Inanimate (41 page)

The station felt quiet when
Oates entered. Dora sat at the fr
ont desk, watching him intently. Lynch had
already filled her in to what was happening.

“
Dora, why haven’t you left
yet?”

“
I didn’t
know if I should. Deputy Lynch said I
should wait and see what you said.”

The full weight of Lynch’s words were
heavy on Dora.

“
I don’t see why you
shouldn’t. The only
reason you’d be in danger is if you stayed here. All the targets
are already here safe and sound.”

Dora quietly
nodded, accepting his words.
Packing up her things she quietly got ready to leave.

“
Good luck
Stacey…” the old woman said
quietly as she headed out the front door.

As she left Oates couldn’t help but
appreciate her. Not least because she spoke his first name in a
high regard instead of the usual subtle mocking others did. She had
been with him for many years, always an asset to the station. For a
moment he wondered if that were the last time she would see him
alive. He wondered if he would actually make it out of this.
Gritting his teeth he pushed those thoughts from his mind. Now was
not the time for self-doubt and he knew it.

Oates
walked into the main hall, keeping an
eye on Dora through the windows as she headed into the car park. He
stood beside Lynch who was doing the same thing.

“
What
have you gotten done
Deputy?”

“
I made sure Tony was alright
downstairs, and then I went to
the roof and pulled up the escape ladder. I
checked the windows on the first floor...”

Relaxation settled in as they watched
Dora’s car reverse out its spot and pull up to the car park exit
onto the road.

“
...then I made sure everything
downstairs was
...”

A harsh revving sound killed off Lynch’s
words. Dora’s car rapidly accelerated forward for about thirty feet
before slamming hard into a large Oak tree on a grassy knoll across
from the station. Chestnuts fell in rapid numbers, pelting the
roof. Lynch automatically stepped forward, as if he was about to
run out and help her but Oates placed a restraining hand on his
stomach without taking his eyes off the vehicle.

“
Wait!”
said Oates quietly.

They
watched as the back door on Dora’s
car creaked open, then the two small dummies jumped out. The
dummies pushed each other for a minute before heading over to the
station car park, just off to the side of the building.

“
Can they get in here?” Oates
said quietly as none of the others heard the collision.

“
No”
said Lynch equally as quiet “I made
sure all the doors were locked on ground level. The windows are
good too. Sheriff we should go see if she’s still alive…” Lynch
said impatiently.

“
Dorrian
, when have these things ever left
someone alive? Besides, there could be more of them out there. Lock
the door.”

Oates
gestured to the door to the main
room. Lynch didn’t move right away, he couldn’t believe the Sheriff
would just leave her out there without even checking to see if she
was still alive.

“
Lock the door
deputy
!”

Lynch
stood his ground, holding eyes with
Oates.

“
Look, I know this is hard but if
we go out there now we risk exposing ourselves, and our priority
right now is the people who are alive in this room. Dora’s
gone
deputy!”

Lynch
breath trembled as he relented,
heading over to lock the door as Oates stepped forward, took one
last looked at the car and closed the blinds.

“
Ok listen up
everybody!”

As Oates
scanned the room he noticed Anne and
Jessica were the only females; his thoughts then drifted to his
wife. He never really thought of her until now. MacNamee’s wife was
killed and Dr. Crass was staying in town to protect his, but it
never even occurred to him to protect his own Bella. Deeper
resentment came to the surface in an instant. If she was worried
about him she would have asked him to stay at home at least once,
instead of sleeping so much. Perhaps she may have even called to
make sure he was alright. But this was not the case, so he decided
to do nothing to help her and let the chips fall where they may.
This was his cause now, protecting these people from this blight.
As far as he was concerned, his wife left him a long time
ago.

The room
was roughly divided in two with
MacNamee, Jacobs, Murdoch and Graham on his left and the two girls
with Brian and Matthew on his right.

“
Everything
is locked down” Oates said. “All
the doors, windows and entrances have been sealed. We have many
fire doors around the building that cannot be opened from the
outside, but they can from the inside. So if at any point from here
on out we have to get out, those doors are our best options. Any
questions?”

“
What exactly
are we all supposed to be doing
here?” Anne asked impatiently.

“
We’re holing up here; these
things
will
want to come for us, and when they do we should at least be
protected.”

Lynch
said stepping into line beside the
Sheriff, trying to show solidarity.

“
But I thought the plan was to
destroy them? How
are we going to do that if we won’t let them
in?”

“
They’ll get in”
interrupted MacNamee
“They’ll find a way; we just need to be ready for them.”

The group
was silent for a long while, all
thinking about MacNamee’s ominous statement. Jessica held Betsy
tight.

CHAPTER 36

Frieda left the hospital early
today. He had been waiting for either Crass or MacNamee to call but
they never did. It was true that Crass
never said he definitely would call,
but Frieda would have really appreciated it if he did. Alone in his
condo, even the beautiful city view did not comfort him. The large
living area with the leather couches didn’t comfort him, nor did
his large television. Frieda’s materialism was deep rooted, he
thought living beyond his means would make him feel like he was a
more successful person, and it did to an extent. That was until
Connor Williams came along and framed his failings for him. Up
until that point he was happy living in personal ignorance. Now,
all these expensive things simply served to remind him he had no
one to share them with. Lying back on his plush black leather sofa
he took a long drag of his cigarette. As he blew nonchalantly up,
the grey smoke fluttered around him. He sat up and leaned forward
as his head floated in nicotine. Rubbing his eyes with his palms he
took the last drag and it was a big one. His neck felt stiff.
Holding the smoke in his lungs he closed his eyes, rolled his head
and tilted back his neck. Slowly, he opened his eyes wide and blew
out a thick plume. The smoke hit against something transparent. He
watched in shock as the rising wisps pressed against a large
creature’s face, making an outline clearly visible. The smoke
accentuated the contours of a strong jawline, complete with large
teeth and a growling face. For only a second, the complete face was
in view in the smoke, but it was the deep growl that accompanied it
that told Frieda
it
was real
it
was alive and
it
was watching him. He pushed back hard against the couch.
When he reached the back of it he pushed with his feet and used his
arms to climb over, away from the sight. He stood in silence,
watching the last of the smoke disperse but there was nothing there
anymore. Nothing ominous. Nothing monstrous.
Nothing at
all
. After
more silence he decided he was imagining things; attributing what
he saw to a lack of sleep. Slapping his head gently he thought out
loud, reassuring himself he was alone.

