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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Saturdead on 2024-11-02 17:12:38+00:00.
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From April to May, we had to move to the old fire station. The Tomskog Fire Department had long since been dismantled, being absorbed into St. Cloud and the surrounding area – leaving their old station available. It’d been used a handful of times as a sort of community space, but there was limited use for an old fire station. It didn’t take long to set up shop though, and with the folks from the DUC helping us out we got the resources we needed.
With Charlie on sick leave, I had to stay on radio duty for the foreseeable future. As we were running short on manpower, I was solely responsible for running the dispatch during the evening shift. We moved off the secure channels though – just in case I wasn’t around for a call or two.
I’m not gonna say those few weeks weren’t eventful, but they were eventful in a way that didn’t directly affect me. There was some sort of operation to shut down a turbine, for example, that seemed to have dire implications.
My days weren’t that eventful. I took calls, redirected our various units to check them out (or not), and made sure to take note of anything out of the ordinary. I also acted as a sort of info hub for the DUC, who checked with me every now and then to see if something unusual happened. A couple of people called in about spotting Patrick and his crossbow a couple of times, but he hadn’t hunted anyone since the Rosemills, so we just assured the callers and hung up.
But there was that one call that would change my time in Tomskog – permanently.
I was on my way home after an evening shift, clocking out just after 10pm. I was dragging myself to my car, sipping the last few drops of a forest-fire-tasting americano. Apparently getting a decent coffee machine wasn’t high on the DUC list of priorities. I heard a strange noise and stopped, only to realize it was my phone. My personal one. It hadn’t rung in so long that I’d forgotten my custom ring tone – Stayin’ Alive, by the Bee Gees.
I didn’t recognize the number. I figured it might be someone from work who needed me for an extra shift.
I answered.
“Please don’t hang up.”
That was the first thing they said to me. It sounded like a man – nervous, if anything. I stayed quiet, giving the stranger a chance to say his piece.
“You’re the new girl, aren’t you?” he continued. “At the station?”
“Who is this?”
“My name’s Adam,” he said. “I’m looking for my daughter.”
“I’m sure we can help you,” I said. “But I need you to call during office hours, and not to my private phone.”
“It’s not like that,” he sighed. “I’ve talked to the sheriff countless times, but he’s not doing anything. But I believe you can.”
“This is sketchy, Adam. Why would I be able to help when the sheriff can’t?”
“Because you’re still here to protect and serve.”
I stopped in front of my car, rolling my eyes. The taste of burnt coffee stained the roof of my mouth.
“I just need a few minutes of your time,” Adam continued. “You’ll get a free lunch.”
It was the first bribe I’d ever accepted. The next day, I met Adam for lunch at the one downtown café Tomskog offered. They had little blue sunflowers in every window, and they all had that strange illusion where it looked like they turned towards you no matter the angle you looked at.
Adam was in his early 50’s, with thinning blond hair and a beer belly that poked the edge of the table. He had these naturally sad facial features, like his face had slightly melted. I couldn’t imagine him smiling, other than sarcastically. He got out of his seat, shook my hand, and asked for my order. I wanted a sandwich and a latte, and he was off like a bullet.
When we sat down to eat, he scooched a little closer and lowered his voice.
“Thank you for meeting me,” he said. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”
“I’m still not sure if I can help,” I said. “But I’m sorry about your daughter.”
He pulled out a small photo. A young woman with a black pixie-like haircut and black eyeliner.
“Her name’s Elizabeth,” he said. “Or Ellie. Elle to some.”
“She’s pretty,” I smiled. “But I haven’t seen her.”
“I know, I know,” he nodded. “But I think you can help me find her.”
We finished our lunches. As people walked by, Adam would lower his voice and look over his shoulder. I could tell he wasn’t comfortable being out in public. I’d seen strange people in Tomskog before, and there were a lot of them, so this wasn’t out of the ordinary; but something about Adam seemed more genuine. He was weird for a reason.
