THE DEER

Part II: The First of Many

Minutes after Paul Mitchell had perished in arguably the most violent fashion imaginable, the second most famous individual in the small town of Grisburg (next to the mayor, that is), and his deputy were in the middle of their lengthy discussion about religion.

"Come on, you know I'm not big on religion... the last time I asked God for a favor, my mom succumbed to her cancer and then my dad had to pull me from my family back home to bring me here," he answered his companion's argument in a rather snappy tone. It wasn't that Jake Martinez - who'd already been sheriff of the town for almost three years now – despised America. He'd lived there for the better part of his life, and had even met his wife and had started a family in it; but having to leave behind his grandmother, who'd practically raised him since his mom was too sick to do it, for his shitbag of a father that never once became a significant part of his life before his mother's death, leaves a rather sour taste in his mouth.

He was raised as the model, Filipino boy who went to church every Sunday, by his Lola, and for the most part, he liked having someone to believe in during his times of need – especially when he felt as if there was no one he could cling to for support anymore; but after his mom passed, and later when he finally moved in with his father, the thought of the holy doctrine and the divine savior did not cross his mind anymore.

"That's kinda dark, boss. I'm really sorry I even brought it up... must've been tough for you," a pat on the back accompanied his apologetic and quiet statement, signaling the end of the conversation for the two.

Jake returned the favor by giving his deputy a small smile, and then proceeding to lightly pat him on the back, too, "It's okay, kid. Just keep me in your prayers next time, alright?" he pushed his back against the rear of the vehicle they were leaning up against, sending his body moving forwards and making the cup of coffee grasped in his hand spill a little.

"By the way, have you checked out the ne-" he was interrupted by the sound of static, followed by the unmistakably panicked voice of one of his deputies blaring through the walkie tucked safely inside its leather case.

"Are there any available units, over?" his first thought was to crack a joke about how there's nothing for a police officer to do in the town but fuck around anyway, but his better judgement prevailed, and instead, he responded: "This is sheriff Jake Martinez, over. What's the problem?"

"Vehicular accident, sheriff. There's one confirmed casualty – I think it's Paul Mitchell. He's... he's fucking crushed, sheriff, I – I think I'm gonna be sick just by looking at him. His intestines are out, and there's just blood everywhere."

"Alright, alright - just calm down, Grace. We're going to come to you. What's your location?" The two officers exchanged concerned looks, and in the few seconds worth of silence that occurred, they knew that the small police force that their town has would probably get smaller by the time tensions had dwindled down.

"I'm here out... outside the town's border. I've already contacted the paramedics, and I – I think they're on their way, but... you gotta hurry up, sir. I don't think I can stand here much longe- Oh, God..." the two men did not have to hear it themselves, but they knew that she was already hunched over on the side of the road, radio in hand, and sobbing her eyes out. It wasn't everyday that you get to witness something so horrific, after all.

"We're on our way, okay? Just... just stay there for a while. Over and out."

They hopped in the blue and white squad car that had been gifted to them by the town's mayor just this year. Grisburg's police force had been petitioning for new ones since before Jake had even rose to the rank of sheriff, and finally, after years and years of writing letters and bugging the local government, they finally got it. Three new and gorgeous vehicles custom-made for the Grisburg P.D.