Blood Red

Someone must have slipped something into the water when no one was looking, because either there were a lot of false alarms, or the murder victims were getting up and walking away.

At least that was the way it seemed to be going until Alan Coswell saw the guy taking the bodies from one crime scene. He was driving up to what was supposed to be another massacre and for a change of pace, he saw corpses. There were five people inside the 7-Eleven and every last one of them was dead. It looked like they’d been slapped around and dragged across half of the store in the process, too.

He called it in and asked for backup. Whatever the hell was going on, he didn’t much like the idea of trying to handle it by himself. Maybe he was being a little weak-kneed today, but he’d seen what had been done to that sick fuck Freemont, and he didn’t feel any special desire to get himself ripped limb from limb. Looking at the carnage inside the store convinced him that whoever had done it was exactly the sort who could scatter Freemont across the map.

As Coswell was stepping out of the car, he saw the man. He seemed to come out of nowhere, to just appear all of a sudden, walking out of the shadows.

Coswell froze, more than merely startled by the appearance. He was scared. Something about the guy just gave off an air of menace. Everything about him was dark: dark hair, dark clothes, dark eyes, and a dark demeanor. This was not a man he wanted to play with.

He knew it for certain when the man in question picked up the first body and laid it over his arm. The corpse had to weigh somewhere near two hundred pounds, and the man carried the bulk like he was holding a small purse.

I’m supposed to go in there and stop him. I know that, but I don’t want to.

Why?

Because any man that can swing that much on one arm is going to knock my head off my shoulders if I try to stop him.

And there was the gun to consider, of course. The man didn’t look armed.

The man doesn’t look like he can pick up a corpse and swing it like a baseball bat, either.

As if to prove his point that guns didn’t automatically make everything superspecial, the dark-haired stranger lifted a second body and started to carry them away from the crime scene.

“Screw this acting-like-a-pussy shit.”

Coswell climbed out of the squad car after calling one more time for backup and pulled his pistol at the same time.

“Stop where you are.” He did his best to sound like he was in control of the situation. The man looked his way and let a very tiny smile curl the edges of his mouth before he kept going.

“Mister! Are you crazy? I said stop where you are. Now!” He’d been holding his firearm to the side of his body but now lifted it and got into a proper firing stance.

The fucker kept going. “One more step and I’ll be forced to restrain you.”

Tall, dark, and creepy looked his way and took two more steps. Coswell fired a warning shot five feet ahead of him. The bullet hit the brick wall, rebounded, and passed through the body in the man’s grip.

He dropped the body and looked at Coswell. “Was that entirely necessary?”

So he could speak after all. “I told you to stop moving, and I meant it.”

“Well, here I am. What seems to be the problem?”

“Murder? Bodysnatching?”

“Oh, I didn’t murder anyone.” He was smiling again. The sick fuck was having a good time with all of this. “I’m just moving the bodies.”

“Well, that’s called tampering with a crime scene. It’s against the law.”

“You just fired at an unarmed man. What? You don’t have handcuffs?”

“Put down the bodies and get against the damned wall, smartass.”

The man dropped the other body unceremoniously to the ground. It flopped down like a rag doll. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. There was blood all over his sweater and the dark jeans he was wearing.

“What’s your name, mister?”

“Jason Soulis.”

“Why were you taking the bodies from a crime scene?”

“I wanted them.”

Coswell was starting to get the idea that the man was teasing him and he didn’t much like the notion. “Turn, face the wall, and place your hands above your head.”

“No. You can have the bodies, but I really have other things to do right now.”

“Mister, I wasn’t asking.” Soulis was an arrogant little prick. A minute ago he’d been worried because the man was obviously stronger than an ox. Now he didn’t give a damn.

“I’m trying to be a good sport, Officer . . .” He was far enough away that reading the name on Coswell’s tag should have been impossible. “Coswell, but I really do not have time to deal with any more of this. I have things I need to get done and you’re becoming an inconvenience.”

“Face the wall, spread your legs, and put your hands over your head.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No. I’m leaving.”

“Mister, stay where you are!”