Exorcist in America

With a clang.

York witnessed a man, possibly a murderer, pass out before him.

"This gun is indeed interesting."

What fell from the man's left hand was a short-barreled shotgun.

With his knowledge of firearms, he identified it as an ultra-compact semi-automatic shotgun produced by Remington.

The tubular magazine below the barrel could hold five rounds, and with one in the chamber, that made six.

Its ability to be readily reloaded ensured sustained vitality.

"No wonder they call it a 'truck gun,' this guy really is ruthless."

York shifted his gaze from the gun to the unconscious man in front of him.

The missing persons cases that Officer Sybil mentioned likely had something to do with this man.

After a moment's thought, York used his psychometry to invade the guy's mind, forcibly breaching his meager mental defenses.

Quickly constructing a scene through his powers, York witnessed the man's actions.

He watched as an observer, seeing this man murder outsiders who had come here.

The methods were typical, yet effective.

Some involved a car blocking the road to lure victims out and then striking.

Others pretended to be lost pedestrians to deceive their victims, then made their move.

Some simply opened fire directly, turning it into a game of chase.

York shook his head internally, skipping over these details like fast-forwarding through a film, until he found the cabin in the woods where the man committed his murders.

"That should be enough."

York released the man's mind, stepped out of the psychic space, and looked down at the slowly collapsing figure, thinking seriously before pulling out his cellphone.

"Father York?"

A voice came from behind.

"Are you alright?"

York dialed 911 while turning around.

Ross had come out of the car and approached from behind. She looked at the unconscious man and the shotgun on the ground, visibly perplexed.

"It's fine, this guy tried to attack me, so I knocked him out," York tapped his phone screen, making the call.

Hearing his words, Ross covered her mouth, and he explained further.

"I suspect this guy is connected to the missing persons cases Officer Sybil mentioned."

As he said this, the call connected.

911 is typically for emergencies; otherwise, it's common to call local police stations.

Regardless, whether it's a police report, fire, or medical emergency, calling 911 handles it all.

"Please tell me your location and the nature of the emergency."

York, seeing Ross still absorbing the information and shocked, put his finger to his lips and responded.

"I'm on county road CR521 heading towards Lost Town. I encountered an armed assailant who tried to shoot me, but I managed to knock him out,

and I suspect he's connected to some missing person cases here."

The operator was momentarily silent with the influx of information.

But clearly a professional, she asked, "How are you now?"

"Safe, please hurry someone over," York said calmly, looking down at the unconscious man.

"Okay, please hold on." Once reassured of his safety, the operator's tone relaxed noticeably.

Soon after, the voice on the phone changed to a steady male tone.

"Hello, this is Lost Town Police Station. We are dispatching officers now; please hold on, and if possible, do not hang up."

York understood the need for them to trace the call. Once 911 is called and the situation confirmed, the police are dispatched based on the reported address and the phone's GPS location.

The ongoing conversation primarily ensures the caller's safety and keeps them informed that help is on the way.

Of course, his situation was unusual, involving a missing persons murder case. Likely, those dispatched would be responsible for this type of investigation.

"Okay, I'll wait."

York did not hang up but had little interest in idle chat.

For someone like him, unless facing an apocalyptic crisis, he wouldn't normally be in danger.

He kept the phone active and turned to Ross, who had finally processed everything, and smiled warmly.

"Let's get back in the car. Sharon seems to be waking up."

Ross stared at the priest, unsure what to say.

"It's alright, the police are coming, I can handle it," York knew what Ross was hesitant about.

"Go ahead."

Ross took a deep breath, nodded, and at that moment, she could only comply.

She watched as Ross re-entered the vehicle and opened the rear door to get inside. York then turned to look at the old pickup in front of him.

Analyzing the three-dimensional image, this vehicle alone was sufficient to prove the man was a murderer.

The firefighter's axe in the front seat, though clean on the surface, still bore blood stains.

This was enough for the police to examine the DNA on the axe.

After all, technology in this world, in some aspects, was actually more advanced than in his previous world.

Though he couldn't quite perceive it himself.

York looked ahead, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"If

 I'm not mistaken, the person coming should be that officer."

In fact, killing the murderer outright and erasing his existence would have been simple for him.

But he had deeper considerations.

Inside the car, Sharon had already woken up, clutching tightly at the priest's robe, looking up at the figure standing in the light, appearing as monumental as a mountain, then turning to hug her mother.

"Mom, what's happening outside?"

Ross was also looking forward, sighing, "It's nothing."

"Is there a bad guy?" Sharon asked innocently.

Ross looked at her, "Did you see it?"

Sharon nodded.

Ross hugged Sharon tighter, "The bad guy has been dealt with by Father. He told us to wait here, so we must stay in the car, okay?"

Sharon blinked and nodded.

"Mom, I drew another picture. Do you want to see it?"

Ross gently stroked Sharon's slightly messy hair, replying softly, "Sure."

Perhaps because Lost Town was not far off, it wasn't long before York sensed a convoy entering the range of his three-dimensional map.

It was a police car bearing the emblem of Lost Town, speeding towards them.

Soon, the glaring headlights were visible in the distance.

York's gaze flickered subtly, and he hadn't miscalculated—the person arriving was indeed Officer Thomas from the movie Silent Hill, who risked being burned to save Sharon, disregarding the burns on his hands.

