig and a sundress. He aimed a shotgun directly at the Zodiac Killer. 

“Surprise, fuckface.” 

He turned his aim away from its head, aiming further down, and fired. The sound that followed was that of a gunshot, and the Not-Zodiac stumbled backward taking a shot to the leg. The car started up and pulled out of its parking spot, changing course and gearing up to run the Zodiac over. Despite this development, the creature remained perfectly still and allowed the car to knock it off balance. The car pushed on, crushing the shapeshifter underneath its wheels. Officer Darcy heard the crunching of bones, his foot on the gas, and he couldn’t help but grimace. Thomas cackled a deranged laugh before exclaiming, “Yeehaw!” He raised his rifle hand to the sky through the open car window and let his fake blonde hair fly freely in the wind. 

“This isn’t fun, Thomas… I heard it crunch…” Officer Darcy informed Wheeler.

To which Thomas playfully replied, “Don’t be a pussy, Darcy,” with a wild grin still plastered onto his face.

Darcy brought the car to an abrupt stop when he believed they had rendered the Not-Zodiac immobile. 

“Whew! That was easy!” Thomas sighed, the remnants of his grin still present. “And to think this was the son of a gun that gave Randy and Keith so much grief. Ain’t too tough up against a 1970 Volvo now are ya?” He chuckled, slapping the side of the vehicle.  Darcy chuckled along, albeit more nervously. He quietly wondered if he could get out of the car now. 

However, when the car started to rise into the air, Darcy felt an even stronger desire to get out of the vehicle. Thomas sucked his teeth and looked around, “Now this is just ridiculous.” 

Underneath the car, the Not-Zodiac had pulled itself to its feet and was holding the car above its weight as if it weighed no less than a fairly large boulder. Darcy started to panic, begging to be let out of the car. Thomas was trying his best to calm the rookie down while thinking of a means of escape. 

That was when Parker, Randy, and Keith came out of hiding finally. Randy did not hesitate to fire his taser gun at the Not-Zodiac. This caused the creature to drop the car, being crushed under its weight once again. 

“Careful, Randy,” Parker warned him. “I told you, we’re not going to kill it yet. We just need to make sure it can’t fight.” Parker already made it clear that he believed the shapeshifter might have answers for them. More specifically, he believed that if the shapeshifter had impersonated his father’s killer at one point, then it may know the true identity of the killer. He was hellbent on testing that theory more than anything.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Randy simply brushed him off.

The car door flung open and Officer Darcy quickly climbed out, followed by Thomas, and the two ran for the three men. 

“Get out of there!” Parker told them. He saw the car being lifted above the Not-Zodiac once again as the seemingly indestructible creature pulled itself to its feet. 

“I’m getting! I’m getting!” Darcy ran faster, glancing back at the car just in time to see it tip over. He frantically reached for the gun on his holster. 

The Not-Zodiac, now a contorted form wearing dented armor and a half-cracked helmet, launched itself in Officer Darcy’s direction. Darcy screamed, aimed his gun, and held his fire when he saw Thomas tackle the creature to the ground. 

“Thomas!” Parker shouted, running over to help his friend. Randy and Keith followed.

Thomas wrestled with the Not-Zodiac for several seconds before he began senselessly beating its face in with the butt of his rifle, repeatedly telling it to ‘eat shit’. His taunts were cut short when the creature grabbed his rifle and bent it to an angle with minimal effort. Thomas’ eyes widened, conveying an expression that could only be read as a silent prayer to God. The Not-Zodiac lunged at Thomas and the wrestling match resumed. 

When Parker, Randy, and Keith finally reached Thomas and the Not-Zodiac, they made a very disturbing discovery. The wrestling match slowly came to an end, and Thomas stood to his feet- only something was very wrong. Standing next to Thomas Wheeler was another Thomas, an exact spitting image of him. They wore the same clothes and shared the same disgruntled expression. 

Darcy glanced between the two, and he was starting to get dizzy. “Y’all… this ain’t right… this ain’t right at all… I’m seein’ double...” 

Parker paused. He felt a knot of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. “...Thomas?”

“Yes, that’s me! I’m Thomas!” The two identical men responded in a near perfect unison. “No, I’m Thomas! You shut your mouth! I’ll shoot you where you stand! I’m not playin’ wit you!” 

Randy glanced between the two, gun in hand, unsure of where to shoot. “Oh, hell.” 

“Alright,” Keith squinted, “Which one is the shapeshifter?”

The two Thomas’ pointed to one another. “He’s the shapeshifter! Shoot him!” They shot each other pointed glares. 

“I’ve just about had it with you,” sneered Thomas #1. 

“Who are you kidding? Everybody knows I’m the real Thomas! You couldn’t rock that wig to save your life,” Thomas #2 fired back with a smirk. 

“Can you both just be quiet?! I’m tryna think!” Officer Darcy was already close to cracking under the pressure of it all. 

Parker spoke up. “Thomas, look at me.”

Both Thomas’ met Parker’s gaze.

“Thomas, you’re my best friend. You know me better than anyone. Tell me something only I would know.”

Thomas #2 nodded slowly, and started. “I still remember the day you ran from home after that fight with your dad. You had already skipped town and before the old man did anything else, he came to me. He figured I would know where you went,” Thomas #2 gave a wistful chuckle recounting the memory. “And you’re damn sure I did. But you- you were a clever bastard even at seventeen. You were one step ahead of your old man. You already gave me an entire script that sent him on a wild goose chase that ended in Vermont.”

Randy blinked in disbelief, glancing at Parker. “Is that true?” 

“Yes, it is.”

“Well… there’s our answer.” Randy aimed his gun in the direction of Thomas #1, and promptly fired. 

“Damnit, Randy!” 

The first Thomas fell backward, and morphed back into the Zodiac Killer before their very eyes. Thomas- the real Thomas- let out a sigh of relief. He saw his life flash before his eyes a second prior. 

Parker, on the other hand, ran over to the fallen shapeshifter. He knelt over the Zodiac’s body. It was still alive, but it was losing a lot of blood- a lot of thick, tar-black blood. Parker had never seen anything like it but at the current moment he didn’t care. He only had one question on his mind. “Quick, tell me,” his voice took on an air of desperation. “Who killed my father?” The Zodiac could do nothing but gurgle as it choked on its own blood. “Answer me, damnit!”

Parker grabbed the Zodiac’s helmet and yanked it off, throwing it to the ground. The face that was revealed was pale as snow, and bore no distinctive features other than a mouth that lacked lips and was full of razor sharp teeth. Parker held the face of the writhing abomination, forcing it to look at him. “Show me the face of the man who killed my father!” It did not answer him. Soon the creature ceased movement completely. Parker screamed at the now dead shapeshifter. It was Thomas who gently pulled him away. 

All things considered, Randall Skinner felt pretty accomplished. He knew that he would be the hero of this story– the one who slayed the monster. It was a story he planned to take with him a long way. At last, he could shine a more positive light on the Skinner family name. The Skinners were more than thugs- they could be heroes, too. Their days of being lowly biker gangsters and struggling politicians were soon to be over. This was the first sign. 

Parker’s sights soon turned on Randy. “Randy you son of a–” He lunged for Randy, but Thomas held him back.

“Parker- Parks, get a hold of yourself.”

“He killed my only lead!”

“I don’t even think that thing could speak a lick of English! Either way, we’ll find out who killed the old man! I promise!”

“God damnit!!”

Randy took one last look at Parker before nodding to Keith. 

“Let’s go.” 

He turned and walked for his car, which was hidden not too far away in the woods. Keith cast an apologetic look upon Parker and Thomas before following his partner, leaving Officer Darcy alone with Thomas and a very disgruntled Parker Caldwell. 

“That… that bastard…”

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Author’s Note 

Randall Skinner and Keith Costello are alternate versions of Randy Warren and Keith Davis, characters belonging to the Jeff the Killer mythos.

[eris-anansi]

[eris-anansi]

Dreamwood 1999

Episode 2: The Usual Suspects

Two weeks into the manhunt for Jackson Caldwell’s killer, a strange woman appears in Dreamwood. Thomas narrowly escapes a near-fatal encounter with a dangerous hospital patient and Parker is given a puzzling clue about the nature of his father’s death.

CW: Implied murder, graphic depictions of violence, and other things you'd expect from a Creepypasta inspired crime drama.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Associated Song: Hot Kosha - Uncontrollable

Tuesday, September 7th, 1999.

Two weeks passed by like two days. The funeral came and went, and it felt like the whole town of Dreamwood was in attendance. Such was customary when a Caldwell passed away, but things were different this time- because a Caldwell had been murdered. Given the family’s history, it was not uncommon for a Caldwell to die in the line of duty; such was the fate of Parker’s grandfather the former police chief. His killer was brought to justice shortly after, though, and therein lied the disparity. With Jackson’s murder, two weeks had gone by without a single person of interest. 

The first suspects were naturally Jackson’s known enemies– criminals who had been given harsh sentences back when he was mayor, and especially notable members of the Skinner family like Rudolf Skinner and Noah Skinner. The Caldwells and the Skinners had been rivals since Dreamwood’s founding, and remained the two most influential families in the town’s history and development. Their power struggle was long, bitter, and generational. However, rarely did either side resort to cold-blooded murder for political reasons, and any acts of violence were often provoked by land disputes and the like. That meant there were no tangible suspects to be found. Someone had managed to sneak past hospital security and murder one of the most important men in Dreamwood– former mayor Jackson Caldwell– and get away with it.

Parker had started to visit Nathan and Mariah more often since that day at the woods. He and his brother weren’t anything near as close as they were before he left for Manhattan, but they were getting along better than after he left. He sat across from Nathan and Mariah in the living room of their house. The television played softly in the background as Dreamwood’s mayor gave a statement about Jackson’s murder. 

“I can’t believe it’s already been two weeks,” Parker said, his eyes on the TV. “Of all the ways he could’ve gone, this is the most unfair…”

“And the most unsettling- thirteen is a bad omen,” Nathan thought aloud. 

“It’s also… painfully familiar,” he admitted. “Thirteen is the same number of stab wounds Carmen had. It’s all too similar. When I found out I… had to make sure our son was still in Myerscough.”

Parker lifted his head, taking note of the faint scar on Nathan’s cheek. He had noticed it once before, but he hadn’t thought much of it until this moment. He asked, “Would it be possible for me to visit him?”

Mariah shook her head. “No one is allowed to. The asylum stopped allowing visits after an incident last year with a reporter who tried to get an interview.”

Parker arched his brow. “Incident?” 

“Well, the poor bastard got his interview,” Nathan explained. “But he wasn’t heard from after that. Disappeared without a trace. Asylum staff said he drove off the beaten path into the forest and never came back.”

“Either way, no one’s been allowed to see him since then. I hear even the orderlies avoid interacting with him as much as they can,” Mariah said. “I don’t blame them, either.”

In the background Parker overheard Mayor Rogers speaking on the television. “This is a dark time in Dreamwood history. Two weeks ago, someone tore one of our giants away from us in the most inhumane way possible; killing Jackson Caldwell in cold blood. We have reason to believe Jackson’s killer is still at large, and a manhunt remains in full effect…” The mayor continued. 

“Do you have any leads yet?” Mariah asked Parker. 

He shook his head. “No. That’s why I asked about your son.”

“...You don’t think he’s–”

“If he’s still locked up I don’t see how, but that’s how desperate we are right now. The department is grasping at straws and even a small coincidence like that is better than nothing at all.” He stared at the floor for a moment, before meeting Nathan’s gaze once more. “Did dad ever… say anything particularly strange to you the last few weeks before that day?”

Nathan scoffed at the question. “Dad always said strange things. I don’t think you realize how little that narrows things down.”

“Nevermind then,” Parker shook his head. “It’s nothing, just– he left me with a lot of questions. I wish I got to have at least one last conversation with him.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile…

Thomas browsed the selections at the local liquor store a few blocks down from the police station. As he walked down the aisle just barely illuminated by cheap ceiling lights, he listened to the radio which served as a sort of white noise in the background; it cycled through beer commercials, weather forecasts, and anti-communist propaganda like clockwork. 

“Ah, this’ll do.”

He found and picked a particular brand of whiskey before he walked up to the counter and placed down the bottle. “How much, Rob?” He asked the clerk, whom he had come to know quite well. 

“That’ll be seven dollars and seventy-five cents,” Rob answered. “A good choice as always, Tommy. How’s the Caldwell boy doing?” Rob was a bulky, older man with a gruff face, a bald head, and grey mustache. He wore a plain white shirt and brown pants. 

“Burying himself in work,” Thomas answered plainly as he paid for the whiskey. He glanced over to the radio behind the counter as a news bulletin began. 

A man urgently spoke over the radio with few inflections. “In the aftermath of a freak incident at Dreamwood State Hospital which left five dead and two injured, authorities are in search of a woman believed to be in her mid-thirties wearing a hospital gown stained with fresh blood. She was last seen leaving the hospital at 12 PM today. If you see her, seek shelter and call the police immediately. She is to be considered armed and very dangerous. Mayor Rogers urges citizens to remain calm, yet vigilant.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow at the news report. Rob shook his head and muttered, “If it ain’t one thing it’s another in this town.”

“It’s starting to get weird around here. I mean, who sheds blood in a hospital? In broad daylight too? Feels like nothin’ is sacred anymore.”

“I blame those dirty communists. They’ll do anything to sew chaos on American soil. First they kill Jackson, now they’re targeting our hospitals,” Rob spat. “And I don’t believe for one second that a coyote caused that car crash two weeks ago that killed them two girls.”

Thomas felt a small rush of dread listening to Rob speak but he didn’t let it show. Rob was talking about the Three-eyed Beast and Thomas knew it. He nodded slowly, “I wouldn’t put it past ‘em.” He thought it best to entertain Rob’s ravings rather than let on that he knew anything. 

He heard the bell jingle, signaling that someone had entered the store, then heard the door close. Something primal awakened in Thomas and he half-whispered, half-shouted, “Get behind the counter.” Rob blinked in confusion but he did not protest, quickly vanishing behind the counter. Thomas sought refuge behind one of the shelves. Whoever had entered had not seen the two men yet, as the door was situated to the far opposite end of the building to the left, and vision was obscured by several aisles. For a few seconds, Thomas could hear nothing but his own heartbeat. He wasn’t sure why he was reacting this way; he hadn’t seen who entered, but he knew his instincts were never wrong. He slowly reached for a pistol he kept concealed in a holster underneath his coat. 

