THE DEER

Prologue

On the evening of March 3rd, of the year 2019, a piece of paper had felt the last kiss of ink on its otherwise filled surface. On the bottom-right quadrant of its square frame was the signature of one Jake Martinez, the sheriff of the small town that, for the past few months, had been the setting of a cat and mouse chase that had turned the once quiet, welcoming space into the battleground of two, unimaginably evil entities competing for both power and control over their own lives.

These devils dance around each other with their weapons meant to sever the connection of one’s life from the earth, all without a single care or thought spared for those around them that would suffer. They are instruments made specifically for carnage  -  to bathe in the blood of the unsuspecting and the innocent. Jake’s mind reviewed the events of the past few hours with a silent shiver. His body was at its limit  -  it seemed that he’d broken all bones that was humanely possible; had lost all the blood in his veins; and had taken all the trauma as life would allow, but there was still a job to do… a final stare-down with darkness that threatened to engulf everything in its path.

The single sheet of thin, yellow material had been pinned beneath the weight of a stapler  -  the only thing around that could really keep it in place  -  before the worn-out boots of the officer began its descent down the wooden flight of stairs of their small home. Asleep upstairs were his wife and two children, all unaware of the dangerous journey that the head of their family would embark on.

With him was nothing but his badge, which was pinned on the right breast pocket of his unwashed, dirt-smeared, and hole-ridden uniform; his service firearm holstered on the right side of his hip; and a few, extra bullets that were all safe and sound inside his left pants pocket. He didn’t need to carry anything else to the place he was headed, because somehow, he knew that making any additional effort to beat evil and come out alive and unscathed in the end would be just a waste of time.

He needed to get there and as soon as possible… or the town he once knew and adored would be swallowed by chaos the moment its residents awake from their slumber.

He closed their wooden door carefully, wary of the sound its hinges give when doing so, and when he heard the lock click, he made his way towards his vehicle. It was a small, red sedan, and in its floor were scattered, bloody bandages, which he kicked aside as to not distract him. Seconds after, he was starting the car, stepping on its gas, and was well on his way towards what could be his final stop.