Last we left off, sister Selma had dropped the young Milton boy, Karl, off at the hospital where he told the local authorities his accounts of the events. The officer who happened to be on duty at the time, this small town only having three officers and a sheriff, just happened to be the town sheriff, who, just like the Miltons, was not from this small town. No one knew his real name and no one bothered to ask, it was looked down upon to pry in another man's life, especially one he had left behind. Everyone just called him J. R. and later, sheriff.
Now, J. R., as we will call him, did not believe in the supernatural one bit. In fact, he would go out of his way to prove that such things do not exist. He wasn't a religious man either, he did believe there was a God, but he swore he would rather die before he ever stepped foot in a church.
J. R.'s tune carried over to his daughter, who was J. R.'s only living relative, but we will get to her story later, for now, J. R. is talking to the young Karl about the events that took place at the Miltons home. As always, J. R. had his doubts and wanted to disprove the young boy's story. He left the hospital, leaving the boy in the hands of one of his officers, and went to the house himself and, let me tell you dear reader, he was beyond baffled.
J. R. had entered the home expecting to be greeted by either the family or a gruesome scene but instead found an empty house. There were no bloodstains, no bodies, hell, even the furniture was missing. It appeared as though the Miltons had just up and left leaving behind their youngest boy.
Well, that doesn't seem right. J. R. thought as he moved through the house, searching for any sign of life. He knew that if the Miltons had moved, he would have seen the moving trucks, there being only one way in and out of this town, yet here he stood in an empty house that looked as though no one had lived there for weeks. He would have been fine if there was bloodstains, a body, or signs of a struggle, but this, a house he knew was occupied the day before now looking as though no one has lived in for weeks? J. R. couldn't help but feel a chill creep up his spine as he slowly exited the house.
He started to wonder if maybe he had been wrong until he remembered that Karl's pa had worked for farmer Douglas as a farm hand. He made a quick stop by the Douglas farm and spoke with him. Now Mr. Douglas was an American Indian and showed it, he and his family was one of the few that could trace their family heritage back to before this town was even called a town. His family had lived on the same patch of property for many generations, rarely marrying outside of their race or tribe, this being an old Indian reserve, and Douglas and his son was the last of his tribe, or at least the last that had yet to move away.
The farm only housed the two men, who much preferred it that way, and rarely left the farm, or so Douglas believed. You see, Douglas boy, Carter was a teen and so he did what most boys his age did. He would leave in the middle of the night and meet with his friends and, on occasions, a young girl or two he met at the public school.
J. R. couldn't count how many times he drove the boy home after catching him out past curfew, only to never tell his pa. J. R. always felt that boys should be boys just as girls should be girls, and if this meant they were sneaking out past curfew, well, he would just round them up, give them a stern talking to and send them on their way. There was never any reason to tell their parents unless they were caught doing something they shouldn't.
As J. R. approaching the house in the morning hours of the day, the sun a couple of hours away from rising, he noticed Douglas checking his boy's room. Now, just because J. R. never said anything to the parents, they all knew what was going on and appreciated what J. R. did for them, so the fact that Douglas had checked Carter's room before greeting him made J. R. chuckle.
His chuckle ended abruptly as Douglas greeted him at the door and he remembered what he came for. "Mornin' Douglas." J. R. said as he crossed the porch with his hand outstretched. "Sorry to bug ya so early in the mornin', I just need to confirm something."
Douglas took J. R.'s hand and nodded. The farmer knew this must be a serious matter if the sheriff came to his farm at this time and it was about anything other than his son. "Come on in, sheriff." He said as he turned towards the door leading the sheriff inside. "I was just about to put on a pot of coffee, why don't you join me."
J. R. inclined his head and followed the old farmer inside, taking his hat off as he crossed the threshold. "I'd appreciate it. It's been one hell of a night and coffee sounds perfect right about now."
Douglas smiled and waved for J. R. to take a seat at the kitchen table. "I'll be back with the coffee, would you like cream or sugar in yours, sheriff?" Douglas stood in the doorway that led to the old kitchen, smells wafted through the air that reminded him of the old farmer's wife. She had passed away some years prior, leaving this old farmer alone with a small boy. The memories drifted in and back out so quickly, J. R. Found himself wondering if they were even there.