Footsteps started down the aisle to Thomas’ right. He waited. They drew closer and closer and he prayed that Rob would keep quiet. The sudden, resounding cacophony of shattering glass caused Thomas to flinch where he had crouched behind shelves of liquor. More glass shattered as an unseen presence knocked over bottles of alcohol onto the floor as it passed through the aisles.

“You’re gonna have to pay for that!” Rob’s voice shouted from behind the counter.

‘That idiot,’ Thomas thought.

He almost screamed when he saw the white of a hospital gown pass his vision as the source of the footsteps quickly rounded the aisle. He was unsure if the person’s feet were even touching the ground. He saw long, silken black hair and a pale hand gripping a glass shard. The woman had not seen him, having made a beeline straight for the shopkeeper. Rob did not show himself right away but it didn’t matter because the woman had already begun to climb over the counter. Thomas gripped his pistol, cursing his hand and urging it to move, but all he could do was watch. His body had betrayed him. 

Thomas could no longer see the woman nor Rob. He heard nothing but silence for several seconds, before he heard a terrified scream that ended in a horrible gurgling noise that was unmistakably Rob’s voice. The woman in the hospital gown emerged from behind the counter. For the first time since she entered the liquor store, Thomas saw her face. It sent a chill down his spine. It wasn’t natural. Her hair was long and neatly straightened, and her face was smooth and fair in complexion. She had no eyebrows. Her face was completely void of expression, she stared forward with no emotion in her eyes. She was like a moving mannequin; nothing about her looked real, but she retained the fluid and seamless motions that distinguish human beings from imitations- the details that nothing can replicate, or should be able to. 

However, for Thomas, the main thing that stood out about her was the fact that the bottom half of her face around her mouth was highlighted red with blood. It dripped onto the counter. Her mouth hung open, letting the crimson fluid flow freely, and revealing an unnatural set of teeth which resembled jagged sheets of metal. Thomas’ heartrate picked up as he quickly reverted his gaze, shutting his eyes and quickly mumbling a prayer. He stumbled over his words as he pleaded to God, praying that he would not be seen. He had already seen what she did to Rob, and it was horrible. 

Before he even knew it, it came to a swift end.

He opened his eyes, just after he heard the front door open and shut with a jingle of the bell. She had left. He breathed a long sigh of relief, dropping his gun as a single tear ran down his face. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later…

Word of what took place at the liquor store, and Rob’s subsequent murder, spread throughout Dreamwood rather quickly. Dreamwood was a town where people talked fast and facts were often lost in translation along the way. 

Thomas had met with Parker at the police station and the two men were making their way through the main offices as they spoke.

“Metal teeth?” Parker questioned, listening to Thomas’ story of his encounter with the woman from Dreamwood State Hospital. 

“I’m just tellin’ you what I saw,” Thomas said. “God– this musta been how you felt tryna to explain to me what you saw in those woods.”

“A strange animal in the woods is easier to explain than a woman with metal teeth. We don’t know what manner of beast lurks out in untouched nature, but we ought to know the nature of our neighbors.”

“Yeah, well that lady bit off a whole chunk of Rob. I heard the noise he made when she did it. She bit into him like he was a porkchop and then… she was just gone. Just like that.”

“The way you describe her makes it sound like she’s some kind of superhuman, like in those cartoons and comic books. Makes it hard to believe she was so easily apprehended.”

They descended a staircase, slowly entering the area where the station kept its prisoners for temporary confinement. Upon entering the dank hallway, they heard the shouting of rowdy prisoners from either side of them, hurling insults and death threats as they saw the two detectives pass by. They were surrounded by snarling, leering faces. 

“Alright alright, keep it down, boys,” Parker knocked harshly on one of the cells on his way. 

Soon they reached a point where all was silent. It seemed Chief Bowers had made sure to keep their latest prisoner far away from everyone else. Given Parker and Thomas’ history and experience with their strangest case yet, it was almost a no-brainer to send them down to interrogate the woman with metal teeth. 

Chief Bowers already stood at the door to the interrogation room with another officer. He had instructed the officer to stand guard and to keep a certain forensic investigator from speaking to the mannequin woman. As far as he was concerned, the only people allowed to make contact with her were Parker and Thomas, but he especially did not want Woods down here. He knew he would make a scene and he didn’t need a headache on top of everything going on in town today.

“There you boys are. The prisoner is right through that door- restrained, of course. We weren’t sure if she’d break through the handcuffs, so we resorted to chains. Just to be on the safe side of things.”

Parker gave the Chief a nod. “We’ll take it from here.” He had already entertained the possibility that this woman could be his father’s killer. The idea did not remain far from his mind. 

Thomas was not as quick as Parker to enter the interrogation room. He was still haunted by memories of the liquor store, and as a result his footsteps were delayed. It felt like walking through an invisible swamp. When he finally passed through the doorway, he remained very conscious of his breathing. 

In front of them stood a metal table with chairs on either side; two chairs straight ahead, and one chair on the other side of the table. That chair was also occupied, and two officers stood guard beside the chair. Thomas recognized the person who sat in the chair almost instantly. Her long, dark hair nearly covered her face. She sat chained to the chair, her pale hands bound behind her. Thomas felt a chill rise up his spine as memories of Rob’s slaughter flashed across his mind. He could still see the traces of blood around her mouth. Her mouth opened, letting forth a rasp.

“Cal..dwell…” 

Even though she was restrained, Parker still felt the need to keep his hand close to his holster. Something gave him the feeling he’d need it whether or not she was in chains. She wasn’t the average criminal, that much was made clear from the start. With an ounce of hesitation, he moved to take a seat across from the woman. 

“You know me?” He asked. 

The way she nodded was more robotic than human. “Once before. I have seen you,” she replied. 

“Strange. I don’t think I ever saw you before, and I think I would remember if I did. You’re pretty memorable,” Parker said.

“Awh, shucks,” though she sounded flattered, her face remained perfectly expressionless. It wasn’t natural. Nothing about her was.

“Why did you kill those doctors?” Parker asked, keeping his composure. He looked her straight in the eyes.

She stared back blankly. She never answered the question.

“I asked you a question. Why did you–”

“I heard you. I wanted to see if you would ask me again.”

Parker blinked. He wasn’t sure what to make of what just happened. Thomas still stood behind him, he had not taken a seat. He was fixated on the woman’s features, trying to rationalize the hyper-human form he saw before him. His mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. When she didn’t answer the question, Parker weighed whether or not it was worth the effort of another try. He decided that she would probably give him the same response.

“...Do you know anything about the murder of Jackson Caldwell?”

Her head shot up at the mention of Jackson, but she did not speak.

“She knows somethin’,” Thomas murmured, emphasizing the last word. 

“I know many things about Jackson,” she declared, her voice remaining empty of inflection. “Jackson was a powerful man. We called him the Dictator.”

“We?” Thomas blurted questioningly. He flinched when the Expressionless Woman’s head snapped in his direction. 

“Did you kill Jackson?” Parker asked, a newfound edge in his voice. 

“Jackson died kicking and screaming I imagine,” the woman continued as if she did not hear the men’s questions. “His whole life he was kicking and screaming. Like an infant. Such is the nature of the Caldwell Clan.” 

Parker felt a pit well in his stomach as he gripped the handle of his weapon. “...And what does that mean?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“You can ask him yourself when you are reunited in Hell. Though… he never was good at answering questions, was he? Secrets must run in the family, Defiler.” 

Parker tensed at the last word she said. Thomas noticed immediately. “Parker, what is she talking about?” The air in the interrogation room was tense from the start, but now the atmosphere was almost unbearably so. The officers standing guard almost wanted to remove themselves from the room. The feeling of imminent danger was staggering. Whether it came from the expressionless woman or Parker was unsure. 

“Who are you?” Parker spoke in clipped tones. His eyes were full of something uncharacteristic of him- they held hatred. 

The woman stared back with a vacant expression. “Go ahead, Caldwell. Tell him. Tell him what you stole. Tell him what you brought to this cursed soil.”

“Who. The hell. Are you.”

“I am God.”

For the first time, she actually smiled. It was an awful, grotesque grimace more than anything, and it revealed the metal teeth that Thomas talked about; jagged metal slates that lined her mouth. Before anyone could react, she whipped her head in the direction of the officer standing guard to her right and, in one swift motion, bit down on his arm; sinking her teeth deep into his flesh. A horrific scream escaped the man’s lungs and reverberated down the hallway. 

Thomas stumbled back. “Oh, Jesus Christ!” 

The interrogation room promptly erupted into hysteria as Parker, Thomas, and the officer’s partner fought to free their comrade from the woman’s grasp. Her jaw seemed to be locked on his arm. Voices shouted indistinctly and the officer pleaded for help, feeling the metal teeth rip and tear off pieces of skin. He nearly passed out from the shock when he swore he felt the teeth touch bone. Blood was pooling underneath them. 

“What the hell is going on in there?!” Chief Bowers’ voice broke through the chaos. He peaked in, just when the lights fizzled out in the interrogation room. He saw nothing save for the outline of Parker, Thomas, and another officer struggling with an unseen force, their silhouettes writhing in the shadows. His eyes adjusted slowly.

They didn’t need to adjust long, however, because the room was soon bathed in light once more. Now the woman was gone- and so was the officer she had attacked. Both had vanished, as though they had never even existed. Parker, Thomas, and the second guardsmen stood around in a dazed state, barely able to process what had just happened. 

Thomas managed to speak, “God. Did… did I hear that right? Did she say that she was God?”

Parker gave a slow nod.

Chief Bowers glanced between his dazed men and the empty chair wrapped in chains. “Where the hell did our prisoner go?”

Silence. The officers were too in a daze to even process the Chief's question.

“...Where is Officer Smith?”

Still no answer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Following the incident in the interrogation room, every corner of the facility was searched for any sign of the Expressionless Woman. They did not find her. Chief Bowers frantically dispatched search teams, and did not rest until every square inch of town was covered; and his men left no stone unturned. They came up with nothing. It was like she had disappeared off the face of the Earth. Dreamwood’s police force was left wondering if they had imagined it all. Thomas checked today’s headlines just to see if there was still any mention of the hospital massacre; it was the first thing he saw. Nothing had changed about it either. Still, the massacre’s one culprit– and Parker’s best lead to the murder of Jackson Caldwell– had vanished seemingly with no trace.

Desperate for a moment of relaxation and normalcy, Parker and Thomas stopped at the diner for food and drinks following a chaotic afternoon. It was currently 4 PM, and the sun was getting ready to set. The dim sunlight bathed nearby buildings and shined through the window onto Parker and Thomas’ table. 

“How’ve you been, Parks?” Thomas asked him. The question seemed straightforward, but there was an underlying meaning that carried with it an undeniable weight.

“The steady stream of cases have been the only thing keeping me sane,” Parker answered honestly. Then he continued as he focused on the glass of beer in front of him. “I wish everything made more sense. Nothing’s felt right since I came here.”

There was a question nagging at the edge of Thomas’ consciousness. It had been there ever since they confronted the Expressionless in the interrogation room. He remembered the words she shared with Parker, and what she had called him. 

“Tell him what you stole.”

What did Parker steal? What did she have to do with it? Thomas wanted to ask him now, but he didn’t think it appropriate. Not while Parker was grieving, and not while he was fixated on finding the one responsible for killing his father. Still, Thomas could not shake the feeling that his best friend was hiding something. 

They shared their meal and their drinks in silence, both men quietly processing the afternoon’s events. Parker watched the sun set as he finished his pancakes. He quietly wondered what the next day would bring. For a small city, there has seldom been a dull moment in Dreamwood. He hoped his relationship with his brother Nathan would continue to rebuild, and that he could bring them both closure by solving the mystery of Jackson’s murder. He also hoped he could gain his own, personal closure by finding out what exactly Jackson, the Rake, and the Expressionless all shared in common. Jackson knew of the Rake, and the Expressionless knew and spoke of Jackson. The puzzle expanded. Parker wanted– no, needed to know where each piece fit. 

Thomas received a transmission on his walkie talkie. He pulled it out of his coat and answered. 

“Yeah, Captain? Right. We’ll be there in just a second.” 

He slipped it back into his coat and said, “We have a situation downtown. A bank robbery. Pretty simple stuff,” he explained.

Parker gave a sigh, “Well, this was a nice break while it lasted.”

“Yesiree,” Thomas chuckled lightly. “I’m ready whenever you are, partner.”

Parker nodded and smiled. “Let’s kick some ass.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note - Acknowledgements

“The Expressionless” was created by Creepypasta user Ivysir. 

[eris-anansi]

Dreamwood 1999

Episode 1: Deja Vu, Part 2: Thirteen Stab Wounds

The hunt for the Forest Monster takes an unexpected turn when Parker’s brother, Nathan, becomes a target.

CW: Implied violence and murder, graphic depictions of violence, character death, and the like.

Associated Song: Hozier - In The Woods Somewhere

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The sound of glass shattering woke Nathan Caldwell in the middle of the night. His head snapped in the direction of the bedroom door, which was locked. He soon realized the sound had come from downstairs. He glanced down at his still sleeping wife before he carefully slipped out of bed, quiet as to not wake her up. 

He slowly made his way to the door, unlocking it and slipping into the hallway. Intent on discovering the source of the noise, he stalked down the hardwood staircase- now armed with a sledgehammer- and rounded the base of the stairs into the kitchen. His eyes had finally adjusted to the dark. He could see items scattered across the kitchen floor and, perhaps most notably, a broken window with a hole large enough for some wild animal from the forest to just climb through. He concluded that someone had just broken into his house. 

“Alright, Nate,” he spoke to himself. “Stay calm… it’s not every day someone breaks into your house…” 

He felt a drop of water land on his forehead. “Oh, great- on top of a burglar you also have a leak,” he murmured to himself. Another droplet landed on him and he slowly raised his head to the ceiling, before freezing in his tracks at what he saw above him. 

Three green eyes stared back at him, which he soon discovered were apart of a much larger form that was crouched on the ceiling. A mouth full of rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth dripped saliva onto Nathan’s face. He felt a swelling in his stomach as adrenaline rushed through his entire body. The two stared each other down for what felt like hours before Nathan heard someone barge through the front door and barrel into the kitchen. However it was the shine of a flashlight that broke him out of his frozen state, followed by the familiar voice of his brother shouting, “Get down!”

Instinctively he ducked just before a gunshot rang out and the demon on the ceiling made a mad dash out of the kitchen– making a beeline upstairs. Parker and Thomas stood in the doorway and Parker was firing his gun after the creature. He ceased fire once it was completely out of sight.

