by Hopkin, Ben
Darc surveyed the layout of the building, allowing the logic pathways to assert themselves as an overlay on his sight. “This appears to be the area where the framing tables, panel carts and welding fixtures are kept,” he told his partner, seeking a way to help him acclimate to the new environment. Trey often did not do well in unfamiliar settings. They seemed to unsettle him.
“I think the more important thing to address is the fact that someone trapped us in here,” Trey shot back.
“Yes.”
“Yes. Yes? That’s what you’re going with? You couldn’t say that you thought it was just a coincidence or something?”
Darc glanced at his partner and then to the surrounding heat and light. The logical conclusion was all around for him to see if he would but observe.
Trey followed his gaze and his shoulders slumped. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to lie to me once in a while.”
Perhaps this was one of those interpersonal suggestions that Trey was so often encouraging Darc to review. He realized that it might be to Trey’s benefit to hear untruths from Darc on occasion. It flew directly in the face of the logic trails, but so many of Trey’s recommendations did.
It deserved further speculation.
For now, however, they had a body to find. And from every piece of information coming from the gleaming strands of color, they were walking right into a trap.
CHAPTER 8
Mala hung up after her third attempt at trying to reach Darc and Trey. She’d dialed both of their cell numbers, only to go straight through to voicemail.
Time to escalate this.
Captain Merle was either not in today, seeing it was a Saturday, or he was away from his desk. Knowing Merle, the former was much more likely.
Dispatch was unable to help her, as Darc had not checked in before heading to wherever he was. They last they knew, he was headed with Trey to the morgue. They could triangulate off his cell phone or Trey’s Land Rover, but only in an emergency. And no, a child’s drawing apparently did not qualify.
Phoning the morgue, Mala was finally able to talk to someone who had at least seen the bald detective. Considering Darc’s habits, that fact was a minor miracle, as far as she was concerned.
“Yeah, they were here,” the intern who had identified himself as Cody Lyons informed her. “But then he flew out of here like a bat out of hell. No clue where he was going.” The young man paused for a moment. “That guy’s a little strange.”
“Thank you for your help,” Mala replied before hanging up.
Maybe this was all a wild goose chase. There was nothing concrete that said that Darc was in serious danger. Then she glanced back down at the picture Janey had drawn. Concrete or not, Mala trusted that little girl’s instincts. In her own way, she was becoming as sharp as Darc in her ability to discern hidden information.
There was one last Hail Mary she could attempt. Mala called the office number she still had in her phone for Bryce Van Owen, the former serial killer Assistant Prosecuting Attorney. Not that she had any desire to hear his voice… the man was long gone… but in the hopes that she would get through to his successor. Someone further up the food chain might be able to get the ball rolling, at least.
The phone rang twice, three times, four… Mala was about to hang up, when a voice came through the connection. “Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Carson Speer.”
“Mr. Speer,” Mala said, hoping against hope. “My name is Dr. Mala Charan. You don’t know me, but--”
“Dr. Charan!” he gushed. “I’ve been wanting to meet you. I’ve heard your name so many times since I started. Nothing but good things, of course.”
“Oh, well… I’m very happy to hear that,” Mala replied, flummoxed. “I need your help with something that may not make a lot of sense.”
“That seems to fit your team’s MO to a tee,” he answered, chuckling. “Shoot.”
Mala explained the situation to him, briefly sketching in the relationship between Darc and Janey and the nature of the pictures she drew for the bald detective. The attorney listened intently, only interrupting when he needed to clarify some detail.
“Well, this definitely falls into the weird as shit category,” he said as she finally finished. “But I’d expect nothing less from you guys. I’ll call over and see if I can get a trace on their vehicle or cell phones. Sit tight. I’ve got your phone number here on my phone display. I’ll call if I find anything.”
He hung up, and Mala stared at her cell phone. The man was charming without the intensity that had made Bryce so dangerous… and appealing. The new APA radiated competence and seemed more than willing to accept her word based off of her reputation alone. She appreciated that.
She also wasn’t about to sit on her ass and wait for a call. Driving toward the station would more than likely put her closer to where Darc and Trey were anyway, and was much preferable to doing nothing. And with Janey along, who knew? She and Darc were connected in a way that defied logic. Maybe she’d stumble across some savant-type breadcrumbs left by the bald detective.
Stranger things had happened.
* * *
Trey was doing everything he could not to hyperventilate.
But the dark warehouse, lit up like some crazy jack-o-lantern with all the glowing liquid metal, and the knowledge that someone had trapped them here was starting to feel all too familiar.
Some serious shiz was about to go down.
“Well,” He said into the darkness. “At least there are no snakes.”
He backed into one of the framing tables by mistake, knocking off a rod of iron that clattered against the cement floor, piercing the silence. Trey leapt into the air, screaming like a girl, clutching at his chest to keep his heart from leaping out.
Darc turned and observed the whole thing.
Trey loved Darc, he really did. But if his partner kept giving him judging stares like that, he might just have to kill him.
