Habeas Corpus: Black Womb (Black Womb Collection Book 1)

by Matthew LeDrew

  Now, for the first time in his career, he had nothing to do. It would be days or more before he was reassigned, and he felt boredom creeping over the back of his skull as he continued to stare at the gray-flecked wall of his cubicle.

  A steady squeaking noise that had been present ever since he came through the front door became louder all of a sudden and he turned to see Peter coming around the corner, pushing his mail cart along at a brisk pace.

  Tim moved to get up and almost fell off his chair. He grabbed his desk with both hands and pulled himself forward, the chair steadying itself back on four legs. His fourth grade teacher had always said that would happen if he kept leaning on his chair long enough, that it was Murphy’s Law. He sighed with relief for a moment, wishing that he’d listened, but resigning himself to the fact that it had taken her over thirty years to prove her point, so perhaps the odds were still in his favor.

  He got up successfully the second time, turning toward the cart just as it squeaked past. “Anything for me?” he asked, slyly glancing over the contents on the cart and shooting Pete that big smile of his again.

  Pete’s expression remained vacant as he started to thumb through a few of the yellow and orange envelopes, finally turning to Tim. “Nope,” he said simply, then started to wheel past again, the left wheel proceeding with its steady shriek.

  Tim laid his hand upon the cart to stop it, something on it catching his attention. “Hold on,” he said as he reached out and grabbed the third yellow folder from the end and pulled it out. It had the word ‘sensitive’ stamped across the front of it, which was what had gotten his attention as Pete was flipping through. He checked the ledger at the bottom of the file, making sure that it wasn’t assigned to anyone in particular yet, then sat on the corner of his desk and flipped the file open as Pete continued to wheel past.

  The first page of the file, held down by a paperclip with rust flecks on it, was a page that had been printed off of the old printer in the back and had left ink splotches all over it. It was the generic page that was printed for almost every case that came through, with little check-boxes the initial officer on the scene had to fill out with the nature of the case, victim name and brief summary. It would also be the page faxed as a kind of cover letter should any information have to be shared with other precincts around the country. On this particular cover letter there were only two pieces of information pertaining to the case: that the victim’s name was Julie Peterson, and that the check-box for sexual assault had a thick letter ‘x’ scrawled through it.

  His phone rang once next to his head and he picked it up almost immediately, bringing it to his ear as he turned the page. “Tim White’s office. Offic -- Agent White speaking.”

  There was a sound of ruffled fabric and a loud puff of air that hurt Tim’s ear, making him cringe, and then a voice came that was fast and low, the accent had just a slight hint of New York twang on the end of the sentence. “Jeez, what were you, sitting on the phone?” The man on the other end of the receiver seemed annoyed and a little amused at how fast Tim had picked up, letting out another puff of air that made Tim’s phone gargle with static.

  “Next to it, actually,” Tim corrected, his eyes going wide and then frowning as he saw the picture of Julie Peterson, her smile almost as vibrant as her eyes. “Who is this?”

  “Duncan. Agent Duncan Taggart,” he said, and somehow Tim knew that he was smiling. There was a honk in the distance, and he assumed that the man was driving. “I’m from the Bureau. They’ve assigned you to help me out with a case I’ve been working on for a few months now. Great job on the Genblade capture, by the way. Top-notch stuff, I hear. I’d really like to meet that guy before they stick him in a hole for the rest of his days. Really rare to catch a serial alive.”

  “Believe me, you wouldn’t,” Tim said as he rolled his eyes, trying his best to focus on what he was reading. There was a photo of the scene where the rape had actually taken place. One of the officers involved had circled the upstairs window of the house across the street with a red felt-tip marker and written the words ‘Julie’s Room.’ It made him want to throw up just thinking about her having a view of that spot for the rest of her time living in her parent’s house.

  “Ooookay,” Duncan drawled, clearing his throat. “Well listen, I don’t want to brief you now, but we really have to get started as soon as possible. I’ve put a lot of work into this case over the last few months and I don’t mind taking on someone new, but you’re going to have to pick it up fast or get left behind like a high-school prom date.”

  Tim balked at the comment, flipping to the medical report that had been written up on Julie Peterson. He shook his head and sighed when he got to the part about her refusing the rape test, cursing to himself. There were pictures of the bruises that had been left on her arms and legs, as well as scrapes across her back and breasts that he imaged would make it impossible to sleep for at least the next month. There were worse injuries, but most were described rather than photographed.

  “You still there? We’ve gotta get started quick, or else--”

  “Sorry,” Tim interrupted, closing the folder shut and tucking it under his arm. “I’ve already got a case.” He gently placed the receiver down on its hook, then started walking toward the door, leaving his jacket draped over his cubicle wall.

  Mike brushed a pile of cigarette butts out from beneath him as he sat down against the solid brick wall of the school’s smoking section. The air around that corner of the building smelt stale and toxic, like a sock left to soak in its owner’s sweat for thirty years or so. He checked behind him once more to make sure that there were none left, then finally rested his back against the warm wall, absorbing all the heat of the sun shining down on him. “So, what should we look for?” he asked, staring at the envelope in his friend’s hands.

