The Canavar

Chapter 17: The News is Out

Officer Corbin glanced out the window from his office. Half a dozen news vans sat parked on the little strip that was considered the downtown part of the town. Not surprising to him, the reporters had responded faster than the government to the news. Reporters clogged the streets, sticking a microphone in front of anybody they could find. It seemed there were more microphones than residents of the town on the street. But he had only allowed one reporter into his office.

Across from his office, the county sheriff stood outside his car. "He can't possibly know anything about what's going on down on Helle's Island," Corbin said. "But look at him sucking it up." Two reporters had microphones stuck up to the sheriff's chin.

"Not jealous, are you?" Scottie sipped from her glass.

Corbin shook his head. "Nah. Just disgusted is all. He's probably thinking ahead to the next election and can't pass up the opportunity to appear in the news. Never too early to get in front of voters, I guess."

At least the sheriff standing there kept the other reporters from rapping on his door again. He had locked it and resisted talking to the media so far. He opened the bottom left drawer of his desk and pulled out the bottle there. He poured a second drink for himself and refilled Scottie's glass.

"So how did you get started writing for that paper" Corbin asked.

"My ex left me, but not any money, so I was working paycheck to paycheck bagging groceries. I had done a little writing in college, and so I wrote a piece and submitted it to the paper –"

"The Veridicus Press?"

"Yeah, Anyway, I don't think more than the first three paragraphs was real. I just made up the rest, but they accepted the piece and asked if I would be willing to submit more. I've been writing for them now for over twenty years, but ... ah ..." Scottie chuckled. "I just told you my age."

"I don't care. What college did you go to?"

Scottie smiled. "Sievers College, but I didn't finish. Which is why I was bagging groceries at the time. What about you? Ever married?"

"Nah. Never found the right connection."

A car marked Iowa State Patrol pulled in front of his office. He sighed and closed the drawer. It was time to go out into the circus, although he had no intention of being the ringmaster.

He set the rest of his drink in the drawer and closed it. "You better sneak out the back. I don't want to be seen as playing favorites."

Scottie laughed, but she allowed him to show her the back door.

By the time he got outside, the two state patrolmen from the car had crossed the street and said something to the sheriff. The sheriff frowned and pointed at Corbin. Meanwhile two reporters dashed toward him and stuck microphones into his face.

"There are reports from people that a giant worm-like monster is terrorizing your town," one of the reporters said. "What is being done to counter this terror?"

Corbin gently pushed the microphones away. "No comment at this time."

"Police Chief Charles Corbin?" one of the patrolmen asked for confirmation as he strode toward Corbin.

"Yeah, that would be me," Corbin replied.

"Can you tell us what all this baloney is about?" The patrolman's nametag said Schmidt.

"Perhaps you should drive down to Helle's Island and check out the baloney yourself." Corbin stared without blinking at the man.

"What kind of response is that?" Schmidt scowled.

"You're the one who asked about the baloney," Corbin replied.

Patrolman Schmidt squinted at him. "Have you been drinking?"

Corbin stared back at Schmidt and scowled. "I know not all state patrol officers can't be so freaking stupid."

The second officer stepped forward between them. Corbin read her name badge as Jones. She said, "What my partner here meant to ask is what is going on down there?"

Corbin took in a deep breath and sighed. "A monster. We have some dang monster from Hell down there."

"A monster from Hell's Center," Schmidt chuckled. "This is good." He chuckled.

Jones kept a serious face. "And this ... this monster looks like a giant worm?"

Schmidt gave out another little chuckle.

"When I saw it, it looked like a house."

"A house?" Jones raised her eyebrows.

Schmidt laughed. "You really have been drinking, haven't you?"

Corbin ignored him. "Yeah, a house that whipped out a rope-like vine and pulled people inside. A few of the townspeople here decided to burn it down. They said it hopped into the river."

"The house hopped?" Jones' eyebrows seemed to go up even higher while Schmidt sniggered.

Corbin ignored Schmidt. "That's what the people who were down there at the time said. After a few hours, it came back out of the river but in the shape of a giant worm. People said it looked like a giant bag of clear blue gel."

"Oh, this just gets better and better," Schmidt said.

"And you've seen this monster?" Jones asked.

"Not since it has morphed. When I saw it, it still looked like a house."

"Well, we should probably go check this out," Jones said. "Don't you think?" She stared at her partner who still snickered.

"Nobody's checking out anything on that island," said a tall black man, dressed in a dark suit and tie, who approached from behind the patrol officers. The man's chin was chiseled, and his body appeared trim and fit. Corbin thought the man looked sort of like a young Will Smith.

Schmidt pivoted. "And you are?"

The man flipped out a badge. "Agent Johnson of the FBI. I'm in charge here for now."

"You got here quick," Corbin noted. "What – did you fly into Des Moines?"

"Drove up from the Moline office," the agent replied.

"Since when are Feds interested in local pranks?" Schmidt smirked.

The agent stared at Schmidt. "Since when is it funny that people may have died?"

Schmidt's shoulders slunk as he glanced at his partner for support.

The agent still stared at Schmidt. "My understanding is that over fifty people, including the mayor, have seen this creature. I doubt the mayor of this fine town is trying to pull a prank on the FBI."

"Yeah, well, of course not," Schmidt stammered. "So you believe the place is haunted?"

"The FBI is not commenting on what it may or may not be at this time. Only that something peculiar and dangerous is happening here."

"What do you mean you're in charge for now?" Jones asked.

"Orders from the President. I'm in charge until General Brand arrives in the morning. Once he's here, this becomes a military operation under his command. Until then, no one is to go near that place. I have two agents on their way there now. They will be posted at the entrance with orders to shoot anyone who tries to get past them. Understood?"

Schmidt no longer laughed. "Wait! Thee president?"

Agent Johnson stared back. "Do we have more than one?" After a moment when it became clear the troopers were taken aback by the news, the agent asked, "Don't you two have something better to do like pull over some motorists?" He then turned toward Corbin. "Now who around here has been closest to this monster?"

Corbin grimaced. "Ah. That would be a couple of kids."

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