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"If you think that Homicide is just about finding dead bodies, you've made your mistake already." - F. Sandes
Present day 9:46 AM
Mount Trashmore, once dumpsite turned recreational park, has been placed in the ever growing statistic as a murder scene. Police vehicles swarm this area as bees would a honeycomb. Amidst the crowd of folk are two gentlemen; one in a trench coat, the other shivering, barely holding onto an umbrella. Constant rainfall has limited a search for clues of any sort and three hours have already passed. "What now Fred?" said the shivering man. "It's been hours since we caught wind of this. We've got last nights crew still investigating in conjunction with Norfolk Police Department; two forensics crews and still we're coming up empty. That means we've got zilch, nada, zero, nothing." "Keep your pants on Greg, something will come of this," Fred mentioned politely. "The forecast called for light showers on and off all morning. I don't believe our caller could have seen into the future. Just be patient." "Don't rule that out Sarg, we've got the Psychic Hotline to take into accord." Greg giggled. "Meanwhile, whoever pulled this stunt is laughing right in our faces." Fred's face shifts to that of disappointment. "I guess a few more minutes, then we'll wrap this up and get to a nice dry place. Maybe get some coffee, some doughnuts." "Sergeant Sandes!" A cry from beyond commits to the speech. "I think I've found something buried over here in the mud." Carefully the two men make their way through the slick grass and pouring rain. "What do ya got?" Fred panted, slightly out of breath. "Skeletal remains of three or more subjects." The officer replied. "What kind of subjects," urged Greg. "I'm not sure, they look to be human. But that's not it, check this out." Using a knife, the detective moves a few bones around. "See here. This mud over here is different than that mud over there. Its consistency isn't the same." "Well this used to be a landfill detective," gargled Fred. "This can't be trash remains Sarg. Its mass is too soft, it's like powder, and there is no smell emitting from this area. If this was garbage we would've had to hit a gas pocket first. Which ‑‑" "‑‑ Couldn't have happened, because this mount was refaced by new earth several feet thick. Yeah, I know Virginia Beach history. Thanks Armando, spouts Sandes, getting a closer look at the dust‑like paste. "No problem Sarg, that's what I'm here for," smiles Armando. Fred pivots slowly toward Detective Greg Walkorski. His voice strong in tone. "Greg I want that in the lab twenty minutes ago." "I'm one step ahead of you chief. I had Armando take a sample during your inspection," Greg blurted instantly. But... he continued. "I gotta get to the john before I piss on myself." "Okay. Just don't take forever." Ten minutes pass and Greg returns with a man dressed rather nicely in a suit and tie ensemble. The rain has stopped and the sun is peaking through the clouds. As Greg approaches Sandes he begins to form what looks to be a huge grin. "Greg, I thought you might have fallen in, Sandes says sarcastically. "Ha, ha, ha... Umm. Sergeant, look who I found wandering around the scene of the crime." Detective Jarred DeMarcus as I live and breathe, Sandes speaks cheeringly. The two shake hands. How are you? Im fine, Sir. Dont be so formal Jay-D, Sarg is fine. You look sharp, where they got you now? "Im with Forensics now sir, uh-Sarg, as Chief Assistant." Forensics, Fred's expression changes considerably. "Why would forensics call their Chief Assistant to a job that doesn't require a high political inspection? Does this mean once again that I haven't been informed of this crime's level of security?" "No Sergeant it does not. However, it is not my place to question my superiors on why they give me orders. You taught me that if Im not mistaken. It was me actually Jay-D, Greg interrupts. Look Sarg, I'm just getting paid to do the job. You too I'm afraid." Jarred expressed assessing the scene evidence. "I'm being snow balled by Captain Morgan again. I can't believe this." Fred murmured to himself. "So tell me Jay-D, how come you and Armando are the only two working on this. It seems rather odd that they would let two men take on the tasks of two teams. How can the two of you do what twenty are supposed to perform?" "What can I say, we're good, Armando jokingly adds. "Very funny Vasquez, and stay out of the conversation!" Fred answers boldly. "Well mister DeMarcus, are you gonna answer the question?!?" "Yes, I will! It's obvious that you have a problem with this Sarg!" Jarred counters as sound. "I've got two teams that have been here all night, and you have the nerve to ask me what I'm here for!?! Why you inconsiderate ‑‑" "Hey guys! It has been a long night for everybody and we are all a little grumpy." Greg interrupts. "We're all on the same side