It continues throughout the town, as though they have cameras in every family room of every home. People practically leap from their seats when their faces flash across the TV screen.
I remember the day when everyone said their doors were found open, but nothing but some mirrors were taken.
The mirrors are still a mystery, but it’s clear now why those doors were open. Jake planted cameras while families slept in the next room, completely unaware.
The screen continues to cycle from one home to the next, and the sheriff continues to panic more and more.
“Sundown,” the voice says again as the shadowed, hooded figure comes into view once more. “Or the monster comes for you.”
Suddenly, the shadow disappears as the figure jerks toward the screen, revealing the face… Well, the mask.
The mask is a mirror, reflecting nothing in particular, but sending a message all the same. In other words, the person you see in the reflection is the mirror.
“The monster who comes is no worse than the monsters who deserve to die. Pick a side. Pick it now.”
The screen cuts to Belker Street. The sign is in the background, but the focal point is the large amounts of blood on the asphalt. My eyes narrow on what looks like a set of wings imprinted in the blood, where Marcus was, and my mind goes back to the message written about angels on that first day.
“You let them die. Now save yourselves. While you still can.”
The screen goes blank again, and white noise fills the air. A deputy flips several channels, but every one is the exact same.
“Did you hear all that?” I ask Collins, stepping back outside as Leonard and Donny stare at a TV blankly.
“I heard. But you still have to come back. There’s nothing I can do. Just hurry back so we can clear this up, and then hopefully this will all backfire on them in time for you to get back and stop this.”
I look around at all the furious faces, including the sheriff who is having a temper tantrum, kicking feet and swearing, placing blame on blameless men who obviously didn’t help Jake hack into the station.
“Fine. I’m on my way.”
I hang up and walk over to Donny and Leonard. “We have to go if we’re going to get back before sunset.”
“Are they calling anyone in?” Donny asks as he turns to face me.
My eyes flit around. “They won’t ask for help if they’re intent on sending us away. This investigation is about to turn into a shit-storm. Johnson and Cannon are too busy hiding their crimes of the past to protect their future. Let’s go.”
Leonard doesn’t speak, but I know what he’s thinking. I just had to watch my girlfriend getting raped. It’s all I can do not to kill every-fucking-body wearing a deputy badge right now. Not to mention the sheriff.
I’ve never once thought of killing someone as a desire. I’ve never blurred that line.
That’s not the case at the moment.
I hope she fucking kills every last person with a badge who didn’t come to save her when she was left to bleed out.
Chapter 11
They say miracles are past.
—William Shakespeare
LANA
Twenty minutes after the broadcast, people were fleeing town. Just as predicted, Logan and his team are already gone. The video will find them soon—the same video we just shared with the entire fucked up town.
Our original plan was to have Jake handle that little fun part, but it’d be easier to have someone inside the FBI to do it.
“At least they’re fleeing,” Jake says as we watch from the distance, our eyes on the phone screen that has the sheriff all but imploding.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sheriff Cannon barks, slapping his hand on the driver’s side window of a car.
The man cracks the window an inch. “I’m getting my family out of this damn town before you drag us all to hell for what you’ve done.”
My lips twitch. They’re abandoning their captain.
“Looks like they’re more scared of us than the sheriff now,” Jake gloats. “Finally standing up to him.”
“By comparison, the sheriff now seems insignificant to a monster who sees all, hears all, and knows all.”
“It’s just one fucking person! Stay and defend this town!” the sheriff snaps to the guy.
We knew they’d abandon him. They’ve heard it all, but until today, they’ve never seen it.
Jake nudges me with his elbow, and I look at his phone’s screen which is diagonal from the sheriff’s location. On the back of the old gym’s wall, a message appears as though Jake timed this all too perfectly.
One person cannot change the world. But one person can strike terror into multitudes.
—Robert Evans
The man in the car sees the message, probably thinking something supernatural is going on, giving the timeliness of the message’s appearance. He gasses the car, driving away from the sheriff, and almost sideswiping another vehicle in the process.
“Find that fucker now!” the sheriff barks, giving up his endeavor of stopping the rats who are fleeing the sinking ship.
“Heat signatures have a flurry of motion right now, but we still need to up the game if we’re going to get everyone out,” Jake says as more and more messages start to appear throughout the town.
With everyone distracted with Logan’s team and our little special broadcast, we ran around town, hurriedly painting the messages with the faster paint. Jake painted some last night with the slower paint.
I’m still wearing my damn harness from all the drop-downs I did to paint the messages high, making them as visible as possible.
You can do a lot in forty minutes when you have a plan and a goal.
On the church, a massive message appears.
Any demon is capable of cruelty, but only an angel is majestic enough to rain down vengeance for the innocent.
—Marcus Evans
Jake smirks as people running by stumble over their own feet, seeing that message appear like magic. They were actually inside the church when I painted that earlier.
Jake swipes his screen, letting me see the newest one appear on the side of the school.
Little eyes see. Little eyes learn. Be a good example for all the little eyes watching you. They’re everywhere.
—Jasmine Evans
Out of context and written in red paint, that message is creepy.
More people panic, more people abandon the town, taking only the essentials before locking their families in the car. I even see some people sprinkling salt in their vehicles as though it’ll keep the devil away during their trip ahead.
I flip my screen, letting Jake look on with me as another message appears on the side of the town hall.
The wicked can fake nobility, just as the damned can fake innocence. But only the truth will rise from the ashes when we all start to burn.
—Victoria Evans
More panic. More fleeing.
Jake pops up his app, showing me all the heat signatures still in town.
“Turn on the broadcasting system and cut screens to all the chaos; show the messages too.”
He smirks, and he starts doing just that, streaming the footage live through the channel. I love hearing the sheriff demand that station be cut off. We’ve already taken all precautions to halt that action. Well, Jake has. I’m an idiot with tech stuff.