A History of Death

While Joe was chatting up the neighbor across the street, Garrett and Thomas were making a circuit of the house at 1206 Spooner Ave. Beside the front door was a large bay window; inside they could see what looked like a dining room, or den. There was no furniture, but the floor was cluttered with stacks of cardboard boxes. As they worked their way clockwise around the house, most of the windows were masked inside by curtains – possibly bedrooms. There was a back door at the rear of the house, next to a chimney. Peering through the window, they could see a living room, also devoid of furniture but cluttered with boxes, along with scattered Styrofoam drinking cups.

The House on Spooner Avenue

Joe’s phone beeped an alert. He was using it to record a video of his client’s husband sharing a very intimate coffee with his girlfriend, so he ignored the incoming message until he’d recorded their good-bye kiss, then checked his messages. There was one, from an Unknown Caller: Your package is ready for pickup at the Post Office rm 312 any time before 2:30 PM. He lit a cigarette with shaking hands as he re-read the message – what would they have to face this time?

Threat Neutralized

Jamal drew his Glock and checked to make sure he had a full clip. “When this thing comes for us – for me – we shouldn’t be around a lot of other people. I think we should go back to Betty, wait for dark in the middle of the junkyard and make it fight us there. Less chance of innocent bystanders getting hurt.”

Who Are Those Guys?

Jamal’s phone startled him awake. 2:02 AM – he knew before he looked at the caller ID it would be Detective Gregson. “We’ve got another victim,” she said curtly. “Head out Highway 31 towards Grand Ave. You can’t miss it.” Then she hung up.

The Glenridge Chiropractor

 October 18, 2020

Garrett was mid-way through his shift at Min’s Deluxe Diner when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He cast a quick look around; the boss got really pissed if he caught an employee using their phone. But Mr. Takanopolis was out front, and nobody but the cooks and dishwashers were back here in the kitchen, so he pulled out his phone for a quick look. It was a text message, Unknown Caller: ”Check your mail”. He slid the phone back into the pocket of his jeans with a tingle of dread mixed with excitement – he knew what these messages usually meant.

Postage Due

  Monday, Oct. 19, 2009  5:23 PM

Oliver opened the mailbox in the lobby of his apartment building and began pulling out the day’s mail. Cable TV bill, electric bill, advertising flyers. And a buff-colored card from the USPS saying he had an item with $1 postage due, which could be collected from the local post office. He glanced at his watch, knowing the Post Office had already closed at 5:00. He debated waiting until next Saturday, but his interest was piqued – what could he have received postage due?

Echoes

 Friday, Oct. 16, 2009, 10:34 AM

“Suta! My office!” Tabitha winced as her head jerked up from her computer terminal when SAIC Martin barked at her from his office door on the other side of the bullpen. Her neck was heavily bandaged, stiff and sore from the bite wounds she'd suffered Wednesday night, and the stitches the ER doc had applied. She tried to hide her pain, and rose to cross to her boss's office. None of the other agents overtly watched her cross the room, but she was the center of attention none the less. Martin was closing the blinds on the glass walls of his office as she approached – never a good sign. Tabitha closed the door behind her and stood before her boss’s desk.