by Kunego, Chad
That’s probably me. If they find me, I’ll probably wind up in a dank cell for the next twenty years.
Samuel glanced around and found a small stack of notebooks laying out along with several pens. Grabbing a notebook and pen, he sat back down. He copied down the sparse info the paper gave about the warehouse, intending to check it out later when it got dark. Hopefully he could find the address by then. As he put the stack of papers back, he noticed the head of the dragon poking out of his sleeve. Pulling the sleeve back down, it got him to thinking. It had to have come from somewhere. Maybe one of the local jewelry stores could take a look at it and possibly give him an idea of where it came from or who might have made it. After all, it was just his imagination that it had come to life last night. Being thrown out a window and surviving must have played tricks on his mind. So that meant someone had to have made it. With so little else to go on, it was worth a shot. Maybe a local jeweler might just be able to point him in the right direction.
After putting the newspapers back, he wandered around the library for a few minutes until he found the reference section, hoping to find a phone book there. He didn’t want to embarrass the librarian again when he was perfectly capable of finding information on his own, especially since he had noticed out the corner of his eye that she kept staring at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.
Finding a phone book, he flipped through the yellow pages until he found a list of jewelry stores. Scanning down the page, he found a space ad for a store that specialized in gothic and cosplay jewelry.
That sounds promising.
Jotting down the address, along with several other stores in the area, he set the phone book back down on a nearby table. Glancing back up, he noticed the librarian looking at him again. When she noticed him looking again, she spun around and headed over toward a door that he hadn’t noticed before. As she went in, he had the strange feeling that the door was important, but he couldn’t figure out why. As he stared at it, he suddenly got the impression that the air around the door was shimmering, like heat coming off a hot surface. As he continued to stare, he started to notice what appeared to be a slight blue glow coming out around the door frame. Before he could study it further, he heard a voice off to the side.
“Excuse me… Are you finished with this?”
Turning to look at the speaker, he stumbled back a few steps. Standing before him was what appeared to be a tall, gaunt looking man with pointed teeth, solid white eyes, and long, pointed ears. Blinking rapidly and rubbing his eyes, Samuel continued to back up.
“I say, are you all right sir?”
Samuel looked back at the man again. Standing before him now was a relatively tall gentleman dressed in a suit. He still appeared to be gaunt, but not overtly so. He still felt a slight sense of menace from him, but wasn’t sure why.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’ve just had a long morning is all.”
“Quite all right.”
Samuel noticed him gesture with his head toward the phone book.
“Oh, yeah. I’m done with that. Be my guest.”
“Thank you kindly.”
As the gentleman reached for the phone book, Samuel got a bizarre double image of the guy standing before him. One was of the thing he’d first seen and another, almost transparent image of the guy he had just been talking to. Shaking his head, he glanced back at the door, but it just looked like a normal door again. Tucking the notebook and pen in his pocket, he headed for the front door. Maybe some fresh air would help with the hallucinations he was having. It would also explain why he thought the dragon was alive. After all, the doctor had implied he might have a brain injury.
“Cheerio!”
He glanced back at the man/thing waving to him. He waved back and headed toward the exit. He started wondering if he should turn himself back into the hospital so they could check to make sure he wasn’t suffering brain damage, either from the fight last night or possibly what caused him to end up in the hospital with amnesia in the first place. After all, he had coughed up a bullet. The only reason he decided against it was, other than the strange visions and odd sensations, he felt fine.
If they get worse, I’ll have to turn myself in. There’s no sense of me dying to find out who I am. They’ll be able to figure out who I am eventually. But I’ll cross that bridge when the time comes. Until then, I need to figure this out on my own.
Trying to cross the threshold again, he felt the odd tingling sensation, along with a slight physical resistance. It wasn’t enough to stop him, but it was enough to be noticeable. Feeling an urge to look behind him, he noticed the door the librarian had disappeared through opening again. The librarian stepped out, followed by a couple of strange guys dressed all in black with black trench coats. Feeling exposed, he dodged to the side of the door before glancing back in. He saw the librarian glancing around, gesturing at the two men. Looking frustrated, she started making gestures toward the door he’d just left through.
As they started heading in his direction, Samuel spun around and ran down the stairs, catapulting himself down the last several steps. He sprinted to the right and heading toward a nearby parked car. Ducking behind it, he glanced back toward the library door. Standing at the entrance were both guys, intently scanning the area. Ducking back down, he swore he could feel their gaze pass over the car. Pulling himself down into a tight ball, he hoped that they wouldn’t spot him. His arm seemed to get hot for a moment, then went back to normal. After a few minutes, he glanced back around the car. The men were nowhere to be seen. Taking a chance, he got up and sprinted away, effortlessly dodging people as he put distance between himself and the library. As he ran, he wondered what that creature had been, who the guys were, and what the strange tingling sensations he kept getting meant.
Chapter 9
Cora read through the preliminary lab results from the warehouse incident again.
“Frank, does any of this make sense to you?”
