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Episode
042 |
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“I
used to think if I died in an evil place, then my soul wouldn’t be able to
make it to Heaven. But now? F$%&! I mean, I don’t care where it goes, as
long as it ain’t here.” Chef, Apocalypse Now The black SUV pulled up to the
factory entrance, a German police officer waving it to stop. Alex pulled it to the corner of the
entrance road and rolled down the window as the officer approached. “<I’m sorry, >” he said with trite
manners, “<but the factory is closed until further… >” Alex flipped out his badge and
gave the officer a grim, but understanding look. The officer stared at the badge for a
moment, then at Alex. “<It took you
long enough. >” “<Our condolences, >” Alex
said sincerely, putting the SUV into gear.
The officer stepped away, letting them through the roadblock. Through the woods surrounding the
factory, the giant metal structure didn’t look very abnormal. The lights that burned day and night were
still lit and the constant electrical hum was kept company by the groaning of
automated machines. Alex brought the SUV to a stop
facing the thick cement security walls, glancing through the rear view mirror
at Til. Sitting next to Irene and
Jason, he looked at the trees with a mix of professional indifference and
personal longing. “Our reputation is a
little strained with the German police,” Alex began as he opened his
door. “Let’s get off on the right
foot.” “Is that the one we put up their
ass last time?” Isaiah asked sarcastically under his breath as he got out of
the passenger’s seat. As the five stepped out, a
middle-aged man in a suit approached them.
“<Good morning, >” he said without a smile. Behind him, a swarm of police cruisers
blocked the entrance gate to the factory. “<Good morning, >” Alex sent
back in awkward German. “<We got
here as soon as we could. What’s the
situation? >” “<We’ve got four dead factory
security guards and nine dead police officers, >” he began quickly,
looking back at the factory. “<One
of the factory guards placed a call last night at 10:26 local time. He said that there was some kind of a
break-in, and that they suspected terrorists because one of the machines had
blown up. We have yet to identify
which machine that was. >” “<Did anyone see the explosion?
>” Isaiah asked. “<No, >” the police officer
reported, lighting a cigarette. Behind
him, the other officers watched at the five new arrivals with distrust and
disdain. “<The nearest neighbors
are over a mile away in any direction, and they’re all industrial sites as
well. Most of them don’t have security
guards though. >” “<What is make here? >”
Jason asked. The officer looked at Jason, a mix
of offended and confused on his face.
“<He means, >” Til corrected before the officer could say
anything, “<what’s this factory do? >” The police officer glared
disapprovingly at Til, then looked back at the factory as if staring down an
enemy. “<They make industrial
chemicals. On the other side of the
factory, they also process and treat toxic waste. >” He turned back to the five, crossing his
arms expectantly. “<Did any of the officers that
responded report anything? >” Alex asked. “<The last report we got from
them was their arrival, >” the officer explained. “<By the time the next officers arrived
on the scene, the only person left was the one surviving guard. >” “<Can we talk to him? >”
Irene asked. “<Sure, >” the officer
chuckled. “<If you can get him to
talk or even acknowledge your presence, you can talk to him all the live-long
day. >” “<I’m guessing, considering
we’re here, that they didn’t find terrorists, >” Alex concluded. The officer looked at the five and
flicked his cigarette away. “<You
and you, >” he said, pointing at Alex and Til. He turned and headed into the factory. Alex looked at Til, almost amused, and turned to
the others. “Isaiah, wait here. Irene, you and Jason find out where they
took the guard and go check on him,” he said as he and Til followed the
officer. Underneath the gray, overcast sky,
the factory seemed to meld into the heights of the evergreen trees. The towers of steel and the spanning tin
and iron buildings stretched out almost into the distance. “Why’s it always factories?” Alex asked
with a light tone, even as he scanned the empty factory with a grave face. “<Here we are, >” said the
German police officer, stopping before a large, central building. Built into the side of a metal silo that
reached up to stand with the highest of the towers, the building was circular
and ominously quiet. “<I’m sure you two have seen
some serious tragedies in your life, >” he cautioned, “<but just the
same, you might want to take a minute. >”
He headed into the darkness of the half-opened door of the
building. Alex sniffed the air,
smelling a strange variation of iron.
He glanced at Til, worried, then they both headed inside. Through the narrow, sliding door,
the single building spread around in a giant circle. The ceiling was bowled upward, while the
open flooring was strangely devoid of any equipment. With the exception of some personal hand tools
along the wall, the only thing in the room was a cement floor with cracks
running through it. And the bodies. Hanging from a chain from the
ceiling was a torso, the chain looped through the muscle where the bones
should have been. A rib cage was splayed
open in the far side of the room. A
jaw and what looked like the bottom half of a skull lay in plain site, gray
matter still within the smoothly cut skull.
And everywhere, blood was splashed.
The remains of numerous bodies littered the bare ground as if tossed
about with glee, while the walls were stained excessively with caked blood. “Oh hell,” Alex gasped. |
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