Hatched

Chapter Three

June 29th, 2021

0700 hours

Lieutenant Garcia felt his stomach rise in his throat as he took in the ludicrous scene before him. Workers and officers milled about the rig, shouting at one another over the roar of the ocean, traipsing agitatedly in circles as they argued. Clearly the police were trying to evacuate the area, but their orders seemed ineffective, as the rig men refused to leave.

"Sir!" Came a loud voice from behind him. A uniformed youth tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned.

"Deputy Barnes!" He barked back, perhaps a little too roughly.

"I'm glad you're here. You should come see this." Barnes gestured to an area behind the lingering workers, near the edge of the platform, where a blue tarp lay rustling in the wind. It bulged oddly, as through hiding something rather large. Garcia could imagine what and mentally prepared himself: the call had only mentioned a fatality, it hadn't revealed any details.

"What have we got?" He blinked forcefully, the salty sea air already stinging his eyes.

"No idea, boss." Barnes admitted, shaking his head. He guided Garcia through the stragglers, bumping and jostling them in an effort to extricate them. The workmen glared back, flexing and staring them down warily as they stood their ground.

"Get the hell out of here!" Garcia warned with a swiping motion of his arm and the men retreated slightly, still eyeing the officers. Several shouted obscenities back, to which Garcia replied "Sounds like your mother! Get back, or I'll charge you with interference of public duties!"

"I'm not sure that having a go at their mothers is an effective method."

"Be quiet, Barnes." They were at the tarp now, and as they squatted down the metallic smell of blood reached his nose. Gingerly, Garcia grasped a corner of the plastic and lifted it a few inches.

"Bloody hell." He breathed; eyes glued to the mangled remains of what he could only assume had been a human being. "Why did I get up this morning?"

He'd been woken up by his secretary just an hour before, eyes blurred and heavy, limbs stiff from having pulled the night shift when he usually did the morning patrol. That two-hour nap was the most welcoming thing he'd had all week. Gang bangers and vandals kept him busy for most of the time, with the occasional shooting cropping up. That was nothing compared to this.

Guts lay strewn over the wet deck, the body of a limp man just beside them, abdomen ripped open and exposed.

"What the hell?" He murmured, glancing at his officer. Barnes just shrugged.

"No idea, Sir. Call came in at five this morning."

"Why didn't you notify me sooner?" He grumbled, glaring at the sandy haired youth.

"You were sleeping, sir."

"Let's get to work." He stood ungainly; knees stiff from kneeling. Brows furrowing, he observed the deck. There were still groups of people wandering about leaving shoeprints in the blood spatter. Garcia swore. "Fuck! Barnes get those assholes out of my crime scene! They're contaminating evidence."

"Right."

Garcia sighed and shook his head at Barnes. "We have a very small window to catch whatever sadist did this, and this idiot parade ain't helping any." Lowering his voice more, he rumbled "The perp is still here. We are in the middle of nowhere. Keep your eyes open."

"I don't think closing them would help me any." Barnes admitted, transfixed on the carcass.

"I know what you mean." Garcia murmured. "Hey! Give me your shoes!" He yelled suddenly at a roughneck passing through, causing Barnes to jump. "Yeah, you! Can't you see the dead guy here? I need those!" The man glared at him, slowly lifting his middle finger and continuing up the steps.