The Hollow Silence - Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

The moment Mark and Monica pulled on to the scene, Mark could instantly feel something was up. He looked around and saw the faces of the officers. They were solemn and dark. Many looked strained and sad. This wasn't just a normal murder. The area where the murder took place was inside an apartment building. The building was brick, old, and looked sinister. As he parked his car near the scene, an officer came up to the car, taping on the window.

The officer's face was weathered, he was one of the older members on the force. Mark knew him as Officer James Walker, age fifty-three. Two kids, wife divorced. He was good man, Mark helped him a while back. Mark rolled down his window and asked, "Hey Walker. Montag called us."

"Yeah I know." He said with a sigh, he was stressed and sad, and that was bad, "A lot of the boys wanna jump on this but Montag gave it to you instead. Personally it stresses me out but I can understand Montag's logic." He said as he ran his hand through his gray hair, "I must say, it is the brutal murder I have ever seen. Even worse than Lanson Cray."

Mark shuddered; Lanson Cray was one helluva serial killer. It gave him shivers thinking about it, "That bad?" Walker nodded, "Damn that must be brutal." Mark turned to Monica, "You might wanna stay here then."

"The hell I wont! I handled Cray's killings." She yelped in protest.

"Barely. If this is worse... I might be able to handle it. Come and see if you can find any witnesses. Believe me, we need that more than anything right now." Mark said. It was said in a tone that said, 'Hey Monica, don't cross me or you're fired.'

"Fine." She said as she stepped out of the car, obviously angry about not seeing the dead body. Mark shook his head, she is such a baby. He stepped out of his car and locked it. He looked around at all the officers, all of their eyes on him. Some had hope, the others had disgust. They obviously wanted the killer caught. He hadn't seen anyone the force this riled up in... years.

A flutter came from overhead. Mark winced and looked up. But nothing was there. What was that, he asked himself. Floods of memories poured back into his brain. The dream, the flutter. What was it, he asked again. His heart sped up. He shook his head. Look at yourself, he thought, letting yourself get bent out of shape from a stupid dream.

He shook the discomfort and walked on. He opened the large maple door, which was surprisingly light. Immediately he took notice of a few puke puddles on the ground and he looked up. As he did another person puked over the edge of the stairs. He jumped back and it landed where he had been standing. He shook his head, this is going to be bad. He took the steps in the bleakly lit staircase. He walked up and asked an officer, "Where's the crime scene?" The officer pointed up and gagged. Mark patted him on the back, "Thanks."

He walked up one more level. He stepped inside the room. The room itself was nice, just like his own. The couch was of black leather, the end tables expertly crafted. A plasma screen TV stood across from it on an entertainment center. It was a high tech place. But the room was not what Mark saw. He saw a foot. A leg. A head. A torso. Not connected. Spewn everywhere.

It seemed as if his guts were taken and used to wipe the floor, his head sat on the table staring lifelessly into the doorway where Mark stood. The torso was on the floor, its chest ripped open like something tried to claw its way out. One leg was thrown into the TV. Its muscles and bones easily visible. The maggots around each of the body parts was the worse. The little white worms were eating away at the skin, the skin rotting all black and hideous.

The body was lacerated, burned, chewed, and torn to shreds, if Mark didn't know it was a body, he would have never had guessed. The body was little more than bones and some skin. Blood was everywhere, splattered on the walls, the carpet, and the ceiling. And the head. The head, it stared at him. Constantly staring. It looked familiar. He shook his head and looked away.

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