The Wild Ones - Part 3 - The Sirens

9.

"Mr Simmons?"

Tom came to, groggy and light-headed, and looked to his right. Dr Carter was stood over him, his appearance one of a man who had been on an everlasting night shift. Tom immediately propped himself up in his chair and acknowledged his father who was now sat next to him.

"Hi. Any news?"

Dr Carter's eyebrows rapidly met in a furrow and he checked Max's charts in spite of them providing no information he didn't already know.

"I'm afraid the knowledge that your son was bitten by shapeshifters in their human form has only gotten us so far. Of course we know not to specifically look for snakes with similar bite patterns, but that only means we're back to square one; you must understand these shapeshifters could be among one of any species of snake."

Tom's stomach dropped out again. "There has to be something," he managed quietly.

"You must understand there are only two solutions; we discover the precise species of snake these girls can turn into, or we use a sample of venom from them to create an antivenom. So either way--"

"We have to find them," Tom partially asked but mostly declared.

"Well, yes, but...no, Mr Simmons, I cannot allow you to do something rash."

"Tom," Simon warned, "I can't let you go out there on some wild goose chase, or, worse, get yourself killed."

But Tom was already on his feet, regaining his stability and marching out to the corridor.

"Didn't think you would," Tom mumbled back.

Tom wasn't entirely sure where he was going as he brushed past visitors and patients alike. At last he made it outside, the light slightly blinding him at first. To his relief, Michael was stood next to a wall, smoking and checking his phone. He looked up as Tom came charging towards him.

"Tom? What's up?"

"They're back to square one apparently. I need to find them."

"Woah, woah, woah," Michael grabbed Tom's arm and dragged him back. "How about a little reconnaissance first?" Michael held up a folder full of papers hastily slung together.

Tom eyed up the folder as Michael stubbed out his cigarette and opened it up.

"What's in there?"

"Just a few things I got contacts to gather. Max's test results, police reports and..." Michael pulled out a black and white map of the country.

"You see these crosses?" Michael asked Tom, pointing to around five marks dotted across the south. "These are the places where the previous victims were found."

"Now the first one is the one closest to the coast; we can assume the girls came in by ship, probably stowaways. They then zigzagged their way up to where we are now."

"So they were always heading in this direction?"

"It would seem so. It was only by case number three that the police caught on and opened a national investigation. But the girls never conformed to a straight line so it was impossible to predict their next move."

"Hang on," Tom took the paper and held it up closer to himself. "That one was us, right?" Tom asked, pointing to a dot placed in the forest a few miles from town. Michael nodded.

"Then who's this one in the centre of town?"

"Well that's the interesting thing; about an hour ago they brought in another victim. Same bite marks, same symptoms etc."

"But all these other cases are at least 50 miles apart," Tom scratched his head and handed the paper back. "They want something here, don't they?"

"That was my thinking too. And they're clearly not attacking people for fun. They wouldn't be so stupid as to bite two people within 5 miles of each other."

"They came to Eastbrooke," Tom reiterated to himself. Something about that stuck out, he just couldn't remember what. He banged his head a few times in case it helped. It did.

"Eastbrooke museum," he said in slow realisation. "They mentioned coming here for Eastbrooke museum. One of them said it 'had stuff in'. And the masks!"

"The masks?"

"Their tent had masks and stuff everywhere. Like, aboriginal, I think. Really detailed, pretty authentic looking."

"So maybe that's why they're here; to collect some more."

"Then I have to get there before they leave town," Tom declared, already marching off.

"Wait, Tom," Michael grabbed him more fiercely this time. "These girls are psychopaths. And I have a feeling their seemingly random attacks and their desire for these aboriginal items are tied somehow."

"Right. Can you stay here and watch over dad and Max? As much as I'd ordinarily appreciate the support you're not in the best condition right now. I'll ring the girls on my way there instead."

Michael nodded, fully aware that anything he said would go ignored.