Inhuman: Detective Chase hunts an animal who protects his own

by Nathan Senthil

  Someone tugged Gabriel’s shirt in urgency. He glanced back at Bill, who was pointing his shaking finger at the back of the sofa. There was a tiny elbow peeking out from above the armrest. He hadn’t seen anyone on it when he’d scanned the room. The elbow then loosened, and the arm drooped down. It was thin and short, and a bangle dangled on the wrist.

  No, it couldn’t be—

  A feeble chuckle filled the room, and Gabriel huddled closer down to the wall. The volume and pace of the sound increased until it became full-blown laughter.

  “You chose the wrong house to rob, boy,” announced a voice, in a distinct southern drawl.

  When Gabriel realized it wasn’t Barnabas that Tyrel was talking to, his heart paused for a moment, before pounding.

  Chapter 45

  April 13, 2019. 08:22 P.M.

  Gabriel saw his own reflection in the silverware over the stove. And the handkerchief did give him the appearance of a robber.

  He passed the jimmy to Bill and stood. “I’m not a criminal. I’m a cop. We know who you really are, Boone. What you really are.”

  Tyrel pushed his chair back and got up. He turned lazily and regarded Gabriel with disinterest, his thin lips stretching into a lopsided grin. He took a step forward, the partial wall being the only thing dividing them.

  “Hold it right there,” Gabriel said.

  Unable to resist, he glimpsed at Tyrel’s meal.

  A reddish-brown roasted human leg lay on a long plate. Yellow and green peppers, tomatoes, onions, and coriander leaves were sprinkled around it.

  After catching Gabriel’s line of sight and the revulsion darkening his face, Tyrel picked up the leg like one would a chicken leg. He brought it close to his face and sniffed.

  “Tried this dish for the first time. Came out pretty well, if I say so myself.” Then he sunk his white teeth in and tore a huge chunk off it.

  “Drop it, motherfucker!” Gabriel said.

  He never resorted to profanities, but his wildest nightmares hadn’t prepared him for the macabre obscenity he was witnessing right now.

  Tyrel didn’t obey. While munching a mouthful of horror, his words were distorted.

  “Who are you hobos? Can’t a man have his hard-earned supper in peace? You know what I’ll hate about killing you?” Tyrel dropped the hand holding the leg, to his side. “It won’t be hot no more when I’m done making a carcass out of you.”

  “Don’t you dare move an inch. I’m placing you under arrest.” Gabriel couldn’t believe the shit coming out of his mouth.

  Did he really expect Tyrel to lie on his stomach and give up? His senses went haywire whenever he became nervous, and bravado took over.

  “Who is?” Tyrel said.

  “I’m Detective Gabriel Chase.”

  “Well, that can’t be.” Tyrel frowned. “I just wedged an icepick under your skull.”

  “What are you—”

  The floor boomed with heavy footsteps, and Tyrel leaped over the wall. Gabriel backed away in a hurry. The edge of the carpet caught his shoe and he almost stumbled.

  Tyrel snickered. He lifted Barnabas’s leg, bit another piece off, and chewed. Bill, whose face had drained of color, scurried back, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

  “Oh, you’ve got company,” Tyrel said to Bill. “Don’t matter. This one time in juvie, I held my own against five guys.” He turned back to Gabriel. “You’re both gonna die here tonight.” He hurled Barnabas’s leg at Bill’s head, then descended on Gabriel.

  Gabriel used to be boxer. Not the weekend warrior kind of thing—he had worked out eight hours a day and won a championship back in college. But he felt weak in Tyrel’s presence, a bull trotting onward in its glorious animalistic might. Gabriel’s comparatively thin forearms fended off the onslaught. While he blocked most of the torrent of flying fists, a few found their targets. He needed help. Fast.

  Bill got out of his shock and approached Tyrel with the steel rod in his grip. One headshot is all that was needed.

  “Oh, you a fighter?” Tyrel retreated. “It’s been a long time since I had a good fight.” He took another step back and kicked Bill in the midsection.

  The weapon dropped, with Bill on top of it.

  Gabriel shouldered-barged Tyrel’s stomach and thrust him at full speed. But Tyrel slid back only a few steps before putting his feet down. His brute strength easily overrode Gabriel’s inertia.

