Misery County

Chapter 19 - Part 3

Eric obeyed, and as he did so, the handcuffs came apart like they were made of cardboard. "Holy shit, that's some great work. What happened to all that our-plane-your-plane crap?" he said, turning around to face her again.

"We're bound by laws of interdimensional physics just as you are bound by the laws of your world, and ours are no less complex."

"Duly noted. Can you get me out of this cell?"

"Does the Ceffyl Dwr evaporate into the mist?"

"I – was I – what?"

"A little bit of Fair humor," Fflur said with a giggle.

"OK, cool, so I'll let you get to work on that door while I... take care of business." Eric swiftly made his way to the exposed toilet in the corner of his cell. His bladder pushed and pulsated as his trembling fingers worked at getting his belt undone. When he finally let it go, the stream of hot urine hit the toilet bowl with, it seemed, enough strength to bore a hole right through it. "I'll never take being able to piss in a toilet for granted again," Eric said with a deep exhale. "How's it going with that door?"

"It's done."

"What, that quickly? I'm not even done draining the lizard." Eric glanced over his shoulder, but there was no one there. "Fflur?"

There was no response.

He supposed her work was done, and at that moment, so was his. Doing up his trousers and buckling his belt, he moved to flush the toilet, but in the end decided to leave the Missouri County Sheriff's Department something to remember him by.

True to form, Fflur had done her job well. When Eric pulled the door of the holding cell to the side, it slid open as if it was never locked. He looked down each of the hallways as he left the drunk tank and walked around the spacious room. There was no one else there, but he didn't need his eyes to tell him that. With the unprecedented number of attacks that he had been hearing over the radio throughout the day, it was obvious that any deputy sitting around at the station house would be resources poorly spent, and fortunately for him, the department was small enough to not have full time receptionists. What about the dispatchers? They wouldn't be out. Did they even operate out of the same building? It didn't matter. They wouldn't be leaving said room with all the action going on. To all intents and purposes, Eric had the station house to himself, and he planned to make use of it.

It didn't take him long to find the board with all the keys. The key for the impound lot was his primary objective, but he used his situation well and grabbed an additional two.

The cage door to the armory provided no resistance once he slid the first key in, and for the first time in a long while, Eric felt like a kid in a candy store. He grabbed a large duffel bag from the corner of the room and began filling it up with anything he'd need. A pair of rifles, a shotgun, two pistols, and an ungodly amount of loaded magazines all made the cut. When he had enough to take on a platoon or two single-handedly, he left the armory and ran outside of the building, straight to the back.

The impound lot stood in front of him, but as he suspected, the view brought him no comfort. His car with all of his silver and salt and holy water and anything he might need to take down every known monster in the world was not there. Of course not. Why would it be? He would have heard Deputy Bill call in for someone to drive or tow his car to the station, but he did not, and there certainly wasn't anyone else out there when he was getting arrested. He supposed it was lucky that the dullards hadn't bothered to book him properly. Sure, Deputy Bill had checked his pockets, but when he didn't find any weapons or contraband, he'd left everything in place. Had he planned to book him the right way after the boys had had their fun with him? Eric knew better than to question providence. Whatever the man's intentions were, Eric's car keys were still in his pocket, and if the heavens were kind, his car would be exactly where they'd left it.

This brought his attention to the second extra key he'd grabbed. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the number etched into the plastic holder – fourteen. There weren't many cars in the department's fleet hanging around the parking lot, what with all the commotion, but number fourteen was there and ready.

"Just like the Holmesbrook days," Eric said out loud, and a lump built up in his throat as he thought about how Cassie would rip into him for making that comparison if she were there.