I wanted to be a police officer since as far back as I can think. I had a lot of time to myself growing up, yeah. I watched all the cop shows, again and again, yeah, the old shows, when a good cop was always a good cop. When you knew you could trust a badge, right, yeah? You knew before the half-hour was up they’d get the guy…out of the basement. So that was my goal, plain and simple. I was single-minded about it. You ask anyone and they’ll say: “Ayuh, that Andy, he sure is single-minded.” Now, I wasn’t what you call a straight-A student, but I got there. I got there. And when Sheriff Bannerman swore me on as deputy, gave me my badge, hehe, I’d been up all night ironing this shirt, it was crisper than you’d believe. Well, uh, that day I was just as happy as a clam at high tide.
Sure chokes me up seeing Main Street all done up in buntings and so empty. The kids loved that Halloween parade, you know? Then they’d all bus on up Bangor way for the haunted hayrides, ever since our local amusement park closed down. There were troubles…it was before my time. Still, what town doesn’t’t have a little trouble, with cultists? There was that repeat killer, I wouldn’t say a “serial” killer. But he came from the mainland. And that mess with the college kids at the old hunting cabin. Bears, we reckoned. Jeez, when it’s all laid out like that it does sound pretty bad, huh? This right now is definitely the worst we’ve ever had, though. This is the real storm of the century. If we push on through it, I am not looking forward to taking a shovel to the streets after.
Oh, I knew everyone in Kingsmouth. “A safe community isn’t a spectator sport,” I memorized that one. And Sheriff Bannerman preferred to have me walking the beat, while she handled house calls. That suited me just fine. Our folks were a good bunch. They only cause of ruckus when they’ve had too much of the, uh, you-know-what. But recently I got talking to Sandy… That guy is pretty philosophical. You wouldn’t know it to look at him! I mean, I don’t personally have a problem with bikers. I’d like a motorcycle myself. Anyhoo, he made me really consider it, you know, whether you really ever knew a person. I told him how in second grade, I met Anna Redman behind the gym every day for two months. We would hold hands, I thought I knew her pretty good. She left town all of a sudden one day. Halloween. Jeez, always Halloween.
Mom bought the kittens and dad drowned ’em. That’s the facts of it. I don’t like speculating much. That’s one step away from guessing, and Sheriff, she taught me never to guess. Mom’s version was that Dad loved things too much. Got a bit crazy sometimes. Hugged real hard. Didn’t always wanna let go. The morning he stuffed ’em in a bag and took ’em out to sea, he was full of too much feelings. Didn’t know what to do with them. He took ’em down to Journey’s End, out behind the bed and breakfast. It’s where the journey ended. Jeez, Dad always wore these masks, you know? For the longest time you figure you know someone. Most of the time, really, we got no idea.
Elm Street Blues
Deputy Andy Gardener is afraid the town will be completely overrun by monsters unless someone steps up and helps contain the undead invasion of Kingsmouth.
Fascinating. The "draug" are an ancient Nordic variety of undead, and they appear to have dominion over the unliving locals. There are indeed primitive records of Nordic involvement in Kingsmouth. Tales of Vikings passed down as whispers rather than recorded history. We will follow up on the historical links. What we need from you are further observations regarding draug activity along the shore. We are particularly interested in their capacity to direct the local attacks.
Andy has a theory about the sea monsters, and how to potentially slow their advance. Kill draug and destroy their pods to find out if he’s onto something.
This is excellent work. The reproductive instinct of any creature offers a wide window into its nature. To this point, the Draug have generally been discreet. However, mass breeding on a populated shore suggests a marked change of philosophy. Either dwindling numbers have forced them into the open, or these are the front-lines of an organised invasion. For now, let us assume all possibilities are true. 01388A546-1