Open Season

It Hits the Fan...4

Using the perfectly timed distraction of the Emergency Response System, Staphanie uses those few precious seconds to exit the media room, quickly using all her might to tip the nearby file cabinet against the adjacent wall to create an immovable barrier preventing the rest of the police force to follow her hasty exit.

OMG... this can't really be happening.

What she thought was happening couldn't really happen. Not in this day and age. It was impossible.

Stop. Think... there was no time to waste. In order to survive this she had to think clearly and act quickly.

At that moment, she forgot she was the Sherriff, that she was being hunted. She had a whole other priority.

Where is Ethan?

Think. think. Think. And move. We can think while we're moving.

The eerie silence within the station was abnormal, creating a tension she hadn't expected. She had locked all of her staff and deputies inside the media room. Right? As that thought registered, her hand involuntarily journeyed down to subconsciously caress her side arm; unsnapping and releasing the safety simultaneously.

Carefully marking her steps, clearing the area of threats; she purposefully made her way to the weapons cabinet. Ammo, Ammo, Ammo... grabbing a backpack and loading additional pieces and tons of ammo. She then grabbed another pack and loaded all the additional ammunition to two more packs. Heaving all three packs she made her way toward the exit as the pounding emanating from the media room reached her ears. Her staff was trying the extricate themselves from their makeshift prison.

Pulling her side arm, she emptied clip after clip flattening the tires of all patrol cars with the exception of her SUV. Loading the backpacks into her backseat, it registered on her how empty the streets were today. No cars, no pedestrians, no noise could be heard at all. It was all abnormal. Like an alternate reality.

She couldn't remember it being this calm and quiet outside since 909. The day the country went into lockdown after being attacked from the Empire of the Exterior. Squinting her eyes, there was no noise. No planes in the sky. No traffice. Something was definitely wrong, and it wasn't possible that it was just in her small town.

The Emergency Response System message:

THE 30-day MUTATIO has begun. For the next 30 days Emergency services will not be available to any persons of Non-Aryan descent. Registered Founders Families have been informed of their responsibilities and rights. We appreciate These HIGH individuals above all others. We 'Thank' their forebears for this wonderful nation. Long Live The Annointed States.

Starting the SUV and turning on the radio, the Mutatio message continued to repeat. What the hell was Mutatio? And why hadn't she known about it. And further more why had all her staff seemed to know much more than she herself? And as realization dawned on her, she gasped as everything clicked sharply into focus.

It was because they were white and she wasn't. They had all known. She cringed in disbelief as the horror of this new thought began to blossom in both her heart and mind. Poisoning them both.

This couldn't happen.

Slamming on the gas, she fish-taled out of the parking lot. Heading in the direction of the middle school, where Ethan should be.

The city resembled one of those zombie movie landscapes, so devoid of life that goosebumps rose on her flesh. This was really bad. She pressed the pedal to the floor increasing the vehicles pace, consciously declining to turn on the lights and siren as this type of driving usually dictated.

Screeching to a halt in front of the school in mere minutes, Sheriff Ambergate exits her vehicle quietly, making sure not to make a sound. The gaping doors of the school yawn before her, one calmly scraping the concrete the only sound present in the uncharacteristically quiet space.

Why were these doors open, and where were all the children?

Staphanie subconsciously shook off the feeling of dread clawing at her nape, she didn't have time to figure all this out right now. Sure she was the sheriff, but right now her only responsibility was to Ethan.

Just where was he?

As she slowly progressed from classroom to classroom, the school was eerily devoid of both sound & life. The scene before her clearly stated it had been vacated in a state of haste. It was the scene of panic.

Her heart sank as she noticed the unmistakable sight of blood. Lots of blood.

Yet there were no bodies. So, maybe someone was just injured. But there was no obvious blood trail. There was just scattered blood, indicating multiple attacks, various victims.

What the hell was going on? She paused, resting her gun barrel against her side temple in contemplation and frustration.

Nothing was making sense today. And where the f**k was Ethan!

The unmistakable sound of sneakers screeching echoed through the vacant halls, attracting her attention. At first only a single pair of running feet could be heard. A couple of seconds, the chase was on in earnest, as an innumerable number of scuffling feet responded, closing in quickly.

The unquestionable sound of a beatdown could be heard throughout the hallowed halls. Kicking, scuffing, punching... the deafening sounds of blows landing sickened her stomach before her eyes even lit with the unholy sight of the gang of children punishing one single child balled up in the middle.

Pointing her pistol skyward, she squeezed off 3 quick shots in succession while taking calculated steps in their direction, completely halting all their activity and earning their snarling and disapproving, even disrespectful gazes. Physically backing down, but not away from their quarry, the group slowly opens to reveal a badly beaten slow moving classmate of the mob.

She knew this kid. He was on Ethan's basketball team. As a matter of fact, he was the captain of the team. What was his name? What was his name? What was his name?

"Ethan's mom..." he croaked through his burst and bleeding lip, while tentatively reaching in her direction. One of the boys closest to the interior of the assault circle took this opportunity to kick his outreached arm.

Clicking her tongue at the little asshole, Sheriff Ambergate leveled him with a resolute stare; pointing her pistol directly at the little imp. Undetered, as if daring her, the little s**t actually began to ground the boys arm into the tile floor never breaking eye contact with her.

"Back up," she intoned, raising an eyebrow at the young boy.

Reaching out her hand to the assaulted boy while never taking her aim off the obvious leader of this little pack, she pulled the young man into the secure circle of her underarm... bracing him as best as she can while beating a hasty retreat.

To her surprise, the kids never moved to follow. Once reaching the still open exterior doors, she sees the reason why. They were waiting. They loved the chase. And they'd been joined by the real leader of their little battalion. The principal stood holding the leashes of two very large, very angry hounds while cradling a very old-looking shotgun on his opposite shoulder.

The size of her eyes must be astounding. Principal Schneider? What the f**k was going on around here today? He couldn't possibly be doing what she thought he was doing, could he?

He was hunting his own students? Her bones quacked, halting her retreat. The kid continued his rapid retreat until he reached the relative safety of the still running SUV.

What was she to do with this? She stood facing this strange mob of young boys with their principal at their center, their principal who was restraining dogs and shouldering a shot gun.

This was yet another scene from an impossible dystopian future. This couldn't be real.

The sky was blue. The birds were silent and the dogs were barking.