The Hunting Grounds

Chapter five

   Yale hadn't changed his clothes or washed his skin and it felt as if Margaret's crimson blood was seeping into his flesh. He felt tired and lost. It might have been easy for Alexander to stomach the reality that Charlie was now some monster instead of a corpse, but not him. He had just laid him to rest.

  The sheriff crossed the street, ignoring the onlookers who gawked and gasped at his bloody appearance. He was on his way to talk to mayor Finch; the only one who could call a town hall meeting.

 Yale wondered if he could really sell this to people. That the creature that had attacked them was some sort of supernatural monster, according to a book left on a table in the company of a dead woman. Maybe in a few days he thought, when the bile had slipped back down his throat and back down into his stomach. But they didn't have a few days, and the hardest part wouldn't be convincing them the monsters were real, instead it would be getting them to part with their silver. He needed help with that.

  Mayor Finch was an outsider. A businessman from New York who had managed to get Cedar Creek's residents to buy his crap. He'd been elected on promises of prosperity. Somehow, without delivering on those promises, he'd managed to keep his job.

  Yale hoped he could help him sell this too.

  The mayor's office looked as bland as the rest of the town. It was a square shaped building with a sign painted in white saying MAYOR.

 The inside was different. In contrast to the austerity of the town around it, the inside of the office was a picture of luxury and over indulgence. Oil paintings hung on the wall in extravagant frames with little angel and cherub heads carved into them. There were green chairs and a comfortable looking plush couch. Finch himself was sitting behind an over sized oak desk that itself was twice the size of the one Yale had in his office.

 The mayor was puffing away on a fat cigar and the smoke was clinging to the air. It sucked the air from Yale's lungs and he waved his hand in front of his nose. Even as a smoker himself, Yale found the amount of smoke in the air repulsive.

  Finch looked panicked. His face was pale and he was puffing on the cigar like a creature who could only breathe smoke. Every breath he took was tinged with cigar smoke and he released it from his nostrils like a dragon. On his desk was a pearl gripped pistol. The scared little man had started to reach for it when Yale had walked in.

  "What the hell is going on out there sheriff? What in the..." his eyes widened when he saw Margaret's blood on Yale's clothes.

  "We have a lot to discuss mayor" said Yale.

 It was snowing again. Night had crept closer to town, but the street lamps chased away the darkness with their amber glow.

 Finch had called a town hall meeting, but since town hall wasn't nearly big enough to gather everyone, they gathered in the church. The only other building big enough was the saloon, but Yale wanted everyone to be sober for this. Now, as he stood before them, looking into their confused eyes, he wondered if it would have been easier to pry the silver from their intoxicated hands.

   Finch was standing next to him, piping away on another cigar. Alexander Gates and the rest of the deputies were there too.

  The crowd was murmuring in one collective voice. They were scared, curious, and looking for answers. Yale hoped they would accept the ones he gave them

  "Alright, settle down. Settle down everyone" said Finch.

  The crowd started to quiet down. A couple hundred glass marbles looked to Yale.