Sarah Benadine is Dead

Chapter XI, Part II

That night, if Shannon Malone and Robbie Edwards had been just two streets over they would've seen Officer Rudy Potts out on patrol. He and Huey Granado had drawn the short straws and been tasked with the night patrols. The first few nights had come up empty; not a single thing had been seen or heard, aside from a baby with lungs of steel screaming and crying at midnight one night. The winter chill made the patrols nasty business, and Rudy Potts spent much of the time trying to keep his hands and feet from freezing. He was sure there was a hole in one of his boots even though he hadn't been able to find it yet; every night his sock would be soaking wet and stuck to his foot. He could use a new pair of gloves too, if he was honest with himself.

It's probably better Shannon and Robbie never crossed his path; they would've certainly been in trouble for breaking the curfew, and that was not the half of it. No one could have known it, but the night patrols led Rudy Potts straight to his death.

Rudy Potts's biggest headache that night was the wind. Every few minutes he'd hear something that he thought meant trouble and turned out to be nothing more than a tree branch scratching against the side of a house or a loose shingle jumping around. He was not ashamed to admit he was jumpy. He knew all too well the things that had happened in town at night. The wind was making it worse, pushing his frayed nerves to their limits. He was glad for the moon and the streetlights because his flashlight cast a pitiful swirl no more than a few feet in front of him. He walked slowly, checking behind him with a frequency that was a bit ridiculous. The snow swirled around the sidewalk in front of him, shimmering in the moonlight.

He heard her before he saw her. He figured at first that it was just the wind playing tricks on him again. It was just a quiet noise, a low moan that could have been anything: the wind catching hold of a rusty chain or blowing through some sort of tube or opening. It got louder as he walked on and he realized it was certainly not the wind. Whatever was making that noise was alive. It got worse as it got louder, fierce and almost savage in its intensity. An idea formed in his head that it was some kind of wild animal. And then she came sprinting out from among a group of snow-covered bushes, moaning and weeping, and ran right into him.

The first thing he noticed was that she wasn't wearing any shoes. It shocked him; it was bitterly cold out, and she had nothing on her feet. Then he realized she had no coat, no gloves, no hat, not even a pair of pants. All she had on was a baggy flowery dress. He wondered how long she could have possibly been out in the cold like that.

He realized next that he dress was stained. All along the front in big patches, splotches, and circles were brown discolorations, some faded and some much newer. Shock ballooned in his chest as he realized it was blood.

She grabbed onto his arms desperately, digging blunt, dirty fingernails into the sleeves of his coat. She was still making that awful keening noise and she thrashed around as if she was trying to break free from him—though she was the one who held him. Her hair was brown and matted; her eyes were sunken and so dark they were almost black. The area around her mouth and chin was red but the rest of her appeared to be turning blue.

"Help me," she rasped, finally stopping that terrible wailing. Tear tracks stained her cheeks. "Oh god, help me, please."

"Settle down, now, darlin'," Rudy said, trying to ascertain if she had any wounds. He couldn't see anything, but the blood all down her dress was telling a different story. He was still working through his surprise, his mind trying to contextualize what was happening.

"Please, help me, help me," she whimpered, whipping her head every which way. Her eyes were manic.

"Just settle down, dear," Rudy said. "Tell me, are you hurt?"