Chapter 8 - The Hunt
The police arrived at the hospital within ten minutes, swarming the building with heavily armed tactical units.
Marcus Thorne was quickly arrested and handcuffed to a gurney, finally exposing his deadly crimes.
But Rachel did not care about justice or vengeance anymore.
She only cared about getting her eight-year-old daughter back from the monster wearing her husband's skin.
Detective Aris, a grizzled veteran of the local force, took Rachel into a quiet supply closet for an emergency interview.
"Mrs. Clarke, you need to tell me exactly where your husband would take your daughter," Aris demanded.
Rachel closed her eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming panic consuming her mind.
"The old cabin," she finally whispered, opening her eyes to look at the detective.
"Thomas owns an old hunting cabin deep in the Blackwood Ridge mountains, about fifty miles north of here."
Aris immediately pulled out his radio and barked orders to dispatch to set up a perimeter on the mountain highway.
"We are going to get her back, ma'am, I promise you," Aris said, leading her out to an unmarked police cruiser.
The drive up the winding, treacherous mountain road was an absolute nightmare of torrential rain and zero visibility.
Rachel gripped the door handle until her knuckles turned bright white, praying constantly in her head.
She remembered the dark, horrifying crayon drawings Madison had made on the hospital floor.
The things that followed Daddy back through the open door.
Whatever was inhabiting Thomas’s body was preparing for a war at that isolated cabin in the woods.
As the police cruiser finally approached the dirt driveway leading to the property, the radio suddenly crackled with intense static.
"All units, be advised, we have massive electrical interference in the Blackwood sector," the dispatcher warned.
Detective Aris cursed loudly as the headlights of his vehicle completely flickered out, plunging them into absolute darkness.
He slammed on the brakes, sending the car sliding in the thick mud before finally coming to a halt.
"Stay in the car, Mrs. Clarke, lock the doors," Aris ordered, drawing his service weapon and grabbing a heavy flashlight.
But Rachel refused to be left behind while her daughter was in mortal danger.
She threw open the passenger door and stepped out into the freezing mud, ignoring the detective's angry shouts.
They marched slowly up the driveway, the beam of the flashlight cutting through the dense, heavy fog.
Through the trees, they could finally see the silhouette of the old wooden cabin.
Every single window in the small structure was glowing with a strange, pulsating violet light.
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And standing on the front porch, waiting for them, was Thomas.
But he was no longer pretending to be just a man.