Frank glanced up from his copy to look at her before looking back at the file.
“Nope, not one bit. Maybe we should head down to see if they can explain it so it makes sense.”
Cora glanced back down at the report. If what she was reading was accurate, then most of ash and dust that had been found at the scene came back as cremated remains, or something very similar to it.
“Even though the ash resembles the material recovered after a cremation is performed, it’s missing some of the mineral content normally found in cremated human remains. They don’t give an estimate of how many cremated bodies worth of ash they recovered though.”
“Well,” Cora said as she typed something into her computer, “assuming the ash they’ve recovered was, in fact, from cremated bodies, a quick search says that the average cremated body weighs between four to six pounds. The report mentioned they recovered at least a hundred pounds of the stuff and they’re still recovering more, so…”
Cora punched some keys on a calculator.
“Looks like somewhere in the ballpark of twenty bodies’ worth, give or take. Think there might be a local funeral home involved? Or maybe a vet if it turns out to be animal remains?”
“Maybe, but it’s unlikely to be animal remains. I mean, how many people actually pay to cremate their pets. I’m leaning toward it being human remains since we also found intact bodies there.”
Frank paused a moment to consider what she said.
“Well, I could see a funeral home or crematorium sneaking one, maybe two bodies out, but twenty bodies worth of ash? I don’t buy it… This is something else.”
“What about someone making their own crematorium?”
Frank set his folder down, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Looking back up, he replied.
“Cora, with all the weird stuff happening so far in this case, the fact that I’m considering the possibility of a perp building their own crematorium seems almost mundane. Honestly…”
Frank got a strange look on his face. Then he picked up the folder a
nd studied it a few minutes. Cora waited while he work through what he was thinking. She was fresh out of ideas anyway. After a few minutes, he looked up.
“You said that the amount of ash worked out to around twenty bodies, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“And from this report, there was an additional forty-some odd bodies scattered around the warehouse as well, correct?”
“Yeah, where you going with this Frank?”
“Hear me out. Right now, the rough estimate is around at least sixty bodies in that warehouse, right?”
“Yeah…?” she said, waving her hand in a hurry up and finish gesture.
“Well, where did they all come from? Why haven’t we had a huge number of calls coming in reporting ‘Johnny’ missing, or ‘Sandy’ never coming home from her party?”
“You know, now that you mention it, that is kinda strange. With that many bodies, you’d think we’d would of gotten at least a few calls about it, but I haven’t heard anything over the past couple days. How could that many people, cremated and otherwise, go unreported this long?”
“What if a majority of them were homeless people? Maybe this is the end result of an underground fight club or something. Ya know, kinda like bum wars, but without the losers walking away from it? That would explain the cremated remains as well. Maybe they just didn’t have time to torch all the bodies…”
Cora saw a pensive look on his face.
“What?”
“If my theory’s correct, and the more I roll the idea around my head, the more solid it seems… if it’s correct, then what does that make our suspect?”
Cora looked at him questioningly as she crossed her arms.
“I don’t follow.”
“Well, he was either a willing participant, which means he’s a murderer, or an unwilling participant, which means he’s a victim. Without his memory, it could go either way, but if he’s faking his amnesia, then maybe he was covering for someone. Someone who paid him a visit in the hospital room and tried to silence him. And that strange woman you’ve come across twice, Sybil was it? She’s involved with it somehow. Maybe she’s one of the organizers…”
“If all that’s true, then we need to find this guy quick before whoever killed Russo catches up to him and gets rid of another loose end.”
§§§§§§§§§§§§
Cora headed out to start checking out homeless shelters, after winning another round of rock, paper, scissors. Her partner was left investigating funeral homes and crematoriums. She just hoped her partner didn’t catch on someday or use something more random, like a coin-flip.
Based off the list she’d compiled, it’d probably take the better part of a couple days. She was actually surprised at the number of shelters, soup kitchens, and food pantries scattered across the city. She spent a few minutes weighing her options. Starting with the shelters closest to the warehouse might turn something up. If this group was smart though, and she had to assume they were, then the best bet might be to start at the ones furthest from the warehouse since that would generate less scrutiny.
Another thought popped in her head. Assuming he had been telling the truth about not remembering who he was, her suspect might actually show up at one of those shelters as well. With that thought in mind, she turned on her GPS and set the address for the shelters closest to the hospital. As an afterthought, she cross-referenced with the ones closest to the alleyway disturbance. She found three that not only fit the criteria of being close to both the hospital and the alleyway, they were nearly in a direct path her suspect would have taken if he’d kept traveling in the same direction away from the hospital. With that, she hit the navigate button and headed out.
Chapter 10
After jogging for several blocks, Samuel figured he’d put enough distance between himself and the strange guys at the library. The whole situation seemed bizarre but, strangely enough, it felt somewhat familiar as well. He could feel the memories dangling just out of reach, like a spider’s web over his mind. Trying to focus on the men he saw, he tried to figure out why they felt so familiar.
