Snallygaster (Book 3, the Crytpid Chronicles)

Chapter 4

A black and white police car screeched to a stop twenty feet from Donny. The officer used his spotlight to bathe Donny in bright white light from head to toe. Completely blinded now, he was unable to track the Mothman's flight path— for whatever good it would've done him. He pressed his arm closer to his face while instinctively raising his other hand above his head, the fingers splayed wide, much like the Mothman. The cruiser's door opened, and a large man stepped out.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes. It is now," Donny responded.

"Do you need help?"

Donny was surprised by the man's friendly tone. It wasn't what he'd come to expect from a small-town officer who found a stranger walking alone at night. Normally, they assumed the worst, and Donny had the same expectations of them as well. Maybe he shouldn't judge a book by its cover, though he couldn't deny the officer spoke much slower than people from Northern states.

"I could use a ride back to town, if you don't mind," Donny replied.

"Can I ask what you're doing out here?"

"I was traveling to Florida when I had an accident. My van broke down halfway up the mountain."

"Were any other vehicles involved?"

"No. Just me."

"Who is me? What's your name, son?" the officer asked, his tone taking on an edge of suspicion.

"My name is Donny Thompson."

"Do you have any weapons on your person, Donny Thompson?"

"No, sir."

"Accident, huh? Been drinking?"

"No, sir."

"Drugs?"

"Nope." Donny's earlier prediction of small-town cops acting like assholes was turning out to be pretty accurate. Though from his line of questioning, Donny could also assume the officer had not seen the monster, or he'd be less worried about Donny's sobriety and more about becoming its next victim.

"We'll see about that," the officer replied. "Walk towards me slowly and keep your hands where I can see them."

He did as he was instructed. The officer lowered the searchlight to the ground, but the area remained well-lit. When he reached the cruiser, Donny was ordered to put both hands on the hood and spread his feet wide apart. He didn't think that was necessary, but he was in no position to argue. The officer gave Donny a very thorough pat down. He seemed disappointed when he didn't find anything dangerous.

After he completed his search, the officer shifted his efforts to a field sobriety test. Donny knew the test was designed so the subject would fail, giving the officer an excuse to arrest him for driving under the influence. It was always better to skip the optional test if sober.

"I understand your concern, but I haven't had a drop of alcohol in days, officer."

"I'm not an officer. I'm the sheriff. Sheriff Atwood."

Taking a step back, Donny said, "My bad, sheriff. But to save us time, I consent to a breathalyzer."

"Don't tell me how to do my job, son." Atwood pulled a penlight from his breast pocket. "Without moving your head, I want you to follow my light."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I respectfully decline to take the field sobriety test. It is my understanding that the test is voluntary, and even though I haven't been drinking, I'm afraid I would fail it because my eyes are dry from driving all day, and I have balance issues," Donny lied.