the moment, she said, “There’s got to be a reason why this town isn’t crawling with cops, news crews, and at least a few soldiers by now. Have your guys been calling for help?”
“We called the county sheriff. That’s his office down the block. Didn’t do any good, though. Al tried calling the National Guard and even the damn United States Marine Corps, but they didn’t listen to him. Of course, Al calls them about plenty of stupid shit. He’s probably on some kinda list by now.”
“That doesn’t explain all of the calls that have got to be coming from here.” Paige said. “You said that’s the county sheriff down the street?”
Waggoner nodded. “It’s the building with all the benches and the flagpole in front of it. I still don’t see how the hell someone didn’t get help using their own damn phone by now.”
“They probably made the call,” Paige replied. “But if the military is going to take it seriously, they’ll try to verify with someone official. With everything else that’s going on now, they’re probably swamped with crank calls that sound just as crazy as the real ones. How about we check out a hunch of mine. You ready to make a run for it?”
“Let’s do this.”
They vaulted through the window and landed on the sidewalk outside the paint store, then headed toward the corner of East Court Street and North Delaware Avenue. In the silence between attacks, the sound of Paige’s steps echoed in her ears, and her breath sounded like a windstorm being pulled back and forth through her head. Distant howls mixed with everything from screams to shotgun blasts.
The county sheriff’s office was a tan brick building with a large wavy shelf of black stone protruding from the upper floor, supported by round posts. A few marked cars were parked in front, but were just as empty and ravaged as the building itself. Waggoner led her toward the corner of the building, down a sidewalk and to a side entrance. She followed him while taking a moment to make sure they hadn’t picked up any four-legged followers.
Paige couldn’t feel any additional heat in her scars, so she ducked into the door that Waggoner held open without bothering to check the street behind her. It didn’t take much of a detective to realize that a pack of Half Breeds had spent extra time inside the building. Not only was the floor covered with broken glass and splintered wood, but the walls were covered with claw marks and bullet holes. Drawing her machete, she stepped through a door hanging partially off its hinges and into a room with a desk and several metal lockers bolted to the wall adjacent to a caged window. A broken metal detector crackling with electricity marked the entrance to a hallway leading farther inside the building.
Behind her, Waggoner notched an arrow into his bow and pulled it halfway back. She motioned down the hall toward three more rooms. From one of them a man’s voice could be heard engaging in an urgent conversation. Waggoner acknowledged Paige’s signal with a nod and shifted his stance so he could watch the area behind them while slowly following her down the hall.
“There are no werewolves in Atoka. I don’t care what you’re being told,” the voice in the other room said. “Whatever you heard didn’t come through official channels. It’s probably just a bunch of kids trying to pull some sick joke in light of the crap they’re seeing on the news.”
Paige moved along the hall with her weapon held at the ready. Now that she’d pinpointed the source of the voice as coming from the second door from the end of the hall, she put her back to the wall and watched it intently. Her scars gave off the same prickly cold that she’d felt at the site where the Amriany plane had gone down.
Metal springs creaked in the room in front of her. “There are some problems, a few disturbances and such, but they’re small fires and we can put them out. You should do your best to keep any armed response from being sent to the state of Oklahoma . . . Yes, sir. I will, sir. Thank you.” A heavy sigh followed the distinct sound of a phone being slapped onto its cradle. Then Paige heard, “Hello, this is the Atoka County Sheriff’s Department.” Clearly, another call had been made. “Yes, sir I’m the sheriff . . . Yes, sir, I’ve