Nathan’s face went pale, his eyes lingering on the path upstairs. “My wife is asleep up there–” he murmured, quickly bolting upstairs. “Nathan, wait!” Parker shouted after him. It was no use, he was on a warpath. Parker and Thomas rushed after him. The three men found the bedroom door wide open, and the pale creature looming over the bed. Mariah had begun to stir from sleep. 

Parker raised his gun to aim at the creature. “I’ve got you, you motherfucker-” Just then, Mariah woke up, and the first thing she saw was the green-eyed demon staring back at her. With a shriek of terror she pushed herself up against the wall, her eyes barely processing what she saw. She didn’t have much time to fully register it as Parker pulled the trigger and a bullet tore through the creature’s shoulder, knocking it against the window at the end of the bedroom. The war veteran wasted no time firing another round. 

Glass shattered as the creature broke through the window and fell into the backyard. Parker rushed to the edge of the window, his eyes searching for the monster, eager to finish the job– only to find the backyard empty. He heard nothing but the chirps of crickets and the cacophonous singing of cicadas. He stared out into the open woods scanning for any sign of where it might’ve gone. There was nothing. No footprints, no glimpse of the creature vanishing into the woods. It had disappeared without a trace. Parker slipped into deep thought.

The first thing Nathan did was rush to the bedside and pull Mariah into a warm embrace. “Oh- Mariah, thank god,” he said, his voice almost brittle. “If I had lost you I don’t know what I would’ve done-”, “I’m okay, Nathan,” she murmured, running a hand through his hair. “I’m okay.” Nathan addressed the officers, but mainly his brother in particular, “What the hell was that thing?”

“I been tryna figure that one out myself,” Thomas answered tiredly. “That animal took out Quincy like– like he was nothing.” Therein lied what Parker didn’t understand. Why didn’t it finish the job? He was right there. Nathan narrowed his eyes at Parker. “You know something, don’t you?” Parker might’ve heard him but it was hard to tell. The man had zoned out completely. “Answer me, damnit!” He raised his voice. “Nathan, please–” Mariah tried to intervene. 

“No! I’m sick of this,” Nathan shook his head. “He thinks he can just push himself back into our lives and bring all of his craziness along with him! He’s always been like this,” he said. “For as long as we were kids he brought chaos wherever he went.” 

“How about a ‘thank you’, huh?” Parker mumbled, still with his back to his brother. “If I recall correctly, I just saved her life.” 

Nathan blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I understand that you feel like I abandoned the family.” Parker turned around and looked his brother dead in the eye. “I’m here now, though, and I just saved you from whatever the hell that thing was– and I’d appreciate a little acknowledgement.”

The room was silent for several seconds, though they felt like minutes. Thomas broke the silence by clearing his throat. 

“I want to know what that thing was,” Nathan finally responded. “I want to know why it was in my house. Why it threatened my wife.”

“We don’t know what it is,” Parker answered. “Up until tonight, only two people had seen it- myself, and another man who lost his family to that demon about a day ago.”

“When did you see it?” Mariah asked him. 

“Last week when I first visited Nathan,” he told her. “I nearly crashed into the damn thing on my way back from this house. I thought it was a deer.”

“You saw it first,” Nathan concluded. Gears were turning in his head. “How do we know you didn’t bring it back with you from Cambodia or wherever the hell you were?”

Parker was about to protest, but Mariah spoke faster. “No- he didn’t,” she asserted. “I know he didn’t.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow at her. “You sound mighty certain of that. I mean- I ain’t sayin’ he did, but I’m askin’ how you know he didn’t.”

“...The first time I saw it was last month, and I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me- I didn’t think anything of it,” she said. “I was going for a walk in the woods near the house when I caught a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye. We all have those moments, right?”

Parker could see the dread growing on his brother’s face. Thomas listened intently, it was hard to tell what was going on inside his head. Then again- it always was until he spoke.

“The second time I saw it on my way back from a grocery run,” Mariah explained. “Only for a second. By then I had forgotten about that time in the woods, so I didn’t think too much about that time either. Then it… started happening more frequently. I didn’t want to tell you, Nathan, because I was afraid you would think I was losing it,” she said. “But now we’ve both seen it up close. God– it was inches away from my face…” 

“Jesus Christ, Mariah..." Nathan whispered.

“Sounds like it’s been stalkin’ you,” Thomas concluded. “The both of you even. If Parker’s seen it near the house before, and so has Mariah, that means it frequents this area.” He let out an exasperated sigh, “Good grief, I can hardly get my brain around all of this.”

“The only thing I know is if I catch that thing again I’m gonna put a bullet between its eyes,” Nathan decided. “I’m not losing anyone else. Not again.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The atmosphere at the police station was suffocating. The reality of what happened last night spread throughout the facility like a poison. Chief Bowers could not tear his eyes away from his old monitor screen that showed the recordings of what transpired last night in the woods. The footage wasn’t scuffed in the slightest, it was clear- and there was no denying what happened. The creature popped up on every camera at least once, never obscured. There was even footage of the encounter between it and the detectives. He watched it over and over again. 

Parker and Thomas stood off nearby. Thomas and the Chief shared the same look of utter disbelief, fascination, and horror. Bowers paused the video right on the part where Quincy's body was dragged away by the thing. 

“I know what you’re thinkin',” Thomas started.

“How are we going to explain this to the man’s family?” Parker murmured. Thomas nodded in agreement. 

This was one of those times where Parker hated being right. He couldn’t have been more right and he wished he could’ve been wrong. He had hoped Thomas was right and the trenches of the East had gotten to him more than he had thought. 

“I don’t think this footage should get out,” Bowers said. “In a town like this it would cause too much conversation. That conversation could turn into panic and…”

Thomas nodded. “We oughta be quiet about all this. We needa catch that thing– whatever it is– and stop it before more people see it.”

“And where does that leave Quincy’s family?” Parker asked. 

“For all anyone else is concerned, that thing in the woods is a wild coyote,” Bowers answered with conviction. “Animals act out every so often. Nature is a mysterious thing.”

Parker was no stranger to this kind of thing. Four years in the war taught him that sometimes the truth is too unbearable. This was a reality he had hoped to escape; the reality of losing a comrade, the reality of the aftermath that comes along with such a loss. Having to lie to a family to spare them the awful truth. He remembered the times he had to tell a man’s family that their son or their husband died quick and painless, that he died brave and he died fighting, when he knew on a personal level how far from the truth that really was– but this wasn’t the Gray War. They had no idea what they were dealing with, so how were they supposed to explain it to civilians?

He nodded. “Understood, sir.” 

“We think the creature is smart,” Thomas began. “It doesn’t just hunt mindlessly. It… chooses victims. It plans. It’s been stalking two people.”

“My brother and his wife,” Parker clarified, his voice tense. “It’s stalking my brother and his wife. Last night it broke into their house. I have a feeling it’ll be coming back tonight.”

“And I assume you plan to be ready for it when it does?” Bowers raised an eyebrow towards Parker.

He gave only a nod.

“Then I leave it in your hands, Caldwell.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

That morning Parker and Thomas decided to stop at a local diner in town since neither of them had breakfast before arriving at the station. They both had a lot on their minds. Thomas had been an officer for almost as long as Parker had been, and they shared the same sentiment– they were used to searching for human suspects, not… whatever this thing was. They were used to normal crimes; however there wasn’t a normal bone in the body of this case. Last night Parker had to fend what he could only describe as a monster out of his brother’s house, and there was a possibility that he’d have to do it again. 

The two men sat across from one another, seemingly engaging in a silent conversation. Through their eyes they exchanged words. 

Then finally, Thomas asked, “How’re you holdin’ up?” To which Parker responded, “I’m holding.” Thomas snorted in response, “Tell me about it brother. This whole situation’s as crazy as a flock of pigs flyin’ into a sunset.”

“It could have killed me,” Parker murmured, thinking back to his first encounter with the thing in the woods. Shortly after what it did to Quincy. “I was right there… it could have easily taken me next. I don’t understand why it didn’t.”

“You’re thinkin’ too hard again,” Thomas warned. “What’d I tell ya about thinkin’ too hard? You sure seem to love drivin’ yourself crazy.”

“I feel like a dead man walking,” Parker admitted. “Not even since the woods last night– since I left the trenches.”

Thomas nodded. “...I think I know whatcha mean. They call it survivors’ guilt or somethin’. Life can be cruel like that.”

“I’ve seen things no man should have to see. Not even a soldier,” Parker continued. “The cruelty isn’t what I’m forced to witness, Tommy. The cruelty is the fact I have to live with the memory.”

The new tone in Parker’s voice, coupled with the increasingly vacant look in his eyes, piqued both morbid interest and concern within Thomas. The part of Thomas that was nosy by nature and liked to know things had awakened, along with the part of Thomas that was Parker’s long time friend and confidant. He could tell Parker was talking about more than just the typical horrors of war. He leaned forward, murmuring a sincere question to his dear friend, “What the hell did you see in those trenches, brother?” 

That was when the waiter arrived and asked them if they had decided what they wanted to order. Both men ordered a glass of beer. The waiter nodded and left to put in their order. Parker stared off into space for several minutes before he finally zoned back in. “...Last night wasn’t the first time I saw something I couldn’t explain,” he finally answered Thomas. “I saw some strange things in those tunnels, too.”

“What kinda strange things?” Thomas inquired further, his curiosity growing along with his anxiety. 

“Are you a superstitious man, Thomas?” 

“I believe in the grace of God and the fire of Hell, if that’s what you mean,” Thomas answered. 

The waiter returned with their drinks and set them down. The two men nodded their thanks and continued their conversation.

“I don’t know what I saw in the tunnels, but I know that I can’t explain it with logic or reason. The enemy built bases underground and… those bases had shrines. Shrines to what I don’t know; but there were these… golden statues,” he told Thomas, recounting one of the shrines he stumbled upon. He sipped his glass of alcohol before he continued. “They were all statues of the same woman. Some were the size of small dogs, others were pocket-sized.”

“Shrines in a communist country can’t be good,” Thomas said. “There’s no way those folks are praisin’ God, that’s for sure. What did the woman look like?” 

“That’s what I thought,” Parker nodded. “She looked like a mermaid- only with octopus tentacles instead of a fish’s tail. She wasn’t wearing any clothes, either.”

“Sounds like my kinda woman,” Thomas joked with a smirk. It was difficult to tell which part he meant, or if he meant all of it. “I bet you see the darnedest things in communist encampments.” 

“You definitely do,” Parker exhaled. Thomas could tell he was under a considerable amount of stress.  “Hey,” Thomas offered a hand to his friend. “We gon’ figure this out, y’hear me? Everything’s gon’ be just fine. We both done handled worse things. You survived a war, and I survived college,” he grinned. 

“I just wish everything made more sense,” Parker replied. He took another, larger sip of his beer. “I thought I’d escape the chaos when I was discharged. It seems to have followed me.” Just like Nathan said, he thought to himself. 

“And we’ll send the chaos runnin’ back with its tail between its legs,” Thomas offered. “We’re cops, ain’t that what we do? Uphold order?”

“Order…” Parker echoed under his breath. He chuckled quietly at how much Thomas sounded like his father. “Maybe so.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later, Parker visited his father again. When he entered the hospital room, he was surprised to see the old man up and out of his bed. Jackson Caldwell stood in front of a window, staring out at the driveway below. 

“Dad, what are you-” Parker stammered. “Why are you trying to walk?”

The man scoffed. “Bah, don’t patronize me. I’m not that old.” He walked back to the bed with ease, not a wobble in his step, and sat down. “Two days in a row, huh? Careful, son. I might get used to it and actually be surprised when you disappear again,” he chuckled. 

“That’s funny,” Parker said, although he didn’t sound nor look amused.

“You know what else is funny?” The old man looked at him with a big ol’ grin. “The doctors said I could leave tomorrow.”

His father did promise that he would improve. He just didn’t expect the old man’s predictions to actually come true. Lo and behold, Jackson had been steadily improving over the week. It was only a matter of time before he would start walking again.

“I take it you’ve been enjoying your time at home?” Jackson asked.

Parker responded with a question, “Why did you bring me back here?” It came out sounding more deadpan than he initially intended. There was an edge to his voice that he hadn’t taken with his father since the last time they spoke. It was a dangerous thing.

“What do you mean?”

“The whole time I’ve been here, I have seen nothing but misery,” Parker said. “The sun never shines here, no one here thinks for themselves, my brother hates me because I wasn’t there when his daughter died, and last night I watched a man get slaughtered like a pig,” all of those words rushed out of his mouth like vomit. “I can’t live here– I won’t live here.”

His father glanced at Parker as if he had suddenly sprouted two extra heads. He squinted. “What’s gotten into you, boy?”

“I saw a deputy get mauled by some creature in the woods, that’s what,” Parker answered without skipping a beat. “After that it broke into Nathan’s house. I shot it twice. Even after that the damn thing still ran away. Next time I catch it, it won’t.”

Jackson froze where he sat. Something flickered in his eyes– something unreadable. “Don’t,” he blurted.

“Don’t?” Parker repeated, his voice bending with confusion. 

“Don’t kill it,” Jackson clarified. His eyes were filled with what Parker swore was urgency. “Whatever you do, son… don’t kill that thing.”

That was when Parker’s thoughts skidded to a halt. Just when he thought he had an entire jigsaw puzzle constructed in front of him, he found himself left with one piece that didn’t seem to fit anywhere. He wasn’t sure what to make of what this implied. Not only did his father just forfeit his knowledge of the thing in the woods, he was urging him not to kill it. 

“Dad… what?” Was all he could force out. Those two words carried a lot of weight. 

“You heard me, boy,” the old man said. “You let that beast live, you hear me? You let that beast live.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Parker demanded. “It’s stalking my brother. It could’ve killed me,” He stressed that last syllable for emphasis.

“It wouldn’t have, and it won’t hurt your brother either,” his father responded.

Parker’s thoughts were firing off a mile a second. He could barely hold onto them. “How do you know that?” He asked, his voice tense.

The room was silent for five seconds, but to Parker it felt like five minutes.

“How,” he began again, “do you know that?”

There was more silence, until,

“I can’t tell you that yet,” his father answered. His tone was final, but Parker wouldn’t stand for that. 

A humorless laugh escaped Parker, “What does that mean, dad?”

“Damnit, boy!” Jackson Caldwell snapped in frustration. “You ask too many questions!”

“What am I supposed to do then?” Parker threw his hands up in defense. “Last week you were talking about me carrying on the family legacy here in Dreamwood, but how am I supposed to do that if you’re going to leave me in the dark?” His tone was frustrated, but the question was sincere. “What did you even mean by that? And what does it have to do with the thing in the woods?”