here, okay?" His eyebrows raised to Fred as if to say, let it go. "No Ski, it's all right. For the record Sarg, there are generally eight to ten guys per crew. However, for that last question Sergeant Sandes, we are here to pre‑access this scene before our new team, my new, untrained in the field team, plops down for a closer look. This site will soon serve as their first crime scene since the Academy." Jarred stops briefly, his eyes glow a bright red during his speech which seems to halt any verbal contrasts to his lecture-like answer, "Now will that be the end of this interrogation Sergeant, or do I have to write up in my report that the Scene‑Officer‑In‑Charge prevented me from performing my job!?!" Sandes, extremely silent during Jarred's reply, stands glassy‑eyed and states with little‑to‑no emotion, "Nope that will be good enough for me." "Now, why don't you all go to your cars and sit there until I need your assistance, Jarred mentions in a deep vibrant tone glaring at Fred, his back toward both Armando and Greg. In unison they quoted, "As you wish." "Now I can get some work done, Jarred thought to himself. "But wait‑" he thought again. I suggested to them to go to their cars and they did! Hmmm. That's the third time that I've suggested things for the guys to do and they've done it. Well I guess you learn something new everyday." Suddenly out of nowhere Jarred's body begins to feel empty and it aches like a constant knife in the gut. In his mind he hears a whisper, "~It's time.~" Within moments the pain leaves him. "Whoa, I must be hungry. I guess that big breakfast at McDonald's didn't cut it. I'll grab a Snickers in a minute." "Aaaaahhhh!" The suffering returns. This time ten times worse than before. Jarred buckles over in agony. Then again in an instant it is gone. "Detective DeMarcus, you okay?" The soft nearby voice of Officer Janice Anderson offers concern. "Yeah, just caught a hunger cramp, that's all. Can you do me a favor and see if you can get me a Snickers?" He states faking, pretending to be fine. "Sure... Be right back." Five minutes go by and the discomforting pain returns. "Aaaaahhhh! Where's that candy barrrrrraaaaaahhhhh!" "~It's time!~" There it is again in his head. This time he feels somehow that he knows why he is being tortured. "~I must....feed~" The pain inflicted feeling can no longer be contained and he must feed, not on food but on blood. Jarred falls to his knees. The reflection of his face in a puddle he splashes in shows that his pupils have turned into a dark, red emptiness in his eyes, and the whites have changed to that of unmined coal. He needs blood, but from where? His instinctive secrecy boosts his intelligence and he realizes that he can't feed here. There are too many, too near. At a glance his visual senses acquire a target, a nearby Channel 3 news reporter. Slowly he moves and makes his way toward the unsuspecting prey. Closer and closer he gets to fulfilling his thirst for blood. The sound of the heart pumping blood through his victim's body calls for his immediate attention. Now his own heart pounds faster and faster. He's ready to drink, he's ready to kill ‑‑ "Excuse me." Jarred's self‑inflicted trance is bumped aside. It's the cameraman from the Channel 3 video crew. "Can you move please, sir? Thanks. Tamara, you're on in five, four, three, ..." DeMarcus quickly dodges from in front of the camera. "Good morning, I'm Tamara Kendall. We're here live from Mount Trashmore, Virginia Beach, with a report on an anonymous tip from a midnight phone caller, who officials say witnessed several murders. It has been ten hours since the call and still no signs of anything. No clues or bodies, other than the joint Homicide Investigation Teams or H.I.T. squads from both the Virginia Beach and Norfolk Police Departments, have lead to anything dealing with the caller's sightings and the crews are baffled." Tamara continues as the TV Crew moves toward Sergeant Sandes' police vehicle. "‑‑ and what do you have to say Sergeant?" Camera flashes bombard the officer, but he is silent. "Sergeant??" Lightly she taps the microphone on the automobile's door. "Hell‑o? Sergeant?" Tamara turning back to the camera with a smile. "I guess that's a no comment. Hmm. Well. We'll keep you posted on any further developments of this story. Until then, this is Tamara Kendall reporting live from Mount Trashmore for Channel 3 Eyewitness News. "Annnd... we're clear! Great job Tamara." emptied the cameraman. █ To be continued next time... █
I hope you have enjoyed this week's Chapter and hope you will join us next time for:
Released November 17, 2006 Read It Now! Edited By Henry Livingston Originally Printed By RIVER CITY PRESS ISBN 0-9740933-5-1 All rights reserved © Copyright 2003 Published and Distributed By RIVER CITY PRESS Disclaimer - No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. |
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