  “Wrong move,” Tyrel whispered, weirdly to himself, as if he was following some mental rulebook on fighting.

  And Gabriel understood what he meant by wrong move microseconds before a thunderous blow from double elbows landed on his back and knocked the air out of him.

  Gabriel had to let go—his back hurt as if he’d been stabbed and the knife punctured a lung. Struggling to breathe, he yanked the handkerchief off his face and threw it on the floor.

  Tyrel smirked. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

  Gabriel had mostly won face-offs, but in the rare instances that he lost, he’d always known he would lose after exchanging a few jabs. This fight was one among them.

  “Why the hearts?” Gabriel heaved.

  He needed to know now, because it looked like he might not make it out of this.

  “Debt collection.” Tyrel was still smirking. “It’s not really stealing if you take something they never had in the first place.”

  “And you, a torturing murderer, have one?”

  “I do. Thirty-six to be exact. I’m the kindest man you’ve ever met.” Tyrel sprinted, towards Bill, who was groaning on the floor.

  “Bill! The leg,” Gabriel shouted, but Tyrel was already airborne, his folded left knee hovered perpendicular to Bill’s leg before it landed with a crushing force.

  When it made contact, Bill’s wail pierced the neighborhood’s quiet.

  Tyrel back-rolled to his feet. “Now that we’ve got the novice out of the way, let’s fight properly.” Tyrel lifted a leg and popped knuckles on his foot. “You are a boxer, aren’t you? If most people had tried to block my punches with their forearms like you just did, they would have been, I don’t know, destroyed? But whatever.” Tyrel shrugged. “Boxers are predictable. So I believe I can kill you.”

  Gabriel believed that, too. Tyrel’s muscles felt like rocks. And how did you bring down a mountain without some kind of weapon? As Gabriel scanned the room for the jimmy, Tyrel dashed to Gabriel and jumped with a knee in front. Gabriel stepped aside and punched Tyrel’s jaw. It cracked under his knuckles, but Tyrel didn’t even register the pain. He bent low and swung his elbow in an uppercut, which Gabriel blocked with his weakened forearms. A good move, but Tyrel was too close. Gabriel grabbed the steely arm and hit Tyrel in the ribs. Again, Tyrel didn’t register it. Maybe he had that strange condition where he couldn’t feel pain.

  With a plan in mind, Gabriel cocked his fist and charged, and Tyrel put up his arms to protect his face. That was the thing about professional fighters’ bodies. Their muscle memory got so used to certain moves and instinctively took appropriate actions that it didn’t factor in the opponent’s ability to deceive.

  Gabriel didn’t use his arm, like he’d made Tyrel believe, but kicked his right knee. Something crunched under Gabriel’s shoe. This time Tyrel yelped, but only for a fraction of a second. Gabriel landed a blow under Tyrel’s nose with the heel of his hand. That disoriented him, and Gabriel jumped and pounced Tyrel to the ground. He sat on Tyrel, locked him between his legs, and began pounding on him.

  A shrill rang out, and Gabriel looked up to its source. A little head peeked from the top of the sofa’s backrest, its hair damp.

  Agnes!

  The power of Gabriel’s punches waned at the sight of her. She’d not only been alive, but was also enjoying her stay here, watching cartoons. Bill’s wailing must have gotten her attention and made her take an interest in the fight. But why did she cry when it was Tyrel getting beat up? Was she rooting for her abductor?

  Tyrel bent forward. Before Gabriel could escape, T
yrel jerked back and dug a knee into his lower back. Gabriel let go and stood up. Tyrel did a kip-up and slammed Gabriel to the wall. His head connected with the concrete, and the world blurred in an instant, then began swirling at an irregular angle as the gravity tempted him to sit down. As it settled back and cleared his vision, he saw Tyrel limping back, smiling.

  “Man, that was awesome. Let’s dance again.”

  Gabriel tried to get up, and slipped, but tried again and pushed himself up. He didn’t have air for round two.

  A deafening explosion jerked them both, and the front door shook. It came from behind Tyrel.

  Emma!

  She must have heard Agnes’s scream. But despite the gunshot, the door stayed shut. Tyrel noticed that too and made a run for it. Gabriel tried to stop him, but Tyrel was stronger. He pinned Gabriel against the wall, squeezing his neck with one hand while curling the other into a fist and striking.

