Being a cop, you’ll probably have a case that makes you. The kidnapping solved by some beat cop, the robbery outsmarted by an overlooked sergeant. Then there’s the case that breaks you on some fundamental level. A missing child never found, a homicide scene that sends a veteran’s lunch onto his shiny boots, or god forbid something you truly can’t explain. The case that made me was a few years after graduating from the academy. An armored transport truck was hijacked half a mile from my beat in the center of philadelphia. In responding, I had joined the front of the chase and side swept the back wheel of the truck moving through a large empty lot. The truck flipped on its side, taking a few cars with it. In the public eye I was a hero that saved the day, earning a promotion. However, behind the scenes I was on the brink of losing my job, due to the property damage incurred from my pit maneuver. In hindsight, it’s a miracle no one but the suspects were hurt, but I digress. This led to a promotion to detective, with the caveat that I’d be exiled to some backwater southern town deep in the Tennessee woods.
At the time I protested, but I soon realized that fighting it was futile. Resigned to my fate, I packed my things in preparation for my new life as detective of Porterville, Tennessee. My first drive down to the place I would call home was.. Foreboding. That night the pine and oak trees swayed, fighting bitterly against the wind. I was fifteen minutes away from Porterville driving down an open road, with only the moon and my high beams guiding my vehicle. The artificial light was melded with the unmistakable glow of a fire let amuck as it illuminated my brown skinned arms. The sight made my heart sink, as two crosses set alight came into view. Under it were hooded figures that held aloft torches. Panicking, I shut my high beams off and tried to drive as stealthily as I could. The glow of the fire now fully enveloped me in my truck, keeping me petrified as I offered a silent prayer. The glow eventually faded in my rear view mirror, and I sighed in relief, continuing my journey to Porterville.The first week I arrived in town was eventful, learning the lay of the land, how poor of a shape our armory was, meeting the local Cherokee natives, and striking a deal with them. A deal that leads to where I am now, in mayor Jackson’s office with a prick named hermann sitting behind Jackson like a kid on christmas. I only caught the end of Jackson’s sentence as I exited from my thoughts.
“-Not only did you guarantee them Native officers and limited jurisdiction, it was all for a few pea shooters?! Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
I cleared my throat, relaxing my posture as much as I could as I began
“the deal benefits us much more than you realize. Our armory was piss poor, our officers barely had enough 1911’s and magnums to arm ourselves. Now we have vests, shotguns, an m700 sniper, two colt M4’s, a glock for every man and woman on the force, and ammo and mags to last us till doomsday. But that isn’t the best part, that would be the fact that having tribal cops would cut the area we’d have to patrol by half, and we’d only have to send one or two units to supervise. And besides, having native cops would help the tension around here.”
When I finished, I caught Hermann half snickering before Jackson had shut him up
“I don’t wanna hear a word outta you, the only reason you’re here is because that fat bastard sheriff Coryn is either too busy campaigning for reelection or eating a pie.”
The mayor then took a moment to think, then spoke
“One, I don’t wanna know where they got these guns. Two, you’re responsible for any shit that goes down on their land. Their case is yours, got it?”
I smiled as I looked at the abject horror and disgust plastered on Hermann’s face. But my minor victory was interrupted by the mayor’s phone buzzing. He picked it up and I began to feel queasy as his face turned beet red with anger. He slammed the phone and began to yell at me.
“Congrats Jason, your new cops just found a fucking body. So get your ass down there and paddle them outta shit’s creek!”
Nodding quickly, I turned and ran like hell to my car. Barreling down the road, it took twenty minutes to reach the site of the body. Arriving there, I was beat there by my coworker officer ruiz de la cruz, or just officer cruz to most. Next to her were the two cherokee officers who had first happened upon the body.
“Ruiz, what do we have?” I half spat out, running towards the group.
