by N. M. Brown
McQueen popped open his mouth to speak but hesitated. Where would they be? Many had been seriously injured in the rebellion, if not dead like the tall boy who’d lost his head. So, would those who’d rebelled run, lasting until their Dixie fix ran out. Then there were the kids loyal to Shade. Would the boy King stick around or would he leave them all, starting up somewhere new? The thought of more children going missing in a new area made McQueen whole soul ache.
“They’ll more than likely be dead.” A preppy voice answered as Echo joined them both, unwinding the white bandages she’d been given. McQueen had to guess whether she'd been let go from the paramedic's clutches, or whether she'd killed them, stuffed their bodies under a gurney. He was stuck at fifty-fifty.
“Dead by what means?” Hale asked, as she popped herself up on the bonnet of the car and helped herself to McQueen’s food.
Echo shrugged. “Internal bleeding, exsanguination, blunt force trauma, trampling, infection due to a cut, an abrasion, a stab wound, a burn, a-,”
“I think he gets the idea Echo.” McQueen interrupted, suddenly no longer hungry, but Echo still wolfed down the rest.
After a few more questions - most being McQueen repeating himself as Hale desperately tried to believe him, that was it. Hale walked away to update those who needed it. Search and Rescue had been called, the paramedics and fire department waited to respond and all they could do was wait. Wait for the search to begin. Wait for the bodies to be found. Wait for their crazy story to reveal its ugly head, despite not a lick of proof between them.
◆◆◆
A day and a half. That was all the time they had been missing but it had felt like a lifetime. A day and a half without food, but he felt like his throat had been cut. Only a day and a half without fresh water, but he felt like he’d never seen a bath in his life. A day and a half and he’d seen more death at the hands of another than he’d ever care for. It didn’t help that his story was outlandish and crazy; no one seemed to understand what was going on, or what they had stumbled across down there.
They would though, McQueen told himself as he eyed the big white tent that now covered the manhole. He'd told Search and Rescure as much as he could, but was met only with disbelief.
Once they reached the Murmur Maids kitchen, he’d said it was easy enough to just follow the white crosses. That had left the rough- tough Recuse team in stitches.
“What next?” They’d asked, trying to keep a straight face. “The bubble-trouble Butlers are going to chase us from the drawing room?”
McQueen hadn’t corrected them. He was tired. He was mentally and physically tired. So instead he sat, his eyes glued to the white tent and waited. Echo sat beside him; her own mind lost in her own thoughts and together they remained in silence. Every now and again they were brought a cup of tea or another blanket, but for the most part they were left alone. They were the two freaks, lost in the dark for days and now spouted stories that belong in a fairytale.
It was almost completely dark when Hale came back over, this time not alone. Detective Armstrong had decided to grace them with his presence, making his thoughts clear on the whole situation.
“The Rescue Team still haven’t found anything.” Was his only wasy of greeting, looking McQueen over with a harsh stare. “You claim you saw Mitch and Johnny Bell down there, and yet there has been no sign of any children what-so-ever.”
McQueen didn’t know what to say, and Hale didn’t seem inclined to rise in his defence either. With every passing hour, McQueen was doubting what he’d seen more and more; even partly hoping he had just hit his head and passed out, making the whole thing up. At least then none of it was true.
“They’ll get there.” A soft voice answered. Beside him, Echo had curled her arms around her knees and watched the white tent in the same manner. “They’ll be checking every tunnel for evidence, not going to the obvious one with our footprints in. It will take some time for those knuckle heads to find and abandon all the dead-ends.”
“Well, I’ll believe this farce when I see it.” Armstrong grouched just as Hale's radio crackled, and a shaken voice rattled down the line.
"Detective Hale? Over." Hearing the broken voice over the long wave walkie, everyone stilled.
With calm, stable hands Hale unclipped the walkie and pressed the call button. "Come in, Squad A." He radioed back. “We can hear you. What have you found? Over.”
Everyone buttoned their lips as they waited for a response, all wishing for different answers. The radio crackled with static a few times before it sparked to life again.
"We've found a series of long tunnels Detective and are having trouble navigating them. Over.” McQueen’s heart deflated and he didn’t need to look at Armstrong to see the smug look of satisfaction on his face.
“Is there no sign of any children down there? Over.” Hale asked, looking to the white tent as if he could see the men down there through the plastic tarp.
“Well…” The radio cracked again and anything said was lost in static interfered.
“Come in, Squad one? Come in, over?” Hale tried, but with no avail, walked away, closer the to the tent.
With him gone, Armstrong let loose a spiteful tut. “All my men are running around, collaborating your crazy, half-cocked story. I’m having to give Mr. and Mrs. Bell hourly updates because they thinking something going on. How do I tell them their children join a cult?” With a surprising twist, Armstrong suddenly spat at McQueen’s feet with a hiss before walking away. “You are a joke McQueen. They should have never let you into the Department.”