  The second gunshot didn’t stop Tyrel from pummeling Gabriel’s ribs. Was she searching for the deadbolt? She’d better find it soon, before Tyrel plunged in and plucked out Gabriel’s heart.

  After some seven or eight punches, Tyrel let go of Gabriel, who limply fell to the floor. Still, Tyrel couldn’t escape because the door was blocked by Bill’s body. When Tyrel pulled the door wider, Beast shot through the gap. Tyrel was shocked at the new visitor as much as Gabriel was.

  Bill grabbed Tyrel’s leg and received a punch in his mouth for his bravery, his handkerchief finally coming loose. Beast, seeing his friend being attacked, jumped and locked his teeth into Tyrel’s knee. The same knee Gabriel’s kick had impaired minutes ago.

  But what could this tiny dog do that both Gabriel and Bill couldn’t? Beast wasn’t a K9 trained to bring criminals down, let alone Tyrel. If he wanted, he could squash the dog and escape.

  But he didn’t. Instead he held its collar and pulled it mildly.

  When Beast didn’t relent, he said, “Come on, puppy. Let go. Don’t do this to me.”

  He sounded like he was begging. It didn’t make sense. All he needed to do to get away was kill the dog, or at least hurt it.

  Unwilling to let Beast fight Tyrel alone, Gabriel dragged himself to his knees and locked his failing arms around Tyrel’s waist from the back. At the same time, Bill grabbed Tyrel’s other leg, the one Beast didn’t have.

  The door finally flew open.

  “Don’t move, asshole,” Emma shouted, her pistol trained on Tyrel.

  Beast let go and ran toward his mom. Tyrel shook his hip to free himself.

  “I said don’t move. I swear I’ll shoot.”

  With the broken leg, Tyrel kneed Bill’s face, and then kicked Gabriel, donkey style. That finally freed him.

  Emma fulfilled her promise and took the shot. Tyrel’s body jerked, and the little girl screamed again.

  Emma turned to Agnes. “You okay, sweetie? Are you—”

  Tyrel lurched toward Emma.

  “Watch out,” Gabriel shouted, but Tyrel was already close to her.

  He bulldozed Emma back and her head whiplashed. Just as he swept her up and rammed her body onto the wall behind, her gun went off. He let her go and she crumpled to the floor.

  Tyrel stepped over her body and opened the front door, but froze at the threshold. Had he forgotten something?

  Then Gabriel saw the reason for his hesitation. A red pattern spread on the back of Tyrel’s white T-shirt, like an amoeba.

  At last, the demon knelt and fell sideways with a thud.

  “Bill. Go check out Em.” Gabriel rushed to Tyrel and dragged him away from Emma and her gun.

  He feared Emma’s neck might be broken, and she could be… no! He wasn’t going to allow himself to think that.

  First he needed to incapacitate Tyrel. But no one had cuffs.

  The rope.

  Gabriel sprinted to the kitchen. He tried not to look at Barnabas while he recovered the rope from the floor. As he ran back to Tyrel, he saw Bill crawling to Emma, his mouth bleeding and drawing a crimson trail on the rug. Gabriel’s heart broke again at the sight. He should have never let them into this mess.

  Gabriel turned Tyrel, made him lie on his stomach, and tied his wrists. For extra safety, he put a loop around his foot and knotted everything together.

  He stood, holding his throbbing side. When he saw Bill, something caught in his throat and made it difficult for him to breathe. Bill was cradling Emma’s head on his lap, crying.

  No, no, no, that shouldn’t be.

  “B-Bill?” His voice failed him.

  “She’s gone, Detective Chase.” Bill hugged Emma’s head. “She isn’t breathing.”

  After mustering enough courage, Gabriel inched towards them. He sat on his haunches and checked for a pulse on her neck. Nothing. His eyes teared up. He should have said no when they wanted to tag along to Apex. Should have called it in after they found Tyrel’s house, and waited for reinforcements. Should have deleted Noah’s email instead of investigating it. Should have just become an engineer or a doctor rather than getting into this policing business. So many should haves, but they wouldn’t bring Emma back.

  He caressed his hand around her neck, to the back, and lifted her head.

  What? It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t broken. Maybe…

  “Bill,” Gabriel shouted. “Put her down.”

