"Chapter 17"
by Marc Carlson
Copyright 2008 by Marc Carlson
This page last modified 15 December 2008
  Chapter 17

     The ceiling oozed thickening blood. The room was covered in splatter patterns consistent with someone being beaten to death by a being with enhanced strength. On the floor lay a pile of meat and bone shards that had once been human. I crouched over the form, trying to keep from marking up the scene; the lab boys hated it when cops left foot prints in their nice clean playgrounds.

     Moving around to the side, I scoped out the shapeless mass that had once been someone’s skull; a brain box holding a man’s thoughts, memories, hopes and fears.

     “Holy shit, Sarge,” Petey sounded like he was about to blow. “What could do this to someone?”

     “Anyone who could swing a twenty pound sledge,” I said, thinking to myself, Or a vampire, or a werewolf, a golem, zombie, robot, or a Kryptonian having a bad day.

     “Too early to tell.” I concluded.

     “Should we check for ID?”

     “You know better than that. Don’t touch anything.”

     “But Sarge, how are we going to catch the killer?”

     “We’re not. That pleasure goes to the Suits.” I froze as I noticed the cold blue eye staring out from beneath the couch. I glanced back at the head, what had been the face. One socket was empty; probably the blow that had pulped the bone had shot the gelatinous orb bouncing across the room. But I didn’t care about that. I knew the eye; and upon closer look, knew the face of the victim. It was Matthews.

     I flashed back to all the times we had spent together, all that he had taught me over the years, all we had done together. And I knew I was free.