Breaking Eden - (rough draft)

1- Officer Hamlin (4/20/2019 Edit)

The windshield wipers came to a stop, making it nearly impossible to see past the flooded glass. He squinted into the darkness, trying unsuccessfully to make sense of everything beyond the muddled headlights then he fell back against his seat in frustration.

Get a hold of yourself, old man. Your Goddamn eyes are playing tricks on ya. Ain't nothin' out there but you and the road. Nothin' to be afraid of. He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. And whatever the hell that thing was.

A flash of white skin and dark hair dashed briefly through the beams of dim light. This time he did see it. He saw all of it.

His high-pitched cry echoed into the night. "Oh, dear God! What the fuck is going on?"

With shaking hands, officer Hamlin drew his gun and squinted out into the darkness. He almost dared that thing to show itself again.

But nothing came.

There was only rainfall, the car, and a terrified old man who was one-year shy of retiring unless he dropped dead of a heart attack tonight. He scanned the road with narrowed eyes, then turned toward the gaping passenger side windows.

Inky black stared back at him.

Where are you? A creeping tightness grew in his chest. All clear.

He fumbled blindly for the handset radio and brought it to his mouth.

Licking his lips, he tried to steady his breathing.

"This is officer Hamlin. I got a bit of a situation here." He considered requesting a new pair of pants since he'd just about shit himself but didn't. There was a long stretch of static then a husky voice filled the silence.

"Hit another deer, Hamlin?" The woman drew out his name, laughing.

"No Doris, I didn't hit another deer." He mimicked her thick Boston accent almost perfectly.

"Ya got to work on them sounds a little, Asshole." She rebuffed. "What's ya position? I'll see if we can get someone out to collect ya."

"I'm on the corner of who gives a shit and I don't fuckin' know." He tried to recall the last sign he passed on the highway but for the life of him he couldn't. Was it Riverton or Cadence?

"You kiss ya wife with that filthy mouth?"

"I'd kiss her every Goddamn night if I could. God rest her soul."

"Christ, Hamlin." A momentary silence settled between the two. "How long?"

Hamlin cleared his throat before pressing the button to speak. "Been almost a year now."

In four days, at exactly 6:34 am, it'd be one full year since she left me. And no, the pain never stops. It's there when I wake up and there when I go to sleep.

In the end, Hamlin's wife was bed bound and delirious, pumped full of enough drugs to kill a horse, yet barely enough to ease her pain during those final days. Cancer was a bitch like that. It eroded flesh and bone, leaving nothing but death and decay in its wake. It knew nothing of race or gender because, to it, everyone was enough.

"Are ya still there Hamlin?"

He dragged the back of an old, sun spotted hand across his cheeks and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I'm here." He sighed. "Anyway, I'm a little outside of Cadence, I think. Maybe ten miles. Somethin' came outta the trees. I swerved to miss it, but I must have hit an oil patch because I skidded into-"

Something slammed into his door, rocking the car against the trees.

"Holy shit!" A hot circle of urine spread through the front of his pants.

"Hamlin! What happened? What's the matta?" Doris' voice hardened. "Ya answer me God dammit. Ya answer me right now!"

Hamlin's eyes widened at the sight of the pale being outside his window. His heart pounded as he tried to catch his breath. Breathe ya old son of a bitch. Breathe or you're gonna die on this road!

He brought the radio to his mouth, his voice hoarse as he gasped for air.

"Doris. I'm gonna need an ambulance." He rubbed his tightening chest and squeezed his eyes shut as pain racked his body. "Make that two. I think I'm havin' a heart attack."

He struggled to breathe through the pain. The radio slipped from his tingling fingers and fell against his thigh before slipping to the floor.

The pale form stood outside his door, staring at him.

It was a woman. A naked one at that, with feral eyes and matted, rain-soaked hair. Her dirty hands pressed against the glass.

She tried to speak. Her quivering lips worked to form words that would never come. Instead, when she opened her mouth, a scream filled the silence.   

Words:1,347 

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