Watching the man walk away, McQueen huffed a sigh, feeling his eyelids droop with defeat. “What a wanker.” Echo spoke up for the third time that night.
As McQueen opened his mouth to half-heartedly defend his co-worker, Echo suddenly perked up, her eyes widening as she spotted something. Following her gaze, Hale stood in front of the white tent, the radio to his ear and his dark skin as pale as McQueen had ever seen it. Raising one arm, he wave them over, but he needn’t have bothered. Both McQueen and Echo were moving in an instant and even Armstrong had seen the sudden change in atmosphere.
“The Rescue Team have found something. They’re requesting we go down and meet them.” Hale explained in a hushed voice once they'd all arrived. “Doctor Cassidy has been called and is on her way. Once here, Squad B will take us down.” Slowly Hale’s gaze moved back to McQueen who knew he had visibly paled too. “Are you up for this Detective McQueen?”
He hesitated. To go back into those tunnels, he would smell that damp earth again, taste the stale air on his tongue and kick up the dust into his eyes…McQueen nodded, not trusting his voice or his ability not to vomit.
“Good. We go in an hour. Prepare yourselves for what me might find.”
McQueen swallowed and wondered if there was any chance he could back out now but looking at Armstrong’s snigger, he knew that wasn’t going to be an option.
XXXIII
Echo breathed in the frosty night air and allowed the winter chill to curl into her bones. She felt shaky, like she stood on uneven ground. McQueen looked like he felt the same and even from a distance, Echo couldn’t keep her eyes from that flapping white tent. For years she’d kept the secret of the Under-ert and now here it was on full display.
There were in a run-down, poor residential area, with a small dilapidated church down one way and every second streetlight was broken.
Ratty children running around would never have gone amiss here, nor if food cupboards had a little less than what they already had. Police, forensic teams and of course all the nosey neighbours had come out to look, and if the circus was in town it wouldn’t have gotten a crowd this big. Everyone was dashing around with a purpose and a flare of importance, but there were a few anomalies that Echo watched with a keen interest.
Hale; surly, burly Hale was stood by the logistics table, his brow in a deep furrow as he tried to take in everything in. His problem, Echo suspected was that everythin
g she and McQueen had been spouting was slowly coming true. The Rescue Team had been silent since their last radio contact; still just requesting the presence of others like scared little children.
Echo let out a snort, which drew the attention of her second anomaly: Detective Armstrong. He’d already changed; his heavy coat and suit jacket gone, leaving him in his shirt and trousers. He’d swapped into some boots thanks to the Rescue team and Echo was half temped to steal his Italian loafers for shits-and-giggles, but refrained. No, she’d have her fun with the dick in due time. For now, she watched him as he continued to grumble under his breath at anyone who’d listen.
Then, last, but of course by no means least was McQueen. The poor Detective looked dead on his feet and smelt like a dead hobo who’d slept in a pool of fish oil. Of course, Echo suspect she didn’t smelt any better and was evident how everyone left them well enough alone. At first, it had been suggested they leave and get a shower, some sleep and more than some soggy burgers to eat. But McQueen refused. He wanted to be here; had to be here when they dug up the truth. The stupid man was of course still holding out hope for a saving miracle.
Sliding her eye sideways, Echo looked at the Detective, watching him closely.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?” Echo couldn’t help but ask.
“You’re watching me again. Stop watching me, I'm fine.” McQueen snarled with little to no effort.
“I didn’t say anything.” Echo countered but liked how her innocent gaze made him uncomfortable. “However, if I were to say something, I’d say you looked hesitant to go anywhere. It’s almost as if you don’t want to go down a dark, damp tunnel once more to see the untimely demise of all those you couldn’t save.” Echo finished with a nonchalant shrug which was rewarded with a grizzled huff from McQueen.
“There is still time. The Rescue Team have found something, and they need our assistance. There are plenty of children we could still help.” He argued.
“Who need to help of a coroner? Yes, you know what, you’re right, I'm sure these children can’t wait for help from the Death Doctor.” Echo mocked, taking great pleasure from it.
McQueen might have said more, but the Doctor of Death herself was back. Upon arrival Doctor Cassidy had been whisked away; first by Hale and then the Rescue Unit for a debrief. Upon seeing her approach, the white tent, McQueen was up like a shot with Echo following closely behind.
“McQueen, I-… Uh,” the Doc started but wrinkled her nose in disgust. Some fresh clothes and paper towels had been passed to them both, but it seemed they hadn’t done their job. “Really McQueen. You needn’t be here. Go home and get some rest.” She told him, keeping her face professional.
