Beacon Of Light: Episode one (The ultimate post apocalyptic sci-fi thriller serial) (8 page)

‘HAVE FUN DYING FUCKER,’ the woman in the reflection growls.

Frank jumps with fear. The razor clips him on the ear and blood trickles out. Frank lets out a sneer. He throws the beard trimmer at the mirror and shatters it. Shards of glass fall sharply and bounce off the hair ridden sink falling flat on the floor; Frank lets out a yell in frustration.

‘FUCK!’ he screams

Frank composes himself and opens the medicine cabinet. He rummages through the assortment of pills and medical Paraphernalia until he finds what he is looking for. He grabs the yellow pill container. Frank gasps in relief. The label reads “Veratril: .benzodiazepine 125 mg Medicated 2 x’s a day. FRANK MCKENZIE”.

He opens the little container and pours 5 pills into his cupped hand; he puts the pills in his mouth in an urgent fashion. Bending down over
 the sink he runs the tap; drinking from it like a water fountain. He cups his hands until they are wet and splashes the watery residue on his face and hair. He looks into the mirror once again; his entire face is relaxed and dripping wet. Brushing his hands through his hair for a neater appearance, he walks out of the bathroom and grabs a grey suit jacket. He puts it on and kneels down on the ground as he slots his boots on. Just before he gets up, he grabs the gun from the floor. He walks over to the front door of his apartment and turns around to take a look at his home. Scanning his vision around the room he realises this could be the last time he sees his apartment. He gets the feeling that this could be dangerous. Gut feelings have never let him down before. He sighs and turns around and walks out. The sound of the door swinging shut echoes in the dark empty room. The bolts snap in place as the quiet hiss of silence deafens the apartment.

Two

A blue Ford Capri Pulls up to a driveway that seems to go on for miles. The car gently stops just before the assortment of officers rushing around the crime scene. One officer spots the car and shakes his head in disapproval. The officer turns to his superior.

‘It’s McKenzie, he actually showed up,’ the officer says in disbelief.

The official looking superior gives the brown nosing officer a smile as if to say he agrees with the police man’s distain for McKenzie. The superior walks over to McKenzie who is leaning on his old style Capri Lighting up a cigarette.

‘What the hell are you doing here Frank? You don’t work for the department any more. I believe it has to do with the fact you’re a no good drunk,’ echoes the superior officer loud enough to catch the attention of the surrounding officers outside. The men and women in the crime scene stop what they are doing to witness the public grilling of McKenzie.

The officer smiles as he is made the center of attention while Frank carries on smoking his cigarette. Frank continues to stare a hole into the man who is challenging him.

‘What’s the matter Frank? Have you forgotten how to talk or something? Because the Frank I used to know would not shut the hell up!  I find it strange that a man that was once notorious for talking too much is stone cold quiet now!”

The crime scene erupts in laughter as Frank is being teased by the Official looking man. Frank carries on smoking his cigarette; a brief smile comes across his face as the man carries on staring him down while licking his lips in glee.

‘If you’re not going to talk Frank, then get the fuck out of my crime scene! I don’t see the point in having you here if you’re not going to give me a reason to take the piss out of you,’ the man laughs.

Frank stays calm and takes one last drag from his cigarette. He smiles, and then he flicks the cigarette butt at the superior officer. It flies straight into the man’s right eye. The officer screams, and clasps his hands over his face, holding his injured eye that’s burning in his grips. The man removes his hand from his face, and pulls back to strike Frank, but frank beats him to the punch with a solid upper cut to the jaw, knocking the officer down to the cobble stone driveway. The surrounding officers do not interject; they remain idle as they look on at what is unfolding in front of their eyes. Frank laughs quietly to himself and shrugs off the adrenaline. He looks up at the surprised officers who outnumber him and takes a deep breath.

‘This is my crime scene now. I am in charge of this case, appointed by the district attorney as of 25 minutes ago. Truth is I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want me to be here. I guess it’s hard to look into the eyes of the men who sold me down the river because of a few discrepancies. After all I did for you guys. You were all taken care of and most importantly, I got the job done at any means necessary. The costs accumulated throughout the years have not been on you but on me. I have to live with my mistakes and me only. I am only human,’ says Frank.

The on looking officers are still in shock at what they are seeing.

‘Get back to work. 15 people died here tonight. Let’s make sure we catch whoever is responsible for this,’ Frank says.

He steps over the knocked out officer on the floor and up the cobblestone path into the entrance of the house. The surrounding officers make way for him; a few are attending to the man on the ground as Frank disappears into the crime scene.