“
No Paul No. No, no,
no!”

With a rub of eyes he walked
towards the view from his window. He had chosen this condo
principally for the view of Downtown. Being able to observe the
city from a safe distance made him feel at ease. When he was buying
the place, the realtor told him
“the ladies will love the view.”
But this had no
impact on his decision. He had never had a lady back there who
wasn’t his mother. Placing his head against the cool glass window,
he rested his arms above him, using the large double ply pane to
support his body’s weight. His apartment was quiet, only the
faintest sounds could be heard from his balcony door; slightly ajar
in the warm evening. Closing his eyes tight, he tried to push his
fears out of his head, but it was no use. After a minute of trying
he gave up, deciding he needed a drink. Slowly he opened his eyes.
Connor stood in front of him of the balcony. For a second Frieda
didn’t register what he was seeing, but after that second he went
pale. Connor just stood in front of him, through the glass,
staring. Frieda was speechless. Connor’s face broke into a devilish
grin and that was about all the doctor could handle. Sharply, he
turned to run for the door but was stopped by another sight. This
sight repelled him to the floor as quick as it had repelled him
over the back of the couch.

Dixie was back. And this time he
wasn’t transparent. Looming over him, the great beast blew out
condensation thicker than
the smoke from thousand of Frieda’s cigarettes.
Frieda wanted to move, he wanted to flee but he couldn’t. Instead
he sat, leaning on his hands, jaw agape, staring at the colossal
creature before him.

“
D..d..don’t kill me” Frieda
begged.

Dixie simply stood there, his expression
remained grim. With a lumbering step the creature bent down towards
the doctor and inhaled deeply. Frieda’ mix of sweat and tears was
covering his clothes now. Without standing back up, the creature
lifted its eyes to meet Connor’s. With a shake of his head the boy
signaled not to go any further. Frieda did not know what was
happening; he could not see Connor’s instructions to the creature.
With a grunt, Dixie slowly stood up, looking down, snarling at the
petrified Frieda while he did. Dixie stood watching the doctor
before gradually turning to smoke right before his eyes. Wisps of
grey eroded the powerful beast until there was nothing left but a
dissipating grey trail.

Frieda’s breathing
remained heavy until
Dixie disappeared and for a few minutes after until he checked that
Connor was not behind him. Once again he was alone in the apartment
and he knew it. Left to simmer in his own self-pity he started to
feel something else. Anger. Connor had shone a spotlight on the
fact that his peers didn’t respect him. Now, he was proving just
how weak and vulnerable he was in his own home. Paul Frieda made no
conscious decision there and then to get mad, it just happened.
Initially he fought the feeling. He had been fighting it for years.
Whenever he had been mocked or spoken down to or belittled in any
way he had fought the urge to say anything and up until now he had
won. Now is the time he would lose. His head shook, though he
couldn’t understand why. His fists involuntarily clenched and
tightened. His breathing slowed. Then all at once it happened.
Springing to his feet, he started venting years of anger on
everything he could find. A marble table against the wall held
numerous pictures of Frieda with his family. The fact that there
were no pictures of good friends or perhaps a girlfriend was enough
to provoke an attack on the memory-holding frames. With a wild
sweep, he flung every one of them of them across the room, slamming
them into his glass balcony doors. As they collided with the glass,
one chip became three, which became a large crack in the once
pristine glass. Normally, his reaction to broken objects was to
promptly clean them up. That was the smart thing. But this wasn’t
normal, and (he suddenly realized) smashing things felt good.
Despite his anger, excited eyes scanned the room for something else
to destroy. A vase, quite large on the coffee table by the couch
was his next target. Trotting round in front of it he swept it hard
just as he did the picture frames. The meticulously clean table
offered nothing the block the vase’s path as it flew sideways,
slamming hard but safely onto the leather armchair. This killed his
excitement, making way for more anger.

“
What kind of man can’t even be
angry properly? I can’t even smash a…god dammed vase!”

His rage spurred him to lift the tinted
blue, sunflower holder with both hands and bring it down hard onto
his shiny wooden floor. This was a huge release. This was the
closest he had felt to being in control for years and he did now
want to stop. He found himself moving round his condo looking for
things to destroy. Moving up the size scale from ashtrays to mugs
to blenders to paintings, nothing was safe. With two hands he
grabbed his glass balcony door and swung it hard, inwards towards
the city, shattering the large pane inside of it. With a glance he
moved back into the living room. He picked up all four of his
remotes. He could easily have had a universal remote for his
television, DVD player, stereo and surround sound system but he
didn’t. He had all four sitting side by side so that when people
came over they would know he had such expensive luxuries. Now, each
served as yet another reminder that no one ever came over except
his parents so now; each became a missile being hurled at his
large, expensive 3D television. One after another he hurled the
remotes at the sixty-two inch behemoth glaring out across the room,
each time causing a giant, web like crack on the screen while
simultaneously releasing his grip on his possessions and his
current life as he once knew it.