Monte limped down the main street, his arm pressed against his ribs.
The town was quiet for hiw many people walked about. Even the wind seemed hesitant to move.
He was almost at the edge of town when he heard his name.
"Monte!"
Kenny jogged over, slightly out of breath. "Where you going?"
Monte turned, the faintest grin on his lips. "Got some stuff in my car. Gonna grab it before someone else does."
Kenny frowned. "You mean out past the tree line? You shouldn't go alone."
Monte shrugged. "Not my first rodeo, Kenny."
Kenny sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "At least take the truck. It's faster, and if something happens, you've got a better chance."
Monte paused, then patted Kenny's shoulder. "That's a good idea, man. Thanks."
Kenny nodded stiffly. "Keys are in the visor. You know how to drive stick?"
Monte shot him a sideways look. "Do I know how to drive stick? You don't know who you're talking to. They used to call me Baby Driver."
Kenny tilted his head. "What's that mean? Hey... what's that mean?"
Monte didn't answer, already climbing into the truck. A second later, the engine roared to life, and he was gone in a cloud of dust.
Kenny stood there, watching the truck vanish down the road. "Oh… that's what he meant."
...
Monte drove a few miles, eyes scanning the treeline for any sign of his Mustang.
The road curved endlessly through the forest, every tree casting a shadow over the road.
Just when he thought his mustang had disappeared with that tree, something glinted in the trees.
Metal.
He applied the brake, pulled over, and peered down a steep ditch.
There they were.
The Mustang. The cruiser. Crumpled and burned, half-buried in leaves.
Monte slid down the incline, boots slipping on the wet grasd. He walked straight to the Mustang and tried the trunk.
No luck.
It wouldn't budge. He slammed a fist against the metal, swore under his breath, and turned to the cruiser.
The smell hit him first. Blood and rot.
The passenger cop was still inside, twisted awkwardly in his seat. Monte yanked the door open and pulled the corpse out, laying him flat on the ground.
"Rest in pieces," he muttered.
He stripped the vest and holster from the body, strapping the holster on himself with practiced ease. Tossing the vest out onto the ground.
He found the keys hanging from the ignition and unlocked the shotgun mount. The old pump-action tactical shotgun came free with a satisfying click.
Monte slid back out of the cruiser.
He heard the rustling of leaves, and heavy steps behind him. Monte spun without thinking and pulled the trigger.
The blast echoed through the forest, scattering birds.
A deer dropped five feet away, its throat blown out.
Monte exhaled, lowering the gun. "Jesus, buddy," he muttered, heart still racing. "You picked the wrong time to be curious."
He looked around, every instinct on edge. Boyd had said the monsters didn't come out during the day, but Monte didn't believe in absolutes.
Something told him the Talismans didn't really stop them, they just chose not to cross.
A game. A sick, patient game. Or maybe there was some kind of consequence.
He shook the thought away and grabbed the buck by its antlers, dragging it up the incline.
It wasn't easy, his ribs screamed with every step but he managed to haul it into the truck bed along with the shotgun.
Then he went back for the cruiser's trunk. The lock clicked open with no issue.
Inside were two assault rifles, clean and military-grade.
Monte's eyes widened. "What the hell? Who were you guys waiting for, Al Capone?"
He dug through the trunk and found a duffel bag, a medkit, a small automated defibrillator, a few flares, a small fire extinguisher, flashlights, extra vests, a couple trooper jackets and a Hooligan rescue tool.
"Merry freakin' Christmas," he muttered, stuffing the rifles and the supplies into the duffel.
Monte was about to walk off when he thought of something and grabbed a box containing a few notebooks, and official forms.
He muttered, "The town probably doesn't have much paper."
He carried the load over to the Mustang and wedged the Hooligan under its trunk lip. After a few minutes of prying, the lid cracked open and Monte burst out laughing.
Inside were several wrapped bags of weed and a dozen cases of liquor.
"Fat Tony," he said, grinning ear to ear. "You magnificent bastard."
He lifted a bottle of whiskey and kissed it, then he set it back in the case. "Always knew you'd come through."
Monte packed the alcohol into the truck bed, then the weed into a smaller duffel. Then he climbed into the driver's seat and took a breath.
He pressed the clutch, and turned the key. He shifted into first and started driving back toward town.
He'd barely gone a mile before spotting something in his rearview mirror.
