Mr. Chalk 4

4

The two Deputies and the Sergeant were standing by the front desk.

“I need you two out to Cedar Grove,” said the Sergeant. “We need follow-up info on those break-ins last week.”

“Got it!” replied Deputy Hartley eager to leave the station and Lester Hawkins behind.

“Let’s blow this pop stand,” he said as he gave a reassuring smile to his partner. His good mood was suddenly interrupted by screams coming from the holding cells area.

“What the …,” exclaimed Sergeant Forester as he spun around towards the sound. The screams, or rather the scream, was almost non-human. It was piercing and continuous.

“That goddamn Hawkins is killing the other prisoner,” cried Deputy Wilcox.

“Go!” yelled Sergeant Forester.

“Dammit!” said Hartley, “we should have put Hawkins in a separate cell.”

Wilcox and Hartley raced down the corridor to the holding cells.

Sergeant Forester stood at the front desk staring down the corridor towards the holding cells. It was deathly quiet. Forester was listening so hard he could hear the ticking of the wall clock.

“Hey,” yelled the Sergeant breaking the silence, “answer me!” No sound came from the corridor. The Sergeant reached for his keys and headed towards the gun cabinet behind the front desk. In an almost single motion brought on by experience and a rising fear, the Sergeant had a twelve gauge riot shotgun in his hands and was loading shells into the chamber as he headed towards the holding cells.

Sergeant Forester quickly moved to the cell and surveyed the scene. Deputy Wilcox was standing in front of the cell, motionless and totally transfixed by the body at his feet. Deputy Hartley was beside him, on his hands and knees, re-discovering what he had for breakfast that morning. The cell door was open and Mr. Chalk was gone.