Who could have foreseen what evil would transpire down in the quiet, unassuming town of Clearview?
I quickly followed the multitude of fire-trucks in my little blue convertible, leaving the poor survey lady abandoned on the doorstep with clipboard still in hand. There was no time for mild manner making nor honouring the tired rigmarole of common courtesy. It was a time for action, or at least, a time to watch the action unfold behind rows upon rows of yellow police tape.
With heart pumping and head pounding, I entered the fray…
The congregation of curious onlookers had grown mighty large by the time I arrived on scene. So much so, that I had little option but to park my vehicle some distance away and traverse the rest of the route on foot. There were people everywhere you looked. From the outer reaches of the gathering, to the inner sanctum of the bustling crowd. I saw frightened people, crazed people, people moving frantically between a large open-plan gas station and the entrance to the forest. And the cops on scene were just as riled, too.
There they stood with perturbed looks upon their faces, each flaunting their weapons nervously in their attempts to hold back the mob. I swiftly sidled up behind a row of parked up police cars where two young officers could be overheard speaking in hushed tones. Neither of them appeared to notice me as I made my approach. They seemed to be under the impression that there was no one within ear-shot…
“This is bad…” one spoke cautiously to the other.
“I know…” replied the younger, more naive looking of the two, “…but the fire squad have just arrived. I’m sure they’ll see to the flames in no time.”
The first police officer held one hand on his belt and peered around tentatively to see if anyone was listening in. All the while I stayed crouched upon the side-walk, my ears straining to make out what they were saying.
“It’s not the fire that worries me…” he said.
“No?”
“No…” the officer remarked, shaking his head solemnly.
“Then what?”
“Follow me…” he spoke guardedly, grabbing his partner by the arm, “…I’ll show you, you’ll see.”
And with that they were off, disappearing back among the horde of curious spectators as I followed in their footsteps.
Much of the fire had already subsided by the time I drew closer. The blaze had been tended to by the Clearview Fire Department, who hoisted their hoses through the crowd and pushed idle bystanders aside in cutthroat fashion. Local news crews and reporters, meanwhile, struggled to unload their cameras and capture the chaos at the front of the gathering. A feeling of panic remained rife among the people.
It felt like half the town had come out to see the show unfold…
“Everybody, please settle down…” I heard a loud voice call out ahead of me, “…everybody take two steps back!”
It was Officer Dirkdale, booming out loud in characteristic fashion.
He had been joined by an accompaniment of his most loyal officers, including none other than Officer Powell; the slick-haired sidekick who had taken great pleasure in arresting me back at Crosby’s Bar. I watched on as each individual officer held onto their weapons with twitching eyes and itchy trigger fingers. The cops strode forward and guarded the entrance to the forest with everything they had, ready to fire if necessary.
Yet, despite the irrefutable sense of danger taking place, despite the growing unease all around, and the thick clouds of anxiety pouring in from every angle, something still felt decisively offbeat about the whole affair. The crowd was too large, and the emergency response too numerous, for this to merely be the result of a simple town fire. There had to be something else at play. Something worthy of getting all the local townsfolk so riled up, and so downright agitated in their frenzied repose…
…and that dear reader, is when I finally saw the body.
Sprawled out like a rag doll in the dirt-road clearing up ahead, the broken corpse lay bare and undisturbed. As I edged closer I noticed his contorted form. The rainbow coloured bruises stood out in dramatic fashion all over his skin, as well as the pool of warm red liquid emanating just beneath the man’s badly battered skull. For once the rain had failed to wash it all away. The former owner of the body lay still as a gang of frenetic flies hovered above his eye-lids. He had been so cruelly beaten, his limbs so viciously besieged, it was a near impossible task to tell just who it was beneath all the blood and the bruises.
“Please!” cried Officer Dirkdale, a look of anguish in his eyes as he glanced down at the helpless cadaver, “…everybody just take another step back, right now! Make way for my forensics team, will ya!? They’ll be here any minute…”
As Dirkdale and his officers sought about covering the poor man with a hastily gathered sheet, news would eventually trickle through regarding the identity of the deceased. Turns out he was an elderly gentleman. Someone who paid his taxes on time, looked after the grandkids on the weekends, presumably, and seemingly never harmed as much as a common housefly in his entire life. The old-timer was even said to have volunteered at the nearby gas-station from time to time, helping out whenever he could.
Yet now, abandoned in the dirt with the last of his precious life so brutally beaten out of him, he was dead. A vicious and unprovoked attack with fatal ramifications.
“Let it be known…” Dirkdale shouted, gesticulating for his team to gather around the corpse and further obscure the view of the crowd, “…that the Clearview Police Department will do everything in our power to locate the suspected evil-doer behind this attack, and bring his rawhide to justice!”
