A Fighter's Story

Chapter 13 (1/3): Grief

Each breath you take in frigid temperatures causes a thin cloud of steam to form from your mouth. The natural heat of your body colliding with nature's personal freezer causing a wonderful display to be formed from their unison. When he was a child he would marvel at the simple sciences of life. Now he wished he could return to those simple times.

The soft chime of the front doorbell tingling brought him back to reality. That choking sensation caused by the smoke clogging up his lungs as he stared up into the sky. It felt like his days had turned to night and nights his day. The midnight oil burning ever so constantly as he fought against the urge to sleep. He still had work to do.

"Otto!" His scraggly chin turned to her, that green goofball he had been forced to take on as his subordinate. She had dark black bags under her eyes, but her irises were on high alert. "Wanna hear the wrap-up?"

A simple nod was all the response she needed. As she rushed back inside, he took his time, stomping out his cigarette and meandering back into the facility. Within those safe walls, he relaxed himself a little. A few officers were talking at the front desk. Conversations of unfinished reports and recent events taking over the table. The mention of Otto's current quarry took a jab at his soul, but he had no time to stress.

He made his way through the main lobby to the employee area. A few officers could be seen sitting at tiny cubicles, filling out reports and signing odd documents as they prepared to turn in. His own cubicle could be seen in the far-right corner, directly ahead of the ceiling-high window. A mess of papers scattered across his desk and some binders sitting in his seat. Just ahead was the neat little square that Shotzi reported to. He hoped he could be on the force long enough to see her space devolve into insanity much like everyone else.

As he made his way deeper into the building, he naturally paused to observe the woman sitting silently on a bench. Her head lowered and her body sulking as she fiddled with a strange bracelet in her hand. From the glowing red hair she had atop her head, he assumed she was related to Colt.

Part of him wanted to comfort her, but there was nothing he could say that would help. He chose to silently disappear behind the door. A new sense of life graced this room. Though the overwhelming dread tried to choke out any remaining scraps of hope these four walls contained.

A few voices could be heard emanating through the walls. He followed the sounds until he came to Captain Wesley's office. A small group of officers were loitering inside, leaning against the walls and taking seats where they could as the Captain spoke up. He noticed Otto make his entrance, straightening his blue button-up and rubbing his ruff cut of hair. "Bismartin. Good, we were just wrapping up."

He waved him forward to observe the desk. Scattered across the wooden top were several pictures and case files from within the dunes. The pictures that stood out to him were an overturned squad car in the middle of the desert and a strange figure seen moving through the streets at night. He took the picture of the vehicle but something about that creature seemed oddly familiar.

"Focus up men," Wesley turned to Shotzi, "and ladies. We don't have much time. If this gets out to the public it may cause panic."

"The public?!" one of the officers spoke up. "Who gives a damn about the public, what about the criminals?"

"Yeah when word gets out that the sheriff is missing, they're gonna go into a frenzy." Otto hissed at the mention of the sheriff. To think, that was his squad car they found turned over in the dunes. And the additional mangled hood didn't sit well in his stomach.

More officers voiced their frustrations. Any semblance of order the room had was absorbed by the chaos. Otto just looked through the images, trying to see if he noticed anything. There was an image of a jeep that was reported as stolen on the night of the disturbance. They found a hole in the gas tank alongside a blood-stained interior. It was assumed that the sheriff must have been pursuing the drivers, but the whereabouts of either party were still a mystery.