Authors: Brandon Huckabay
Are they really dead? Nothing seems to want to die these days
. He tried to laugh at himself, but it didn’t work. He grasped the medallion of St. Michael he wore around his neck and continued to examine the two bodies. He noticed a massive large caliber sidearm resting in the thigh holster of one of them. He drew the weapon out and was amazed at its light weight.
Suddenly, he heard a scratching sound behind him. A deep growl came from the opening he had just passed through. He spun around and saw the homeless man whose apparent death he had witnessed earlier. The body was just like he remembered; the guy still wasn’t wearing any clothes. Roman also noticed that he was holding a severed leg from a dog in his right hand.
“What the— don’t move, police!” Roman cried as he stumbled backward, his back crashing into the dead pilot’s body on the console. The homeless man bumped his head as he made his way inside, clumsily falling face first into the back of the nearest seat. Sensing fresh meat, the homeless man hissed at Roman. Roman raised the weapon he had recovered from the second pilot and squeezed the trigger. The weapon emitted a high- pitched whine, blasting a high-powered projectile out of the barrel. A bright green smoke trail exited, following the round as it struck its target. Roman wasn’t expecting the recoil and was knocked backwards. The weapon fell out of his hand and clattered onto the console, out of reach. The homeless man staggered from the force of the rounds and fell outside, his right arm hanging from his shoulder by a few strands of rotting skin.
Roman grasped what handholds he could find and headed toward the hole. He pulled himself out and fired three more shots from his Glock. The last two 9mm Hydro-shocks blew the homeless man’s right arm completely off at the shoulder. His right hand still clutched the severed dog leg. Black ooze spurted from his shoulder, where his arm previously was attached. He was still moving, struggling to push himself off the ground, and his eyes met Roman’s. Roman charged past him, heading straight for the hole in the fence, without looking around.
The gaze of his solid black eyes had been almost hypnotic. His hands shook so much that he had a hard time inserting the key into the ignition of his vehicle. After yelling into his radio mike, he finally got his car started and hit the accelerator. It took about five minutes before his adrenaline rush subsided and he noticed his shotgun was missing out of the rack.
CHAPTER 18
“911 Emergency. Do you require police or fire assistance?” The female dispatcher’s reply to the caller was short and to the point.
“I need the police!” the caller excitedly repeated. “This is Leroy, down at the Ambassador Hotel on Hickory, right by the expressway. I got this big mother that just killed a girl out back of my establishment. You better send somebody!”
“OK, sir,” the dispatcher replied. “I am dispatching units to your location. Is the suspect still on property?”
“How the hell should I know? He out back. Who do you think I am, TJ Hooker? I think they was doing drugs or something.”
“Sir, please remain calm and get to a safe area.”
“Yeah, whatever you say. Just make sure they get here today, OK?”
Two police units responded to the 911 call, arriving 28 minutes later. Both cruisers parked in front of the dilapidated Ambassador Hotel with no emergency lights activated. As the units pulled up, several people loitering outside immediately ran in the opposite direction.
Two officers stepped into the lobby, and one approached the desk. “Are you the person who placed the 911 call?” he asked Leroy. The officer scanned the lobby of the hotel, his hand on the holster of his weapon.
“Yes, I did.” Leroy looked at the two officers with disgust. “What the hell took you so long? I called that shit in over a half hour ago.”
“Where is the suspect?” the officer at the desk asked, sidestepping the question. He looked at the staircase leading up from the lobby. The few people in the lobby when the officers entered had gone outside.
“Gone, I would imagine. If this was a white neighborhood, you would have been here in two minutes.”
“Give me a break, OK?”
“Look, Officer
Russo
,” Leroy replied as he read the nameplate on the officer’s uniform. “I told that woman on the phone they was out back in the alley. You need to go out back. That’s where he was biting her and shit, man. They was shootin’ up heroin or something.”
Russo looked over at his partner in surprise and nodded. “All right, we will check it out. You stay put.”
“You ain’t got to tell me twice, man. Shit, that mofo is one scary dude. 911 my ass,” Leroy replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
The two officers moved to the back of the hotel and drew their Glock 17 service weapons. Russo slowly opened the back door and pushed it open, revealing a trash-strewn alley. The rain that had sprinkled off and on throughout the day had ended for the moment, leaving large puddles in the alley. Both officers stepped into the alley. Initially, they saw nothing, but an arm hanging out of a dumpster near the hotel’s back door caught Russo’s eye. Russo ran over to the dumpster, shouting to his partner, “Kevin, over here!”
Kevin ran over to Russo. They both slowly opened the dumpster lid and saw a naked female laying on top a mound of bags of garbage. She was covered in fresh blood, making it difficult to identify the cause of death. Several chunks of flesh were missing from her shoulder and buttocks regions. Her head was lying at an awkward angle from her body, and her right breast appeared to have been bitten clean off. Russo quickly closed the lid and turned to Kevin, a hand raised to cover his nose.
“You’d better call this in. I’ll see what else I can find around here.” Kevin immediately got on his shoulder mike and called dispatch. Russo noticed blood dripping from the exposed hand onto the ground.
This is fresh. The killer is still around here
.
“You make the call?” he shouted to Kevin over a loud thunderclap.
Kevin turned around and replied, “Yeah, I made it. We’re looking at fifteen for a response, maybe longer. You know how it is here.”
