20th January 2050 23:15
I cannot recall how long I ran nor how fast. I only remember running through the high street (which in this little town was only one long road in length). It began and ended with a row of shops. Mainly, consisting of food and clothes stores (the essentials, one might say).
I stopped at the very end to find that there had been a situation. Before me was a long brick road which led off into several housing estates. To the left was Glasswells furniture store, and on the right a corner shop. People flocked in this one area and no where else. They stood before me, on the road, in a circle. I briefly analysed their behaviour. Most seemed to fidget, feet tapping, hands clasped, twiddling their thumbs. Very few seemed to have an expression of happiness on their face. Except one.
This particular man stood apart from the crowd slightly and glared at them with a grin which suggested he had a sadistic side. This man disturbed me greatly. He had died black hair, skin tight jeans and wore a leather jacket over, a black Iron maiden T-shirt. On his four-head was a red-bandana and he wore dark make-up around his eyes. He dressed like a teenager but looked almost sixty. It was disturbing. An innate instinct within me told me I should avoid him. But the detective in me told me that this was exactly the person, I should be asking about anything sinister that occurred.
From the crowd came various voices. The words they said were all but a loud mummer; as they spoke frantically, all at once. At present, these people - as I was later to find- were the whole population of the town. Even though there were only ten at most. This was odd. The town was not large but large enough to hold almost 37,000 people. I thought that there must have been a mistake, despite the fact that a policeman had told me so. I assumed that he was distracted.
The commotion was caused by the murder of a young girl. Her pure red blood lined the concrete. I recall, she lay innocently, in a white vest and jeans. There was a large puncture wound in her chest, and through it, the left-side of her naked heart could be seen. My experience and the frequent occasions in which I had witnessed such horrific sights, had caused me to have no reaction towards the sight.
A stream of her blood flooded down a drain. I had seen much of this before but it was peculiar to find that very few of the people there knew what to do. No one had called an expert either. And when I explained that I had been a detective they instantly looked to me for advice. I told them, however, that it was no longer my duty and that I had been kicked off the force due to my aggressive behaviour towards a suspect. This explanation seemed to be ignored as I was pushed forward, the crowd of people all glared at me.
However, for a moment I was distracted by the memory of how I lost my job. The memories flooded in my mind. My heart ached. I was a cruel bastard sometimes. But at the time it seemed the only just thing to do. You see, I was questioning a male who I knew to be the criminal, but I had no evidence to prove against, just instinct.
When I had the animal before me I questioned him and his relentless 'No comment' answers caused my blood to boil.
Fists clenched, I threw my 15 stone body of muscle at him and continued to pummel his face; as I held him down with my thighs. The guy looked weak beneath me. I enjoyed the sense of control but too soon I was disturbed; dragged out of the room hands and legs flailing about. I was fired, but the criminal soon admitted his crime and was jailed not long after. Dead good job. I probably scared the shit out of him.
Bringing my thoughts back to the situation at hand, I looked down at the dead girl. Poor innocent kid, I thought. I looked to the policeman, waiting for him to say something. He stood back; the rest of the public staring dazedly at the body.
"Any idea how long?" I asked him.
"Sorry?" He said, blankly.
"How long ago since this happen?"
"No idea." Said he.
Brilliant. We have a right genius here! I thought.
"Anyone else?" I said, directing it towards the crowd of nine behind him.
They all gazed at me. No one spoke. They all looked terrified.
I remember thinking, I know there was a dead body in front of you but you look at me as though you're next! Which was crazy.
"Ok, looks like I am going to take the slow approach. All of you stay here. I will speak to you one by one."
I scanned the faces. There were two men. One looked around forty, with glasses; he wore a brown cardigan over a shirt and an old pair of jeans-I assumed the holes at his knees were not a fashion statement. The guy beside him, however, wore the very same but for a definite statement. He was scrawny looking and wore a tight T-shirt. I guessed him to be in his early twenties. Then there were the ladies. One looked around forty, rather plump but with a beautiful face, her long wavy, brown hair just hitting her shoulders. The other two women, could have been no more than eighteen. I guessed instantly that they were twins, for they both wore a matching pink tracksuit, and had long, straight, blonde hair.
None of these people were interesting characters. I could guess their occupations as easily as their age; and no doubt their part in this murder. To me, at that present moment, they were all innocent. I wanted to hunt that old man down. Now he was interesting. Very interesting.
I looked to the policeman. He had stood beside the crowd, hands behind his back, looking but not acting authoritative.
"Now sir, if you don't mind me asking. Could you take these people somewhere. I wish to interview the old rocker. Where ever he may be." I said, politely.
"Sure thing. Ryan is behind you if you would like to begin with him." Said he.
I turned abruptly. The sinister looking old man stood before me. His face met mine. We were both just over six foot but I had a feeling I had way more strength then him.
For a time we glared at one another. Then he spoke and I was soon to find that he was American.
"Come on. You and I better get to it!" Said he, gruffly.
"Yeah, we ought to." I responded.
"So, you wanna to know my life history first?"
"We can do this how-ever you like."
My gentle English accent seemed weak in contrast. Part of me envied him. Well, his accent. His clothes were so 2012! I laughed at the way I thought that…so2012, is sowhat a girl at high school would say. I really was a wimp! I stood little chance with this one!
"Look, buddy, I know a lot of things and I am pretty convinced your not a cop. So what's the deal?"
"I was a 'cop' but now, well, I am just an average person."
"Yeah, I heard that story o' yours. Listen, I may look a bit odd, bit sinister maybe but I aint going to do no one no harm or never did, so you're wasting your time."
"Look here you, don't try and tell me my job. I know what I am doing."
"Hey, sure thing, but calm yourself, I think your 'Job'… well, it aint your job no more, is it?" He laughed.
I felt the blood within me turn viciously hot. As the flames touched my flesh and compelled my mind to picture this idiot on the floor. I spoke the next words with utter fury, while he remained as cool as a cucumber.
"You idiot! Shut up, this is my job. Who are you to say such cruel things? You don't know me nor do you understand my life. So, just f-"
"-Hey, don't curse! Have a little respect. I will tell you whatever you want to know. Just don't see the point. We're the only ones left."
"What do you me?"
"Didn't the policeman explain?"
"He said we were the only ones here. I thought he was just distressed."
"No. Hey, why don't we go and get a coffee? The cafés empty".
Before I could answer he led the way.
As though hypnotised, I followed the man. Ryan, that's what the policeman called him. He led me through the glass doors of the coffee shop. But he didn't politely hold the door open for me. Instead, he pushed ahead of me and left my warm palm to hold the ice cold glass of the door.
"Bastard!" I muttered.