The Other Side

The Town That Cried Wolf (Ch. 1)

Joel snaps awake and sits up in his bed. His eyes immediately scan the room. The noise downstairs was certainly not part of a dream. No, whatever it was was enough to wake up old man Joel. And barely anything is loud enough to wake old man Joel.

He tosses his cover aside and stands up on his wooden floor. It is still completely dark outside. His alarm clock reads: 12:57 AM. The old man can't even remember the last time he woke up this late.

Joel was half-asleep when he heard it, but what came from downstairs sounded like some sort of crashing. The old man couldn't help but grin a little. If a couple of hoodlums came to rob him, they chose the wrong house.

After a couple of quiet steps as to not alert whoever may be in his home, Joel reaches his shelf full of old knick-knacks. He places his hands on the shelf and slowly pushes it forward. The noise it makes while dragging across the wooden floor could potentially alert the source of the noise, whatever it may be.

But Joel wasn't worried. In front of him is a hole he had made right after the initial purchase of this property in 1970. In it lies his formidable means of protection. A Winchester model 88. He grabs the dusty brown rifle and takes a brief moment to inspect it. His first and only love.

Another crash downstairs. This time it is unmistakable. It sounds like the whole kitchen area is being turned inside out. Gripping his rifle confidently, Joel inches towards the bedroom door. It's time to teach whoever has broken into his quiet home a lesson.

It makes sense for burglars to pick this house as a target. The surrounding area is comprised of nothing but a thick layer of trees. Exactly the reason the old man chose this house. To live a quiet life away from the city, only having to visit Newark when returning to work and shopping trips.

He begins creeping down the stairs, with each step slowly creaking. The old man swears under his breath after hearing some glass shattering. These burglars are going to get more than a warning shot. If anything valuable is broken, they might as well say goodbye to their kneecaps. After all, they're on private property. The miserable scoundrels will be lucky to leave with their lives.

Once he reaches the end of the stairs, he is now in the living room. The main source of the noise is coming from the kitchen area. In it, he can hear things being shattered and broken. One look at his surroundings throws Joel into a fit of rage.

The furniture is completely irreparable. The sofa looks to have been through a shredder, the shelf holding his hunting medals has completely fallen over, and his box TV looks to have had a fist through it. Whoever did this will receive much worse than Joel initially had in mind.

With the noise in the kitchen masking his footsteps anyways, Joel marches towards the door leading into it. He pushes through the already open door and aims his rifle at the source of the noise.

The weapon shakes in his hands. He takes a couple of steps back, his finger not ready to pull the trigger. He doesn't know what he's looking at because of the darkness completely shrouding it, but he knows it is something that crawled straight out of hell.

Then, a pair of red eyes turn to face him.

...

Tucker Winston has never enjoyed the taste of coffee. That doesn't stop him from taking a massive sip from the one-dollar cup he picked up from the gas station. After all, he is going to need it today just like he does any other day.

Tucker is an African American man. He has short black hair, brown eyes, and is wearing a formal dark blue suit.

He places the coffee back in the cupholder. It looks to be another cloudy day today in Newark, New Jersey. One of many. The sun rarely smiles on this boring town.