In Patrol of Evil

One night I used to pray to God almighty that it would fade from memory, in time I’ve learned to handle it, and grown a need to understand such evil. That night is when my colleague, Jeff & I, received a report of a stolen sedan on dispatch, it took us by surprise as we were out of town, however, other local units had their hands full due to a blizzard starting to set in and play havoc.

Catching the culprit, a shot in the dark at best, we were the only hope and yet we were bound to be late for the party. Life does work in mysterious ways, as dispatch chimed an update that the vehicle was heading through the countryside, towards our general direction, and to this day I wished that wasn’t the case.

The country roads were desolate that evening, not a sight nor sound of that damn car. Fearing the worst, that they’d gotten away, Jeff proposed doing one sweep of the area. That’s when a chase became a hunt, and we found that navy blue sedan abandoned at the side of a road, the driver’s door swung open.

Guns drawn, and approaching with extreme caution, I am the first to peer into the vehicle. What struck my eyes initially were the teeth embedded into the dashboard, then the fresh blood seeped into the cracks of the leather seats, and the unmistakable drag marks, leading to a field nearby.

Those markings lead us to what I can only describe as a heap of human remains, someone had been viscously disassembled. Bones were snapped, veins frayed, skull reduced to fragments, a blood pool that continued to expand with the wind.

What frightened me most, a single pair of footprints going to the scene and leaving it.