An RV came lumbering up behind him, flashing its lights. The driver waved out the window and Monte slowed, pulling onto the shoulder.
The RV stopped a few yards back. A man climbed out, he was in his mid-thirties, had dark hair, clean-cut. He looked like the kind of guy who used to sell houses or smile in TV commercials.
Monte clipped the badge to his shirt and stepped out of the truck, moving with that easy authority he'd faked countless times before. "Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes, officer," the man said, relief in his voice. "I'm Jim Matthews. Do you know how to get back to the highway? There was a tree blocking the road, and we had to detour."
Monte's stomach sank slightly. He'd said the same before. That fucking tree.
He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm Monte. Why don't you follow me back to town for a bit? You folks look like you could use a break."
Jim hesitated. "I appreciate that, but we just want to be on our way."
Monte nodded. "Understandable. Just follow me back to town... I'll show you a detour on a map."
Jim asked, "Is there a reason there's no service out here? We tried Google, but didn't have service."
Monte nodded, "Connection gets spotty out here."
Jim nodded, "Sounds rough."
Monte shifted on his feet, "You get used to the quiet life. Small town, big hearts."
Monte noticed Jim glancing at his stance. Jim question hesitantly, "Rough day?"
Monte sighed, rubbing his ribs. "Bar fight a few nights ago. Got a little rowdy."
Jim chuckled. "Must've been one hell of a fight."
"You have no idea," Monte said flatly. "Follow me."
Jum nodded and watched as Monte limped back to the truck. However, he shrugged, climbing up the steps and then started driving.
Tabitha spoke up from Ethans side, "What did he say?"
Jim said, "He wants us to follow him back to town."
Julie sighed, pulling an earbud out. She whined, "Did he he say anything about cell service."
Jim answered flatly, "He said that the connection gets spotty out here."
Before Julie could complain, Tabitha said, "It'll be a nice break from that screen Julie."
Jim groaned, "My friends are at the beach getting a tan and I'm stuck here."
Jim said, "There's worse places you could be, Julie."
Julie rolled to her side, putting the ear bud back in.
Tabitha sighed softly, but was soon distracted by Ethan and his finger puppets.
The RV followed behind Monte's truck closely. For a while, it was quiet within. Peaceful.
Thay peace shattered when a dark blue Audi blew past them like a bullet.
Monte blinked. "What the hell…?"
He watched it fishtail around a corner and disappear into the trees. "Boyd said that newcomers were rare. But, that's three cars in twenty-four hours."
He pressed the gas. Moments later, he saw the Audi. Well, what was left of it.
The car had wrapped itself around a massive pine tree, metal bent and steaming. Monte killed the engine and jumped out, his body screaming in protest.
Jim parked behind him and ran over. "Jesus…"
Monte was already at the driver's side, pulling out a knife. He stabbed the airbag, deflating it with a hiss. Inside, the driver was slumped forward, neck at a wrong angle. Dead on impact.
Monte exhaled. "Nothing we can do."
He turned to leave when a weak cough came from the backseat.
"Someone's alive!" Jim shouted, rushing to the rear door. He yanked but it didn't budge sn inch. "It's stuck!"
Monte limped back to the truck, grabbed the Hooligan, and tossed it down to Jim. "Use that to pry it open."
Jim caught it. "You're not helping?"
Monte lifted his shirt, showing the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. "Bruised ribs. Doc said no heavy lifting."
Jim smirked despite himself. "That bar must've been real rowdy."
Monte's deadpan stare said enough.
Jim worked the door open and dragged a half-conscious man out, laying him on the dirt. Monte knelt beside him, checking his pulse and feeling the man's neck.
Jim questioned, "What are you doing?"
"Making sure his neck isn't broken..." Monte finished his check and said, "All good, let's move him."
Jim nodded. "There's a bed in the back of the RV."
Monte nodded and together, they carried him up the ditch. The man groaned faintly, his skin pale, blood matting his hair.
Inside the RV, Jim's family stared in shock. His wife, Tabitha; daughter, Julie; and little Ethan, eyes wide and frightened.
Monte helped lower the man onto the bed, then straightened up, wincing. He caught Tabitha's wary look, the way her eyes lingered on the gun at his hip.
Jim tried to ease the tension. "He's a cop, Tabi. No need to worry."
Ethan looked at Monte like he'd just met a superhero. "You're a cop? That's so cool."