His words were met without the desired effect. Drawing only a chorus of jeers and heckles from his rather unsympathetic audience, Dirkdale grimaced and lit himself a cigarette...
“It’s not good enough!” called out one of many angry voices.
“We already know who did this!” cried another from the safety of the group, “…why don’t you go back in there and find him already!?”
The chief of police stood firm with confident authority, keen not to let any of ‘his people’ get the better of him.
“Now listen…” Dirkdale spoke, this time with a more commanding tone, “…we must not act without due diligence. Proper protocol must be observed! Whoever did this is most likely armed, and most certainly dangerous. They are not to be taken lightly, do you hear me!?”
Suddenly I felt the rush of bodies grinding up against me. We had been reduced to lowly livestock all hustling in amongst one another. Feeling each other’s sweat. Anticipating the sense of panic as it soared from one person to the next.
The slicked-back Officer Powell quickly took a stand beside his boss like the loyal lapdog he was, protecting the red-faced chief from the onslaught of taunts aimed in their direction. Soon all the officers had tightened in around Dirkdale, their weapons ready and waiting at their sides.
“Is that it!?” spoke a young woman directly behind me, with a voice so shrill it nearly knocked me off my feet, “…is that all you have to say!? You’re supposed to be the one in charge here!”
Officer Dirkdale spat back in anger, “…what’s that supposed to mean!?”
“It means you’re wasting time!” the young lady responded, moving like a madwoman with fire in her eyes, “…take your men and go back in there, back into the forest before it’s too late!”
“That’s not how it’s gonna work, missy…”
But Dirkdale’s patronising sentiment had once again fallen upon deaf ears. People all around began to observe the girl as she took measures into her own, unauthorised, hands. She barged her way to the front of the crowd with a certain desperation, manoeuvring herself over the barrier…
Moments later she was advancing towards the nearest patrolman. The girl wasted little time in lunging for the small side-arm pistol residing upon his belt, cursing emphatically and thrashing her arms with all manner of wild unpredictability. Her ill-conceived attempts were abruptly foiled, however, as a rogue elbow soon rose from behind her and plunged sharply into the back of her head. By the time the assailant had regained her footing, Dirkdale’s cronies had already pinned her down and begun applying the cuffs in the usual fashion. All the while the trees stood over the growing commotion, watching on under a thick blanket of woe.
“Now…” the Clearview police chief proceeded, speaking over the young girl’s outcries of injustice as they hauled her off into the nearest squad car, “…none of us know exactly what happened here today. None of us know what we’re dealing with yet. If somebody here happens to have seen what took place this morning, then please, step forward now…”
Nobody said a word. They were still reeling from what had just happened to the young girl who had unsuccessfully challenged the might of the Clearview Police Force. The air was thick with a no-nonsense type of tension.
“No…?” spoke Dirkdale mockingly, cupping his hand to his ear in a show of defiance, “…no one got anything to say now?”
“…”
“…that’s what I thought,” he said.
Alas, some faint rustling had emerged from the group of people to my left. Then came the sound of mounting footfall, followed by a rush of muted whispers from all around...
Officer Dirkdale slowly narrowed his gaze and squinted out ahead, his ruddy features frowning under the tainted sky. It seemed a brand new face had been presented before him; this time a skinny kid with perfectly spherical spectacles balanced on the ridge of his nose. He seemed out of place within the crowd of curious townsfolk, with his oversized clothes and stiff blonde fringe flapping awkwardly in the wind.
It was almost as if he wasn’t meant to be there…
“Speak!” cried Dirkdale angrily, disappointed that someone had indeed stepped up to meet his challenge, “…you there, you claim to have witnessed what took place here this morning!?”
The young kid nodded his head.
“And you saw what the attacker looked like!?” Dirkdale reiterated, “…you saw what they were wearing? Whether or not the attacker was alone!?”
Again the boy nodded silently, looking decisively ill at ease as the seconds dragged on. His round glasses almost slipped off his face as he stood there, struggling to reapply them smoothly with all the other onlookers feverishly watching on.
“Spit it out then!” Dirkdale bellowed, stomping his feet like a petulant child, “…say what you have to say so we can get back to work already!”
The kid stepped forward one final time, his brow sweating and his hands shaking almost uncontrollably. As he readied himself to deliver his all-important comeback, in a voice that felt more akin to a blind baby bird rather than that of a young man, the crowd behind him hung collectively to his every word. In all my years working the streets back in the Big City, and in the time I had spent in Clearview thus far, I had never witnessed a moment quite like the one currently presented before me…
“It’s the Wolfman…” the boy said,
“…he's back!”
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