Once I turned onto the main road to the town, it only took another fifteen minutes to arrive at the edge of town. I found a ghost town once I made it within the city limits. That much is clear. On this town's streets, a few cars parked at establishments, but no one was there. It felt as if something about the eeriness was out of place, yet the building and streets all seemed familiar. The more I thought about what was different, the more pain I felt in my forehead. A sixth sense rang like a dinner bell in my conscious mind, warning me that something unknown was out of place. The hairs on the back of my neck had been at attention since waking up. If I had just driven into Pineford, you could mistake it for some abandoned town. That's the feeling I had.
It was as if everyone had picked up and left at a moment's notice. When I reached the intersection of Main Street and Pleasant Street, I came to a stop. The light's red, but I stop as if nothing has changed. The traffic lights still worked, even though no one was on the roads but me. It's like a scene out of a horror movie. The sheriff's station and police station were on the right across the intersection. That's my first stop, for obvious reasons. After waking up to the reality of a pair of binary twin suns, everyone else would also come there. This four-lane highway circles the entire island mountain's base.
The trip would take as little as an hour during regular traffic. You can reach the crater mountains across Lake Ford by crossing Pleasant Street, one of the five primary bridges. One would think more worried citizens would be out looking for help. Most wouldn't stay put and wait for help, even if this was a disaster. I couldn't imagine how seeing four suns would alter their behavior. The lights on Pleasant Street turned yellow. I didn't wait for the light to change, so I quickly went across the intersection and into the station's parking lot into one of the empty parking spaces. Already, I knew this didn't look right.
On most days, you'll find several patrol cruisers parked at the station. At least twenty deputies were in the office at all times during the day, but they assigned only four to the night shift. This station should have both deputies and police officers coming and going. That didn't count the patrol cruisers already doing their rounds in the city and county beyond. Only the night shift patrol cruisers are missing. Four deputies are on duty at night around here, about the same as the local police. Whatever occurred happened between three-thirty in the morning and when I awoke.
"Thomas Hawthorne?" a female voice said.
I turn to see Mrs. Kathy Taylor, a middle-aged teacher and nurse. Once I saw her, she quickly came toward me. After seeing her, memories came rushing back into my mind. We grew up together until I moved to a bigger city before joining the military. Katy only lived next to our townhouse in Pineford. She was at the funeral that day and stood out. A widow now as her husband died some time ago. I hadn't seen her before the funeral for ten-plus years. I always remember her as the little kid next door. Her parents' cabin was on the south side of the mountain, only about a twenty-minute walk from our cabin. Growing up, she was a regular at our house. Now, she's a drop-dead gorgeous woman. Before standing before me, panting, she halfway ran across the street, her breast jiggling widely. Seeing her expression, she seemed to leave as soon as possible since the school was on the far north side of time. Whatever the case, it was the best thing to do when waking up to such an unimaginable nightmare. Kathy is an intelligent woman.
"I assume you are here for the same reason as me?" I asked.
Katy gave me a stern expression, tilting her head slightly.
"Yes, what is going on? she asked in the softest voice I've ever heard outside of my stepmother and sisters.
The moment I laid eyes on her after such a long time, I was rendered speechless, swept away by her captivating beauty that time had only served to enhance. Memories flooded back, each one a vivid reminder of our past. There she stood, a vision of grace and charm, her posture exuding a mix of impatience and anticipation as she waited for my response. The dainty woman, with her hands confidently placed on her hips, radiated an air of assertiveness that contrasted her delicate appearance.
Her hair, a striking shade of ginger, was intricately braided and draped elegantly over her left breast in a long ponytail. It shimmered subtly in the light, lending her an ethereal glow. Ms. Taylor's eyes, a stunning blue mirroring my own, sparkled with an intensity that was both mesmerizing and comforting. Her pale skin, almost porcelain-like in its smoothness, accentuated her angelic presence.
The contours of her face, an exquisite blend of soft oval and delicate triangular shapes, were highlighted by pronounced cheekbones that added to her elegant visage. Her eyes, small and slightly upturned, sparkled with a lively intelligence and warmth. The daintiness of her tiny button nose, coupled with her pouty, bowtie lips, imparted a youthful charm that belied her years. And those little ginger freckles, playfully scattered across her nose and cheeks, only served to amplify her youthful allure.
She was a petite figure, necessitating a slight upward tilt of her head to meet my gaze. It was akin to peering into the depths of the ocean, her deep azure eyes captivating and profound. The sprinkling of red freckles across her nose and cheeks added a playful, whimsical touch to her features. Despite nearing thirty, she carried an air of timeless beauty and vitality.