Monte grinned faintly. "I try, kid."
Julie watched him differently... curious, maybe a little too curious. Monte noticed but said nothing.
He limped toward the door. Jim followed. "Should we grab anything from the Audi?"
Monte glanced at the darkening sky. The sun was sinking behind the trees, the light already fading into that unsettling twilight this place was known for. "No time. I'll send someone out tomorrow morning."
Jim looked uneasy. "You think it's safe to just leave it here?"
Monte gave a small, tired laugh. "Safe's a word we don't use much around here."
Jim frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Monte just started walking. "You'll see soon enough."
He paused by the truck and looked back at the RV. "Town's close. Follow me, and you can stay the night. You'll want shelter before dark."
Jim hesitated, then nodded. "Alright."
Monte smirked faintly. "On the bright side, tomorrow morning you can try the world's best pancakes. Made by a woman who looks like she stepped straight outta Hollywood."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "That so?"
Monte grinned. "Oh yeah. She's a beauty."
Tabitha frowned playfully. "He's married."
Monte laughed. "Good. She's mine."
Jim and Tabitha shared a look, smiling despite themselves.
They climbed into their vehicles and followed Monte's lead down the winding road toward town. The forest grew darker with every passing minute, shadows stretching long across the dirt.
Monte's hands tightened on the wheel.
He hadn't planned for any of this to happen. A couple new cars, new faces, more lives dragged into this nightmare.
And as the first bells of evening began to toll faintly in the distance, Monte knew one thing for sure.
The town was locking up in preparation. And night was coming quickly.
Quicker than Monte wanted.
...
Monte arrived back at the edge of town just as the last shred of light bled from the sky.
The forest behind him hissed with whispers and faint, distant screeches. The kind that scraped against bone, gave you chills.
He didn't slow down. The truck growled as it pulled to a stop in front of the Sheriff's Station.
He threw the door open and shouted into the cooling air, voice echoing off the empty street.
"Boyd! Get your ass out here!"
A moment later, Boyd burst out of the station, Kenny right behind him. Both were armed, tense, ready for anything.
Boyd stopped short when he saw the truck and the people stepping out of the RV parked behind it.
"Monte," Boyd barked, "what the hell is this? Who are these people?"
Monte didn't waste time. "No time for chatting. We need to get them inside."
He turned to Kenny. "You. Come help me with the deer in the back."
Kenny blinked. "The what?"
"Dinner," Monte said flatly.
Without argument, Kenny followed. The two dragged the deer out of the truck bed.
Monte struggling under its weight as the distant screeches grew louder, closer. Monte's limp made it worse, but adrenaline pushed him through.
Boyd stayed behind, corralling the Matthews family, Jim, Tabitha, Julie, and Ethan who was wide-eyed and shaking.
"Come on," he said firmly, herding them toward the door. "You'll be safe inside."
"Safe from what?" Tabitha demanded, clutching Ethan's arm.
Boyd didn't answer. He grabbed Jim's shoulder and nodded toward the unconscious man lying in the RV bed.
Together, they hauled him into the station.
By the time they got inside, the light was gone.
The sky turned to ink and the chilling laughter had begun.
...
Monte was on his second trip, lugging a duffel bag full of supplies, when the first of them appeared down the street.
Faint silhouettes with smiles too wide for human faces. Their laughter was faint but carried like nails on glass.
Kenny froze. "Oh, shit."
Monte dropped the bag, pulled a rifle free, and raised it. "Get inside!"
The rifle cracked once, twice, three times. Each shot echoing like thunder as bullets tore into one of the creatures, staggering it but not stopping it.
The thing stalked towards them, its grin twisting, gray dust falling as the holes knitted together almost instantly.
"Goddamn it," Monte hissed. "Still not enough."
Kenny grabbed the last bag and bolted up the steps. Monte fired another burst, covering them until the door slammed shut.
Inside, the Matthews family huddled close together, trembling as Boyd locked the heavy deadbolt.
Monte stood near the window, rifle still warm in his hands, heart slowly calming. The laughter outside grew louder as the creatures circled the building.
Jim spoke first, voice tight. "What the hell are those things? You shot one and it didn't even slow it down!"
Boyd glanced back at him. "Calm down. We're safe in here."
Tabitha's voice shook. "How can you possibly know that?"
