“AH, MR. FLETCHER.”

Timothy jumped. He had barely opened the big, unwelcoming door before the booming, voice of the officer greeted him. Stapes too cowered in fear.

“Th-that’s me!” Timothy stuttered, swinging his head to find the source of the voice.

A menacing shadow fell over him. Timothy looked up. Stepping out of a hallway and approaching him was a large, bulky man in a blue uniform half a size too small. The shirt looked as if it were vacuum sealed to the muscles, outlining the deep contours in a dark navy.

“Good,” the man said, “I’ve been waiting.”

Timothy, feeling eyes on him, looked up. He eyes had unconsciously been attracted to the big man’s chest, whether it was from admiration or the fear of looking at the face. He blushed awkwardly upon realization that the officer had noticed him staring at the muscles.

“Er,” Timothy muttered, trying to find an apt excuse for his inappropriate staring, but soon realizing it was impossible to lie under the intimidating glare. The officer’s skin had almost a tough, leathery quality. Timothy had no doubt that this man could take forty bullets without a flinch.

“I’m Officer Hallthorn,” he said offering a handshake, “I’ll be taking you to Officer Kirk in a moment.”

With a trembling arm, Timothy fitted his own sweaty palm into the hairy hand Officer Hallthorn extended. “Ah, so you’re not Officer Kirk?” Timothy asked in a timid voice, hoping he didn’t sound too relieved to offend the officer.

“No. I’m just a newbie here,” the officer laughed in a chilling voice. He wrapped Timothy’s hand in a bone-crushing hold. Timothy’s arm swung as if made of rubber. After what seemed like a full minute of swinging, the officer let go. Timothy flexed his fingers painfully.

“Newbie? Ha…ha…” Timothy laughed weakly, the pain showing clearly on his face. The officer didn’t seem to notice.

“Follow me,” he commanded, and set off down that same hallway. Timothy shuffled after him. “Oh,” the officer added, “your dog needs to go.”

Timothy watched as his only protection was taken away by a female officer who, in Timothy’s opinion, Stapes liked a little too much.

Timothy would have liked to see the other officers in their little cubicles as he walked down the hallway, but didn’t have the chance to as he jogged to keep with the officer’s long strides. Whenever he did pause or slow to a walk, the officer would urge him to go a little faster, and that Officer Kirk wasn’t far.

“Wasn’t far” was, of course, relative to the pace you walked.

With heavy panting, Timothy made it up to the fourth floor. Apparently the officer didn’t believe in elevators, as they were “impractical”. Elevators could malfunction easily, and would not be an ideal place to be stuck in during a fire. Also, stairs weren’t very hard to climb, so long as you went three steps at a time.

“Hang in there, that office right at the end is Officer Kirk’s.”

Timothy couldn’t even manage a weak grin.

He didn’t know how he managed to make it to the door. The heavy knocks Officer Hallthorn beat on the door matched Timothy’s heart. “I’ll be leaving now,” the officer said, as if believing Timothy would be devastated.

The only reaction Timothy gave was the droop of his head, which he hoped would be interpreted as a nod.

Timothy waited outside the wooden door for five minutes before the hinges began to creak.

A thin, weaselly face poked out from the crack. “Is he gone?” the man asked, in the unmistakable voice from the phone conversation.

Timothy looked in shock at Officer Kirk. He was nothing like the man he imagined. Officer Kirk was a gray-haired, whiskered man with a long, bony nose. Clever blue eyes peered out from thick white eyebrows, enhanced by crow’s feet growing out of the outside corners. While Officer Hallthorn had all his deep contours on his face, Officer Kirk’s contours lay in his wrinkles and fold of his skin. He had a few crumbs on his small, wispy goatee. Timothy knew instantly that those came from donuts.

“Yes,” Timothy replied, with the same embarrassment from before. The officer’s clever eyes studied him for a length, and Timothy felt it increasing more difficult to hold the gaze. Thankfully, Officer Kirk looked away.

“Oh, good. Officer Hallthorn can be a bit…demanding,” Kirk said. He smiled one of those smiles that only go as far as the teeth, never reaching the eyes. His voice and his smile were ill-fitting with his timid face.

“Well, come in!” he greeted, though missing the warmth. “You look a bit red. Did Officer Hallthorn make you climb the stairs?”

Timothy nodded, walking to the chair offered to him.

Officer Kirk clucked his tongue. “I told him to stop doing that. Donut?”

“Excuse me officer for being rude but what exactly is the nature of this meeting?” Timothy inquired.

“Anxious to get back to you dog, eh? Quite a small one for a malamute. I’m afraid I’m allergic to dogs,” he added with a cold laugh.

Timothy didn’t like the way the officer knew everything.

“Excuse me for going off topic,” the officer apologized. “I just wanted to know what else you discovered since the last interview. You were the last witness, though you said it may have been a dream. Is that correct?”

“Y-yes,” Timothy stammered, somehow still getting intimidated by this little man.

“Well then. I happen to understand that you and two others visited a tailor. Can you tell me why?”

“Oh!” Timothy exclaimed, rather surprised this was brought up. “Um…the doctor—my doctor—begged me to go investigate…”

“Excuse me. Can you begin with their names?”

“Er, the woman was Oakley. I believe she just moved here. And my doctor…well…this is a bit embarrassing, but I don’t remember his name. I just call him Doctor.”

“I see. I’ll ask for his address later. Please continue. You were talking of an investigation…?”

“Yes! Um, Oakley, she’s some sort of animal controlist or something, she saw something strange in the forest. She had been at the tailor’s to search for some sort of standing cat, I think. The tailor reported it.” Timothy fiddled with the donut in his hand. “So Oakley went to investigate. She did see some sort of animal, and followed it. But it disappeared, and then she saw something strange. There was this really black shape that night, and she took of picture of it. But everyone thought it was just her hand blocking the camera, until the doctor said he also picked up something weird and—”

“Please slow down,” Officer Kirk commanded, leaning in a little too close for comfort, “and repeat all that.”

“I…” Timothy gulped. For some reason, he began imagining himself in a black-and-white jumpsuit, with a prisoner’s plate on the left side of his chest engraved with the number: 84310.

It was not a pleasant sight.