by Peter Fang
Koda hated the smell of the aging mildew ingrained inside old furniture, the feel of the worn-out pictures, and the sad photos of people from bygone days. It conjured up memories of his family, his painful childhood, and, most of all, his dad. The toolshed garage his dad owned had the smell of your typical antique shop. Old, rusty tools mixed with the faint scent of mold and a perpetual presence of musky smell blended from years of human interactions that had halted ages ago. There was a particular corner in his dad’s shed where his father would corner him for punishment when Koda did something wrong. That corner had the most potent smell of mildew. Now he could recall that smell by just visiting a rundown garage.
Koda arrived at the Hwa-Mei Storage facility. It was nothing like the modern facility where security cameras were everywhere. This was more like someone’s mechanic shop, with old, rusting cars sitting behind a fenced gate. There were storage units in the back but they looked like conversions from old car garages. He parked the car outside the facility and gave the attendant $50 to let him check out the place. The attendant declined, and when he found out he was with FBI, the young man tightened up even more.
“Do you have a search warrant?” the young Asian man asked blankly.
Koda whispered, “Look, I just want to look around on a lead, and I don’t have time for all the paperwork and phone calls. I’m asking you as a courtesy to help the FBI.”
“No paper, no look,” the young man insisted.
Koda nodded. “Okay. I know this area, and I heard that people are selling things around here. I’m not here for that, and I don’t want to know. I just want to take a look inside unit 303, and then I’ll be on my way. If you want to make it hard for me, I can make it hard for your business.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about!” the young man insisted.
A middle-aged Asian with a square face came out from the back store. His bald head reflected the neon lights with beads of sweat while his right hand was holding a storage key. “Let’s go take a look, but on one condition: I come with you.”
Koda followed the man to unit 303. The sky was starting to rain, and it put a dour mood to the whole place.
The Asian man unlocked the unit and pushed the door open halfway to let Koda in.
Koda said, “Wait here, I won’t take long.” He then put on a set of crime scene gloves and shoe covers and went inside.
Koda was expecting to see a lot of antiques, but instead it was boxes of old clothes sealed in plastic bags. The clothes smelled ripe like the homeless. There were at least thirty sets, all neatly folded in a stack.
He rummaged around with a flashlight and found large syringes connected to an IV bottle. He also found a pair of rubber boots; the soles were pretty clean, but there was still some dirt left. He used a pocket knife to scrape off some dirt into a bag. In the corner of the garage, he also found a shovel. The shovel also had some dried-up dirt, so he collected the dirt from the shovel in a separate plastic bag. He explored deeper into the unit but found nothing else. When he was about to leave, a metallic glint caught his eyes. He looked down and saw a dog tag, like the type from a Vietnam vet. He picked it up and read off the name with the flashlight: Gary Roach. Koda was starting to have a bad feeling about this whole thing.
He went back to his car and did a quick search on the name Gary Roach. The system got a hit. Gary Roach, if it was the same person, was a petty criminal with a history of burglary and trespassing. He was a Vietnam vet and a drifter. There was no record of him since about a year ago; the last few records on him were a loitering complaint and resistance of arrest on the same street as Manfred's antique shop. Koda packed up the things he needed and hurried to this car. While driving, he called his contact at the crime lab.
“What is the case for?” assistant Terry asked over the phone. He made no effort to hide his dismay with his nasal voice.
“Where’s Larry?” Koda hoped to talk to someone he trusted and not a lab assistant.
“He's out this week on a conference. You can talk to me.”
“Remember that case about a month ago with the antique shop owner?”
“Sorry, I don't. We run hundreds of tests every week. I can't remember everyone.” Terry's voice was elevated and somewhat distracted.
Koda was feeling impatient. He scratched his face to force himself to calm down. “It doesn't matter if you don’t remember. I have some new leads, and I need some samples tested.”
“No, wait, I do remember that case now. I thought that case was closed. Why are we still running more tests?”
“Because this might prove my theory.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“Why am I telling you all this? It's best if you don't know what I think. It may influence your analysis.” Koda was unconsciously biting his nails as he entertained Terry's skepticism.
“Fine, but I need an authorization.”
“What do you mean?”
“Things are tight these days. They've got watchdogs all over the place tracking what we do now, so I can't just spend taxpayers’ money on a case that is not yours.”
“All right, all right, damn it! I'll get your authorization.” Koda hung up the phone and made a mental note to clean out his clock in their next poker game. He thought about asking Matt to do him a favor, but decided against it.
On a hunch, Koda went back to Manfred's shop to check out the place again. He waited until there was no one around and then slipped to the back of the building, picked the lock, and got inside. The shop appeared to be empty. All the furniture and antique items had been taken away. He saw a section of the drywall was peeled open and revealed a small opening. Is there something down there under that floor? Koda couldn’t wait, and given that it was rather late, the chance of someone coming here at this hour was slim to none. He poked around and found there was a window that was pried open. He poked his head near the opening, and the smell of new paint burned his lungs. With one hand holding his nose, he used the other hand to push the window open and managed to climb inside. He walked around inside to reorient himself; then he closed his eyes and tried to remember what the place used to look like, but his memory was fuzzy. With the phone in his palm, he swiped through some pictures he took at this location a month ago and found where the old office room was.
