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A large figure groggily rolled out of bed, the light from the curtains beaming directly into the dark cave-like bedroom. She slowly disconnected herself from the generator at her bedside before getting up, her body making inhuman creaking noises as she did so. Her movements were slow as she moved around the small, twin bed situated in the middle of the room, far away from any of the walls before her eyes landed finally on the clock. 2:36pm.
A curse left her lips and she quickly bolted towards the cupboard, getting her police uniform on in mere seconds. Then she took a slice of bread and ran out of her house, quickly getting into the driver seat of her car and driving off. ‘First I decided on the Halloween shift, and now I’m late.’ She thought, the words repeated over and over in her head as she sped down the road. Silently she just hoped she wouldn’t get chewed out.
“Officer Cornwall!!!” The chief, Officer Roberts, shouted at her the moment she walked into the police station. His face held a frown. He was a short man, leaning against the Halloween decor put out by the new interns. Turned out he did care that she was late. “Atchaco,” His voice becomes soft. “You know you’re getting put on the field shift for this, right?”
She nods ever so slightly, looking down at her feet. “Yes, sir.” She replies quietly. She picks up the keys to her cruiser, holding them as if they were a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. ‘Tonight was the night you don’t take.’ She told herself. She shook it off and walked outside into the brisk air and into the car, quickly getting back on the road, driving around as she waited for a call to come in over the radio.
Triton, her AI assistant, gave what could almost be considered a sigh. ‘Tonight is the night good people take.’ He reminds her. Atchaco chuckles, gripping the wheel tighter, her eyes glancing down at the screen connected to the dash, watching as multiple calls of disturbances come in over the comms. Most, like every Halloween, are simple disputes with teenagers in masks and costumes vandalising buildings or stealing candy from monster children.
She checks out each one with practised efficiency and boredom. A vampire spray-painting a building. A werewolf that got lost on their way home. Her system categories all of it and logs it in, Triton writing up a summary so that she remembers what to put when she finally gets to go back to the station at the end of the outlandish night. She doesn’t like Halloween, unlike her twin, Ashêanna who seems more pleased everytime it comes around. She doesn’t like it for good reason. It brings out the bad in people.
She went back into the car after the latest escapade of clueless Halloween or party goers. Atchaco sits back in the driver's seat, picking up a can of monster when she gets a notification flashing on the screen. Her eyes cast downwards at it and she quickly shoots back up. Another sighting of the killer she had been searching for weeks is seen to be close by to where she was parked. She put the energy drink down in the cup holder and turned on the engine, leaving the sirens silent.
As she drove she looked out for anything suspicious, the movements or sightings of the killer automatically being updated by Triton to her optical overlay. As she moved along the dark roads, making sure that her car wasn’t easily noticed, she noticed that it seemed that the killer was always one step ahead, or one behind her. Their movements mimicking the movements of the places she visits with strange ease.
Atchaco’s hands tighten even more on the steering wheel, her fingers indenting into the fabric. Her eyes darted around, more on edge, her breathing faster and faster. Bang. The sound of a kid's fake gun goes off, and the car skids slightly before it stops. She gets out of the car, quickly walking to the next call. The usual noise disturbance warning from people having empties. She could smell the booze from here.
She opens up the door and almost immediately comes face to face with a ghoul, her almost dead eyes staring into her soul. Her pale fingers trace the lines on her uniform as she bites her lip and drags her inside. Others come over, and without an ounce of warning, they start to pull and tear at the uniform. Atchaco’s blood freezes and she gulps, her mind buffering for a moment. She looks around the party. All the monsters are closing in. Blood drips on the walls and her hands clench.
Atchaco sprints into the bathroom, gripping her clothes in a panic. Through the fabric, she can see her metal chest plate, the pulsing centre speeding up, matching her racing heart. She grips the handle, throwing it open and going inside the white lithium room, the door quickly locked behind her to avoid anyone coming in and seeing her in this state.
The faces of the killer clowns, the zombies flood her head. They looked real. They talked and acted so real, but she knew that they were costumes. She knew that couldn’t be right. But her rational mind argued, it was Halloween, you don’t trust Halloween. “Come out. I know there’s flesh under that tin can.” A voice shouts, banging against the door.
Atchaco shakes her head, leaning over the sink. The case was getting too much on her, and the gathering of the souls was pushing her to the edge. She splashed water over her face, rubbing it in, trying to wipe the images from her mind. The red of the devil outside matching the victims pool. She rubs her eyes, breathing heavily, forcing herself to calm down. She sighed, relaxing ever so slightly before looking into the mirror.
The killer stared back.