  “I’m thinking your basic couch shots. You know, Tommy running around and just taking pics of people chilling out and shit. If we pay attention to the group shots, it could be easy to go off the wrong way,” Xander reasoned, flipping open the bright yellow paper and taking out the stack of photos. “Aw, God.”

  “What?”

  Xander flipped the first photo around. It was a bedroom window taken from inside another bedroom window, most likely Tommy’s. It was blurry, but it looked like he was trying to get some shots of a girl changing. “Never miss a trick, do they?”

  “Dude, is that your Mom?”

  “What?”

  “Just kidding.”

  Xander grumbled something about Robin being a better sidekick, but he trailed off and moved on, flipping to the next set of photos. “And the sick-o gets sicker.”

  Mike leaned in and looked at the picture, a full-zoom shot of Cathy’s breasts. “So, we’re not giving any of these back, right?”

  “Burn the negatives?”

  “Uh-huh,” Mike nodded, taking the negatives out of the yellow envelope and bringing a lighter to them.

  Xander flipped to the next picture, a full-body shot of Sara, yelling and smiling and generally having a good time. He shoved that one into his coat pocket without another word to Mike, who was watching the negatives burn. “Those chemicals are poison, man,” he said absent mindedly. “Don’t breathe them in.”

  Mike nodded, bringing the smouldering black filmstrip over to an empty metal garbage can and tossing it in, closing the lid behind it. “Any actual photos yet?”

  “Two of Grendel we can burn. One of him alone and another of him heading into the bedroom...” he trailed off.

  Mike grabbed those two and ripped them to shreds without even glancing at them.

  “Here we go,” Xander said and Mike leaned in, both of them huddling over a shot taken from atop the dining room table of the entire party. Their eyes scanned the faces and clothes of those attending feverishly.

  “Wasn’t she on the red couch?”

  “Don’t ask me, I was on the balcony,” Xander reminded him, spitting out the sentence as quickly as possible, as
if not liking its taste in his mouth.

  “I can’t see anything. It’s too wide a shot,” Mike groaned, turning away and flipping through the stack to find more.

  Xander kept staring at the photograph. As he did, the pupils of his eyes enlarged slightly, slowly, until they almost overtook him.

  Mike finally noticed, doing a double take. “What are you doing?”

  “There,” Xander said finally, the slightest hint of the Womb in his voice. Mike cringed, but looked to where he was pointing. Sure enough it was young Julie Peterson, freckles and big white smile and everything. “I can’t pick out the guy next to her, though,” he sighed, his pupils dilating to their normal size.

  Mike smiled, noticing the black plastic jacket their guy was wearing. “I know that fool.”

  Derek looked at Cathy from across the lab, watching her stare blankly out the window as he took down Miles’ biology notes for the next class. He hated this ‘theory of evolution’ crap, and briefly considered asking why they were forcing it down their throats so hard. Like they’d ever really need to know about evolution, anyway. The way he saw it, whatever happened, happened. There wasn’t too much he could really do about it.

  Cathy still had her jean jacket wrapped around her slender body, her elbows sticking out a little through worn sleeves that added to the jacket’s character. Her hair was perfectly straight, and with the way she had her head tilted he could only see her nose sticking out from beneath her bangs.

  He sighed heavily, turning his attention back to the board as Miles’ squeaky little red marker etched a crude diagram showing man’s evolution from apes.

  At the back of the class, Tommy raised a hand in question.

  “Yes?” Miles responded, poking his head up to see above the taller students, the action misplacing his gold-rimmed spectacles. He re-mounted them onto his nose carefully. “Yes, Thomas?”

  “If man evolved from apes, than...”

  “Why are there still apes?” Miles finished for him, smiling.

  Tommy nodded.

  “That’s a point that a lot of people bring up, Thomas, and I’m glad you did. Actually, there are over a hundred different species of ape. One particular species had the good sense and cunning to start to stand upright - to become men - and that particular species is now extinct. Gone from the face of the earth. Some say it’s coincidence... but...”

  “There are no coincidences,” someone in the back quoted, remembering that it was one of the professor’s favorite literary quotes.

  “Exactly.”

  Again, Tommy raised his hand. Derek groaned, rolling his eyes and burying his forehead into his palm. He knew what was coming now.

  “Yes, Thomas?” Miles asked again, smiling at the young man’s thirst for knowledge on this subject.

  “Will man ever evolve again, like in X-Men?”

  The whole class, with the exception of Cathy and Derek, roared into a fit of laughter. Miles chuckled softly, wiping his old eyes. “No... no, not like X-Men. But, I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of evolution.”

  Derek squinted.

  Cathy piped up, speaking for the first time since class had begun. “What would be needed for evolution? For us to change again?”

  Miles took off his glasses and started cleaning them with a pearly white handkerchief he always had in his coat pocket. He tilted his head to one side, carefully considering the question. “Well... there’d have to be a need to change for survival.”

  “There’s definitely that around here,” Tommy piped up.

  Once again there was a class-full of laughter for something that wasn’t funny. Cathy’s mouth went slack, her tongue suddenly dry.