Approaching the spot slowly and listening with the utmost intent, he was hoping to hear a crack on the floor, but it all sounded solid. No potential hidden dungeon, I guess. When Koda was going to give up and leave, he noticed a small rip in the wallpaper—funny; it wasn’t there just a minute ago. He peeled back the wallpaper carefully and saw there was a seam––a hidden door. Are you kidding me? He was surprised that no one had seen this before––how did the remodeling crew fail to see the secret door? He tried to pull the door open, but it wouldn’t budge, and then he realized there was railing beneath the door, which meant the door slid open. With one hard yank, he was able to slide the door open.
There was another door behind the front panel, and it had a padlock on it. Shit! Koda didn't hesitate too long before he decided to get his handy lock-breaker on the back of his trunk. He had gone this far, and he was not planning to go back empty-handed, so he brought in the large lock-breaker and cut the padlock. The second door was even harder to open than the first, but it worked the same way. Once he opened the door, a strong, musky smell poured out from the void. It was dark, and visibility was poor. He turned on his pocket flashlight and saw a small staircase leading down to a basement. He let his flashlight's beam follow the stairs until it hit the basement floor. It was a good seven feet down by his estimation, and the only way down was through the narrow, wooden staircase. He drew his gun and slowly walked down the stairs, one step at a time. The wooden planks groaned under his weight. It felt like forever, but he finally reached solid ground.
It was a small enclosure about twenty feet long and as wide. Koda was about six feet tall himself, and he barely had any headroom. In the middle, there was a set of c
hains on a wooden post, and there were some plastic bags closed tight on one end. Koda poked a hole in it and saw it was filled with dirty clothes. There was a faint scent of feces in the air mixed with aerosol and bleach. Koda covered his nose with his forearm and moved closer to the pole. He examined the cuffs on the chain, and there was dried bloodstain. He kneeled and picked up the dirt to feel it between his fingers––fresh soil, but with a hint of some foul odor, like death. Could this place be a torture chamber? He realized that Manfred was something much worse than an awkward antique seller.
He wandered deeper into the chamber, then realized there was a small gap in the wall when he walked by because there was air flowing out from the hole. He flashed the light against it and saw a dark, wooden frame propped tightly against the wall. He felt his fingers around the edges to look for a way to pull the door open, but it was shut tight. He ran his hand across the board to look for a knob and instead found a horizontal metal bar. He leaned on the bar, pushing the board open and felt a warm, musky air washing over his entire face. There was another room behind the wall, and it was twice as humid inside than the smaller chamber.
Koda went into the chamber with his handgun at the ready. His flashlight’s bright cone revealed an eerie cave. The wall’s rough surface showed deep grooves made by powerful claws. Transposing cuts that peppered the entire cave interior made it seem like it was crying out in pain. The space looked more like a vast empty animal’s den except for the iron cages in different stalls. Each pen was about four by four feet cubed, and there were four of them. The cages’ doors had been bent and broken by some tremendous force. It seemed like something was trying to get in, rather than out. There were dark, violent bloodstains spread across the cage floors and the bars.
The stench of human feces burned Koda’s eyes. There were piles of personal belongings inside plastic bags. There was also a working refrigerator. He opened the refrigerator and found glass bottles filled with clear fluids. He then saw another large container. When he pried it open, there were baseball-sized silk cocoons. One of the balls was broken, revealing a partially-consumed human hand.
That was when Koda saw in the corner of his eyes the movements of a dark object––something flittered. He backed away from the refrigerator and swung the flashlight at the object. The light revealed a horrid corpse about ten feet away. Koda moved in closer and saw that the corpse was facing down in a fetal position: its spine and rib cage were prominent beneath the tight skin, like a profile of a refugee in starvation. Part of the skull looked liquefied; other parts of the body were missing large patches of flesh. Koda couldn’t understand how the body could have not spoiled in such a damp environment.
The warped corpse suddenly quivered, then it unfolded its rigid torsos like a demonic flower. There were several odd-looking items wedged in the middle of the body, each with a long finger-like appendage protruding outward into the corpse’s neck. It sensed Koda nearby, so it released its fingers from his neck, and faced Koda.
Koda’s flashlight revealed the corpse’s horrifying arachnoid features with rows of compound eyes dotted across its skeletal face.
The corpse opened its mouth and made a ghastly sound. Its long fingernails touched the ground before charging towards Koda.
Koda stepped back and fired his handgun until he emptied the magazine.
The bullets shattered the corpse’s mouth, but it did not stop the body from wrapping its arms around Koda and dug into his neck.
Koda tried to scream, but his vocal cord had tightened up.
The corpse leaned over Koda and opened his its rigid jaws. A cluster of slender, spider-like legs crawled out. The creature then forced itself into Koda’s mouth.
Koda felt like choking but could not stop the monster from digging into his throat. Something sharp dug into the wall of his throat, pushed through flesh, and drilled into his spine.
