The Terror That Came To Amber

Chapter 3

Amber Alberta Canada, October 21st 2020 5:35 PM

It was dark outside when the sheriff drove up to the red pickup truck parked under a tin roofed garage at the edge of the lake and parked in front of it in case Francis tried to leave before the sheriff could get a word in with him. The sheriff wasn't sure about Francis and the whole thing felt off. Claude is the first survivor in a series of gruesome murders. The man who saved him claims it was an animal and Claude, sitting in a hospital says it was some kind of monster, probably from the painkillers but nothing can be ruled out. The storm was finally slowing to a steady snowfall and the sheriff could see a light to his right, out on the frozen lake coming from a fishing shack. Amber freezes particularly early, in late September and the ice was already four inches thick by the third of October and seven and a half by the fifteenth. So like clockwork, the lifelong Amber resident put up his wooden shack, a lantern could be seen through the distant window.

Ben got out of his car wearing his sheriffs hat instead of the fur hood of his jacket and walked across the dark frozen lake as snow gently fell around Ben. The only sounds he heard were his boots muffleing through the snow. When he reached the shack Ben approached the wooden door up three steps made from large pieces of firewood stacked upon one another and knocked three times. The door was opened by a sleepless looking middle aged bald caucasian man with a grey moustache wearing a red winter coat and a blue wool toque. "Hello sheriff, wasn't expecting to see you out here, what can I do for you?" "I'm here to ask you a few questions about Claude Williams, the man who was attacked last night with his dog." The man had bags under his eyes and he looked at the sheriff with an almost blank look. That's when Francis picked up a small bottle of rum he had sitting on a table next to a full ashtray behind him as he called Ben inside. "Come on in." Ben said as he took a sip and put it down. The sheriff closed the shack door behind him. It was still cold but not as much inside and the electric lantern on the windowsill lit the three metre by three metre shack quite well.

Francis grabbed one of three folding lawn chairs from behind the door and opened one across from his for the sheriff, with the table of Francis's comforts in between them. "Please have a seat sheriff." "are you sure you're okay to answer questions right now? You seem a little, well intoxicated." Francis sat down in his chair and lit a cigarette. "Sheriff I came out here today to clear my head and make some sense out of what happened last night. It's almost six o'clock and I'm no closer now to understanding what happened than I was last night covered in Claude's blood." "Tell me what you think you saw, then." the sheriff said sitting down lighting one of his own cigarettes, as over the next hour, Francis recounted every gory detail he could remember. "It was bent over him in the street, when I saw it I thought it was a wolf until I noticed it was hunched over him, like a person."

"The animal that attacked Claude?" "it chased him out of Kings Ravine, the hiking trail and dog park, you know where it is." Francis pulled a bottle of rum and two glasses from underneath the table and offered one to the sheriff who politely declined. Francis poured the spiced rum into one glass, slammed it back and refilled it before putting the bottle back underneath the table with the other glass and continued his story. "I hit it with my truck, don't ask why. I just felt like I was as dead as he was if I'd just gotten out and hoped for the best. The thing was built heavy whatever it was. Some kind of mutant wolf or coyote or something..." Francis drank half of the amber liquid in the glass next to him and put it back down. "It looked at me. Made eye contact with these bloodshot yellow eyes, that darted around until they locked on mine. That's when I slammed the breaks and sent the fucker flying." "How big would you say it was if you had to guess?" "maybe six, seven feet tall. It was big, sheriff. Real big after Launching it off the hood of my pickup I..." Francis paused for a moment to finish his drink and continued telling his story for the sheriff who was a little skeptical, but Francis never had a history for bullshit stories. Especially bullshit stories connected with attempted murder. Ben could tell from his fifteen years of detective experience, theat Francis fully believed he was telling the truth. The drinking was only to make telling this traumatic experience... easier. When he got to the part where he arrived at the clinic he poured himself another drink though, much calmer now. "There was a doctor. A british guy, thick glasses." "Doctor Barker?" the sheriff interrupted to ask. "Yeah. He saved Claude's life sheriff. Probably his dogs too." Francis said, looking at the small dark fishing hole in front of him, a small fishing rod held in place with a vice at the bottom of the table. The line had been limp the entire time he had been there. "he did. I'm gonna go visit them at the hospital tomorrow to see how they're doing. You should pay them a visit Francis. I guarantee Claude would be damn thankful to see you stop by." Ben said, putting out another cigarette and standing up. "I'll be sure to sheriff." the sheriff shook hands with Francis and bid him good night. The sheriff put up his hood and made his way back to his patrol car.