Benson clenched his jaw as the clinking of rocks against metal grated on his nerves.

"Why are we ripping into the parking lot?" He didn't try to contain the sarcasm.

Thank God this week's almost over. I would kill him or me or both if this went on much longer. Johnson tossed his head toward the house. The only sign of life was a low-watt blue bulb flickering on the porch.

"We're in the middle of nowhere Johnson. We've got two hours left of our shift. Isn't there some crime we need to stop?" His temporary partner laughed.

"You stay," he replied with that sickening death's head grin. "I'll only be a few minutes."

Benson watched him hitch his belt and stride confidently toward the house. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He had only been back from his honeymoon two days when his boss begged him for the favor. Johnson, the night shift creepazoid, was sans partner for a week.

What in the hell was I thinking? Being the nice guy again. The wind whistled through the trees. Their patrol route was huge, covering the most remote stretches of Montana.

I don't think I've ever been here. He glanced around. The blue light flickered. Their secret sign in this neck of the woods.

I hope he catches something one day. Not permanent… but nasty enough. Benson laughed to himself. The forest swallowed the darkness in these parts. They were miles from anything or anyone.

 

Johnson strolled onto the porch and tipped his wide-brimmed hat back. His badge hung prominently on the front of his shirt.

"What the fuck?" Unlatched, the door groaned as he gently pushed it open. Heavy red velvet curtains and a matching carpet sucked his footsteps into their heavy folds.

"Welcome sheriff." Goosebumps rose on his arm at the sound of her voice, but the involuntary reaction never hit his brain. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen… and he had seen a lot.

"You…" He coughed and tried again. "Are you in charge?"

"You could say that." She smiled and slid her arm through his. The taffeta gown rustled as she led him up the stairs.

 

As Benson sat in the cruiser, a creeping feeling of dread slipped down into his collar. He got out stretching his legs when he heard the scream. His foot crashed through the top step as he fell through the door. His midnight dinner rose as the rotting stench assaulted him. Gun drawn, he regained his footing and let the years of instinct and training take over.

Get him… he's not right… he's one of them… get him… we can't… he's wrong… different… we must… they are all the same… The voices were everywhere and nowhere as he mounted the stairs. The wood screamed in protest. The voices shrieked at him. Feeling around, he grabbed his phone and the room vanished.

"Stop… stop… get that light out of my eyes…" Benson mumbled. "Johnson…"

"Sir… officer… please lie still." The EMT gently pushed him back on the stretcher.

"My partner… Johnson." Pain radiated through his body.

"Benson what happed here?"

God it must be bad if the boss is here.

"I don't know sir… I heard… I thought I heard… Johnson?"

"He's dead."

"Sir your officer needs a hospital. Please don't move sir… you took a nasty bump to the head and a broken arm."

"What happened?" Benson mumbled.

"He… um… was mutilated." Silence.

"I need to know… shit… god I hurt."

"He…" A pregnant pause and a deep breath. "His privates were... are… um… gone. Looks like he died of shock or bled to death maybe." Silence. Benson gasped as his vision cleared. Strings of greying velvet hung in tattered threads off the windows. Blobs of cobwebs cluttered the corners. Mold crept across the ceiling covering mysterious stains decades old.

"My phone… I need to call," he said as the stretcher began to move.

"Hey I got it," another officer said. "You just got married right? Checking in with the wife?" and he smiled.

"No," Benson said without hesitation. "My husband."