The pain pushed Koda’s head sideways, and just before he passed out, he saw a tattoo on the side of the creature’s neck. It was a tattoo of a naked woman riding on a wasp. Koda recalled seeing this tattoo before on Manfred’s dead body inside the morgue. Finally, his vision narrowed, and there was darkness.
“Don’t drain him, my love––this one is different. Are you not curious to see how much different he is?” Meredith’s voice echoed inside Manfred’s mind. Manfred’s dimmed consciousness obeyed her commands, even when Meredith was hovering hundreds of feet above the city.
Hmm—so you are the one that’s been tracking my husband’s case. I could use you to get closer to the queen. Knowing her, she would want to keep you around as my husband’s replacement. Queen is attracted to her enemies’ suffering, and you certainly have suffered greatly. With the power of my spell, I foresee that Queen will offer you the chance to see your wife and kids again. And just like my husband before you, she would offer you the deepest desire for your unrelenting loyalty to protect her. Let me honor her with a surprise of my own. Baobao, you know what to do.
The nearby wall suddenly came to life, and a dark figure emerged—it was Baobao. He walked over to Koda’s body and knelt next to him. A small centipede slithered out of his hand and found its way into Koda’s nostril. Koda struggled in vain as the insect climbed into his sinus cavity and burrowed a hole towards his brain. Koda tried to scream, but there was no sound from his voice. He felt a warm poke deep in his mind, and then he blacked out.
“Remember this,” Meredith said coldly. “When the time comes, you will only obey my commands. The words will form a link between us. You will wake up and obey only to me. Cradle your vengeful thoughts in your deepest mind and let them brew. When it is time, I will release it to do the deeds.”
When Koda came to, he was in his car’s driver’s seat looking up at the dome. The compartment was spinning and he didn’t know where he was. There was no recollection of the events that had occurred even minutes before. How did I get here? He looked around and realized he was in Chinatown. There was a vague memory of a dog tag in his head, but it had no meaning. He painfully searched his mind trying to recall what brought him there, then he remembered that he needed to contact that couple––the young folks. What were their names again? He looked up the number from his phone, found the number for Ansen and Maria, and put the call through. A girl on the other side answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Detective Koda Xi.” Koda felt his pupils suddenly contract, and a dark void closed in on him. He tried to resist, to no avail, and his vision went dark.
“Who?” The voice on the other end of the phone suddenly went into a high-pitched growl.
“Detective Koda Xi.”
“Yes…” Maria’s voice was barely audible. “Queen and I have been waiting for you...”
When Koda arrived at Maria's apartment, her door was already ajar. Koda walked into the apartment and was immediately consumed by the darkness.
Maria’s dark shadow was near the dining table. She stood up, walked up to Koda, and stared.
Koda, in response, opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Maria opened her mouth, to the same effect.
It lasted for several minutes, then Koda turned around and walked out of the building, got into his car, and drove off.
Down in Maria’s garage, the queen’s long nails inside the antique were tapping.
31
Too Close for Comfort
It would have been Koda’s son’s thirteenth birthday. Every year, he would force himself to go to the stadium and buy three seats and leave two unoccupied. In honor of his child and his wife, he would go to the boy's favorite game––baseball. There was but one rule for him: No one was allowed to sit in those unclaimed seats unless invited.
On this day every year, he would force himself to go out into the crowded stadium and “enjoy” an afternoon of baseball. It was a memento of his past life. He didn't mind if someone asked to sit in the seat. Sometimes, a kid and his dad would be walking by or looking for a place to sit, and he woul
d invite them to sit next to him. He would make up an excuse like his friends didn’t show. He liked to watch the interaction of the dad and his kid. It reminded him of what could have been his experience. It was a fuel for him to keep getting up every morning. He would wake up every morning to work on his case to find the killers of his family.
After the incident at Blake’s pig farm, he was fortunate that the union president had a good relationship with the police chief. After a good dress-down by the police chief in front of the union president, the union didn’t take the complaint further. “No more of this undercover monkey business,” was the direct quote from the red-faced captain. Sure, even Koda knew when to back off from a case. Even if you knew in your gut that you were onto something, taking it easy sometimes could let your brain wander, and more ideas would pop into view when you were on break. For Koda, it was almost a forced five-day vacation.
Safeco Field’s open stadium was a sight to behold. Koda never got tired of the stadium, even though he was not a big baseball fan. The sky was pure and blue that day without a trace of cloud. The crowded place both soothed his soul and made him panic at the same time. Images of people’s faces that crowded around him in the stadium grew into a menagerie of splendid experiences that he would never have in this lifetime. He would look at the faces as if peering through a vintage 3D View-Master, and he would weave imaginary stories around them.
Today’s ball game was was slow with intermittent sequences of excitement. He got the same seats as last year and the year before. It was in the fifth inning when someone scooted into the seat next to Koda. He dozed off but was awakened by a nudge from the guy next to him. Koda instinctively moved his shoulder to make more room, but then he heard a whisper in his right ear. “Do you want to find the killer of your kid?”