“I don’t know how much they’ve told you,” he said. “Have Hatchet been around?”
“Hatchet?” I scoffed. “The pharma people?”
“So no. You got any inoculations? Any shots?”
“What, like, tetanus?”
“You really are new, huh?”
He attempted a grin, but it came of as a tired squint.
“Look,” he continued. “I’ll tell you everything I know. But you gotta promise to help me.”
“I can’t promise you anything,” I said. “I don’t know this girl.”
“Just promise you’ll try. Please.”
Looking across the table, there was no way I could say no. I had a soft spot for people asking nicely, and Adam seemed like an honest guy. At least genuine enough to know when to reach out of his comfort zone.
“Alright. I’ll try.”
I followed Adam to his car and sat down in his passenger seat. We exchanged numbers, and he took out a notebook. He had detailed notes about everything related to his daughter, along with names, dates, witness testimonies, and a handful of other details. I got a brief look at his glove compartment when he got his reading glasses. There were a handful of other notebooks in there as well.
Elizabeth had survived a fall from a great height. She’d broken her legs and cracked her pelvis but had managed to make it to a nearby road. They’d found her next to Frog Lake. How she’d managed to fall from such a great height, only to end up in the lake, was a mystery in and of itself. But that wasn’t all – she was exhibiting some unusual symptoms.
By the time Adam got to the hospital, she’d been quarantined. Early reports indicated something called SORE, but that changed when a new doctor made a second diagnosis. Elizabeth was to be taken to a special clinic upstate, but Adam was never given any details. Three days later, he was told she died from respiratory failure.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “So why do you believe she’s still around?”
“That first diagnosis,” Adam tapped his head. “SORE. That’s never mentioned again.”
“Maybe they made a mistake.”
“If they did, why do they refuse to tell me what it is?”
He flipped a couple of pages, turning to a section labeled ‘SORE’.
Sudden Onset Rest Event - SORE. According to Adam’s notes, it was a strange condition that could trigger within 72 hours of exposure, and often when a victim submits to rest.
“There have only been a handful of mentions of this,” Adam continued. “One is at a prison. Corporate-sponsored. They get this all the time. The other was an explosion of cases in, uh… Juniper, West Virginia.”
“Not seeing much of a connection here, Adam.”
“There’s like… six branches of… you know what? Never mind. I’m getting off track. Here.”
Grabbing another notebook, he handed it to me. He turned a couple of pages and tapped the page.
“There has never been a resolved case of SORE. Check the numbers if you want.”
“It’s just names.”
“Dozens. All diagnosed, none of them released. They contract this thing and disappear.”
“So it’s fatal.”
“No, fatality means closure. There’re no record of anyone dying from it either. They die from something else, or they just…”
Adam popped his hands, making a poof noise. He looked at me as if expecting some kind of conclusion. I shook my head at him.
“Take this home”, Adam sighed. “I got copies. Just look it over.”
“Alright,” I nodded. “Thanks for lunch.”
“Yeah.”
I looked it over later that night, when my job lulled to a halt. I didn’t understand what this had to do with me, or the Tomskog PD, but if I could put this paranoid man’s thoughts to rest, that’d be a win in my book.
A stray thought blew through my mind. There was an incident in West Virginia where plenty of folks had come down with SORE. I vaguely recalled Nick mentioning Tomskog PD being called there once in response to a ‘geological event’. The dates lined up. Checking the records, I could confirm that yes – the same event that Nick and the others were called out for resulted in one of the largest outbreaks of SORE that they’d ever seen. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
SORE was a Tomskog thing, much like the other strange things happening here. Someone had to know something. But chances were that, if no one had told Adam by now, it was for a reason. Either way, I was curious.
There was a lot of info in those notebooks. Something about SORE being an “accelerant” rather than an infection in and of itself, and how it didn’t introduce anything new or foreign to the human system. Records of strange behaviors, such as people drinking rainwater and throwing up white globs of parasites. And violence – endless witness statements about violenc...
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