"Black with two spoons of sugar, please." J. R. Rushed to say as he noticed the old farmer staring down at him.
Douglas smiled and nodded approvingly before disappearing into the kitchen, only to reappear moments later with two cups of coffee. As J. R. sipped at his cup, he took a moment to organize his thoughts. He had no clue where to begin or even if his question would seem foolish to the old man. Nonetheless, he had to ask to be sure if he was wrong and the Miltons had somehow left week's ago and he was just never informed.
"How is Mr. Milton doing?" He asked, testing the waters to see how the old farmer would react to his name. The old farmer hated when someone just up and left without telling others so J. R. would know just by his expression if he had seen them recently.
The old farmer shrugged nonchalantly, as though he never thought to ask. "He doesn't talk much so I wouldn't know." Douglas said as he took a sip of his coffee. "The man is a hard worker though, so I don't try to pry into his personal life. Why do you ask?"
J. R. sat his coffee on the table and took a deep breath, he knew he had to tell him but had hoped Douglas would get upset and claim that he hadn't seen the Miltons in weeks, at least then he would be able to make heads or tails of the home. After a moment, maybe a few seconds though J. R. would later swear it felt like hours, he told Douglas about the Miltons home and how sister Selma had found Karl and taken him to the hospital. Douglas just sat in his seat listening, he didn't speak up or looked surprised when J. R. told him of Karls account of what happened in that house.
When J. R. finished speaking, the two men sat in silence for a long moment. When Douglas broke the silence by clearing his throat, it sounded as though thunder had struck the house. "I had a feeling that might happen and even warned Mr. Milton to take his family and leave before night came. He didn't listen so it comes as no surprise to me that this had happened."
J. R. sighed and rolled his eyes. He had heard plenty of tales from this old farmer about how this land is cursed and when he and his son passes, maybe even before, this town would be destroyed in a storm of the dead. "We don't have time for your zombie stories, Douglas. A family disappeared without a trace and you think it is these walking dead?"
"No." Douglas said, cutting the sheriff off before he could continue. "Not walking dead nor are they zombies. These are much more dangerous than anything I have spoken of before. These are creatures that hunt for fun. They catch wind of a juicy target and they will begin to torture them, drive them to leave their homes, families, and friends. The victims would run and nowhere would feel safe until they arrive in a town or field they can harvest their organs in. These towns or fields are usually close to or in the middle of an Indian burial ground."
J. R. stared at Douglas in disbelief, how could a man take a tragic incident and turn into a story like this? He scoffed and stood up, thanking the old farmer for the cup of coffee before heading to the door.
"Sheriff." Douglas called after, he hadn't moved from his seat at all. "You said the Milton boy survived, is that correct?"
J. R. paused at the door long enough to turn around and look Douglas in the eye. "What of it?"
"These creatures wouldn't allow him to stay alive, not as long as he is in this town. If... If he is the Milton boy, Karl, then get him out of this town before the sun sets tomorrow."
J. R. turned away from Douglas and returned to his truck. It wasn't until he had started up his truck that Douglas words sank in. "If he is the Milton boy?" He asked himself under his breath. He thought about those words for a second, just a second though, before leaving the farm and returning to the hospital.
As Douglas entered the hospital, he was greeted by his officer who informed him that Mr. Miltons brother had come to the hospital after hearing about his brother. J. R. initially wondered how the man had known about his family and to meet them at the hospital, but he pushed it out of his mind thinking that one of the doctors or nurses had probably called next of kin. J. R. nodded and motioned to send them along their way then and left for his office.
As J. R. sat as his desk to fill out the paperwork of the day, an odd feeling kept nagging at the back of his mind. It was so insistent that J. R., for the first time in his life, pushed work aside and just sat back in his seat. As he sat there, letting his thoughts take over, through the haze of thoughts, one stood out among the rest.
The Miltons had no extended family.
Hey guys, if you have read this far in the story, thank you for sticking with me through this. J. R.'s story is far from done, however, and we will be returning to him soon, but we have other events that have taken place while J. R. was doing his investigation and I want to get to those before continuing. Please join me next week as we find out just what happened in the hospital.