Kenny, catching his breath, pointed toward the door. "See the carved stone by the door, we call them Talismans. Keeps them out."
Julie and Ethan were pressed close together, their faces pale in the lamplight. Monte lowered the rifle, his shoulders heavy.
He muttered. "I need a drink."
...
He walked to a side, crouching down beside one of the liquor cases he and Kenny had brought in.
Monte thought for a moment before he pulled out an old bottle of whiskey, the glass dusty, label half-faded.
He twisted the cork free and took a long, slow inhale. Then he tilted his head back and gulped.
The burn hit hard and fast, spreading warmth through the pain. "That's the stuff," he said softly. He limped over to the couch and sat down with a soft groan.
Tabitha, Julie, and Ethan drifted toward him, sitting on the worn couch nearby. Jim and Boyd stayed by the door, speaking quietly with Kenny.
Monte offered the bottle to Tabitha. "You look like you could use it."
She shook her head politely. "No, thank you."
Julie reached out and took it before her mother could stop her. She took a quick sip, coughed hard, then handed it back, ignoring Tabitha's glare.
Monte smirked. 'Guess she's older than she looks.'
He tilted his head back and drank again. For a few moments, the room was quiet. Just the low hum of fear and the clink of Monte ring tapping the bottle in his hand.
Tabitha hugged Ethan close, whispering words of comfort to the boy.
Then came the knock.
Slow. Deliberate. Too gentle to be human.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Ethan squirmed out of his mother's arms, curious. "Who's there?" he whispered, stepping toward the window.
Monte was up in an instant, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and pulling him back. "Whoa there, champ. Not a good idea."
He glanced toward the window and saw her. The same creature from the crash, her nurse uniform no longer stained with blood.
Her face pressed against the glass, smile stretched to the point of madness.
Monte clenched his jaw. "What do you want, fuckface?"
He looked back at Tabitha. "Sorry."
She gave a shaky wave, almost smiling despite the terror.
The creature's voice came soft and sing-song. "I just want to play…"
Monte's eyes hardened. "Sorry, no soliciting. Try the next town."
He yanked the blinds shut. The laughter outside turned sharp and cruel.
Kenny exhaled nervously. "Should we really be provoking them?"
Monte shrugged. "Got nothing else to do. Might as well get my money's worth in stress relief."
Kenny frowned. "That what those shots were earlier?"
Monte shook his head. "That was me testing their limits. Seeing what makes them flinch."
Boyd stepped forward, crossing his arms. "Shotguns make 'em stumble, but not much more."
Monte nodded, thinking. "Ever try fire?"
Kenny snorted. "They shrug off bullets, man. What's fire gonna do?"
Monte took another swig of whiskey. "Don't know. But I like to check all the boxes before I die."
He plopped down on the couch again with a groan. "Anyway, we got food? I'm starving."
Boyd sighed, rubbing his temple. "You change gears faster than anyone I've ever met." He turned toward the others. "How's everyone holding up?"
The Matthews family didn't answer. They looked shell-shocked, clinging to each other as if the walls themselves might vanish.
Boyd gestured to Kenny, and the two slipped into the next room to prepare something warm.
The silence after they left felt almost sacred. Just the ticking of an old clock and the faint scratching outside.
Tabitha looked over at Monte, studying him. The badge. The tattoos. The whiskey bottle in his hand. "Are you really a cop?"
Monte paused mid-swig, eyeing her over the bottle's rim. "Take a guess."
Ethan piped up immediately. "Yes!"
Monte grinned. "Smart kid."
Julie crossed her arms. "You're a little young to be a cop."
Monte smirked. "Twenty-five. Old enough to make bad decisions legally."
Jim reappeared from the doorway, raising an eyebrow. "Where'd you serve?"
Monte shrugged. "Here and there. You can ask Sara tomorrow, she's got all the gossip."
He leaned back on the couch, setting the bottle down beside him. The whiskey buzz was kicking in, his pain dulled, eyelids heavy.
Before anyone could say more, Monte rolled onto his side and was out cold, asleep within seconds.
Tabitha sighed softly. "He's… nice," she said, half to herself.
Ethan smiled. "I think so too."
Julie smirked. "He's interesting."
Jim and Tabitha spoke in unison, "Don't."
Julie rolled her eyes and went back to entertaining Ethan, making the little Gus and Tiggles puppets dance under the dim light.
The faint laughter of monsters echoing from outside.