The old Caldwell stared at the ground, steadily rocking back and forth where he sat at the edge of the hospital bed. He murmured, “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this…”

The sound of static broke Parker’s train of thought. It was at that moment when he received an incoming transmission on his walkie talkie, which was concealed inside his trenchcoat. He reached for it and answered, still looking at his father, “Hello?”

“Parker??” Thomas’ voice came through the other side. 

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

“It’s Nathan and Mariah,” Thomas said. “They saw it again. We spotted the damn thing near their front porch. We think it might still be lurking around in the woods nearby.” Parker’s eyes remained trained on his father as he listened. Caldwell Senior returned the favor, his eyes telling Parker all he needed to understand. “Hang tight, Tommy. I’m on my way,” Parker responded. “This ends now.” His father’s gaze sharpened upon hearing those last words. Thomas hung up and Parker slid the walkie talkie back into his pocket. “I have to go,” he said calmly before turning towards the door. 

As he approached the door, he heard his father’s voice. 

“Don’t you walk away from me, boy.” 

He froze like a deer in headlights as memories came flooding back, and he remembered the last time he heard those words from his father. 

He turned to face him again, and replied, “You owe me an explanation.” 

Jackson stood his ground, his expression hard as stone and his tone resigned, “I can’t give it to you.” 

Parker nodded, knowing for the second time what he had to do. He faced the door once more and made his exit.

“Damnit, Parker!” He heard the old man begin to shout from behind him. “You listen to me while I’m talkin’ to you! You must’ve lost more than a quarter of your mind! Get back here!” His voice drew farther and farther as Parker took each step. 

It was all too familiar, like deja vu. He hoped that this time he would see his father again sooner rather than later.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Parker soon arrived at Nathan’s cottage at Devil’s Lake. Thomas, Mariah, and two officers were already standing outside in the front yard. Parker stepped out of the car and walked over to join them. 

“There you are, Parks,” Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. “I was startin’ to think you had another run-in with a deer.” He looked like he had been running, he was sweating bullets. 

“I wish I did,” he half-joked in response. “If I ran the fucker over on my way here it would’ve made all of this a lot easier.” He glanced between Thomas, Mariah, and the other two men. He noticed immediately that something was wrong, the group seemed uneasy. In addition to that, someone was missing. “...Where is my brother?” He asked.

The two policemen looked at the ground, and Mariah looked off into the woods. Thomas maintained eye contact, and answered, “The poor fool ran off into the woods with his rifle. He chased off the beast, but he wasn’t satisfied. He wants blood I reckon. He’s on a warpath.” 

Parker felt his heart sink in his stomach. He gritted his teeth, and mumbled, “That idiot!--” He drew his pistol and sprinted off into the woods. Thomas called after him, “Parker!” He saw as Parker vanished into the woods and cursed under his breath. “Y’all stay here,” he told Mariah and the officers. “And call backup, damnit! Tell ‘em we’re in the woods!” He grabbed a hold of his own gun in its holster and ran off after his partner. Mariah watched them both leave with worry written clearly on her face. 

“Nathan!” Parker’s voice carried through the forest, echoing several times before being lost to the wilderness. When he could no longer hear himself, he shouted again, “Nathaniel!” An unsuspecting deer that was merely minding its business turned its head up at the sound and quickly retreated upon spotting the man with the gun. “Damnit, Nathan–” He ran farther into the woods. The light around him seemed to fade as the canopy blocked out the sunlight that desperately tried to shine through. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nathan trudged through the woods, rifle in hand. His eyes scanned every inch of the darkened and treacherous landscape of Dreamwood’s forest. It was all very ironic to him; he never considered himself a violent man. He wasn’t like his father or his brother, he hated having to handle a gun whenever he did. All his life he tried to run from the Caldwell legacy, and yet here he was– fully prepared to take the life of another living thing. There was only one thing on this Earth that could drive him to pick up a weapon, only one thing he thought was worth killing for, and that was his family. 

All around him he heard the familiar calls of the wilderness. The chirping of birds, the buzzing of insects, and the howls and wails of other animals he couldn’t identify. His ears indicated that a river was nearby. He followed the sound, and that was when he saw it. He saw the pale beast, which in recent days had become the bane of his existence, hunched over the crack in the Earth as it drank from the water; he saw its three green eyes, its nose which bent inward instead of outward like a human being’s nose ought to. He saw its serrated teeth and its pointed tongue as it lapped up the water without a care in the world. He saw its claws, which must’ve at least been twenty inches long, dug into the dirt in order to keep it from tipping over and falling into the water. He remembered just how close those claws had come to snuffing out his own life and that of Mariah. Those horrible, rake-like nails. His third time coming face to face with the Beast, and he still had no idea what to make of it. He couldn’t tell if it was merely some deformed man or a demon that had crawled from the deepest pit of Hell itself for the sole purpose of plaguing his life. Whatever it was, though, he had made up his mind long ago that it would die. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It felt like Parker had been wandering for hours in search of his brother. He was getting exhausted of coming across nothing but squirrels and deer.

“Parker, for the love of Christ!” He heard Thomas’ voice from behind as he turned and saw the man catch up to him. Thomas had to take off his wide brimmed hat as he stopped to catch his breath. “Don’t… you dare do that ever again, alright?” He huffed, looking at Parker. “Get yourself together, Tommy,” Parker replied. “That thing could ambush us at any minute. Nathan’s still out there with it, too.” 

That was when a gunshot rang out nearby. 

The two men quickly glanced in the direction of the sound. It reverberated more than three times, scaring off a large flock of crows that had decided to hold a press conference in the wrong tree. The air carried the cacophony of crow calls as the black, flapping cloud rose into the sky and circled overhead- marking the spot where Parker knew he would find Nathan; and perhaps the Beast as well. 

He took one last look at Wheeler, “You ready for another run?” Thomas grinned cocky as usual, “I ain’t outta shape, I jus’ wasn’t prepared the first time. Now I’m prepared.” The two quickly made their way towards where the crows were circling, weaving through trees and dodging jagged rocks until they stumbled across a river. 

It was there that they caught sight of Nathan’s brother, aiming a rifle at the rake-nailed beast as it rushed up a hill in order to escape. Nathan fired another shot, striking the creature in its left shoulder, and it unleashed a horrific guttural shriek. Parker shuddered, because the last time he heard that sound was when he saw the Beast kill Quincy. Its head twisted a full one-hundred and eighty degrees, its eyes staring past Nathan and directly at Parker and Thomas. Almost like it recognized them. 

“Don’t look at them, look at me!” Nathan demanded the Beast’s attention, leveling his rifle to aim for its head.

The Beast made a quick leap over the river, dodging Nathan’s third shot as it blurred through the air and then darted across the grass and vanished behind a tree. Then all was quiet. Nathan’s eyes darted around frantically, he kept a steady grip on his rifle. Parker remained vigilant, his eyes detecting even the slightest movement in the woods. The crows still circled overhead, and Thomas mumbled a quiet prayer as they waited for the Beast to show its face once more. Parker saw rustling in the leaves off the corner of his eye and quickly aimed and fired his pistol, but he was only a second too late. The Beast lunged forward, right over his head, and tackled Thomas to the ground- the two rolled down a hill and he heard Thomas scream.

Parker’s vision followed them, his hand following the lead of his eyes and aiming the gun at the Beast. Nathan fired his own rifle at the Beast, but the gun simply clicked. He had run out of bullets. He cursed, “Damnit! Parker, do it!” Oh, he fully intended to- he would have pulled the trigger seconds ago, if it wasn’t for his father’s voice nagging in his head. He remembered Jacksonr’s words at the hospital, “Whatever you do, son… don’t kill that thing.” Thomas wrestled with it, his face only inches away from the Beast’s nails. He fought to reach for his gun, which had fallen not too far away, but the Beast intercepted him and shoved the gun further away before reaching for Thomas’ throat and beginning to strangle him. Thomas rasped, “Lord in Heaven-” he coughed, wincing as he felt the Beast’s nails dig into the sides of his neck. Parker stood atop the hill above, his gun still aimed and shaking in his hand. He knew what his father had told him, but right now it was between the life of the Beast and the life of his best friend. Once he pushed aside the guilt of disobeying his father’s wishes– which didn’t take long– the decision was fairly easy to make. 

BANG.

A fourth gunshot rang through the woods, and all was quiet. The crows which had been circling quickly dispersed, scattering in every direction. Thomas stared up at the Beast’s half-blown-off face and let out a shout of surprise as he quickly shoved the lifeless body off of him. He spared the monster’s corpse one last glance before he pulled himself to his feet and murmured, “God is good.” He dusted himself off, then grunted in slight pain feeling the wounds on his neck. Nathan breathed a deep sigh of relief. It was over- they had won, the monster was dead. 

Parker rushed down the hill to meet Thomas. “Tommy- are you okay? You’re bleeding-” He noticed.

“Bah, it’s just a flesh wound,” Thomas laughed it off. “It’ll heal. That certainly won’t, though,” he snickered, glancing at the Beast. “Serves the fucker right for messing up my favorite jacket. Now there’s mud all over it…” He grumbled.

Parker had no idea how Thomas could still be so… unapologetically Thomas after a near death experience. He shook his head and smiled, “I’m just glad you’re both alive.” His gaze turned on his brother, who stood both relieved and shellshocked. The poor man had never witnessed such violence before. Deep down he was glad Parker was the one to put the Beast down, and not him. 

Nathan nodded, “It’s over,” he said quietly. “...Thank you, Parker.” He started to make his way back to the cottage. 

“You’re welcome, Nathan,” Parker nodded back. 

Nathan gave Parker a slight smile in return before he turned his back on his way out of the woods.

“That jus’ about warms my heart,” Thomas wiped an invisible tear. “I do love myself a happy endin’. Where the good guys win, the bad guy gets what he deserves, and everybody celebrates at the end… who could go for a beer right about now?”

Before anyone could answer Tommy, another scream echoed through the woods. Nathan froze, tightening the grip on his rifle. Parker looked off in the direction the scream came from. Thomas sighed, “C’mon, what is it now?”

“It sounded like another one,” Parker said. “It did, but…” Nathan started, “It sounded smaller.” From under a bush, a small greyish white head poked out and blinked two, beady little eyes. At first they thought it was a puppy dog, but its ears looked more human than canine. It looked more like a very malformed infant. It let out another shriek; like the other, though, it was weaker and much less threatening than what the other creature was capable of. Nathan stared in disbelief, his eyes widening with the realization of what had happened. 

“It… it was a mother,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on the small thing as it stumbled across the forest floor on all fours, its eyes barely open as it called out for the Beast. 

Parker once more aimed his gun, but Nathan quickly grabbed his hand. “Don’t!” His brother shouted a whisper. “It’s- it’s just a baby,” he said, his voice softening. The small creature let out another shrill sound; it sounded like a cross between a wailing infant and a howling puppy. Nathan couldn’t bare to let Parker harm it. “And what happens when the damn thing grows up? Huh?” Parker asked. “You know damn well what it’ll turn into! It might look cute now, but you didn’t hesitate to hunt down its mother.” While the two brothers argued, Thomas opted to drag the mother’s body behind a tree in order to conceal it. 

Nathan continued to protest, “I know, Parker. But right now it’s harmless. The best thing we can do is walk away.” Parker understood in Nathan’s mind that he had just robbed a living thing of its parent. “We don’t know what piece of nature we might’ve just tampered with.”

Parker nodded, deciding to let Nathan have his way. If only for now. He figured he’d come back later and finish the job, that way Nathan wouldn’t have to see it– or know about it. 

Thomas returned from his operation and chimed in, “Are y’all finished? I just got done hidin’ the body,” he said. He glanced back at the small creature, which had wandered farther from the group. It still seemed to be in search of its mother. 

Parker nodded. “Let’s get out of this place.” The three men snuck away, speeding up once they were no longer able to be spotted. Parker made a mental note that he would return to settle his unfinished business. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside of Nathan’s house, police scanned the outskirts of the forest for any sign of the three men. Mariah watched them from the porch, hoping that her husband would return soon. 

“Don’t worry,” one of the deputies who was standing with her on the porch tried to offer some reassurance. “I’m sure they’ll be back any minute now.”

“You don’t know what’s out there in those woods,” Mariah’s voice was void of inflection as she responded. Her eyes remained fixated on the forest. 

“Maybe I don’t, but I know there’s nothin’ the Caldwells can’t handle. They’ve fought commies.”

Mariah raised an eyebrow at the deputy, and started to say something, but her attention was quickly diverted when she saw five silhouettes emerging from the woods. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Nathan, who was accompanied by his brother, Thomas, and two other officers who she assumed must’ve found them on their way back. She rushed off the porch and made a beeline for Nathan, running to pull him into a warm embrace. He hugged her back. Parker and Thomas watched them, and smiled. 

Thomas stared at Parker for a second. “...You want to-”

“No.”

“Damn. It was worth a try.”

“Wait-” Mariah realized. “If you’re all back, does that mean?...”

Nathan nodded. “It’s dead.” He looked toward his brother. “Parker killed it. He might’ve damn well saved our lives out there.” 

She cracked a smile and said, while glancing in Parker’s direction, “Goddamn American hero.” 

Parker smiled half-heartedly. He may have done the right thing, but he predicted that he’d soon have to face his father’s wrath. For what reason was still unclear. He hoped that now he would get an explanation. “I couldn’t let my brother go in there alone,” he said. 

Mariah nodded in agreement, her attention returning to her husband. “I know that’s right. You pull a stunt like that again, Nathan, and I’ll kill you myself.”

“Oh yeah,” Parker remembered. “If anyone asks you what happened here today, you just tell them it was a coyote. No one needs to know about what we saw in those woods.”

“I intend to forget about it,” Nathan said. 

“I think we all do,” Thomas added. “I’m ready to get back to locking up thieves and murderers. I am definitely gonna have nightmares tonight, Christ-” He grumbled, scratching at the claw marks on his neck. 

Parker gave a nod. “So we all agree, this never happened?” Nathan, Mariah, and Thomas all unanimously agreed. Parker smiled. “Thank you. The Chief’s gonna be real happy.”

“I’m sure he will,” Nathan said. “In any case, I hope this means we can finally stop being strangers.”

“That depends, you still think I’m a troublemaker?” Parker raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I do,” Nathan responded. “But I think Dreamwood needs one. Just to keep things interesting.”

Parker smiled a little. “In that case I don’t see why not.”

