Crybaby - Chapter Five
Chapter Five of the blockbuster new novel, Crybaby by best selling, multi-award-winning author Mark Watson...
CRYBABY
©Copyright 2024 by Mark Watson
CHAPTER 5
A Hollywood Movie
Rajesh "Raj" Ranganathan was hooked on Hollywood blockbusters. He’d devoured them all. Tonight, he had The Terminator playing on his phone, providing a comforting distraction as he worked the graveyard shift at the station. There was never much to do except catch up on paperwork, which is why “The Old Man,” Chief Constable Nisheed Kumar assigned the shift to Raj. As the youngest and newest recruit at the station, Raj always got the late-night-until-morning duty. It gave him time to learn the ropes of policing, procedure, administration and paperwork, while the more experienced officers enjoyed their nights at home with family, ready to tackle the busier morning and afternoon shifts.
Raj lounged in the reception area, feet propped on the desk, engrossed in his movie. Exhaustion was etched into his bones; all the police were running on fumes. A recent calamity involving a rogue elephant named Crybaby had wreaked havoc, leaving them to clear up the bloody aftermath. Locals and tourists had been killed, as well as elephants, and the carcasses had to be cleared away with a bulldozer borrowed from the quarry. The ancient stone bridge was too perilous and narrow for the bulldozer, forcing them to navigate through forest roads, stretching the ordeal. Raj didn’t much like the graveyard shift, but tomorrow the regular officers would be down in the ravine, searching for another body. For once, he relished the relative quiet of the station.
Raj was a young man of medium height and build, with sharp features and deep-set eyes that radiated both intelligence and a perpetual state of alertness. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and his face sported the faint stubble of a man too busy to shave that morning. His uniform, though tidy and fairly new, already bore the wear and tear of his hands-on approach to duty.
He wasn’t supposed to be alone. New procedures mandated a female officer be present to handle domestic issues, but they hadn’t assigned one yet. Such was life in a rural station in a village with one street, a cluster of houses, one shop, and a post office. The police station was long overdue for replacement. There were plans to demolish this relic and build a new, modern station, consistent with other state-of-the-art facilities.
Calling this place a "station" felt like a stretch. It was a crumbling, old building with only five rooms and an outdoor toilet. An outdoor toilet! The new stations had large reception areas, modern restrooms, and sleek, uniform designs. Raj’s station had two entrances—front and back—and only one floor. The single office belonged to the boss, and the roof leaked and sagged from decades of humidity and rain, typical of a rainforest community.
The station was a relic from a bygone era, its weathered walls weak with damp. The front door creaked ominously whenever it was opened, and the windows, fogged with age, barely let in any light. Inside, the musty smell of damp wood, tobacco and mildew permeated the air, a constant reminder of the building’s dilapidated state. The reception area was a cramped space, dominated by an old, warped desk piled high with files, and a single, flickering fluorescent light casting eerie shadows on the peeling paint.
The outdoor toilet was a relic of its own, a rickety structure that swayed in the wind. It was a far cry from the modern facilities found in new stations, lacking even basic amenities and requiring a short, often treacherous walk through snake-infested, overgrown grass and mud.
The contrast between Raj’s station and the promised new one was stark. The plans for the new station boasted spacious, air-conditioned rooms, advanced technology, and ample space for officers to work and rest comfortably. In contrast, Raj's station felt like it was held together by little more than hope and habit, a testament to the resilience and dedication of those who worked within its walls despite the odds.
Every creak and groan of the old building was a reminder of the urgent need for modernization, yet there was a certain charm to its antiquated existence. It was a piece of history, steeped in the stories and memories of a community that had relied on it for decades. Raj knew that, despite its flaws, this station had been a cornerstone of the village, a place where people sought help and, especially with “The Old Man” Nisheed in charge, generally found it.
The reception area where Raj sat had a desk that was scratched and worn, with drawers that stuck or wouldn’t close properly. The floors were cracked and uneven, and the paint on the walls was peeling, revealing layers of faded colors underneath. There wasn’t even a locker room; officers had to change into their uniforms at home.
The boss’s office housed a gun cabinet with a few rifles, but they were old and required constant maintenance to ensure they didn’t blow up in your face when you tried to shoot them. The station’s tiny holding cell was more of a symbolic gesture than a secure facility, with rusty bars and a flimsy lock.
There was a storeroom with a camp bed where officers could grab an hour or two of sleep, but it was currently occupied by the survivor of the elephant attack. Raj had also spotted the boss asleep in his chair in the office, so he was mindful to be quieter than usual. He paused his film and stepped outside for a cigarette.
The night was alive with sound, but outside the circle of light spilling through the large reception windows, it was pitch black, an inky void that seemed to swallow everything whole. Raj stayed within the light; the smoke from his cigarette would keep the larger insects away. The only thing that distinguished the old building as a police station was the reception area with its plinth bearing a sign that said "Police Station," though most of the letters had faded away, rendering it barely readable.