She shook her head ever so slightly then started. “Nice of you to join. Tdlr, we have a jane doe. Mid twenties maybe, no ID or wallet in her handbag.. But the body is telling me five different things at once.”
she gestures to the women now dead, pointing out various things while continuing.
“For one, it seems almost all identifying markers have been tampered with. The teeth have been removed, the fingerprints burned off, and there are patches of skin surgically removed. The residual ink tells me that those were tattoos that were removed, Jason, someone does not want us to know who that woman was. Then there’s her leg..”
My eyes moved and I caught myself dry heaving at what I saw.
Ruiz begun to tear up slightly, “yeah, some sick fuck took a bite outta her leg, which tells me we’re dealing with at least three killers.”
“Three? This only shows two maybe, and that’s partly conjecture.”
“Because all of that was post mortem, at least I’m eighty percent sure. This was ultimately a ritual killing. Look.”
Her fingers fell on where the victim’s chest was. There were surgical marks, like from a coroner, implying that someone else took her organs. Ruiz then gestured towards a handbag, handing it to me. With now gloved hands, I looked through her bag, only finding two items of interest.
“I’ve got something, looks like our vic was an escort. No name still, but there’s a receipt from a bar in town. Finnley’s pub, that might be our best chance to get some info.”
She nodded and our group dispersed, Ruiz and I inbound for Finnley’s. The drive remained uneventful as we pulled into the quaint bar. It was late by this hour so my hope was slightly faded, nevertheless I marched in tow with Ruiz. the barkeep welcomed us in and asked for an order.
“Shine for both of us” Ruiz chimed
I followed up, “and some information, have you seen this woman?” I held aloft a photo I had taken of the women, waiting for a response.
The man returned with our drinks and nodded. “Yeah, she came in a couple of nights ago with a couple of guys. Bad vibes from the guys.”
“Did you get any of their names?” Ruiz responded
“Only one of the guys, a big burly lookin guy. Solomon Prescott. He runs a tiny slaughterhouse on his ranch. It’s maybe sixteen miles from here northbound. Can’t miss it.”
We both looked at each other, downed our drinks, and sped off to our cars.Our bartender did not lie when he said we couldn’t miss the property. A small plot of land, lined with gnarled, dead oak trees. And in the center of it all was a house and barn. I was filled with an ominous feeling as my partner and I raced up the driveway, weapons held tight. There was a light at the barn, and looking at Ruiz, we both crept up to the old building.
“This is the police!” I shouted, as my announcement was met with the blast of a shotgun, kicking open the barn doors.
What followed was an exchange of gunfire, leaving three dead and one man with his arms raised. When we entered the barn, a miasma set upon us. It attacked our lungs and filled our nose with the scent of the dead. Ruiz had damn near doubled over to vomit, and it took every power in my body not to pass out. As I passed the bodies of our assailants, kicking their weapons away from their corpses, I took a notice to strange runes and symbols carved and tattooed on their bodies.
“Ugh… Solomen Prescott I presume?” Ruiz spat out roughly
“Oh yeah, that’s me. And I’m sorry about the smell, if I had known I’d have company I would’ve cleaned up better. Listen, if you guys don’t shoot me I’ll cooperate fully.” Solomen said in a gravelly, matter-of-fact tone.
We both looked at each other in slight bewilderment, then grabbed the man, shoving him into our car before speeding back off to our station. We soon found ourselves in a tiny interrogation room with the man known as Solomen Prescott.
“Officers,” He started, “here’s just about most of the story. I have a.. Taste for human meat. Ethically sourced of course. I don’t know why I’m the way I am but nevertheless, about a month ago I was contacted by an individual who identified herself as “the mother”. She told me that I could have the scraps of her human sacrifices. They ditch the bodies and I get a meal a day. So long as I don’t interfere with the will of “the Father”. Any-”
Ruiz butted in, “hold on, who is this father?”
“He’s their god of sorts. At least they think it’s their god. But god or no god, that thing is a powerful, old, primordial being.”