“He’s still here,” Russo said matter-of-factly. “This is fresh. I think we can get him.”
A sudden scream further down the alley diverted the attention of both officers. They both ran in that direction, weapons raised and pointed in the direction of the scream. Another scream pierced the heavy air. They were getting closer. The darkened skies opened up with another bout of rain. The officers turned down a side alley and saw a massive individual holding a rather waifish female around the throat, lifting her about three feet off the ground. Both officers immediately reacted and aimed their weapons at the figure.
“Put her down, now!” Russo yelled in a loud commanding voice. The imposing figure turned and stared at Russo. He dropped the female to the ground and immediately charged the two officers. “Stop, or we will fire!” Russo yelled. The figure did not stop; instead, he broke into a sprint toward the two officers, only thirty yards away.
Three loud reports emitted from each of the two weapons. The figure slowed down a bit and sank to one knee, but raised again, his pace noticeably slower. Two more reports bellowed from the guns, and the figure dropped into a large, trash-filled rain puddle, face first. His body did not move.
“Check the body, I’ll cover you,” Russo commanded.
Kevin slowly approached the body and pushed him with his foot. There was no response. Kevin holstered his weapon and turned back toward Russo.
“He’s dead,” he said.
No sooner had he finished his sentence than the figure rose from the ground and grabbed Kevin from behind, putting him in a headlock and lifting his 200-pound, six-foot, four-inch frame like a matchstick. Kevin barely managed a scream before his neck snapped. Russo stared in disbelief. His arm wavered as he brought his weapon to bear once more upon the figure. He was only feet away. Russo seemed almost paralyzed as he stared into the figure’s black, cloudy pupils. He managed to fire a single shot into the figure’s midsection. A piercing cry rang out, and the figure dropped to both knees. Both of his hands grabbed at his midsection. The rain had increased, and the thunderclaps had gotten louder and more frequent. It was getting dark, and intermittent lightning flashes lit up the alley. Russo ran over to his partner and checked for a pulse as he kept his weapon leveled at the figure. He was still on his knees, clutching his midsection in obvious pain. He pulled something silver out of his body and held it out in front of him, staring at the object. Russo detected a very weak and fading pulse from his partner.
Russo feebly grabbed at his shoulder mike, and in a voice that was nearly a whispered, said into it, “Officer down. 10-100, officer down.” He dropped his mike and leveled the pistol at the figure, not waiting for a response.
“You are going to die for this,” he said in a quiet, steady voice.
The figure slowly rose, looking at the dying officer, a twisted, evil smile on his face. “I cannot die,” his guttural voice proclaimed. Rain cascaded down his pale, bald head.
The figure reached down and picked up Kevin’s service pistol. He looked at it with the curiosity of a child before putting it down the front of his pants. He turned around suddenly and ran back toward the hotel.
Russo’s gun wavered in his hand. He fired the remaining rounds in his weapon, but they did not strike the assailant, slamming harmlessly into a wall. The assailant turned abruptly and ran down the main alley, out of sight. Russo ran to Kevin’s dying body and knelt down beside him, among several spent shell casings. He cradled Kevin’s head on his lap as he waited for help to arrive. His hands trembled uncontrollably. He dropped his weapon, the slide locked to the rear. Kevin stared up into Russo’s eyes one last time as a steady flow of blood cascaded out of the corner of his open mouth. Kevin raised his head and took one last gasp of air and sank back into Russo’s lap. Still no one arrived. Russo could hear traffic on his radio, but he was desensitized and did not care. Kevin’s life force slowly left his body in the middle of the trash-strewn alley. Russo’s tears intermingled with the cold rain cascading down his face.
The man on the sidewalk was obviously hurt. He was running as fast as he could, but he was beginning to feel pain. He had been hit several times by bullets.
“Get in!” Dr. Keitel yelled out of the open passenger window of the black Mercedes, as he pulled up alongside the curb.
The man on the sidewalk instantly recognized the man yelling at him. He realized that this man was the only one on this world who could help him. He needed to heal; he wasn’t ready to die just yet, and for all of his bravado in the alley, he realized that death truly was a possibility. He opened the back door of the Mercedes and dove inside. He slammed the door closed as Dr. Keitel hit the gas and sped off.
CHAPTER 19
“Look at me, man. Tell me what you saw!” the detective demanded.
“I already told you,” Russo responded defiantly. “We found the dead woman. Kevin pursued. He got taken out. I fired my pistol at the suspect, and he wasn’t even fazed. All right? What else do you want from me?” Russo was now totally soaked from the rain. Someone had placed a fire department blanket over him, but that too was now soaked.
Detective Roman lifted up the yellow police tape and strode purposefully toward the investigating officers. He opened his jacket, revealing his badge on a neck chain, to the officer on the perimeter. Recognizing Officer Russo, Roman immediately quickened his pace toward him. Officer Russo, seated on the ground, buried his face in his hands. Another detective was trying in vain to extract any information he could get. The alley had transformed into a major crime scene. Tarps protected the crime scene from the rain, and forensic technicians busily marked evidence around the woman and the fallen officer, who was further up the alley. Numerous placards on the ground identified shell casings and other evidence by number, so they could be tagged and photographed. The rain continued, but only as a light sprinkle. Darkness forced the technicians to set up portable lights to illuminate the immediate area.