The Hawkins Howler: chapter 1
Sleepy little Hawkins, Indiana is in the peak of its quiet and boring time. It’s a cold and snowy January, the police station’s main concern being car wrecks from ice and kids punting ice snowballs at mailboxes. The station is bustling with early morning chatter, but one person is missing, Hopper. A few miles outside of town he is finally coming to, in his rickety bed in that little trailer by the lake. He wakes up with a rough groan, his big body aching and his head pounding. He glances over seeing his clock reads 8:30 and he huffs, forcing himself to get up.
He showers, trying to wash the grit out of his eyes before he gets dressed and heads out for work. He’s exhausted and achy and every grumpy emotion under the sun, scratching his beard he walks into the station. “Morning…” For once he walks past the donuts and to his office. Flo raises an eyebrow, that’s definitely not in his usual routine.
He settles into his chair with a grunt, leaning back and closing his eyes. His attempt at relaxing is interrupted as Flo knocks on his doorframe. “Feeling alright Jim?”
He groans, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah Flo…just slept pretty crappy last night. You need anything?”
“You’ve got a call about some dead cattle, Jerry Stokes’ farm.”
A frown flashes across his brow, an ache shooting through his belly at the words. “Cattle huh? Probably just some coyotes. What’s that gotta do with me?”
Flo sighs, giving him that disapproving mother look. “He was very torn up when he called, it doesn’t sound like coyotes did it. He wants you to go over there as soon as possible.”
Hopper leans his head back with a long sigh. “Fine.” She nods, handing him his coat as he stands and she pats his back as he walks out. He reluctantly ducks into his Blazer and lights a cigarette, heading just outside town to Jerry’s farm. He pulls up to the side of the road seeing Jerry’s truck parked near one of his fields, and he raises an eyebrow seeing another pickup truck parked beside it. He gets out and treks through the frozen pasture to where Jerry, a heavy set man in his mid-50s is standing waiting for him. “Hey Jerry, sorry I’m late…”
Jerry shakes his head stiffly, fumbling to light a cigarette. “S’alright Chief…” His hands are shaking and Jim gets out his own lighter, doing it for him. “Thank you. You…you wanna see the bodies?”
“Sure…you not move them?”
“Nope. I don’t even wanna touch ‘em.”
Hopper nods, he starts to follow Jerry, noticing a figure in the distance, seeing the flash of a camera. “Who’s that?”
Jerry glances over. “Oh, some urban legend lady…she pulled up just a few minutes ago. Guess she has a scanner or somethin’.”
Hopper chuckles dryly. “What? She think bigfoot killed your cows or something?”
He expects Jerry to laugh along with him but he doesn’t, giving him an uneasy look. “I wouldn’t laugh before you see ‘em Chief…she may not be too far off.”
Hopper rolls his eyes, but he glances back to the figure, making a mental note to keep his sights on her. They come up on the corpses, a few flies managing to find them even in this cold weather. Hopper sucks in breath as he sees them, he couldn’t even see they are cows anymore. The heads gone, legs hanging on ribbons, middles eaten hollow. He covers his mouth with arm, that same ache flashing through his stomach, making its way through his whole body. “Looks like coyotes and scavengers…”
Jerry frowns, avoiding looking at the remains. “Scavengers take weeks to clean a corpse like that, I woulda heard a pack of coyotes cleaning these cows too! It’s one thing that killed ‘em, not a pack. Somethin’ big.”
Hopper nods, knowing Jerry’s too frightened to be argued with right now. “You find any tracks?”
Jerry shakes his head. “No...the ground is frozen solid, even the mud. If it had snowed more last night I would have.”
“Ok well…I’d make sure you get all your cows in early, Jerry.”
“That’s the thing, Chief. I put them all in early…these two broke out.” He walks him back to the barn, part of the fence broken as the two cows had jumped over. “Somethin’ scared them so bad they bolted. If that thing comes again what’s to stop my whole herd from breaking down this fence and getting themselves killed again?”
“I dunno, Jerry..but I’m gonna find out, alright?” He goes to walk away, but turns his head as Jerry mutters.
“I guess it had to come around to me sometime…”
Hopper sighs, rubbing his neck. “I know we’ve had problems with these things in the past, but they’ve always gotten sorted out.”
Jerry frowns, taking a puff of his cigarette. “You say that Chief…but on and off for twenty years some poor fella has lost some livestock. I guess sooner or later it had to be me. It stops for years and then it starts again. I just never seen it before in person…it’s frightening.”
Hopper can’t think of anything else to say, forcing his expression to become nonchalant, he puts out his cigarette. “I’ll get somebody to help you fix that fence…” He trails off, seeing the figure in the distance wave, before trekking back to her truck. “Tell that lady the cops can handle it if she tries to come out here again, okay?”
Jerry blinks in confusion. “She don’t mean any harm-” But Hopper is already trudging back to his own car. He drives back to the station, plopping back down at his desk as he begins to write the report. He hasn’t gotten very far after an hour, his office silent.
He jumps as someone knocks on his doorframe again. “Geez Flo-!” But it’s not Flo, a woman around Hopper’s age wearing a big lined bomber coat and hat stands in the doorway. “Can I help you..?”
She blinks. “Oh I guess Mr. Stokes didn’t give you my name. I was the one at the farm, y/n.” She offers her hand and he stares at it for a moment.
“Oh...you.”
She smiles, unfazed and sits in the chair in front of his desk. “You’re Chief Hopper right? I hope I didn’t upset you being there, you see, I’m a little bit of a monster nut.”
Hopper scoffs, not in the mood for this. “Let me guess, a horror writer from California or New York or something looking for clues in little ol’ Indiana to make it big huh?”
She chuckles softly. “Yes, no, and yes. I’m actually from a smaller town upstate, but I don’t need to make it big. I just really love the whole mystery aspect y'know? There aren’t enough good werewolf books, and this case definitely has werewolf written all over it. They’re my favorite. Do you have a favorite type of monster?”
He gives her a deadpan look. “No.”
“Oh well I think they’re misunderstood y'know? I mean imagine just trying to go about your daily life and you’re stuck with this uncontrollable hunger and mind that you have to deal with every month. Kinda sounds like a menstrual cycle huh?”
She chuckles to herself, but he is not amused. “Did you come here to give me your whole life’s story or to attempt to get on my good side?”
She stops, shrugging. “Both I guess. Just thought I would inform you so you don’t get mad seeing me at any other crime scenes.”
He huffs, pushing back against his desk. “Well there won’t be anymore.” He opens the door to his office with a glare. “Good day miss y/n.”
“Oh well I’m sorry I just thought-”
“Good day.”
She sighs, standing up. “Good day.”
He shuts the door behind her with a huff, slumping back in his seat to rub his eyes. “I gotta get this sorted out…” But he just stares at the report. For twenty years he's been fudging them, the guilt building. But how can he not? Writing them accurately would not only do any good, but it would also condemn him.
**
That night he heads home. He attempts to make a big dinner to stave off that hunger, but as soon as he goes to eat it his stomach is drawn up in knots. The doors and windows locked tight, shades drawn. He groans, looking at the window and he sees the yellow glow of the moon pushing through the cracks of the shudders. Yet another long night.
