Duskwood

10.

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON D.C.

"You need to work with us, here, Ms. Davis."
The man sat across the metal table from her, hands tapping against a yellow file, pictures spread across the shiny metal in formation.
She looked down at her wrists, cuffed to the loop where she sat. Leg shaking terribly, her hair falling over her eyes as her head was held in a downward position.

"We found you...screaming, running along the side of that old route, you were covered in blood."

Blood.

She lifted her head to the word, eyes adorned with dark circles as she stared at the two men across the way, one was leaned back in his seat with a pen hanging off his index and middle finger. He draped his arm over the back of the chair, watching her with a stern look of impatience.

"Where am I?" She asked.
The man sighed, reaching his fingertips out to push pictures in her direction.
He cleared his throat, "Can you tell us what happened to this man?"
Her eyes lowered to the picture, a crime scene of a male with his throat slit, blood everywhere, eyes blown open in shock.
Blonde hair stuck stained with the red color.

"Harlan..." She whispered under her breath.
The man with the impatient look spoke this time.
"Yeah," He muttered in a deep tone, "Harlan Walker." He shifted in the chair, cold eyes continuing to watch her.
"What...what happened to him?" Her voice shook and shivered, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
The man who passed her the picture drew in a breath. "We were hoping you could tell us, Ms. Davis."
He licked his lips, "He's been a missing person's case for over five months, family reported he went to a party with some friends off that route for a camping trip and never returned."
She looked up at the man. "He's dead?"
"Yeah, he is." He nodded his head.

She swallowed the thick lump in her throat. "I didn't kill anybody."
"I'm not saying you did...but you were covered in blood, Ms. Davis, when we found you. Do you remember anything? Anything at all that could help us understand?"

She closed her eyes, a flash of images, an ear piercing scream, blood and knives...shaking limbs and screeches of terror. And then she saw him those cold eyes lurking in the shadows, those hooved feet gathering at the ground, claws reaching for her and a smile that sent chills down her spine.

Her eyes snapped open, she leaned forward quickly with shaking breaths on her words. "It was him...he did this, he's making you think I'm crazy...I'm not crazy."
"Who?" The man watched her with careful eyes.
Her wrists were sore and red from the cuffs as she strained against them, "He killed them all...he did this, he's making you think I'm crazy, that I'm a killer. I'm not a killer...I'm not crazy."
The other man cleared his throat. "Your boyfriend? Mr. Campbell?"

She nearly froze in her chair, breathing hitched on her lungs as she choked on her own words. "He did this...I watched him."
"You watched him do what, exactly, Ms. Davis?"
"I watched him kill them all...he killed all those people in that-that town he made us stop in...did you go to the town? Did you see what he did?"
The man began to flip through the papers inside the file and hummed, "Mm...that town you spoke about, you mean...Duskwood, Ms. Davis?" He asked.
She nodded her head quickly, "Yes...we-we stopped there after we stopped at the gas station...we stayed...we were there."

The two men looked at one another and the other looked back at her again.

"Ms. Davis...Duskwood was burnt to the ground...over fifty years ago. There's nothing there but charred buildings."