“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat. “Where do we go from here?”
Darc scanned the darkness around them. “There,” he said, pointing up to one of the steel girders. On it was etched a symbol that looked like a fish. “Alpha.” He peered at Trey as if that should explain everything.
“Right,” Trey agreed, nodding his head. “And that’s important because…?”
“It is a Greek symbol that means beginning,” Darc clarified. “The killer wants us to go to the start.”
“Sure. Start. Why not?” Trey stopped. “Wait. You mean like the first murder?”
Darc shook his head. “We are being directed to the beginning of the metal fabrication process.” He pointed to the far end of the warehouse. “The dumping tables for the raw iron and bronze should be located back there.”
“Through the insane house of horrors here?” Trey asked. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He shook his head in disgust. “Could we maybe run into a serial killer once that just likes to come after us with guns or chainsaws or something like that? You know… normal psychotic stuff?”
They moved through the dimly lit aisle, doing their best to avoid coming close to the rivulets of molten metal that streamed through ceramic channels throughout the complex. Trey was looking at one of them when he felt a tug at his foot and fell to his knees, almost doing a full-on face plant. He had tripped over what looked like super fine fishing wire that had been pulled taut across their path.
A trap.
Just as the thought ran through his head, he looked up to see an acetylene welding torch fire up, sparking something beside it. There was a burst of light as whatever it was caught.
Darc reached down and pulled Trey up by his armpit, setting him on his feet.
“Run,” his partner intoned.
They sprinted toward the back of the warehouse as the world behind them exploded. Shards of metal whizzed past, one of them imbedding itself into the fleshy part of Trey’s shoulder, another nicking Darc underneath his left eye socket. Darc pulled on Trey’s shirt, leaping und
erneath one of the tables for shelter, dragging Trey along behind.
Glancing back, Trey could see that several fires were raging, one of them very close to a suspicious looking metal tank. That couldn’t be good.
“We need to move,” Darc said, pointing to the threat behind them. “Are you hurt?”
Trey tried to move his left arm and felt the heat of a thousand suns sear him from the inside. “Uh, yeah. A bit.” He pointed to his shoulder with his other hand.
“Can you run?”
“Do I have to?” Trey asked.
Darc seemed to process that. “No.”
“No, I don’t have to run?” That didn’t make any sense. Trey looked deep into Darc’s face. Well, as deep as he could in the near-dark.
“No. There is no danger,” his partner responded.
“But the tank back there… and you said that we needed to move… and…”
Darc sighed. “You said that I should occasionally not tell you when there was something dangerous.”
“What?!” Trey screamed. “Not when I’m about to die! Get me out of here!”
Grabbing Trey by his shirt once more, Darc yanked him out from under the table and down the aisle once more. The shirt pulled against the wound in Trey’s shoulder; the pain was excruciating.
They had made it halfway through the warehouse when another, larger explosion ripped through the air, sending them flying forward. They landed in a heap next to some gnarly machinery that Trey couldn’t have identified even if it would have saved his life.
At least the earlier blow seemed to have gotten rid of the small pieces of shrapnel lying around. This larger explosion had, however, collapsed a part of the ceiling. Beams and girders poked up through the wreckage, illuminated by the exterior light that streamed in through the hole in the ceiling.
But even that light was dim. What had started as a sunny morning had turned into a typical Seattle overcast day. All the light served to do was cast a pall over the scene, making the destruction somehow that much more sinister.
“We have no way of knowing if there are more tanks remaining,” Darc said, standing once again and pulling Trey back up beside him.
“Right. So we need to get out of here. Again.”
Darc paused.
“Dude.” Trey placed his right hand against Darc’s chest. “Imminent danger. No lies. Deal?”
Darc nodded. “Deal.”
“I’m proud of you, though. That’s… what… two lies in two days? Impressive.”
They moved to the end of the warehouse, finding a door at the end that was slightly ajar. On it was etched another symbol. This one looked like a weird rounded w. Trey turned to Darc for an explanation.
“That is Omega. It is the Greek symbol for the end.”
Well then. At least that was one that Darc wasn’t going to have to explain to him.
* * *
Janey looked out of the window at the street in front of her.
Usually Mala didn’t let her ride in the front with her, but this time she’d said that she wanted Janey to be able to see. Mala was stressed out.
Mommy and Daddy had sometimes talked about being stressed out. It was usually when Popeye was being especially bad and trying to get Janey into trouble. Then Janey’s parents would get that look on their faces and they’d talk loud and they’d be stressed out.
Mala had that look on her face right now.
But Popeye hadn’t done anything this time. At least that’s what he said. And for once, Janey believed him. She and Popeye hadn’t argued once today. Well, except for that one time when they were talking about grilled cheese. Janey said cheddar was better, but Popeye insisted that it was American, all the way.
Silly bear. American cheese tasted like plastic.
Anyway, Janey was pretty sure she knew why Mala was stressed out. Darc was in trouble, and Mala didn’t know what to do about it. Mala loved Darc, even if she didn’t really know it right now.