Seeing the badge and uniform, Officer Thomas had apparently been promoted from a regular officer to chief of police.

If compared to China, this chief would be akin to the head of a police station, responsible for law enforcement in a county or district.

Watching the police car pull up about ten meters away, York had some insight.

But when he saw Thomas step out of the vehicle, York raised his eyebrows slightly.

He sensed a very special aura on Thomas—a mix of dark and pure energies swirling together.

This aura was so peculiar that York couldn't fully understand it, but he could deduce some parallels from other cases through his visions.

"Is that a stigmata?" York looked at Thomas's hands, hidden by gloves, and saw the scars on his palms through the material, murmuring to himself.

In this world, a stigmata indicated that you had borne the pain of a deity or a unique being, thus carrying the essence of that deity.

As this knowledge flickered through his mind, York watched Thomas, accompanied by another officer, approach briskly, his expression somewhat different.

Because in the movie, Thomas endured the pain of burns to rescue Alessa from the flames.

"It seems the movie can only serve as a reference now. The presence of stigmata on Thomas alone implies that Alessa, often called a witch by adults, is indeed special,

no wonder Thomas, accompanied by the protagonist, could enter Silent Hill without being affected by Alessa's dark powers."

With this in mind, York walked towards Thomas and the others.

"Sir, did you call the police?" Thomas, with a sharp face and high nose, looked lean, his Native American features giving off a competent air.

Not bad.

York reached out and shook hands with Thomas.

"Yes, officer."

"Are you alright?" Thomas first assessed York's condition, then looked up at the pickup behind him.

"I'm fine." York replied.

Thomas nodded, "That's good. Where's the person you mentioned?"

York gestured behind him, "He's passed out in front of the car."

Thomas immediately waved his subordinates to go ahead, then walked with York following behind.

He first glanced at the muscle car ahead, then the old pickup truck parked in the middle of the road, and finally at the unconscious man and the shotgun picked up by his subordinate, understanding the situation.

From the scene, it was evident the man had issues, but looking at York, who stood half a head taller and exuded an aura not to be trifled with, Thomas felt puzzled.

How had this man managed to knock out the other unscathed?

"I saw the gun he hid behind his back, so I got out of the car pretending to help him with his vehicle. When he tried to shoot me in a better position, I immediately acted and knocked him out."

Sensing Thomas's gaze, York roughly explained.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, "How did you know about the missing persons murder cases here?"

York said, "At a gas station ahead, a female officer told me. She advised me not to travel at night and to find a place to stay until morning."

"Female officer?" Thomas appeared surprised.

But the officer who had handcuffed the man spoke up.

"Chief, that must be Sybil. She's on patrol tonight and needs to report back to the city afterward."

Thomas nodded, his gaze at York changing slightly, less suspicious and more assessing.

"Sir, how did you know he was connected to the missing persons murder cases?"

York calmly stated, "I encountered this guy at

 the gas station. He kept inviting us to stay at his cabin in the woods. I felt his gaze was dangerous, so I've been cautious and declined. If possible, you might want to search that cabin,"

As he spoke, York glanced at Thomas's jacket pocket.

Thomas understood immediately, pulling a pen from his chest pocket and handing over a piece of paper.

York took it, writing down the address he had gleaned from the man's mind while saying, "Of course, this alone wouldn't prove anything. Mainly, I found some traces in his car, an axe, and residual organ tissues and blood stains under the car seat."

Thomas furrowed his brows, gesturing his subordinate to check the pickup.

York handed back the pen and paper.

Thomas took them, carefully storing the paper with the address.

Knowing the address and the current situation, along with the man who could serve as a witness and the traces in the car, they could apply for a search warrant.

With this,

Thomas inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, looking towards the muscle car.

"Who's inside?"

"My friend and her daughter," York replied.

"Officer, can we leave now? My friend has been driving all day."

Hearing this, Thomas looked at his subordinate, who had entered the old pickup following the instructions just given and was now searching.

Seeing his subordinate silently nod, Thomas finally spoke.

"You can go, but sir, could you come to the police station tomorrow? We need to understand the situation more clearly."

York smiled, hearing the underlying intent of the inquiry.

"Of course, officer, I'll cooperate with your investigation."

Thomas, seeing the understanding in York's eyes, somewhat sheepishly smiled and then rummaged in his pocket again, pulling out a new piece of paper and writing something on it.

"I see you're from out of town. If you need help, you can call this number."

York took it, glanced at the police station address and a phone number on the paper, and nodded.

"I will, officer."

Thomas then turned back to his subordinate, "Zachary, find a way to move this truck, or we'll have to tow it."

But suddenly, the pickup roared to life, accompanied by Officer Zachary's shout.

"Chief, this vehicle is actually fine."

Hearing this, Thomas was even more convinced of the serious issues with the unconscious man, turning to York with a smile.

"Sir, you're free to go."

York nodded, returning to the car, this time taking the driver's seat.

"Father, everything alright?" Ross asked from the back seat, watching intently.

"It's fine, just need to visit the police station tomorrow."

Seeing the pickup truck clear the way, York calmly stated, starting the engine and driving past.

Passing by Thomas, he nodded in acknowledgment, then pressed the accelerator and sped off.

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