  “But—”

  “Do what I say, you fucking idiot!”

  Bill placed her head on the floor and crawled back.

  “Commotio cordis,” Gabriel muttered, as he placed his palms together atop her chest. “I’ve seen it in boxing rings.”

  “What?”

  “Maybe it’s her heart that’s stopped.” Gabriel gave a composed push. “What’re you waiting for? Give her mouth-to-mouth.”

  Bill wiped the tears and blood from his face, and obeyed. Gabriel squeezed her heart every fourth second, and Bill filled the gap with respiration. They did that for one of the longest minutes in their lives, but she didn’t come back.

  She really was dead.

  Gabriel put his head down, palms still between Emma’s breasts, and warm tears dropped on top of his hands. An electric current from the pit of his being circulated throughout his body, giving him goosebumps and a new surge of energy.

  His life’s single purpose had become clear—kill the tied-up monster.

  He lifted Emma’s hand and unlaced her cold fingers from her gun. As he went to free the last digit, her pinky moved.

  Wide-eyed, he stopped and stared at her face, holding his breath.

  Emma’s eyes fluttered open, and she coughed. Gabriel nearly fainted in elation.

  “What the! Gabe?” Emma shouted, her tone raspy. “I think this perv kissed me when I was knocked out cold. My mouth tastes like copper. Is that his blood? Yuck, disgusting.”

  Bill pulled her towards him, buried her head in his chest, and cried like a lost child that had finally found his mom.

  Chapter 46

  April 13, 2019. 09:23 P.M.

  Using his swollen forearms as pillows, Gabriel lay on his back atop the Camaro. His AirPods played some random song which drowned out the commotion around him. He directed his attention to Thunder Over Louisville, which was lighting up the night sky. Watching it long enough without seeing anything else had calmed him and made him feel one with himself.

  He needed a break, and this was it. No more little girls in jeopardy, and no more cannibals on the loose. It was just him and the moment for now, before his life eventually came around with its sorry tales of murder and mayhem.

  After the last firework, a huge flower blooming in the night sky, Gabriel slid down the windshield and removed his earphones. The sight of police cruisers, CSU vans, and armed response units, and the sounds of radios and clamor welcomed him back to the shitty reality. This section of Park Avenue had been cordoned off, and onlookers were taking photos, the flashes giving an ecstatic atmosphere to the otherwise mundane street.

  Gabriel spotted his team near an EMT
vehicle. Emma was standing on the road, with Beast in her arms. She was watching Bill, who lay on the stretcher inside, his eyes closed. His pant leg had been cut off, and a splint supported the broken leg.

  From inside Tyrel’s house, two men in white overalls rolled out a gurney carrying a covered-up body. Poor Bob had been declared dead on arrival. Seeing this, the flashes intensified near the crime scene tapes. A minor hubbub ensued when people got curious, and uniforms tried to control them. But it abated when they loaded the body bag into the ambulance and drove away without sirens.

  Gabriel took his inhaler and breathed in several doses from it. He hadn’t used it for a long time, so it felt good. A sense of warmth filled his heart as he approached his partner. She had never looked so lively.

  “What’re you smiling about?” Emma said.

  “Nothing. I’m just glad it’s over.”

  “Amen to that. Done watching the fire show? What are you, a ten-year-old?”

  “Yes, maybe on the inside. You talked to Agnes?”

  “Yeah. Uncle Tom had bought her ice cream for dinners and pizza for breakfast. She actually said she loves him.”

  “That’s not what we thought about Tyrel.”

  “It’s not. Barnabas said he couldn’t believe his daughter was alive.”

  “Said?” Gabriel frowned.

  “Not said said, his tongue’s been cut off. I mean he wrote it on a paper when I questioned him.”

  “Why did he think his daughter was dead?”

  “Because Tyrel showed him pictures of Agnes tied to the floor like a baby calf. He also said he heard Agnes scream, and Tyrel’s body was covered in her blood afterward.”

  “What’d Agnes say?”

  Emma smiled dryly. “That she and Uncle Tom were playing a silly game, and he’d asked her to pose for the photos. He didn’t tie her up or anything. This evening, Uncle Tom asked her to dip her fingers in red paint and finger paint him. Then she went to take a bath, and that’s why she didn’t hear the scuffle between Tyrel and Bob.”