Janey was worried too, but not as much as Mala. She wasn’t as worried because she knew something that Mala didn’t know. Just like she had known something that Darc hadn’t known. Sometimes kids knew things. Especially kids like Janey.
What Mala didn’t know was that Darc wasn’t really in danger. Oh, it would be scary and he might get a little hurt, but he would be okay. The streams of light had said so, and she was learning to always trust the light. The threads of different color wrapped themselves around her, like shoestrings that were tying themselves into a really tough double knot. Double knots were nice, because they didn’t come untied and then make you trip on the laces. The lights were like that. Safe.
But there was a color that was running through the strands that was dark red. Janey didn’t like that strand. She tried to avoid it, to keep from seeing what it was trying to tell her, but she couldn’t. The other threads kept her in place. Tied down.
There was something else here that she already knew about. Something that she had tried to make herself forget. But she had put it in the drawing.
She thought about the picture. Darc and Trey. Trey and Darc. Lots of red everywhere around them. Both of them.
Darc was going to be okay. That was true. She knew it.
But what about Trey?
The lights swirled around her, telling her things she didn’t want to know. Trey wasn’t safe. Not at all.
It wasn’t just that he might get hurt. He might end up like Mommy and Daddy. And Janey wasn’t sure she could handle that.
She glanced over to the side of the car and saw herself reflected in the side mirror. Her expression was familiar. It was the same as Mala’s.
Janey was stressed out.
* * *
Darc pushed the massive metal door open. Just beyond the entryway was a cramped aisle created by conveyor belts right next to one another. The belts had been turned on, and chunks of twisted metal streamed past them on their way to the nonexistent workers in the other room.
There was only room for them to do single file into the space, which stayed narrow there below, but was open above them. The ceiling was high enough that Darc could not make it out in the darkness. It gave the space an infinite feel, and the lines of logic danced in the black non-light surrounding them. Here, there was not even the glow from the metal and the fires to give them illumination. Instead, they had to rely on what they could see with their night vision only.
Creeping forward step by step, Darc felt the presence of the glowing strands of light around him. They led him, guided him, and yet…
There was something he was not seeing here. Some piece of this puzzle that was undiscovered by the threads of light. All the variables seemed to be accounted for, but there was an empty hole where a pathway should be.
A blind spot that Darc’s preternatural intellect could not penetrate.
What was it?
He was missing something.
Things of a logical nature rarely escaped his notice. Something was escaping his notice. Therefore, what was missing was more than likely something that was not of a logical nature.
It was something that had to do with motivations, personalities or emotions. One of those empty dark places in Darc’s inner landscape that remained so terribly impenetrable to his senses.
And it could very well get them both killed.
A dripping noise, soft but steady, filtered in through the other stimuli he was taking in. Each individual color, scent, pattern and sound making a distinct thread of a different intensity and shade of light and color. What was that? And from where was it originating? The pathways of light triangulated and told him. From above.
Was it a leak in the roof? Was it now raining outside? The streams replied an emphatic no. The viscosity was unlike that of water. It was something else. Something thicker. Something…
Darc continued to inch his way forward, doing what he could to use the illumination from the other threads to light the dark area. Find a way to penetrate the darkness with the only light he could find
and use.
But the threads shed so very little. The information they held was applicable only to itself. Together they could find connections and correlations, but not to anything that didn’t fit the logical parameters by which those pathways worked.
There was no light for them to give.
Darc felt, more than saw, the switch that was hidden along the side of the conveyor belt. He was pressing up against it as he moved forward, his motion forcing the switch forward with him.
Light flooded the warehouse space, illuminating the air around them, reflecting off of a huge hoop of flattened, shining metal suspended above them. Inside the circle, a body was stretched, head downward, wrists and ankles attached to the circumference. Blood dripped from a gaping wound in the figure’s breast, from which protruded a sword.
Darc received the information in a millisecond thrust of data fed to him by the overactive strands. And in that moment, the dark space burst into clarity.
The trap was for Trey.
Rushing back and pushing with all his strength, Darc shoved Trey onto the conveyor belt, using the force of the push to propel himself onto the opposing one. They both ended up sprawled on the moving belts, shards of metal poking into their backs.
It was not a moment too soon.
From above, there was a crack, and the hoop detached from the ceiling, speeding down towards the space that Trey had occupied a brief moment before. The sharp edge of the metal disk landed with a thud in the ground between them, the force of the impact wedging the circular blade deep in the concrete of the floor.
If Trey had been there still, he would have been bisected from head to groin.
CHAPTER 9
Trey had spent the last few minutes hugging everyone he could get his hands on. Nothing like almost getting killed by a falling metal circle-corpse-holder-blade-thingy to make you appreciate who your friends really were. Even if you hadn’t met them quite yet.
He and Darc had emerged from the warehouse to find the place surrounded. Police cars, ambulances, the CSI team including Cody. Even Mala and Janey were there.