“Feel free to stop by anytime.” Nathan smiled in return.

Thomas looked at the two approvingly. He sure did love a happy ending. “So where’re we headed now?” Thomas asked. 

“I have to go see my father,” Parker answered. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen the old man,” Thomas said. “You mind if I tag along? I been meanin’ to pay him a visit.” 

“Of course not. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. Although… I did want to ask him about something.”

“Uh oh. That sounds ominous.”

“Probably because it is. I’ll explain on the way.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

During the drive to the hospital, Parker told Thomas about the conversation he had with his father prior to the incident in the woods. How his father seemingly knew about the Beast, and how he urged him not to kill it. 

Thomas blinked. “That’s five layers of weird. What’d you reckon he knows about our friend in the forest?”

“That’s what I’d like to find out right now,” Parker said with determination in his voice as he pulled into the parking lot. He parked right in front of the hospital and climbed out of the car followed by Thomas, who mumbled, “And just when I was ready to be done with this case…” The two walked into the hospital and made their way up to the floor where Caldwell Senior’s room was located. Coming off the elevator, Parker noticed a large number of hospital staff in the hallway. They all seemed to be in a hurry. There was an air of panic that wasn’t difficult to pick up on.

Thomas watched them with a worried expression. “What’d you figure the rush is all about?” Parker didn’t answer, opting to follow one of the doctors. When he caught up with the man he placed a hand on his shoulder. The doctor stopped and Parker asked him, “What’s going on?” rather urgently. The doctor recognized him almost instantly, and his first instinct was to avert his gaze. Parker had a tendency of being rather intimidating. “Answer me!” He demanded, grabbing the doctor by the collar. The doctor stammered, “It’s– it’s your father, he’s–” The more space that was left between the doctor’s words, the more Parker’s mind filled in the blanks. He let go of the doctor and stormed down the hallway. Thomas mumbled an apology in the doctor’s direction before following Parker down the hall. 

When Parker reached the door that led to his father’s hospital room, he found a large crowd of hospital staff gathered around the door. He could only faintly make out the yellow tape that blocked off the door. The color drained from his face, and time seemed to slow down around him. He overheard a conversation between a doctor and a nurse just outside the door.

“What the hell happened?!” The doctor yelled. 

The nurse stammered, “I don’t know, I- I only left for a couple of minutes and-”

“Did you see anyone else enter his room?”

“No, I didn’t. That’s the thing. I don’t know who could’ve–”

“Thirteen stab wounds! How could we have let this slip past us?! He was a Caldwell!”  

Parker’s legs felt like rubber underneath him. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. It didn’t sound right, he didn’t expect his father to leave exactly like this. He heard police sirens in the distance as more people forced their way through the crowd- familiar faces in police uniforms. Just beyond the entrance to the floor, he could hear journalists trying to catch a glimpse of the crime scene.

To be continued...

[eris-anansi]

Been hearing a lot of talk about pastas that "aged poorly" as of late... but what pastas do we think aged well?

The first that come to mind are the Rake and Eyeless Jack. Also still a huge fan of the Zalgo source material. I'd love to hear some other people's thoughts!

[eris-anansi]

Might have to give my Jeff religious trauma now. Fuck.

It fits the climate of the story anyways. I can work with this.

Canon this, canon that. Canon is irrelevant. Jeff the killer was a young schizophrenic boy with religious trauma and awful parents and was practically raised by his older brother bc of it until The Incident. And he's southern. And gay.

[eris-anansi]

Dreamwood 1999

Episode 1: Déjà Vu, Part 1: American Hero

After settling back into Dreamwood, Detective Parker Caldwell must immediately solve a puzzling murder case linked to his encounter with a strange creature in the woods.

CW: Implied violence and murder, graphic depictions of violence, character death, and the like.

Associated Song: Madelynne Whitt - Where the Watermelons Rot

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 years ago…

A loud and sudden crash woke Nathan from his slumber at four in the morning. It was pitch black, and his wife still slept soundly beside him. Groggily he forced himself to sit up with a slightly irritated grunt, his vision a blur as his eyes steadily adjusted to the dark. He flinched when he noticed the small figure standing in the doorway; that of a familiar young boy who must’ve been no older than fourteen.

“Wh-” He blinked, rubbing his eyes. “What’re you doin’ up at this hour? Go on back to bed,” he said tiredly. 

The boy took several steps forward.

“...Son?” Nathan’s voice bent with confusion. He watched him carefully.

“Honey, what’s going on?” A voice softly mumbled as his wife started to wake up. 

“I don’t know, Mariah. The boy’s actin’ strange.”

Mariah glanced up at her son, her eyes gliding down to something in his hand. “What’s he holding?” 

“Good question, I-” Nathan paused for a moment. “Boy, what the hell?! Put that thing away!”

He had held up the object for his parents to clearly see; the little bit of light from the window reflected upon the blade of a kitchen knife. 

Mariah shot up, now fully awake. “What are you doing with that thing?!”

“Trying to scare you,” the boy replied in a monotone. His voice was raspy, as though he barely made the effort to speak. 

“Yeah, well it’s working. You can stop it now- it isn’t funny anymore,” Nathan responded, his tone gaining an authoritative quality. 

The boy was quiet for a moment. Then he finally said, “Tough crowd…”

Tired and frustrated, Nathan snapped. “Is this some kind of joke to you? It’s four in the morning, and you’re threatening us with a knife as a joke.”

There were a few moments of silence before Nathan took a deep breath and spoke again, more calmly yet still, very tired, “Just put… put that thing back where you found it and go back to your room… your mother and I would like to go to sleep.”

The son replied, “Do it then.” 

“Huh?”

“Go to sleep.” 

In a swift motion, he slashed the knife across his father’s cheek. Mariah’s piercing shriek filled the halls of the family home only to fall on deaf ears.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Monday, September 5th, 1999.

“Parker Caldwell, 39 years old, war veteran. Son of Jackson Caldwell. One highlight of your time in Manhattan was catching the Elysium Killer…”

Parker sat in a dimly lit office painted shades of grey and brown, a bearskin rug resting in the middle of the floor in front of his chair. In front of him, a desk with a chair inhabited by a large and inquisitive man in a blue uniform. He had a bald head and tan complexion, his face weathered by experience. His eyes scanned a paper and his brows furrowed, showing that he was impressed. “This is one heck of a record, boy.”

“Thank you, Chief Bowers,” he replied humbly. 

The man laughed, “Please, call me Benjamin. You’re a Caldwell and a national hero. Your courage in the Gray War will be remembered for centuries in Dreamwood– and hopefully American– history."

Parker gave a nod. “Just trying to live up to the Caldwell legacy. I only wish I could have done more to contribute to the fight…” He practically mumbled that last part.

“Well you're certainly doing a hell of a job. But let me ask you this– what makes you think you’re qualified for this one?” 

“I think if I can handle Manhattan I can handle a town like this,” Parker replied matter-of-factly. 

Chief Bowers snorted and said, “I’m just messin’ with you, Parker. Your background speaks for itself. You ventured into enemy territory and faced evil. True evil. Rest assured we don’t have evil like that here in Dreamwood.”

“I don’t remember that growing up,” Parker nodded. “This was always a peaceful town if I remember correctly.”

“Because of men like your father who upheld order. You said yourself that you wanted to follow in the Caldwell footsteps, correct?” 

The words barely escaped Parker’s mouth before the door swung open and Chief Bowers glanced up at the wild man who stood in the doorway. “Chief,” he began. “We gotta talk–” He trailed off as he noticed Parker. “Oh, hey there. I almost din’ see you.”

Parker blinked.

The man had messy blond hair, a neatly trimmed mustache, and a crazy light in his eyes. He wore a dark brown trench coat over a white shirt and black tie. Atop his head sat a wide-brimmed hat reminiscent of a cowboy. 

“Parker, meet Thomas,” Chief Bowers introduced him. 

“Thomas Wheeler. Detective Thomas Wheeler, at your service.” He offered his hand for Parker to shake. Parker shook his hand, a look of surprise still written on his face. Thomas spared the chief a glance and said, “Our conversation can wait. I’m sorry for bargin’ in.”

“That’s what you always say,” the chief replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “But since you’re here, I guess you’ll be the first to meet our new rookie. He’s Jackson’s son..”

Parker had been silent the entire time, his gaze remaining glued to Thomas. Finally, he spoke.

“...Thomas?”  

Wheeler dropped the act and smirked. “I was waitin’ for you to recognize me.”

A puzzled look came over Chief Bowers. “You two know eachother??”

“Are you kiddin’ me?!” Thomas laughed. “Only since eighth grade!”

Parker nodded in agreement, a small grin forming on his face.

“It’s been a long time, Caldwell,” Thomas said with a smile. “Welcome back to Dreamwood. Welcome home, king.”

“Thomas, you idiot-” Parker snorted, “C’mere.”

Chief Bowers watched as the two men performed an elaborate handshake, like two middle schoolers, before hugging eachother. “Huh. Who woulda thought. You two have history.”

“History is an understatement,” Thomas responded with a chuckle. Then he glanced at Parker. “Is it really true you’re going to be joining the force? I thought you were a New Yorker now,” he emphasized ‘New Yorker’ with an exaggerated New York accent. 

“I was. I just moved back yesterday. It’s a long story I’ll have to explain later,” Parker answered.

“Sooner rather than later, brother. I love a good long story.” Thomas grinned.

“Dreamwood oughta be a much needed change of pace from the chaotic streets of Manhattan,” Chief Bowers added. “The Dreamwood Police Department is honored to have you, sir.” He held out his hand and Parker shook it. 

“When do I start, sir?”

As if on cue, the phone on the desk rang off loudly and suddenly. Chief Bowers picked up and answered, “DWPD, who is this?” The voice on the other line responded, inaudible to Parker and Thomas. Whatever they said, it made the old chief grimace.  The chief turned his gaze back to Parker and asked, “Can you start today?” 

“I’ll need my uniform,” Parker answered simply. 

-------------------------------------------------------------

The countryside was lush and green, which contrasted greatly with the gray sky that hung over it. Underneath a sky where the sun was barely visible, the landscape stretched on for miles. A concrete road split through what otherwise would have been nothing but farmland and scenic pastures dividing Dreamwood’s more urban district from its rural outskirts. 

“What the hell happened here?”

Parker, Thomas, and several other officers stood at the wreckage of a silver vehicle that had its front crumpled up against a tall evergreen. Smoke rose from the vehicle’s hood and both front windows were shattered. A misplaced tire rested in the grass beside it. Forensics were scattered about the scene. 

“Looks to me like the car swerved off the road,” Thomas observed. “Ya think somethin’ made it do that?”

 “We wouldn’t be here if they thought this was just a common case of some idiot driving drunk,” Parker said. “Have we identified a body?” 

Just then one of the forensics approached. “We identified the driver as 38-year-old Susan Stephens. We have reason to believe she was driving over 80 miles per hour. Her 7-year-old daughter was in the backseat.” 

“Who speeds with a kid in the car?...” Thomas murmured.

“Who drives 80 on a 30 per hour street.” Parker added.

“We don’t think she was driving under the influence,” said the forensic examiner. “And when examining the daughter’s body we discovered.. abnormal injuries.”

“Define abnormal?...”

“It appears her throat was slashed before the accident. Perhaps with a large knife of some kind.”

Thomas grimaced. “Jesus christ…”

“We found similar wounds on Susan’s arms as well,” the examiner added. “They definitely didn’t get those from the crash.”

“They were running from something,” Parker thought aloud. “Maybe Susan was trying to rush her daughter to the hospital… maybe she didn’t see where she was going.” 

“Is there anyone close to Susan who might’ve known what happened?” Thomas asked the examiner. 

The young man nodded, “Susan was married to one Harvey Stephens. They lived not too far from here, the opposite way down the road.”

“So that’s likely where she was coming from,” Parker concluded. “We have to talk to her husband.”

A distant, “What the fuck!” caught the detectives’ attention. Parker and Thomas snapped their heads in the car’s direction, where two of their men were gazing in both awe and horror at what they had discovered on the side of the vehicle. Whatever it was, the two detectives couldn’t see it from where they stood. 

“What is it?” Parker asked as he approached. 

“You’re not gonna believe this one, man,” one of the investigators motioned to the front door of the car. 

Parker’s gaze followed, and he muttered, “What in God’s name…” It looked as if something– some kind of animal, something huge– had tried to claw its way inside the car. Massive slash marks left tears in the metal of the car door, giving a clear view into the driver’s seat where Susan’s body still sat limp at the wheel. 

Thomas stared for a moment, his mind trying to make sense of the information his eyes were processing. He glanced at his childhood friend for answers, only to see that Parker was having a crisis of his own. “We don’t have wolves in Dreamwood, do we?” 

Parker shook his head, “You and I both know we don’t. And even if we did, no wolf has claws that strong- or that huge…” 

“Then what the hell, Parker? What’re we dealin’ with here??” Thomas questioned. “Ion know what to make of this.” 

Parker glanced back at the forensic examiner. “You said they lived back down there, yeah?” He pointed in the direction the car had come from, to which the young man nodded. “Then we’re paying Harvey a visit.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

On the way to the Stephens residence Parker caught Thomas up on everything with his father and even a bit about his time in Manhattan- and his experience fighting in the Grey War. 

“Something my father said to me still lingers in my mind,” Parker told him. “A lot of things do, actually- but this one thing in particular. He said that not a lot of things in this life make sense, and that I would come to learn that with age.”

Thomas snorted, “Well is the old man wrong? A lotta things about this world don’t make sense, Parker. I wouldn’t overanalyze it.”

“You know I’m going to overanalyze anyway, Thomas.”

Thomas knew Parker long enough to know damn well. “Well yeah, but as you do, keep in mind that you shouldn’t.”

The two pulled up in the driveway in front of the address they were given to Susan Stephens’ home. They got out of the car and walked up to the porch, and Parker knocked at the front door. “Dreamwood Police Department! We want to talk to you.”

For a short moment there was no answer. Then, finally, the door opened, and a short man stood in the doorway. “Good morning, officers.”

“Are you Harvey Stephens?” Thomas asked.

The man nodded. He had messy, light brown hair. Freckles dotted his pale skin. He wore a beige sweater vest over a white polo shirt with matching brown pants. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles underneath them. Parker concluded that he hadn’t slept the previous night, and he understood why. “Then you should know why we’re here,” he said. Harvey nodded once again. “Come in.” 