He finished his cigarette and briefly considered lighting another but decided to save the last few in his crumpled packet for later. He still had hours to go and was only nearing the middle of his shift. Flicking the cigarette butt over the wall, he remained mindful that the old man didn’t like them dirtying the front of the station, although it barely made a difference to the overall cleanliness. The town and its buildings weren’t going to win any civic awards for beauty anytime soon.
Both the front and back doors stuck in their warped wooden frames, requiring a lift and a jiggle to force them open. Tonight was no exception. Raj pulled and kicked at the bottom of the door until it finally gave way, cursing himself for not leaving it slightly ajar when he’d come out. As he was about to step back inside, he paused for a moment. The night had grown strangely quiet, almost silent. He shrugged it off; no matter, he was more interested in seeing how his film panned out.
Raj walked into the station and headed to the rear. He checked on his boss, who was still fast asleep with his arms folded and his head resting on them on his desk. He peeked in on the tourist too, who was also sound asleep on the camp bed, no longer tossing and turning with nightmares. This was part of his “round,” ensuring nothing untoward was happening in the station, no intruders, and that the gun cabinet was secure. Intruders were so unlikely as to be laughable, but there had been reports of a group of bandits in the area lately, so he was no longer allowed to leave the back door open to let a bit of fresh air blow through the station. There was an air conditioning unit in reception, but in the brief time Raj had been there, it had never worked.
Raj propped his phone up again on some files and folders on the warped reception desk and continued watching his film. The Terminator arrives at the police station, walks up to the front desk, and, in a cold, emotionless tone, requests to see Sarah Connor. When his request is denied, he delivers the now-famous line, "I'll be back."
Raj rubbed his hands and cracked his knuckles; this was one of his favorite scenes. In a few moments, the Terminator would drive a car through the front entrance, demolishing the reception area.
The stillness of the night was shattered by a distant rumble, a sound that grew rapidly louder, accompanied by the snapping of trees and the crunch of undergrowth. Raj looked up from his phone, heart pounding as the vibrations reached the police station. He barely had time to react before the massive form of the rogue bull elephant, Crybaby, burst through the tree line. Its eyes were wild, and its blood-stained tusks gleamed white in the moonlight.
The elephant thundered towards the station, a juggernaut of unstoppable weight and power. It plowed through the rickety fence encircling the small building, sending wooden shards flying. Then, with massive force, it crashed into the front of the station, shaking the ground with the impact.
Raj fell backwards of his chair, the force of the blow shaking the entire structure. The elephant's trunk swung violently, smashing the windows of the reception area. Glass shattered, spraying across the room as Raj threw himself behind the desk. The beast's tusks drove into the walls, tearing through the peeling paint and rotten plaster like paper.
The ancient doors, already warped and soft with rot, stood no chance. The front door was ripped off its hinges, flung aside as the elephant's massive head pushed through and into the entryway. Raj’s desk overturned, papers scattering into the air like a chaotic blizzard. The ceiling sagged and cracked, bits of plaster falling down as the elephant rammed the structure repeatedly.
Raj hurled himself out of the reception area and into the corridor, screaming, “Boss! Boss!” at the top of his lungs, somehow he had grabbed his phone. With his other hand, he managed to get his revolver out and squeeze off a few shots, but he was pretty sure he missed the massive elephant and only hit the roof and falling debris. He saw the huge, grey bulk of the elephant withdrawing, pulling the rest of the wooden façade away. The entire reception area collapsed, folding in on itself and crumpling into the floor as the concrete plinth came crashing down.
Raj's mind raced. He knew he had to act, but the sheer terror of the moment held him frozen. The elephant must have moved around the side and was headbutting and gouging the building. The walls and ceiling sloped crazily, ready to come down at any second. The building groaned under the relentless assault. The air was thick with dust, mingling with the scent of sweat and fear.
Nisheed came running out of his office, carrying the only gun he’d managed to grab from the cabinet, an old M-1 rifle. His face was a mask of urgency and fear. Jack, caught again in the wrong place at the wrong time, stumbled out of the storeroom and fell into the hall, eyes wide with terror.
Nisheed grabbed the shocked tourist and pulled him down the corridor towards the back door, yelling at Raj to come too. The building shuddered under the relentless onslaught. The ceiling tiles flipped and fell, crashing to the floor, and the fluorescent light tubes shattered above them, showering them with shards of glass as the station was plunged into darkness.
Quick-thinking Raj used the light from his phone to illuminate their way as the three charged down the short corridor. They slammed into the back door, trying to knock it open, but it wouldn’t budge. It was stuck fast in the warped and slanted frame.
The sound of the elephant's rampage was deafening. The walls trembled, and the floor seemed to tilt beneath their feet. Raj flashed his phone's light around, revealing the desperate faces of his companions.
They were trapped.
END OF CHAPTER FIVE
Next Chapter: The Post Office
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All the best,Mark 🤩
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Great story Mark , I love it
Another exciting chapter! I love the parallel between the plot of Terminator and the events that were actually happening in the story