“And the people with the tattoos, are those their “children”?” I chimed in
“Right on the money officer, the family of Ead they call themselves. In fact, they’re gonna have another sacrifice tonight. It’ll be at the abandoned hendricks farm” he paused as though he was finished, then interjected one more time. “If you go, bring molotovs, a flamethrower, hell any fire will work.”
We both nodded and thanked him for his cooperation, leaving him in the isolated box.
I took out my cell phone and called Jackson. “Jackson, no time. All officers to hendricks farm. Armed to the teeth and I need a flamethrower, no questions.”
I hung up before he could respond and hopped into the seat of my truck, barrelling down the road to the hendricks farm. Waiting for me in a nearby hedgerow, was the Porterville police.
Armed to the teeth, I gave a quick brief before entering the fields. “Listen people, there are two POI’s wanted alive. “The mother” and “the father” both have unknown appearances but they should stand out. As for the rest, these are the Jamestown type so they won’t go alive. Don’t let the job get you killed, put these animals in the dirt if they aren’t our POI-”
“Are you insane?! Do you know what this means for the dept-” Hermann cut in but was stopped after I stared at him coldly.
“Anyways, we’ll move through the fields. Stay frosty, and stay alive.”
The force of the Porterville police crept through fields, silent and still as death. We neared the end of the fields and gazed with horror. A glow surrounded the ceremony that reminded me of the glow that had shone on me my first day here. A chill went down my spine as I motioned for us to reveal our hand. In an instant, we had all unloaded our weapons into the groupings of armed cultists. A wall of smoke formed on the edge of the field, and walking past it lay most of our dead cultists. There was one woman however untouched, a still beating heart at her feet.
“YOU FOOLS, HOW DARE YOU DESECRATE THE STOMPING GROUNDS OF THE FATHER!” The woman screamed shrilly. Her jett black hair seemed to stand up on command.
Silence followed, but within that silence, the forest remained alive and announced the entrance of.. Something. Torches lined where the ceremony was held, but there was a gap, and through that gap stepped the father. A dreaded silence fell upon us all, some cried, some prayed, and I just stared at the thing. Fear seeping into every fiber of my being. It walked on four legs, it had the body of a mighty elk but taller. Its fur was brown stained with spots of crimson, and a ribcage exposed to the world. Its head was… confusing and indecipherable. There were too many animals on its face. It looked like a toddler had drawn it a little different each time. And atop of its head were two massive antlers, a crown of thorns for a god, real or fake.
The woman turned to the massive figure and presented herself to it, her eyes filled with tears. The thing suddenly gored the woman with its antlers, dropping her to the floor like a used rag. Then that thing turned to us and spoke.
“You have interrupted something you cannot possibly fathom. Your insolence will be rewarded with a fate far worse than her’s.” the creature bellowed, with a hollow yet full voice that seemed to fill the space around it with its presence.
Panicked, I ran to find the party favor Jackson had sent us with. I walked to the thing in trepidation, tears flowing down my cheek. With false bravado, I yelled “then smite me down as a god would, O ye of little faith.” saying this, I hosed the abomination with fire. The scent of char and flesh filled the air as the thing let out a screech that I still can never forget.
It backed off through the path it came from as a few brave officers shot rounds into it.
Then the voice came back to forewarn us with a promise.
“There will come a day when I return from this exile. Your machines offer you a false certainty, for they will fail you eventually. The flesh is stronger than you think, and it will surpass the machine in due time. When I come back to inherit what is mine, hope to your false gods you are dead before my conquest.”
The thing walked off to never be seen, but those words still haunt me. Ever since then, it has been the duty of each officer to patrol the woods to make sure that thing stays in its new domain. But every time I look out to the woods at night, I know that thing stares back at me. Eyes full of hate and contempt. So I write this in case what I fear comes to pass, a record at least, of the murder of Jane Doe and the elk-like being of Porterville. But as I write, I can hear something in the woods call for us all, a headsman growing impatient.