Arden Bluff

Sheriff Ted Bonder sighed to himself as he poured a cup of coffee. He knew he didn't need it, but would drink it anyways; in a way, it was a sad testament to his life. Extra caffeine was the next to last thing that he needed.

The caramel brown liquid wafted its aroma into the thick muggy air of his office. The air conditioner had stopped working two days earlier, undoubtedly an unfortunate result of overuse due to the string of ninety-degree days that had settled over Arden Bluff. The machine had sputtered out a few wisps of cool air before wailing its death throes for all to hear.

Normally he would have welcomed such weather. He had grown up in northern Michigan, near Marquette, where anything above forty degrees was seen as something of a heat wave. But for some reason the warm weather in Arden Bluff didn't quite agree with him. It was more suffocating than comfortable.

Sweat trickled down his weathered face and pooled under his chin. When he had taken the job two months earlier he had no idea that the conditions would be, for lack of a better word, shitty.

Various cracks and pops echoed in the room when he stood up. His spine had a habit of doing that when it corrected itself. A long history of lower back problems had nestled itself securely in his life, an uninvited and unwanted guest who simply refused to leave.

It was just past nine-thirty in the morning in Arden Bluff. The sun was glowing bright in the clear sky, shining its warmth down on the town's empty streets. All in all, it was a picturesque landscape straight out of a John Constable or Gainsborough painting.

He stretched for a moment or two and sauntered over to the front window. Through the dirty glass he surveyed his new town, his new home.

It was like any other small, somewhat isolated city, surrounded by a cropping of steep ridges and narrow valleys, all winding through each other as if in a dream. And for this place it worked. It added a sense of flow to the town, smooth and unrelenting. It was clean. It was charming. It was comfortable, except of course for the stifling heat. But there was something else about it that he couldn't quite put his finger on, something mysterious, possibly even malevolent.

When he had first rolled through town and decided to stay for a while he had no idea that the townsfolk, an interesting group of characters to say the least, would persuade him to not only stay but to accept the job of town sheriff. It seemed that the previous one had dropped dead of a heart attack shortly before he had arrived. And since he was between jobs as it was he felt like he had little choice. And besides, he did have some previous experience in law enforcement.

The streets were quiet, only allowing the warm sunshine and a gentle mountain breeze to disrupt its solitude. The fact that there were no squirrels scampering up trees or birds flying through the air was not lost on him. In fact there weren't any people either. True, it was somewhat early in the morning, but not that early. There should have been some sign of life.

But there was none. The town was an empty shell, void of life or movement. All was quiet.

The sharp ringing of the telephone jarred Ted from his lonely thoughts. He turned towards it, perched on the edge of his desk, and reluctantly reached for it. He felt as if it were mocking him, offering empty promises of help, or at least communication with another person. He knew very well that it hadn't been working for quite some time, nearly a week by his estimation, and the fact that it was now ringing was cause for alarm. He walked over to it and violently yanked the cord from the wall.

But the ringing continued, both in the room and in his head, a contradiction to sanity. He tried to block it out, but without much luck. It was relentless.

"Sheriff? Sheriff Bonder?"

A scruffy, shabbily dressed teenager stood in the doorway. He was holding a sweating bottle of bright red soda pop and sporting a look of such innocence that Ted was suspicious of his intent.

"Can I help you?" He was surprised with himself at how tired he was of saying those words.

The young man hesitated for a moment and then entered the room. He approached the desk and gently set his bottle of soda down on it. Appearing nervous and uncomfortable, he looked around the room, almost as if he expected someone to jump out at him.

"I know you're new in town and all, and I hate to bother ya with stuff already, but I have a problem. One that really needs your attention."

As he spoke his obviously unwashed hair fell down over his eyes a few times.

"Ya see my pa likes his whiskey, so much so that he spends all of his money on it. Buys the stuff by the truckload."

Ted leaned back on his chair. "So your dad's an alcoholic. It's a bad thing but not illegal, as long as he don't drive while drunk that is."

"I know, I know," the boy continued while eyeing the room nervously. "But when he gets drunk he gets real mean." He then proceeded to lift his yellowed t-shirt to reveal a startling collage of bruises that decorated his torso. He looked up for a reaction. "You should see my ma. She usually gets it worse than me."

Hesitancy laced Ted's voice. "Domestic violence. Most authorities tend to look the other way in family matters like that." He waited for a response.