Harvey led the two men into his living room, a quaint space decorated with potted flowers and old fashioned paintings of farmland and green plains. Some of the potted plants were knocked over and shattered on the floor. Parker noticed distinct claw marks on the walls- just like the ones on the car door. “Please, take a seat. Can I offer you anything? Water? Tea?” Parker gave a, “No, thank you,” as he took a seat on the sofa followed by Thomas. Harvey sat on the opposite side of the coffee table.

Parker took another look at the claw marks on the wall. “Are those from last night?” He asked.

Harvey nodded. “How– how did you know?”

“We found something similar on the car your wife was driving. Whatever did that damage… it was in your house last night. That means you saw it, didn’t you?”

He nodded again. With more hesitation. “If I told you what I saw, I’d be shipped off to Myerscough by the end of the day. I woke up this morning wondering if I had dreamed it all, until I realized that I had woken up alone… and I never heard their voices…” His voice trailed off. 

“No matter how crazy it sounds, Harvey, we’ll believe you,” Thomas reassured him. “You have to tell us what happened that night.”

“I drew a sketch of the monster that killed my daughter,” Harvey said. He stood up and went to retrieve a piece of paper, which he returned with and placed on the table for the detectives to see. “I remember it clear as day.”

They looked at the sketch of the strange animal. It looked more humanoid than anything else, clearly of mammalian origin. It was hairless and pale. Skinny, malnourished even. Its ribs were accentuated and its eyes were sunken. It had three of them. One eye sat directly in the middle of its head, the other two on either side of the center eye. It stood on all fours like some kind of contorted primate, its upper body supported by arms that ended in boney hands armed with long, knifelike talons. 

Harvey watched their expressions. “I believe this is the part where you alert the madhouse, yeah?” He chuckled, but it was void of any lighthearted nature. More defeated than anything else.

Thomas started to say something, but he barely got a syllable out before Parker said, “I’ve seen this thing before.” Thomas’ head snapped in Parker’s direction, “I beg your pardon?” 

Parker stared at the sketch for a moment, recounting the creature he encountered on his way from Nathan’s house– the creature he almost ran over. Thomas stared at his friend as if he had just sprouted a pair of wings. Harvey shared a similar expression. 

Parker looked up at Harvey. “I don’t think you’re crazy, Harvey. I’ve seen it, too.”

“That creature appeared at the foot of our bed late last night,” Harvey said. “Stared at us for what must’ve been two minutes, before scrambling into our daughter’s room and-” His voice broke slightly as memories came flooding back, “I watched her die,” he said. “She was so scared… she kept calling my name, she could barely speak because she was choking on her own blood–” he choked back a sob. “My wife thought we could still save her. She rushed her to the car and sped off, hoping she could reach the hospital in time and… that night I got a call from the police department saying that she had crashed into a tree and neither of them had survived.”

“We’re deeply sorry for your loss, Mr Stephens, but are you sure that what you saw wasn’t some kinda feral dog?” Thomas suggested. “Or a crazed hobo do you reckon? It must’ve been dark when you saw it.”

“I know what I saw!” Harvey almost snapped. “I’m not crazy, even your partner’s seen the thing. There’s… there’s something out there.”

Thomas wanted to curse Parker for encouraging the man whose perception was clearly still clouded by grief. “You’ve told us everything we needa know. Thank you for your time.” He stood up, motioning for Parker to follow. Parker took the sketch and folded it. “Thank you, Mr. Stephens. We’ll be in touch.” The two detectives left the house. 

When they left the porch, Thomas glanced at Parker. “What the hell was that, man?” He chided. 

“I told him the truth,” Parker responded. “Whatever he claims he saw, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it, too. That moment’s been haunting me since I got here...” 

“You saw a deer. A hairless deer, Parker,” Thomas insisted.

“It was by no means shaped like a deer, Thomas. It was shaped like a man. No animal I’ve ever seen has claws like that… or moves the way that it did. It walked like it had a broken spine.”

Thomas tsked, looking around. “What the hell are we supposed to tell the chief?” 

-------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m gonna need you to repeat that a lot slower,” Chief Bowers said after Parker got through telling his story. The three stood in Bowers’ office, and Parker had just shown the chief the sketch of their only suspect– a creature that looked like something out of H.P. Lovecraft’s nightmares.

“Harvey claims that this is the thing that killed his wife and daughter,” Parker explained once more, sparing the details this time around.

“And the part where you say you saw it yourself?” Bowers raised an eyebrow.

“I nearly crashed into something standing in the road when I was driving from my brother’s house,” Parker said. “I swear it looked almost just like the sketch… that same boney figure, the three eyes- it’s all too familiar.”

“The man’s done lost his mind comin’ home from the war…” Thomas mumbled.

A dark shadow fell over Chief Bowers’ face. “I hate to admit it, but… this isn’t the first time I’ve heard a report like this.”

Thomas blinked. “And you’re jus’ now tellin’ us about it?”

“All month we’ve been getting reports of strange activity in the woods,” Chief Bowers said. “People going for hikes n’ never coming back. Screams that sound barely human. Animal carcasses with their organs torn to ribbons, almost in a ritualistic sort of way…”

Thomas scoffed. “That’s… that’s crazy. Crazy doesn’t happen in a town like this.”

“It ain’t supposed to,” Bowers replied. “Last week 21-year-old Michael Foster turned up missing. The search is still ongoing. He ain’t even the first. People have been vanishing all month.”

“So we have a trail of disappearances,” Thomas started, “and this three-eyed monster that so far only two people have seen. An’ we think they’re linked?”

“I don’t like it,” Parker said. “It’s the only lead we have, though.”

“Parker’s right. It’s all we have right now,” Bowers agreed. “And all of these occurrences seem to be concentrated in one particular part of the forest…”

“Close to Devil’s Lake,” Parker finished. 

Bowers nodded. “If I were you two, I’d start there. If there is some kind of creature out there you’d best search near Devil’s Lake.”

“We can set up cameras tonight,” Thomas thought aloud. “Fly a couple drones. One of ‘em’s gotta spot somethin’. Then it all comes down to catchin’ the darn thing– or whatever is out there.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

That evening Parker visited his father in the hospital. This made his third visit, and his second since he moved from Manhattan. 

Jackson’s condition hadn’t changed for better or for worse; he was stagnant, unmoving. It made Parker anxious. The dull, dreary atmosphere of the hospital room didn’t help much either. A dim ceiling light bathed the room in the most unpleasant yellowish white, a pot of wilting flowers rested on the table beside his bed, and the television they installed played the same channel every single day. Parker wondered if they ever changed it- or if they even could.

“How’s Dreamwood treatin’ you, son?” His father asked. 

To which Parker responded, “It’s certainly treating me.” He kept the answer vague so as not to hurt his father’s feelings. He particularly remembered how fond he was of this town. The way he treasured it. 

Jackson laughed. “That’s what they all say.”

Parker looked at him. “You didn’t tell me about what happened to Nathan’s family,” he said. 

“Yeah? I didn’t.” His father had a matter-of-fact attitude. “Figured it’d be best if you heard it from the man himself. How much did he tell you?”

“He told me enough,” Parker answered. 

Senior hummed thoughtfully. “Shame about the boy. He’s still in Myerscough if I recall…” He trailed off for a moment. “I visited him once or twice. He’s way more pleasant when he’s behind glass.” Parker was surprised that the place ever reopened. Last he recalled, Myerscough was closed down for numerous accusations of mistreatment of patients. He wondered how the old asylum managed to get reopened, or why a facility like that was even allowed to exist in this time period. 

Jacksonr’s attention turned to the TV, where an old reporter addressed the camera with a somber expression. “As tensions in the East reach a boiling point, the president promises a swift end to the war.”

Parker scoffed. “He’s been promising that for almost two years now.”

“Those communists have gone and ruined everything,” Jackson muttered. “You’d think things would’ve gotten better after we got rid of the Soviets.”

“There are scarier things out there than the USSR,” Parker responded, his gaze still fixed on the television.

A knock at the door called for both men’s attention. It was followed by a soft voice, “Hello? Mr. Caldwell?”

Jackson Caldwell seemed to recognize the voice. “Come in,” he said.

The door opened with a creak. That was when a tall woman with long, dark brown hair stepped into the room. She wore a buttoned up black coat with matching boots, and carried an umbrella to shield from the rain. In another hand she held a bouquet of flowers.

“Mariah,” Jackson greeted her with a fond smile. “Always a treat seein’ you.”

“I hope I’m not intruding,” she said.

“Mariah?” Parker thought he remembered that name. He looked at the woman, slowly putting the pieces together. “You’re Nathan’s-”

“Wife, yes,” she answered. 

Jackson glanced back at Parker with a proud grin, “Ain’t she a beauty?”

“I suppose,” Parker nodded. 

It was true, she was beautiful. She would definitely stand out in a crowd, but what Parker took note of the most was the unique color of her eyes. They looked to be a dark brown– almost black– at first glance, but upon further observation he found that her irises were actually a dark purple. He didn’t think he had ever seen anyone with purple eyes before. 

“My boy struck gold with this one, I tell ya,” Jackson asserted. Then he breathed a sigh. “If only you had gone and settled down as well, Parker. I fear I may not live to see the day you get married…”

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “I came to replace the flowers I left last week. I figured they would be dying by now… I know the doctors don’t bother to take care of them.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Jackson smiled at her. “Your visits are growing to be the highlight of each week. Lets me know my son’s also in good hands.”

She laughed softly, “I would hope he is.” Then she glanced at Parker. “Pardon me, I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

“Mariah, meet my son Parker,” Jackson introduced him. “He’s been in the East shootin’ commies and being a goddamn American hero,” the old man declared. 

Mariah smiled, “Well it’s nice to meet you, ‘Goddamn American Hero’,” she joked, offering a hand to shake. 

At first Parker was taken aback by her personality, but he gave a short laugh and shook her hand. “You are certainly my brother’s type of woman,” he replied. “It’s nice to finally meet you. And please– ‘Goddamn American Hero’ is too formal, call me Parker,” he returned the energy.

“Parker. Like Peter Parker. I’ll remember that.”

“Parker just arrived back in town a few days ago and he’ll be workin’ as a detective at the DWPD,” Senior said. “No matter where my son goes, he always makes it his duty to protect and serve.”

“I feel safer already,” Mariah hummed.

In the background, the news reporter on television continued to talk about the war, briefly mentioning the threat of a nuclear missile issued by the Thailand government. Parker grabbed the remote and flipped the TV off. All this time the very sound of that man’s voice was chipping away at his nerves. 

Mariah removed the dying flowers from the pot, replacing them with the new ones. “Out with the old, in with the new,” she murmured to herself, a singsong quality to her voice. “There! Good as new. These doctors should know that your environment is important, and that you ought to be surrounded by beautiful things.”

“Well the head doctor ain’t a woman,” Jackson chuckled. 

She clicked her tongue. “If I have to stop by every single day I will. I should be on my way, though; I promised Nathan I wouldn’t be out too late, what with all of the recent news. It’s starting to get dark.” She glanced back at Parker. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Parker. You have a good night.” 

With that, Mariah left the room and the dreariness soon returned. Parker hadn’t noticed how the room appeared to light up in her presence until now. Now that she was gone. 

“Your brother’s a lucky bastard,” Jackson said with a grin. 

Parker nodded slowly. “I guess he is.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night a squad was dispatched to stake out the northern part of the woods, where Devil’s Lake was located. Several vehicles were parked in carefully picked locations, and deputies covered as much ground as they could setting up cameras along the way. Parker and Thomas were set to keep lookout only two miles from the lake, and just across the water was Nathan’s house. They were accompanied by two more officers and a van with all of the equipment they needed- flashlights, cameras, and monitors to connect them to. 

“I want a clear visual of every deer and gnat that comes through this side of the forest, you hear me?” Thomas called after the men who were placing cameras in trees. 

Parker checked the time on his watch. “It’s 9:30,” he announced. 

“Full moon on a Friday night…” Thomas smirked, looking up at the sky. “The perfect kinda night for some kinda Wolfman or Dracula to pop out I reckon.”

“Even at a time like this, you find some way to be humorous,” Parker gave a sigh. 

“Hey, you wanna make a bet or somethin’?” 

Parker blinked at Thomas. “A bet?”

“Sure!” Thomas grinned. “You believe our culprit is some supernatural entity.”

Parker started to defend himself, “I never said that–”

“Eeehh, you kinda did. Hell, the Captain even agrees! How much do you wanna bet it turns out to be a Scooby Doo scenario?”

“What, like some dude in a costume?” Parker seemed confused.

“What, like some dude in a cos-” Thomas mimicked his best friend’s tone before bursting into laughter. “You spent way too much time in New York, brother! You sound like a proper city boy!” He exclaimed. “Now as I was startin’ to say, if our culprit turns out to be a livin’, breathin’ human being, you gotta take me out to lunch.”

Parker narrowed his eyes. “You’re on. If the creature is real, you have to shave your beard.” 

“Deal!” Thomas held out his hand to shake with a competitive fire in his eyes. “Lookin’ forward to that free hamburger.” 

Parker shook his friend’s hand with the remnants of a smirk on his face. “I wouldn’t speak so soon, Tommy.” 

Right after Parker said that, a grotesque shriek rang out through the forest. Thomas jumped. “Holy Jesus–” He exclaimed, his head whipping in the direction of the startling noise. It echoed seemingly for miles, the trees standing in silent acknowledgement in its wake. Nothing else was heard for what felt like minutes. The air grew cold. 

Then, one of the officers shouted from the distance, “Somebody get over here! Like, right now! You’re really gonna wanna see this!”

Parker and Thomas looked at eachother.

“It’s never good when people say that in movies.”

Parker nodded.

The two trudged across the leaf-covered ground until they reached the edge of a hill. Below them the officer stood face to face with the most malformed coyote Parker and Thomas had ever seen. At least that’s what Thomas thought it was at first. 

Its pale, hairless body gave it away. It looked less like an animal and more like a frail, bald man with three green eyes, just like how Henry drew it back at the house. Those signature, knife-like claws kept it nailed to the ground. 

Thomas’ jaw dropped. The poor man was completely speechless. Meanwhile Parker slowly reached for his gun. The deputy stood there like a deer in headlights.  

“What are you doing, Quincy?!” Parker shouted at the deputy. “Get outta there!”

The creature responded quite violently to the loud and sudden voice. As it lifted its head in Parker’s direction the three men could hear an uncomfortable ‘snap’, followed by the horrific shriek it unleashed. Parker fired a round in quick response and, almost in a blur, the beast tackled the deputy to the ground. They heard a scream, and then the gruesome, wet sound of flesh. A shrill, choked out scream met the air just barely as the two detectives watched in horror as the poor man’s body thrashed underneath the pale frame of the creature whose talons were now soaked with crimson.