“Actually, I’d prefer it if he’d stay here.” A deep, vibrating voice said, turning everyone’s heads. Like a silent wind, the Chief of Rippling Police had arrived. His thin, black uniform was pristinely clean and his haggard, wrinkled face drawn out and pale. Nevertheless, he stood tall, with his hands clasped behind his back and eyes as sharp as polished buttons.
“Chief Wharton.” Detective Dick arrived and quickly stuck out his hand to shake. “We weren’t expecting you.”
Echo rolled her eyes as she watched the Dick kiss ass but got a kick out of the Chiefs reply. “Am I not allowed to attend my own towns crime scenes, Detective Armstrong?”
“I – uh, of course Sir.” Armstrong coughed out and adjusted the neon, high-vis jacket.
The Chief didn’t acknowledge Armstrong further, instead turning to see Hale approach, the last to join their merry band. Without a word of greeting the Chief turned to face them all. “It’s been a long night, and soon to be longer still. Detective McQueen and Ms. Headly are too valuable and knowledgeable to be escorted home just yet. In light of this, they will both be coming down into the tunnels. With the current heat that is coming off this case, I will be joining.”
Much to Echo’s surprise, no one challenged the notion of an eighty-something man, with ‘Chief’ attached to his name crawling through a dangerous environment. Hale just nodded, as did the Doc, while Armstrong stood there, poised to go. Echo imagined a little starting pistol going off in the background causing him to jump and run in circles. A snigger must have escaped her lips, because the Dick’s eyes darted to hers and narrowed.
“Doctor Cassidy. You’re with us. Hale, I want you to coordinate from up here.”
“We’re expecting the worst, Sir?” Hale asked, voicing everyones fears.
With his thin white lips pressed together, the Chief looked contemplative as he too found his eyes drawn to the white tent still gently flapping in the night air. “Yes. I think we all know that fact. Besides, we'll need coordination with any survivors too.”
Echo let out a snort.
“I see you still have no tact.” The Doc spat, dredging up old memories from their last case.
“And I see you’re still a hopeless physician, with no sense of the big picture.” Echo smiled back, fluttering her eyelashes for extra effect as Doctor Cassidy fumed.
“Enough.” McQueen’s stony voice cut through the air, silencing the situation where it stood. “It’s been a hard day for all of us, but we’re wasting precious time.”
“Well put Detective. Time is off the essence, so we’d best not delay.” The Chief applauded and like that, everyone was dismissed and disbanded, all heading in the direction they needed to.
“We’re going to find them.” McQueen said, more to himself than Echo, but she still felt the need to answer.
“Yep, I sure we will: beheaded and bloody and broken.” A withered stare was cast her way, but she waved it off with a raised eyebrow. “You really think those kids are still alive? Any that are, are bleeding out. Any that can still run with be running as far and as fast as they can. Any who stay, will attack and be killed in self-defence. No one is coming out of there alive, Queenie.”
McQueen suppressed a shiver, his mouth set and a hard line, his shoulders raised high with tension and Echo could see the spark dying in his eyes. “You don’t know that.” He whispered before slowly walking off, the entrance to Hell awaiting.
“Oh, but I do.” Echo answered into the wind with a sad sigh, before following.
◆◆◆
Crawling through the dark tunnels againhad been hard and given the chance to hold a torch, Echo hadn’t said no. First it illuminated her path, keeping her fears in check, but most of all, wielded with force, she could certainly cave someone’s head in with it.
Exposed, the grimy sewage walls looked better in the dark, the muted greys and blacks bloomed into vomit greens and puss yellows. The sloshing waters were revealed to have a thin layer of oil on top, the iridescent colours broken apart by floating balls of rubbish. Once they moved into the earthy tunnels, the smell went from bad to worse. Damp, stagnant water had been disturbed releasing a toxic cloud that burn the nose hairs and coated the backs of throats.
Stepping into the kitchen revealed all of Squad A stood around the edge of the room. Someone had begun the process of erecting standing lights, their high beams setting the hovel ablaze in full definition but they had stopped after one. Echo suspected after the first light went up, the Squad had stopped and called for backup and the reason was easy to see.
“Holy mother fucking Jesus on a sex-swing.” Armstrong hissed, covering his face with his sleeve as they entered.
Echo was a step behind and seconded his comment. The lights were strong, and the room was already getting warm, which was only half the problem. Everywhere you looked, patches of blood had been revealed and what Echo had thought had been small stones before, was actually thick congealed pebbles of blood and sand. The heat was making the old blood fester and the stench of rot and death grew stronger and stronger.
Stepping to the side, Echo allowed for McQueen and then the Chief to entre and though they both remained tight lipped, Echo could see the wild look of fear and revulsion on each of their faces.
“Chief.” One Squad man welcomed,
nodding to a few men who made quickly for the exit. It seemed they didn’t want too many extra bodies adding to the heat in this little hole.