Without warning, a stabbing pain ripped across his mind, causing him to stumble. As the pain intensified, he took faltering steps into a nearby alleyway, trying not to draw attention to himself. Staggering away from the mouth of the alleyway, he slumped to the ground. He focused on the pain, clenching his head between his hands. His head felt like it was going to explode as the sound of blood rushing in his ears intensified. After a few minutes, the pain lessened as he started getting disjointed images flashing through his mind. The most vivid memory flash was of him fighting a woman with red hair, dressed in similar attire as the men at the library. He could almost feel the impact vibrations as he used his sword and vambrace to deflect multiple sword strikes from her, almost hearing the metal singing as the blades slid across each other.
As the images started to clarify, he was startled back to the present by the sound of someone begging to be left alone. Cursing the interruption to what felt like recovered memories, he started to settle back down to concentrate when he realized he recognized one of the voices.
“Hank…?” he whispered.
Slowly standing back up on wobbly legs, the pain in his head started fading as he glanced around. Not seeing anyone at the mouth of the alleyway, he focused again on the voices. Turning, he headed deeper into the gloom, warily choosing his steps, trying to be as silent as possible. About fifty feet in, he came to an intersection. Pausing to listen, he turned right. After another twenty feet, he could make out several guys surrounding Hank, pushing him around and occasionally hitting him, causing him to fall and groan before they hoisted him back up to continue the harassment.
“Are ya sure you ain’t got no money? We’ll stop if you can give us just a few bucks or so… Or maybe some drugs?”
Samuel felt a simmering rage begin boiling up inside of him. He knew first hand what it felt like to have a bunch of punks do that, and he’d be damned if he was going to let it happen to someone he knew, even if it was only this morning that they’d met.
“Come on fellas,” Hank pleaded, “I ain’t got nuthin’. I was just scavenging for stuff in that dumpster. I didn’t mean nuthin’ by it. I’ll leave right quick if you’d let me.”
“Nah, I think the boys and I are gonna show you what happens to people who come in our territory and don’t pay the tribute.”
Without warning, one of the guys sucker-punched Hank in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground, groaning in pain. At that signal, the rest of the guys started kicking and punching the incapacitated man.
“Hey, how about you pick on someone able to fight back!”
All of them stopped at once to look at Samuel in surprise. As they stared, he started walking toward them. They glanced at each other before glancing at the semi-conscious man at their feet.
“Oh yeah, and who are you then?” one of the guys yelled at him.
“I’m the one who’d going to turn you into something resembling leftover roadkill if you don’t leave now.”
“Really now,” said another man, kicking the downed man hard before turning to fully face him, “so it’s just you that’s gonna turn us into roadkill, is it?”
Glancing around, the speaker picked up a chunk of wood from a broken pallet. With that, the spell was broken and the rest of the men quickly found other bits of pipe and wood to use as improvised weapons.
As Samuel continued to walk toward the men, he glanced at the arrayed makeshift weapons.
“Last chance to walk out of here…”
“You know what, you’re a funny guy,” the leader said before glancing over his shoulder.
“You hear that guys, this nice fella’s giving us a chance to give up before someone gets hurt. What do you thi—”
The man abruptly spun back around, violently swinging the wooden plank in a powerful overhead arc at Samuel’s head.
Without thinking, Samuel nonchalantly swung his left arm up to bl
ock the makeshift weapon. With a loud crack, the board splintered over his upraised arm. Shaking the splinters off his sleeve, his steady stare burned holes into the other man bulging eyes.
“Well, I did warn you, didn’t I?”
§§§§§§§§§§§§
Samuel knelt down beside Hank. Gently turning him over, he could see his face was a mass of cuts and bruises from the assault the men had administered. Glancing around at the broken bodies littered around the alleyway, groaning in pain, he mentally debated what to do. Reaching a decision, he gently squatted down to picked Hank up in his arms, surprised at how light he felt.
“Please, don’t hurt me anymore,” Hank mumbled, fading in and out of consciousness.
“Hank, it’s me Samuel. I’m going to to bring you to someone who can help. Just try to relax.”
Struggling to open a rapidly swelling eye, Hank tried to focus on him.
“Su… Sus… Samuel?” he asked weakly.
Samuel could tell the injured man was struggling to form a coherent though based on the deep furrows breaking across his forehead.
“Yeah Hank,” he said gently, “ it’s me, Samuel. I’m going to get you back to the shelter. They have medical people there who can help you.”
Standing up, Samuel tried to get his bearings. Almost without effort, a mental map came up in his mind’s eye on how to get back to the shelter quickly and without gathering undue attention. It felt like another one of his lost memories returning, but he couldn’t take the time or effort to focus on it right then. His biggest concerns were getting Hank to medical help and getting away from the aftermath his rage had caused before the cops came.
Pulling Hank a little tighter to his body to help lessen the jostling, he took off at a gentle jog, trying his best not to bounce his injured friend.
§§§§§§§§§§§§
Samuel kicked the door to the shelter open, accidentally breaking the latch and causing the door to slam against the wall.