Her attire, meticulously chosen, accentuated her slender frame and curvaceous figure. She was clad in a blue pencil dress that hugged her form, gracefully outlining her long midsection, wide hips, and athletically toned legs. She stood just an inch or two taller than my sisters, yet her stature seemed accentuated by her poise and confidence. The blue dress blazer, unbuttoned, was a daring choice that subtly hinted at her voluptuous bosom and bounteous bottom while maintaining a sense of professional elegance. Her long neck transitioned seamlessly into delicately sculpted shoulders, blending strength with femininity.
In our town, she was often likened to a red-haired Barbie, a comparison that, while flattering, hardly did justice to her unique charm and presence. By day, she was the epitome of style and grace, never seen without her signature black or tan pantyhose and a pair of killer black heels, which she donned even now.
Her presence was a striking contrast to the surroundings. The way she carried herself, the confidence in her stance, and the depth in her eyes spoke volumes of her journey and the person she had become. There was a certain resilience about her, a strength that resonated in her demeanor and in the way she interacted with the world.
As I stood there, taking in the sight of her, a myriad of emotions coursed through me. Memories of our shared past, the moments we had spent together, and the journey that had led us to this point played like a montage in my mind. It was as if time had stood still, yet in her eyes, I could see the passage of years, each one adding to the depth of her character and the aura that she radiated.
She was not just a figure from my past but a testament to the enduring nature of beauty and strength. Her impact on me was profound, leaving me momentarily lost in thought, captivated by the woman she had become. It was in this moment of reflection that I realized how much she had influenced my life, shaping my perceptions and leaving an indelible mark on my heart.
Gathering my thoughts, I prepared to break the silence, to bridge the gap that time and distance had created. In her presence, I found a sense of familiarity and comfort, a connection that, despite the years apart, remained as strong as ever. It was a reunion of sorts, a rekindling of old bonds, and a new chapter waiting to be written in the story of our lives.
In that moment, two individuals shaped by time and experience, there was an unspoken understanding between us, a recognition of the journeys we had undertaken and the paths that had led us back to each other. It was a moment of reunion, of rediscovery, and a testament to the enduring bonds that connect us to those who have left a lasting impact on our lives.
Her questioning eyebrow expression brought me away from my admiration of her stunning beauty.
"Ah... Yeah... Don't have a clue...," I whispered. "Have you seen anyone else?" I asked.
"Just the girls at the high school," she revealed. "The seniors put on a sleepover for all the girls' extracurricular clubs from the high school and junior high last night," she said.
"How many adults?" I asked.
"Just a few coaches and a few of the younger female teachers. Some of the mothers of the students were there as well. I'd thought about attending myself, but I changed my mind at the last minute," Katy explained.
The school is a ten or thirty-five-minute drive from the cabin. I knew from talking with Kathy at the funeral that she now had a home near the high school. Her car sat idle across the street, but she must have gone to school first, then come here. I didn't see anyone on the way here. If there were other people, many might have gone to the local hospital. Maybe a few other places, too. Her being here didn't add up, either. A bad feeling crept up my spine. Those people at the school need to be safe. I went back to the car, where Sam was still waiting. Kathy followed me to the Jeep. I took out one of the extra short, ranged radios I brought just for this and handed it to her.
"Use this to communicate. Make sure you have extra radios in case another group meets you. Go back to the school and lock it up. Activate the lockdown protocol the school uses in case of an active shooter and move everyone to either the top floors or the basement. If you can cover all the exterior windows, do so, then securely lock all outer doors. Barricade yourselves and keep in touch," I explained.
"Oh my god, Thomas??? What is going on?" Kathy said, clearly concerned by my tone.
I gave her my two forty-five pistols and all the ammunition. Her dad taught her how to handle a weapon, so I knew she knew what to do. However, I wasn't about to leave her and those girls defenseless. So I went into the station to retrieve more weapons, following her close behind. As we round the corner, I hear a voice yell.
"Put your hands up now!" a female voice said. I did just that and waited. "Turn around, both of you!" she said.
We did what she asked as we both slowly began turning around. A young blonde-haired patrol officer and black-haired deputy sheriff aimed their sidearms at us.
"Hold on! We're just looking for the police or someone to help us!" Kathy squeaked.
"Yes, we came here for help?" I said, holding my arms up.
It only took them a moment to realize we were no threat after seeing our faces. Finally, they lowered their weapons, looking at one another.
"Sorry about that. You just scared the heck out of us. Gracie and I nearly shot you," she said.
"I'm Officer Evie Harper," the blonde officer said.
I didn't recognize their names or their faces, but then again, both were only a few years older than my sisters in appearance.
"No problem," Kathy said with a sigh of relief.