Fire at Dusk: Part 19

After some persuading, Jim finally set the shotgun onto the ground beside the chair he was sitting in. The blood began to flow back into his knuckles restoring some of the color to them.

“Alright Jim,” said the sheriff. “Why don't you tell us what happened.”

Jim sighed and reached into his pocket for a smoke. His hands shook as he grasped the cigarette and placed it to his mouth. He lit it and took a long drag.

“Well... There I was watchin' TV when Dick woke up. He started clamorin' for you Jessie.” Jim said looking over to Jessie. His eyes were met with Jessie's cold, cracked eyes. He redirected his gaze to his hand which rested on his leg, the smoke from the cigarette twisting its way toward the ceiling. “So I tells him yer out with the sheriff and deputy cause, uh, of well you know, Parker. Next thing I know he's pacin' around and drivin' me up a wall. I's like 'Dick, chill out man', and he tells me he can't find his weed,” Jim paused to take another long drag off his cigarette. Ash formed at the end of the cigarette as the cherry crawled its way up toward the filter.

“So I tells him you took his pot, sheriff. Well he gets all pissy that I didn't stop you and storms outta the cabin,” Jim said turning his head in the direction of the sheriff.

“The next thing I know hes yellin' like a maniac, real crazy shit like 'Oh god it's got me!'. So I go and grab the gun. I come runnin' out here and see somethin' out the front door. I didn't get a good look at it, but it was huge. I think... I think it was glowin'. Next thing I know the gun goes off tearing that hole in the frame,” Jim pointed at the front door, the cigarette clasped between his pointer and middle fingers. “That creature... it looks me straight in the eyes I turn off the light and dive behind the corner to reload.” Jim rubbed out the the stub of the cigarette in the ashtray, then proceeded to pull out another and light it. There was complete silence as he took several more drags off of it.

“What happened next Jim?” said Deputy Smith.

Jim hung his head, gazing his feet. “I just sat there... I... I couldn't move.”

Jessie sprang to her feet and slapped Jim across the face, “You let him die! How could you just- sit and let him die!” As she took another swing at him, the deputy grabbed a hold of her and dragged her to another room. Jessie's screams morphed into sobs as the door closed behind them.

Jim sat on the couch, his head bowed. The room was silent except for the sound of the sheriff's shoes as he paced across the floor.

“Boy you've either lost your mind or you think I'm stupid,” scoffed the sheriff. “I don't know what yer tryin' to pull here, but there ain't no glowing creatures out there gobblin' up yer friends like a Sunday mornin' buffet.”

Jim looked up at the sheriff, mouth agape.

The sheriff looked at Roger. “Tell the deputy after she gets your friend calmed down that I'm bringing Jimmy here down to the station,” The sheriff picked up his beer then grabbed Jim by the collar and dragged him to his feet and pushed him out the door. “We ain't had nobody murdered in two years, and you somehow managed to knock off two in one night.” The door slammed shut behind the sheriff.