"So you won't do anything about it?" The fear and frustration in his voice was loud and clear. "Nothing at all?"

"Now now, just relax a bit young man. What's your name?"

"Spinder. Josh Spinder, sir."

"Fine Mr. Spinder. I'll look into it." He glanced over at the phone. "I'll see what I can do."

The boy smiled, revealing half rotten teeth. "Thanks sheriff. Here's where I live." He jotted down his address on a scrap of paper and set it down next to his bottle of soda. "Please come over soon sheriff. Me and my ma are real scared."

Sheriff Bonder smiled back at him as he picked up the paper. "I'll be by later today."

Josh walked out without another word. He quickly left the building, leaving behind a strong impact on Ted's conscience, as well as his bottle of soda.

"Hey wait a minute," Ted called out. "You left your ..."

But the young man was gone. Ted went to the door and looked down the street, but there was no sign of the boy. Puzzled, he went back to his coffee.

 

Ted felt weak with exhaustion. His throat was restricted with thirst, swollen and dry, and his head ached far beyond any hangover he ever had experienced. The arid heat of Arden Bluff had firmly settled over the town again, suffocating all within its grip. But this heat was worse than any before because it brought with it a warning. It promised something was going to happen, something big and most likely unpleasant. And Ted knew it all too well.

Nearly two days had passed since Josh had visited his office. He felt a connection to the young man, unlike anything he had experienced before, but couldn't explain it. But it was there. Perhaps Josh truly needed help. Maybe Josh was trapped just like he was, searching for any way out he could, but unable to escape, possibly due to his alcoholic father.

A heavy remorse settled over Ted's conscience. He wished he had visited Josh's house. Maybe he would have been able to save him. Maybe.

The phone ringing shattered the silence. It joined forces with the hunger and thirst that had been attacking Ted for the last couple of days, slowly draining his strength and will to live. It wanted him to answer it, to make some sort of connection to the town. Then God only knows what would happen to him. He knew he must do something or he would surely die.

He abruptly stood up from his desk and stumbled over to the door, kicking the discarded phone for good measure. If he simply made a run for it he might just be able to make it, assuming of course that he was able to avoid the townsfolk. Steadying his nerves the best he could he prepared to sprint out into the streets of Arden Bluff. Any fate would be better than simply rotting away in his office, he reasoned with himself. Anything would be preferable to simply waiting for death to come knocking on his front door.

And then he stopped dead in his tracks. Disturbing memories floated into his mind, ones that he was certain he didn't want to experience again. Memories of what had happened when he had left his office to visit Josh's house two days earlier. Memories of what had happened when he had tried to leave his office that same night, attempting to escape under the cloak of night. The things in the town had nearly cornered him, and he had barely managed to make it back to his office. For some reason they couldn't go there, stopping just short of the building. Glaring at him from the street with multi-colored eyes harboring unfathomable hatred and evil.

Fear and self-preservation prevented him from taking another step. Beaten and weary, he slumped back into his chair. The clock on the wall ticked away its countdown to his death as he looked around his rubbish-strewn office for the hundredth time. Debris littered every corner. A sarcastic smile slid across his face.

"Haven't had time to clean the place up," he mused to the empty room. "Haven't gotten round to it yet."

The phone was still ringing, only louder than it was before. Its shrill tone pierced his thoughts, thinning his already fragile state of mind.

"Shut the hell up!" he shouted to the inanimate object. "I'm not falling for your damn tricks anymore. Do you hear me?"

Almost as if responding to his words the phone stopped ringing, leaving the room in unsettling silence.

His new job, his new fate, weighed heavily on his shoulders. If only he would have known. If only he wouldn't have stopped in town. If only he would have seen the signs. If only. It seemed his life was full of if onlys, with one sliding into another.

Without a second thought he jumped up out of his chair and went to the front window again. He leaned forward, almost touching the ice-cold glass with his nose. Still no sign of Josh. The streets lay outstretched before him, empty except for the silent warning they issued. He didn't dare step foot outside. He knew what might happen if he did.

"What do you people want from me?" he shouted through the glass. "Why won't you let me leave?"

The people that began to form in the streets of Arden Bluff glared at him with hunger. They were hungry, all of them, and were intent on not letting their prey escape. They rose gradually, but rapidly, from the cracked pavement of the road. Within seconds the streets were littered with hundreds of them.