  Miles coughed softly to hide his utter amazement at the vulgarity of such a comment, then continued. “Yes, well. After a time, certain members of a species will learn a behavior, or sometimes even grow an adaptation that will allow them to survive their natural or un-natural limitations and predators. These are the beings that survive, and they pass these traits onto their young, until eventually a lot of beings have it and they become a separate species. So, theoretically, if man had a strong enough reason to evolve, he would do so... yes.”

  “How?” Derek said finally, his brow furrowed in disbelief. “Where’s the room to change?”

  Miles gestured toward him briefly, giving him credit for the point he’d made. “True. But, many scientists believe that the appendix is either something we used and eventually evolved to the point of no longer needing it, or that it’s something that we will grow to learn to use. To change further.”

  Derek shook his head and frowned, then stared down at the notes he’d made. He couldn’t see any of this coming in handy on a test. “Can I go to the washroom?” he asked, seemingly out of the clear blue sky.

  Mr. Miles looked at him side-on for a moment, not clearly understanding how the conversation had gone from one point to the next. “Yes, of course,” he said after a moment, waving toward the door.

  Derek nodded his thanks and got up, walking out the door. Before it closed, he caught a glimpse of Cathy, finally turning away from the window long enough to watch him make his exit.

  Derek walked through the halls, keeping a close eye out for Shnieder as he quietly made his way to the men’s room. His shoes scuffing softly against the tile floor and his jacket swishing back and forth were the only things he could hear. He paused slightly as he passed the ‘little girls room,’ then rejected the immature notion to call inside and see who was there. He proceeded to the men’s room, un-zipping his jacket and showing a l33t me t-shirt underneath, his own silent testament to his love of online manga. He turned the corner and stepped into the bathroom, his heels scuffing to a sudden stop.

  “Hi, Derek,” Xander smiled sinisterly, leaning up against the stalls.

  “We’ve been expecting you,” Mike added, stepping out from behind a corner and giving Derek a start.

  Derek raised an eyebrow and smirked at the situation. “How long did you guys practice that?”

  Xander heaved a sigh, then turned and looked at Mike, who did the same. “Alright,” Xander said as he stepped away from the locker and loomed toward Derek. The Womb surged inside of him, forcing him to swallow hard to keep the black bile from rising up his windpipe. “I’m gonna put this into terms you can understand, pal. This is the end of Empire. You’re Han and I’m Boba. This isn’t going to end well for one of us.”

  Derek raised an eyebrow, looking from one to the other. “That’s... not a great analogy. I mean sure, it was going Boba’s way at the end of the movie, but Han ended up on top in the end of the trilogy. Maybe you’re looking for more of a Green Goblin/Gwen Stacy reference?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Mike shrugged, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  “That wouldn’t really work either, though. Maybe you should just use a metaphor instead of an analogy. Or use an analogy more commonplace, like saying that I’m Bates to your Manson or something like that,” he chuckled, then took another step forward. Again, the true Womb vibrated.

  “Let’s get to the point,” Mike interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Tell us what we need to know, or that smirk‘ll come off your face before you can say ‘Revenge of the Nerds.’”

  Xander cursed and stepped forward, his tone losing all the menacing crypticness he’d tried so hard to convey throughout the exchange. “We need you to tell us about what happened with Julie Peterson,” he said empathetically, pressing his lips together and looking down, obviously feeling shameful of the actual topic.

  Derek shook his head. “Why? So that you can turn around and freak on her like all the other low-life scum in this place? I tell you, you guys deserve to die like the rest of them.”

  “Careful what you wish for,” Xander said, his tone sounding like that of a wise old man. “You just might get it.”

  “Like it’d matter,” he scoffed, discarding Xander’s warning. “I’m not telling you crap so that you can ruin her any more than this shit already has.”


  “We don’t want to hurt her, we just want the names of the people that did this,” Mike spoke up, stepping toward the both of them.

  “Oh yeah, why?”

  “We wanna kick their heads in.”

  Derek stopped, looking from Xander to Mike and then back again. A sly smile extended across his face. “Okay,” he said cheerfully.

  CHAPTER FOUR:

  HEAD FIRST

  The library smelled old and musty, like something between the scent of new paper and an old, smouldering cigarette. There was a dryness in the air that set it apart from everywhere else in the school. Mike kept expecting to see large clouds of dust move ominously between bookshelves, as if they had a mind of their own. It was still a welcome change from the bathroom, especially after Tommy and Sud had come in and used it. It seemed that he had been right all the years he’d said that those two were ‘full of it,’ and that they wasted no time expelling ‘it’ from their systems on a daily basis.

  He frowned, putting the large, navy blue book back onto its place on the shelf. He was sure that Mrs. Richards, the old bat that they used for a librarian in this school, wouldn’t react kindly to some of her books being out of place. He traced his fingers carefully over the leather bindings, each yearbook a different colour but all of them sporting the same golden lettering along the spine as the one they’d looked at earlier. All of them had the same creases of use up and down their weathered edges.

  At the end of the corridor, Xander sat atop a table with his legs resting firmly upon a chair, flipping through old files. “Any luck?” he asked, not really interested as he turned another page lazily. He already knew what his friend’s response would be anyway.