“Good God-” Thomas nearly threw up in his mouth. He had to fight through the natural urge to avert his gaze, aiming his gun and firing at the creature.

“Quincy!” Parker yelled, and before he knew it the ground beneath him gave way- sending him tumbling down the hill. Thomas shouted after him as the creature quickly evaded the gunfire, weaving between trees before returning to Quincy. 

Before Parker knew it he found himself on the ground at the base of the hill, only a couple of feet away from Quincy’s body and the creature crouched not so far away. He watched as the creature’s three green eyes slowly fell on him. He could hear it breathing. Its breaths were slow, rhythmic, and raspy- like it had been smoking for years. Its bones practically poked through its skin, and Parker could see its rigid spine going down along the center of its back. The creature’s body was a light grey color. 

Every bone in Parker’s body told him that this spot on the ground would be the last place he would ever draw a breath. Staring face to face with the three-eyed monster might as well have been the equivalent to facing Death itself. He believed the monster was taunting him, the way it simply stared at him, as if it was waiting for something. 

That’s when Thomas started shooting again. The sound of the gunshots snapped the Parker out of his frozen state, and sent the creature retreating into the woods- dragging Quincy’s body along with it. Thomas stared in disbelief as he saw the creature run off. 

“It… it took him,” Thomas murmured. “What the hell was that thing??”

Parker didn’t entertain that question with a response, instead making the observation, “It’s headed toward the east end of Devil’s Lake.” 

“Hold on a minute,” Thomas caught on. “That’s where-”

Parker finished, “That’s where my brother’s house is.”

To be continued…

[eris-anansi]

Dreamwood 1999

Prologue: Revisitation

After returning to his hometown due to a family emergency, war veteran turned homicide detective Parker Caldwell finds his old stomping grounds not at all like he remembers them. He is forced to solve a case that may irreparably change the course of his entire life.

CW: Implied violence and murder, unsettling descriptions, mentions of war

Associated Song: Madelynne Whitt - Where the Watermelons Rot

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The chances were slim. The chances that anyone heard the rapid footsteps carried by running legs. Nor the cries for help that followed. After all, sound did not travel very far in these woods. It was way past midnight, and Michael could hear the telltale birdsongs that signaled the arrival of sunrise. Though it would not be morning for another few hours. For now, Dreamwood Forest was bathed in darkness and Michael was alone. 

He had only caught a peripheral glimpse of the threat that pursued him. The image of the towering figure lingered in his mind as he scrambled through the woods hoping he remembered the way back to the only road into town. It couldn’t have been that far, right? He had only hiked about four miles or so. He must’ve covered half of that ground already with how fast he was running. 

In his deep thought he failed to pay good mind to his surroundings- and his foot slammed straight into a sharp rock poking out of the earth. He let out a pained shriek as he lost control, falling face first onto the ground which was coated in dead leaves. He quickly scrambled to his feet and tried to pick up speed again, only to be dragged back down by a sharp, pulsating pain in his foot. He swore he could feel the wetness of blood leaking from a gash left by the rock he ran into. He cursed under his breath. 

“Help!!!” He screamed out again. “Somebody fucking help!! There’s- there’s a man chasing me!!” 

His voice echoed through the woods. He heard no response, not even the mere chirp of a bird. He let out a defeated sigh and face planted the ground, choking on a muffled sob. He laid there, resigned to his fate, until he lifted his head toward the sudden appearance of approaching footsteps. The silhouette of a man in a dark blue coat had appeared out of the woods, shining a flashlight in Michael’s face. 

“Oh… oh, thank God!” Michael exclaimed. “My foot is injured, you’ll have to carry me,” he told the man. “We have to hurry! That sicko is still out there!”  

As the man got closer, Michael soon realized something wasn’t quite right. He didn’t speak as he approached.

“Uh… hello? Did you hear me??”

Leaves crunched under the man’s feet as he got closer. 

“Dude! Say something!”

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch. 

“Dude!! What-” He froze as he finally got a good look at the man’s face. He had looked normal up until now, up until he saw the white porcelain mask that covered the man’s face. Michael spoke under his breath, “What the fuck…”

The masked man discarded the flashlight, tossing it aside and letting it roll down a hill. Darkness consumed them both. Michael saw the twinkle of metal as the man unsheathed a knife from the pocket of his cargo pants.

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The day prior… 

Never did he think he would be here again. Never did he plan to be here again. He was born here, yes, but he could never adapt to the country life- to being in the middle of nowhere. Manhattan was his home. But after an incident in the tunnels of Burma deemed him no longer fit to fight in the war, Parker Caldwell was more than ready to leave the wilderness of the Eastern country and return to the bustling of the city he called home. He had been through Hell and back, and had seen things he never wanted his mind to revisit ever again. 

Unfortunately, when he landed back in America, he received a phone call from his father. His voice seemed urgent. The message was loud and clear- come back home. Come back to Dreamwood. Soon enough, Manhattan was in the rear view.

Dreamwood was the antithesis to New York. If New York was the city that never slept, Dreamwood, Massachusetts was the town that snored day and night. It was rather easy to forget that it existed, no matter how big a town it was. Those who stayed in Dreamwood never became much of anybody. There were no famous people from Dreamwood, Massachusetts; no presidents, no popstars, no MySpace queens. However, it had been the home of the Caldwells since the English family settled in the Americas all the way back during the colonial era. They built Dreamwood from the ground up and their influence endured, outliving the British colony and lasting through both of the World Wars. Now, Parker Caldwell had returned to his family’s old resting place to resolve family business. His father, Jackson Caldwell, had fallen ill. Not of any sickness, but of old age- the most natural ailment of all. The doctors told him that he hadn’t much longer than a few weeks now before the Reaper would come to claim his soul. When he learned of the news, the first thing he did was reach out to his sons. 

“Have you spoken to Nathan lately?” Jackson asked his son as he lay on his deathbed. Caldwell Sr. was a husk of his former self, an old, shriveled body with strands of snow white hair dangling here and there. 

“No, I haven’t,” Parker responded with a twinge of shame obvious in his voice. “I’ll have to reach out to him. I take it he’s already visited.” 

“Your brother always visits, Parker,” The old man responded. There was a tense moment of crushing silence before the man spoke again. “Don’t worry, though. I understand where you were coming from. You’re a hero, son. Fighting for our great country. I’m proud of you and I want you to know that. Your grandfather would have been proud, too…”  

“That doesn’t justify the fact that I wasn’t around,” Parker admitted. “Or that we never got to make peace.”

 “Bah, to hell with all of that,” his father gave a raspy laugh. “Whatever we fought over back in the day, confronting the fragility of my own life has made me realize what bullshit it all was. The only thing that matters to me now is our family legacy. That’s all.” 

“Family legacy?” Parker blinked.  

“Did I fucking stutter? Listen, son, I want you to stay here for a while. Move back to Dreamwood.” 

“Stay here?” Parker practically blurted. “Dad, why-”

“After all these years you still can’t let me finish,” Jackson said. For a dying man he was still exactly how Parker remembered him. “Our family has lived here for centuries, and there’s a reason for that. You had your fun running around Manhattan playing detective, you helped save America, but now it’s time to come back to your roots.” 

‘Save America’ was a major exaggeration, but Parker didn’t hold onto it. He had more important things on his mind. “What about my job? I have a whole life back in the city.”

“Quit your job and work here instead. Dreamwood’s got a police department, too.” The answer was plain, simple, and obvious. Still, Parker hesitated.

“I know I’m dropping all of this on you very suddenly,” his father began, “but I haven’t much longer on this planet. I ain’t dyin’ anytime soon, but I ain’t gonna be livin’ long either. I still have some things I’d like to pass onto you.” 

“Wait, what?” This confused him further. Last he checked his father had both feet in the grave. Now he was saying that he wasn’t going to die anytime soon. If he wasn’t, why was he in the hospital? The doctors definitely seemed to think otherwise. 

The old man simply laughed, apparently amused by his son’s confusion. “I know what the doctors said. But doctors are full of crap. Half the time they don’t know what they’re on about, and right now is half the time. This ain’t how it goes for men like us. Caldwells don’t die just like that, don’cha know,” there was a hint of pride to be seen in that weak smile of his. It invoked mixed feelings within his son. 

“Dad, you’re not making any sense,” Parker replied honestly.  

“Not a lot of things make sense in this life, son. You’ll come to learn that with age.” 

He didn’t seem to have any intent of starting to make sense, either. 

“But I know one thing for sure. It’ll take more than old age to take this man down. I’m only sixty-seven. By the end of this week, I’ll be out of this hospital and up and at ‘em. And when I do, I want you close by. I don’t need you all the way in New York.”

Parker knew already that he was bound to his father’s wishes. “I’ll find an apartment. I’ll have everything moved by next week,” he said, resigned to his fate. “And I’ll apply for a job at the police department.”  

“Yes. You will,” His father nodded, seeming satisfied. “Also you should go and see Nathan before you leave. How long has it been since you talked to your brother?” 

“Well, it’s been…” Parker trailed off trying to think of an answer to the question. 

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Truthfully, it had been literal decades since he had spoken to his brother. When he left Dreamwood, he left without a trace. This made his return sort of a big deal. Everywhere else, he was Parker- a man of virtue and courage, having served in the military and the police force. But in Dreamwood, he was Parker Caldwell, son of former mayor Jackson Caldwell, grandson of former police chief Dean Caldwell, and it goes on. The Caldwells were just another wealthy family to the outside world; but in the small world of Dreamwood, they were equivalent to the Royal Family. His father was the mayor of Dreamwood before Mayor Rogers took over in his place. His grandfather, Dean Caldwell, served as the chief of police during his prime. Parker Jr’s dream was, at one point, to carry on his grandfather’s legacy. Ultimately he chose to serve in the army before working as a homicide detective in the city of Manhattan. His brother Nathan Caldwell, on the other hand, chose a different life path- that of a family man. Much to his father’s chagrin, he disavowed his family’s legacy of political influence and prestige in exchange for a little lakeside cottage and domestic bliss. While Parker was halfway across the world risking his life in the trenches, his brother fell in love with a beautiful woman, got married, and had two children. They bought a nice house by a lake just on the outskirts of town. 

Driving away from the main town, Parker truly entered the countryside; narrow roads between forests and plains dotted with farms and cottages where cattle grazed, a cloudy sky hanging overhead home to circling vultures. Leaving the farms, Parker entered a forest where the trees blocked out nearly all light. The road became rocky, putting the tires of his impala through some strife. He cursed under his breath as he navigated the treacherous terrain. Not long after he found himself at the end of the tunnel, reaching the end of the road and finding himself face to face with the enormous body of freshwater that they called Devil’s Lake– the lake where Nathan had settled down with his family. It was a beautiful thing, the water; clear, crystalline, reflecting the light of the sun that shone through the gray clouds. A forest hugged the shore from all sides, obscuring the lake in its dense, dark green foliage. To Parker’s right, he saw the house- a humble little cottage like something out of a European village. The lights were on. Nathan was home. As Parker approached the home, he couldn’t help but admire the architecture. The dark wooden frame, the windows supported by stone brick walls, the front-facing roof. He knocked on the door and waited for an answer.  

It didn’t take long for the knob to turn and for the door to open with a slight creak, and there he stood. A tall, handsome man with neatly cut dirty blond hair, dark blue eyes, a chiseled jawline, and a scar just below his eye on his left cheek. He took after father in appearance, mirroring Jackson Caldwell’s younger self. He wore a plain collared gray shirt and brown cargo pants.  

“Parker?” He could hardly believe his eyes. “Is… is that really you?” 

“Long time no see, brother,” Parker gave a half-hearted smile. 

“Christ! I thought you were dead!” 

“That’d be easier to explain, wouldn’t it?” He chuckled. 

“Yeah, damn right you got a lot of explaining to do. Come on in.”  

Nathan led Parker into the living room and offered him a seat on the couch and a beer. He accepted.  

“So, when were you going to let us know you were alive?”  

Parker took a sip of Bud Light. “Dad knew I was alive. He called me here.” 

“Still, y’all barely kept in touch. And I haven't heard from you in over a decade. You can’t just bail on family like that.” 

To be fair, they hardly treated him like family at the time. That’s what Parker wanted to say, but he kept that to himself. It was all water under the bridge at this point. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry. I got caught up in life. And seeing you like this; you should know how that goes. You got the look of a father written all over your face. Speaking of which- where is the lucky lady? I don’t think I ever got to properly meet her.” 

“Mariah’s out running errands right now,” Nathan explained briefly. There was a pause before he spoke again. “And I haven’t been a father for two years.” 

An awkward silence hung like fog over the living room for a brief moment. A somber shadow had fallen over Nathan’s face, and just like that, the atmosphere in the room shifted completely. Parker shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hesitating before he spoke again.

“Pardon?”  

It took a moment for Nathan to answer. His eyes lingered on the beer can on the coffee table in front of him as he spoke. “We lost both our children two years ago,” Nathan explained. “Our daughter is dead, and our son… well… he’s dead to me.”  

“I’m sorry, Nathan,” Parker said. “I… I had no idea.”

“You wouldn’t have. You didn’t keep in touch, remember?”

That stung more than it should’ve. “Great job, Parker,” he thought. “You sure know how to make conversation, asking about your brother’s dead kids like that.” 

Nathan took one last gulp of his beer. “That was two years ago. We’ve moved on since then,” he said. “Perhaps me more so than her.” 

“No, you’re right,” Parker responded. “I’ve been a terrible brother and an even worse son. Not to mention a piss-poor uncle. I never even got to meet my niece and nephew.” 

“You were God knows where in the East when it happened. Your life never could exactly stop for your family.” 

“It just did. I’m moving back to Dreamwood. Effective immediately. Dad’s orders.” 

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “He got you to do that?”

“Have you seen him? He’s staring Death in the face. Not only that– he’s in denial.” 

“You’re preachin’ to the choir, Parker,'' Nathan snorted, holding back a laugh that wasn’t lighthearted in the slightest. “The man insists he’ll be out of the hospital by next week. It’s… kind of sad, really. He’s always thought to be himself larger than life.”  

“Yeah well nobody is larger than death. I owe it to him, this one last wish. I’ve put him through enough as it is.��� 

Nathan gave a quiet nod in response.  

Silence hung over the living room for many seconds as the two brothers sat together without a word exchanged.  

“...What were their names?” Parker finally asked.

