Misery County

Chapter 20 - Part 1

The Interceptor that Eric was driving was not unlike his own repurposed Crown Victoria, with the difference that he had never pushed his own car quite as hard as he was pushing the Missouri County Sheriff's Department's trusty car number fourteen. The engine roared in pain as he sped down a long, straight stretch of county road. The panicked transmissions coming over the car's police radio from beleaguered deputies and overwrought dispatchers alike frayed Eric's nerves to their very ends, knowing that as fast as he was driving, it wasn't fast enough. A small contingent of state troopers had arrived to help, but with the sparsely-populated state that they were, their numbers just weren't enough to take things back under control. That must have been why the ringleaders of the monsters had chosen Missouri County. It all seemed so obvious to Eric now. He could have foiled their plans simply by bringing lots of guns and itchy trigger fingers to the county, had he known. He snorted at the thought of spending his time as a professional monster hunter sponsoring a gun show or something of the sort. There was no sense thinking about that now, Eric decided. If he had done that, they just would have packed up and chosen another place to do the same. And besides, he hadn't found a way to time travel... yet.

Slowing the car down to a modest 65 miles per hour to take a broad turn, the surroundings started becoming more and more familiar. He wasn't far off from where his car hopefully still was. Another straight stretch of road appeared in front of him, and as he let his foot get heavy on the gas pedal, he thought again about the situation around him. The radio had been reporting what Eric identified as more zombie attacks in addition to primarily werewolf attacks. Then there were others which weren't so clear, but they were no less gruesome. The setting sun was staring back at him as he drove toward it. Would everything get that much worse once night fell? He shuddered at the thought. And what were the monsters' plans once the National Guard get called in? Surely they knew that the rest of the country wouldn't let this go on once word spread. A chill tickled his spine. It was never meant to be long-term. Sure, the set-up took a while, and yes, some of the monsters had misbehaved and taken some innocent lives while that was going on, but that was never part of the plan. The plan must have been to strike at the same time, and then... then what? If taking over the county permanently wasn't an option, then whatever they had planned for their grand finale was going to happen soon – very soon.

A rare drip of serotonin brought Eric joy as he saw his car still sitting on the side of the road up ahead of him. He let the Interceptor come down to a stop as he pulled it over behind his own car.

"Sorry, little feller," he said, stroking the dashboard. "It's not that you're not good enough. It's just that I need the equipment I have stored in my own car. You served your job well, though, and for that, I thank you."

Eric was just about to turn the car off when a transmission over the radio caught his attention.

"Control, Adam 23," came a man's voice, barely above a whisper.

"Adam 23, go ahead." The dispatcher's voice was no less hoarse.

"There's – it's – I don't know whether to tell you to send all units to my location or or or," he stuttered, "to tell you to keep everyone clear of it – there's a –"

The deputy spoke, but the transmission became garbled.

"Adam 23, please repeat," the dispatcher said once the sound of his voice stopped.

The man began speaking again, but as before, it was impossible to make out his words. Eric only managed to catch the end of the transmission, when the deputy said, "...it's the apocalypse. The gates of hell have opened. If I can get to my car, I'm leaving." His voice was breaking up again, but this time it was not a problem with the radio. "I'm going home to my family," the man said through tears. "Tell everyone to steer clear of the Hammond Mortuary."

That was all Eric needed to hear. He turned off the Interceptor, grabbed the duffel bag from the passenger seat, and stepped out. He knew exactly where he needed to go.