A hard lump formed in Ted's throat when he began to recognize some the creatures. Mr. Worthy, the cashier at the town market who had told him about his sick mother in Buffalo. Ms. Yasmin, the attractive young teller at the local bank who had offered to help him set up his checking account. And old man Thompson, who ran the local garage.

A smile formed on Sheriff Bonder's face when he recalled the old man camped out on the front porch of the garage. He seemed perfectly harmless then, friendly and polite with a full of head of chalk-white hair.

But not now. Now he was deformed, twisted in unnatural and seemingly painful ways. He grinned impossibly wide, yielding an enormous set of jagged fangs.

Evil radiated from him, a malicious mockery of a human, cold and distant. He shivered despite the oppressive heat, as the townsfolk looked at him like a pack of wolves surrounding a wounded animal.

Ted searched the group for Josh but didn't see him anywhere. Only fierce, hungry expressions leered back at him. Could the townspeople get to him if he stayed inside his office? Apparently he was safe there, or at least he had been so far. For some reason they stayed away from his office. He retreated away from the window back to his desk.

Outside, the people's increasing numbers were advancing on the building. Scores of the twisted things slithered onward, occasionally bumping into one another, but always moving forward, arms dangling, mouths open.

Ted fell back into his chair, as the cold realization of what was happening, of what the people in the street really were, sapped what little strength he had.

They weren't human. They were all a part of Arden Bluf ... literally. The town itself was a living thing, a creature that expanded itself as it fed, engulfing its surroundings, spreading like a cancer. Ted concluded that his office must be a small part that hadn't been consumed yet, perhaps because it was some sort of sacred spot. Or maybe it simply was an area that didn't taste good. But regardless of the reason, he was still trapped.

The phone started ringing again, attempting to lure him into answering it. The cord lay on the floor where he had left it, but it still pulsed with energy. It wanted him to answer it, to make a connection to the outside world ... or to allow the outside world to make a connection to him. But he wouldn't let that happen, at least not while he had blood flowing through his veins. He stood up and swatted the phone against the wall, where its ringing continued uninterrupted.

And then he noticed Josh staring at him through the front window. His head pulsed with unnatural movement, several large boils oozing a greenish substance, and his elliptical eyes glowed with hatred.

"Sheriff? Sheriff Ted Bonder? I see you." His deformed head titled to one side as if studying Ted. "You were supposed to come out to my house ... ya know, to help me and my ma." A new arm sprouted out of his back and flailed high above his head. "You were supposed to come out of there. You should've come to my house."

The sudden realization that Josh was not a young boy who was in need of help stung Ted like a thousand needles. He had believed him. And now the truth was plain to see in all of its deformed glory.

Ted sat down behind his desk, a weary and defeated man. All he had believed in had been shattered right before his very eyes. Everything that had made sense in the world to him, destroyed in a violent and frightening contradiction to sanity. He wasn't sure exactly what his fate would be but he knew it wouldn't be pretty. The things outside his office attested to that fact.

"At least you bastards can't get me in here!" he shouted to the frustrated faces in the windows. "I'd rather rot away from starvation than let you monsters get a hold of me!"

The creatures hissed in anger.

Ted looked at Josh and noticed a slight hint of joy on his sickening features. There was no mistaking it. There, between the festering boils and glowing eyes was a look that concealed a secret. The look froze Ted's spine in place with its promise of victory, of impending domination.

Ted fondled his useless gun and wondered if he ought to use it on himself. Suicide was not a courageous way to go but considering his predicament it seemed like a good way out.

And then he noticed Josh smiling. It was a crooked grin, uneven and twisted, but what really made it unsettling was the direction he was looking in, the side of Ted's desk, or more accurately the wastebasket on the side of the desk. Leaning over Ted peered into the trashcan. There, under various papers and discarded wrappings was the soda bottle that Josh had left that day when he came to Ted for help. Ted had tossed it out when he had cleaned his office up and didn't give it a second thought.

And there was still some red liquid in it.

It churned and bubbled with an otherworldly ferocity. Ted watched in horror as the fluid slid up the sides of the bottle, spilled out of it and began to crawl up out of the wastebasket.

It moved rapidly, slithering along the floor like a snake, making its way to the front window. The fluid slid up over the glass, coating it completely as the creatures howled in excitement.

There was nothing Ted could do but watch as the glass melted away before his eyes, removing the last barrier between him and Arden Bluff.  ◊