Nathan blinked. “Pardon?” 

“Your… your children. What were their names?” 

“We don’t speak our son’s name anymore,” Nathan said, starting to ramble, “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for him. He… he was disturbed from a young age. I’m talking about ‘catching squirrels in the backyard and breaking their necks’ disturbed. And when our daughter told us that he was trying to hurt her, we didn’t believe it at first. Not until that night. That night when he tried to kill us all. And she– she didn’t survive.” 

The air in the room grew heavier. Darker. The story Nathan told sank in and Parker could hardly believe what his brother was telling him. “Mother of God,” Parker murmured. 

“But… to answer your question, her name was Carmen,” Nathan answered. “And every day I wish I listened to her.”  

Parker gave a silent nod. “I remember you always liked that name…” Some things never change, he thought. “I’m sorry, Nathan.” 

“She wanted to be a scientist,” Nathan’s voice had become brittle. “She wanted to go to university; she was going to study chemistry. Had such a good head on those shoulders. Made me feel like an idiot half the time,” he gave a sad laugh.  

Parker nodded silently. “I wish I could’ve gotten to meet her.”  

“Yeah, well,” Nathan started, “Maybe if you were around more you would’ve.”  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Parker took one last look at Devil’s Lake as he drove off into the woods. Being back in Dreamwood didn’t evoke the nostalgia he initially anticipated– his hometown was nothing like he had remembered it. It was like returning to an old amusement park you had visited often as a child, only to find it abandoned and dilapidated- a shell of its former glory. Or perhaps it had always been that way and the drunken haze of childhood masked the truth.  

He looked up at the cloudy sky where he could just barely see the sun poking through. Such as a common sight in this town. He had never seen the sun- or at least truly acknowledged it- until he left Dreamwood when he was seventeen. Perhaps the reality was that Dreamwood was always a dull, dismal beacon of misery. If he looked deep within himself, pushing his family’s wishes aside, he would’ve realized that he didn’t regret leaving. It was a revelation he didn’t ponder on, but rather brushed his hand over as he reached for another book on the shelf of his consciousness– a book which spoke of duty to the Caldwell Clan. He set his mind on this particular book as he drove off into the forest.  

He thought back to his conversation with Nathan. He had missed so much being away from his family it felt like he had been in a coma for twenty years. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret. He should’ve been there when Nathan lost his daughter.  

Parker was so deep in thought that he almost didn’t notice the large deer that was standing in the middle of the road, directly in the path of his vehicle. 

“Shit!-” 

He quickly swerved out of the way, nearly driving straight into an evergreen but managing to change course just in time.  

“What the hell was that?!” He glanced in the rear-view mirror to get another look at the animal, but it was gone. His mind was reeling as he processed what just happened. He had never seen a hairless deer before, much less one that looked so malnourished. He swore he could see the poor thing’s ribs clinging to its pale, naked stomach.  

Was that thing even a deer?

He decided to forget about it and drive a little slower as he made his way out of town.

To be continued...

[eris-anansi]

“A Fear of Spiders Runs in the Family"

CW: Arachnophobia, death of a loved one, disturbing imagery

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My father was always terribly afraid of spiders. His grandfather had the same fear of arachnids as well and claims that his father also possessed it. It was when I was only a little girl that we discovered that I inherited my father’s phobia. I remember being eight years old, venturing into the basement and being attacked by a giant brown spider. In reality, the spider didn’t attack me at all- it just fell on me and my soul nearly liberated itself from my mortal body.

I am now fifteen years old and the sight of a spider still has the same effect on me that it had all those years ago, and if anything it brings back horrific memories. It’s always been unexplainable; there was just something about those eight-legged demons that awakened a primal fear within me. They are the bane of my existence. I always wondered where this fear, that seemed to be passed down from generation to generation, came from.

I specifically remember a story that grandpa told us about our hereditary arachnophobia. As the legend goes, one of our old

ancestors incited the wrath of the goddess Athena and she placed a curse on our bloodline. Ever since then, we have been plagued with an irrational fear and hatred of spiders. But of course, this was only a legend and he made that quite clear. Grandpa was never a superstitious man.

Unlike father.

Father believed many things.

He even built a shrine to Athena out of what he denies to be fear. My late mother, on the other hand, saw Grandpa’s story as purely fictional and some way of explaining in a less simple manner what would rather be a mere scientific phenomenon.

She passed away about a year ago. My father didn’t handle it well at first, as you could imagine. He seemed empty, as if he had lost his very will to exist. I watched the poor man wither away for days on end, not knowing what I could possibly do to help him through it. Of course, I myself was also struggling to grasp the idea of never seeing my mother again.

However, after a week or two, he seemed to come back to life.

I was happy that he had begun feeling better but at the same time, it all seemed a bit sudden. At first, I thought he met someone, but I quickly realized that wasn’t the case. If it were, he would’ve been going out more; but nowadays he spends most of his free time in the basement, keeping the door locked, telling me never to come down there. The last time I tried to ask him why he quickly changed the subject. I decided that it was best not to question him.

He had just come up from the basement muttering something in Greek; our native tongue. I couldn’t quite tell what he said between the fact that it was practically a whisper and that I’m still learning the language myself. If I had to take a guess, though, it sounded almost like he was asking for forgiveness. I watched him make his way upstairs unaware of my presence and once he was out of sight, my eyes drifted steadily toward the basement door which he had conveniently left open.

The temptation was too great. I had to see what he’s been hiding from me all this time.

I stood up and slowly made my way toward the door, careful not to make even the slightest noise.

Once I was inside, a sense of dread fell over me when I noticed a cobweb on the ceiling. I soon remembered why I used to avoid the basement.

I continued further down the narrow staircase, all the while keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of my mortal enemies. The room was dark, which only added to my anxiety, and it smelt like death. I scolded myself for not bringing a flashlight.

I made careful steps as my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I could make out where the pillars and walls were. Something about the basement reminded me of the inside of an ancient Greek temple, though much smaller of course. My stomach shrunk when I saw something small scramble up the wall in front of me. I took a step back and another small blur went up the wall, its legs carrying it to the ceiling where it disappeared from my sight.

I glanced to the floor and barely held back a visceral shriek. My skin crawled like mad, I wanted to leave my body then and there. Astral project as far as I possibly could, but I was trapped down here with the things I saw in front of me.

Several- No, dozens of albino arachnids were crawling along the floor only inches away from where I was standing, all of them seemed to be in a rush to escape the floor and migrate to the ceiling. What really got to me me was their size; they were bigger than any spider I ever had the displeasure of encountering, and I didn’t recognize the species. My eyes followed the spiders as they made their journey from the floor to above, where things only got worse. I saw an even bigger spider hanging from the ceiling directly above me.

Wait...

No, something wasn't right.

The longer I looked, the longer I realized that it wasn’t a spider at all. Was it? It had human features but- the arms. The arms were all wrong.

There were six of them; three on each side of the body. They looked more like the limbs of a massive hairless spider, ending with sharp hooks perfect for impaling unsuspecting prey. Prey about my size. My heart sank.

The creature wore an iron helmet adorned with a crown of horns, which gave even more definition to their eyes. There were eight of them- devoid of all life and blinking one at a time, one after the other. And then there was its mouth, full of teeth that were strangely human, coated in something too thick to be saliva. It possessed the body of a human woman, though the abnormally pale skin appeared to be smoother- almost like silk. She just stayed there on the ceiling, not moving a single muscle, in some kind of upside-down spider walk like something out of The Exorcist. Despite all of this, something about this ungodly creature felt familiar to me. I could feel my eyes watering at the realization as she began to speak, or at least, she tried to.

All that came out were a series of clicks and hisses that only reinforced the reality of the situation I was in.

She finally uttered a single word in a low, hiss of a voice.

“Delia...” she softly whispered.

I ran as fast as I could- scrambling up the stairs and rushing through the door into the living room.

I met my father at the stairs, who ran up and hugged me. I was in tears at this point, crying into his vest.

“I told you not to go down there,” he said. His voice was comforting rather than stern. “Why didn’t you just listen to me?” he asked with desperation in his voice.

I struggled to form a sentence through the tears, “How long-” I started, “how long has she been…” I trailed off.

Deep down, I already knew the answer. It all made sense now. Everything came together like one big, ugly puzzle.

“Did you do this?” I felt a sudden rush of anger as I looked up at my father.

He slowly shook his head, “I found her like that... down there, behind the boxes.” He choked back tears, “I swear to God, I was going to tell you… I was just waiting for the right time….” He held me tighter, allowing the tears to flow down from his eyes.

I managed to smile, “It’s okay...” I tried my best to speak calmly, though I sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than anything.

“She’s here now- and that’s all that matters. That she’s here with us… and she’s not going to leave us again.”

[eris-anansi]

“Losing Things”

Have you ever dropped something, only to have it vanish into thin air? Or have you ever just felt like something was missing? If you have, I want you to take that feeling, and imagine if it happened to you constantly. Welcome to my life.

I’m not exactly sure when it started, considering I didn’t really start to notice it until a great deal of my papers went missing from one of my desk last week, then it was a stuffed animal I kept for memories sake. Two days ago all the water just up and vanished from my indoor pool. Naturally, I did what any rational and quick thinking person would do in my situation. I took a trip to the local electronics store, purchased some security cameras disguised as these creepy old dolls and set them up around my home. When I returned, I found the light bulb missing from the lamp on my nightstand along with the couch in my living room. 

The next day I woke up to an astonishing sight. Aside from my bed and my nightstand, my bedroom was almost completely empty. The doll I had placed on the nightstand sat there staring at me with an eerie, almost ominous smile. I wasted no time checking the monitors, at this point I just wanted to know what was taking my stuff. 

I watched the screen for what felt like ages, and I was a bit surprised when it suddenly flickered to black. Did it just power down on me? I was just about to try turning it on again when it switched back on by itself. Something wasn’t right. It took me a few seconds to put my finger on what was wrong, but then I noticed the empty space where my drawer used to be. The monitor went black once more. When the screen was recovered, I saw that the doors to my closet had vanished. The screen continued to flicker on and off until my bedroom began to look the way it did when I woke up. When the room had finally been emptied, and only my bed and my nightstand remained, I was still sleeping peacefully as if nothing happened at all. 

I spent the rest of the day with my friends. I told them everything. How I’ve been misplacing my stuff and what I saw on the monitor. Of course, nobody believed me. And I wasn’t very intent on convincing them. But one thing I was intent on was putting an end to this madness.

It was dark when I returned home. During the whole walk from the bar I felt as if I was being watched, as if something was following me. But whenever I’d turn my head or quickly glance in another direction I’d only see houses and trees. I made haste to get inside my house, I rushed up the steps to the porch, my hands shaking as I grabbed the keys from my coat pocket and unlocked the door. When I entered my home and saw what I saw, I nearly forgot how to breathe. My house, my entire house, was empty. Everything was gone. It looked like I had just begun moving in but I’ve lived here for the last eight years. And yet here I was, standing in an empty living room with the only familiar thing being these walls. As I made my way upstairs around the fountain and walked into my bedroom I was relieved to see that my bed was still exactly where I left it. 

“Thank God,” I thought aloud. “At least I can sleep.” However, as soon as I uttered those words, I realized just how much I no longer liked the idea of sleeping here. I had this feeling with which I had no words to describe at that moment, but now I believe I could explain it quite well. If you were to close your eyes, and someone were to stand in front of you, you would probably be able to tell there was someone there. It’s a skill which those who cannot rely on their sight and those who work to sharpen their mind learn to master overtime. And that is exactly how I felt, only my eyes were wide open and according to my vision, I was the only person in that room. And yet for some odd reason, I swore there was someone standing directly in front of me. That’s when the bed began to levitate. As my mind struggled to process what was taking place in front of me and my bed hovered over the hardwood floor, it turned so the end would face the window at the opposite side of the room. With a sudden push from an unseen force the bed crashed through the window, the sound of glass breaking and clattering to the floor rang loud enough against my eardrums to snap me out of my daze with a jolt. 

I rushed over to the window to gaze out at my front yard where I assumed my bed had landed when it was hurled outside. It wasn’t there. I blinked a few times while also questioning my sanity, then I stumbled backward from the window. I slumped against the wall behind me, taking a deep sigh as I slid off my feet. That presence I felt before was no longer in the room, but whatever it was, I’m sure as hell it was the thing that just emptied my entire house. 

------------------------------------------------------------

A year has passed and I’ve tried to forget what happened at my old home. Shortly after the incident, I moved in with my friend James. Life with James was peaceful and despite having to grow accustomed to living in a smaller house, for the whole year I haven’t had any of my belongings vanish out of thin air; although I have gotten some false alarms due to my own carelessness and tendency to misplace items on occasion. Aside from that, things were starting to look up and last year’s event felt like a distant nightmare- but that all changed today. 

James told me he was going out to restock on groceries and that he’d be back in an hour or so. That was yesterday. I filed a missing persons report as soon as I felt that James may be in danger. I’m awaiting a callback from the authorities; however I can’t help but fear the worst. I haven’t seen anyone on the streets in days.  

[eris-anansi]

This might be Purgatory.

Welcome to Dreamwood, a town situated in the between nowhere and Plymouth. Probably.

Founded in 1630 with the Massachusetts Bay Colony, Dreamwood was settled by Puritans and has remained a deeply God-centered place with strong values of family and tradition. Somehow that is only the least of the town's horrors.

My name is Eris Anansi (you can just call me Eris or Erin), and I will be your guide through an exploration of Dreamwood's darkest secrets. This world is heavily based on the mythos of classic Creepypasta (Slenderman, the Rake, Jason the Toymaker) and the SCP Foundation, with original characters and worldbuilding intended to keep things fresh and interesting. The main story I will be focusing on is titled "Dreamwood 1999", and is planned to have 15 chapters (called episodes) and a prologue. I will also be posting one-shots and short stories as part of the Dreamwood extended universe.

General content warnings include: Graphic depictions of violence, mention of murder, suic!de, and kidnapping, and basically what you would expect to read in horror literature. My writing is not sexually explicit but I do expect Dreamwood 1999 in particular to become a fairly heavy series as it develops.

As I said previously, my work is heavily steeped in the Creepypasta fandom. Internet horror is my lifeblood, my roots, and the core of my literary inspiration and everything I write here is a love letter to the classics that raised me. Expect self-indulgence, expect niche references, and above all expect me to take it very seriously no matter how unserious it actually gets. Think of Dreamwood as a Creepypasta/SCP Foundation elseworld crossover series and you should be fine.

I hope you find as much joy in this project as I do!!