Frank walks into a narrow hallway. The signs of a struggle are evident everywhere. He looks down the hallway and takes a deep breath in as he takes in the carnage he is witnessing. Blood is caked all over the walls, and pools of it contaminate the ground. Frank is careful not to step in any as he is aware that leaving your own footprints in a crime scene will confuse the attending crime lab people. He notices the excess amount of blood on the floor, but no bodies to match the mess in the vicinity. He makes his way down the bloody path. The amount of blood in the hallway suggests some one died there, but there was not one spec of blood anywhere else, but at the entrance to the house. What he does notice though is an abundance of holes in the walls from which are the unmistakable aftermath of shotgun shells. The whole of the hallway was plastered with shotgun shrapnel. The light from the other rooms was piercing through the holes in the walls. It surprised Frank because when he stuck his finger through one of the holes, he noticed how thick the walls were. They were at least 3 inches from one side to the other, which suggests the shooter was in close proximity of the wall when shooting. The kicker, Frank thought, there was not one body near any of the bullet holes. There was a lot of blood though. Frank pulls his finger out of one of the bullet holes; he then fixes his stare back on the hole. He has an urge to peep through and see what’s on the other side. He bends down and looks through it. He is met by an eye staring back at him, it makes him jump. He backs away from the wall, sweat starting to formulate under his brow. Frank loosens his tie a bit, thinking the room is getting hotter. He walks back over to the wall, his mind starts racing. He hears faint whispers coming from the hole in the wall. The sweat’s now trickling freely down his face, Franks breathing gets heavier. He feels the heat of the wall with his hand, the whispering becomes clearer.

‘DON’T YOU TOUCH ME,’ the dark raspy voice whispers.

Frank squirms at the sound of the voice; he pulls back his hand from the flaky dry wall. The sweating has become more perfuse, now his once white T shirt has become drenched in sticky sweat, Frank’s throat feels dry.

‘It’s so hot…. The wall is so hot,’ he says to himself.

He reaches at the wall one more time, the whispering stops. He smiles to himself, a nervous smile at best. He bends down to look through the Bullet hole; the eye meets his gaze yet again, staring fire into Frank’s soul.

‘DIE FUCKER,’ says the whispering voice.

Frank pulls away from the wall again. A man approaches Frank from behind and taps him on the shoulder, it startles Frank. He turns around to face the man. The man looks at Frank in curiosity.

‘Are you okay Frank?’ The man asks

Frank clears his throat twice

‘Yeah I’m okay; it’s just real hot in here Eddie’

‘Yeah, like a Goddamn Mexican whorehouse. Well, heck it’s good to see you! Boy it’s been far too long, but under the circumstances I’d rather just get down to business. You know that I don’t like to come to crime scenes at all, but this one is a little too close to home. I knew a few of the victims. If this sort of shit is happening on my street, then what hope have I got at making this city a safer place?’ Declares Eddie

Frank looks unsympathetic

‘Sir, with all due respect, I think we would all like to not have to come down to crime scenes like you,’ Frank says with a hint of bitterness in his tone.

‘How many times have I told you Frank? We have been friends long enough for you to know that I hate you calling me sir,’ explains Eddie, trying to ignore what Frank said.

‘Yes Eddie,’ Frank says

‘Good. Now as I said, all I’m telling you to do is get your ass in gear, we need to nip this in the bud before anything else like this goes down. It will be a media circus when the press find out this shit went down in my own neighbourhood. Let alone that I am the victims next door neighbour!’ says the DA trying to make his intentions clear to Frank.

‘I got it Eddie, now if you don’t mind can you just let me get on with what I am here to do? I’m sure you didn’t break protocol to have me here to listen to you rant.’

Eddie looks Frank up and down disapprovingly, noticing the sweat riddled shirt that Frank is wearing.

‘Frank get your shit together! I don’t condone drugs or taking them, but man if you’re going to do your job, I need you to get your fucking shit straight! Pop a pill or whatever you do, just get me those damn results, or the only protocol I’ll be following is the one under the Drugs ACT,’ says Eddie.

Eddie walks away from Frank who is gritting his teeth while trying to hold his temper. As soon as Eddie is out of sight, Frank checks to see if the coast is clear. No one is about, so Frank reaches for his pills and takes 3 to settle his nerves. He knows he is going to need the edge if he is going to catch a mass murdering psychopath.

Three

Frank had been at the crime scene now for well over 5 hours. Day was breaking through the early morning clouds into the living room through the towering white bay windows that the tenant had installed. Frank playfully thought how those windows would have been worth the price in cold cash if the people who lived there decided that putting a 10 foot security wall around the garden for privacy hindered the actual likelihood of anyone witnessing a crime.
Or maybe that was the whole idea.

Frank was looking around the once immaculate living room, which was well furnished and had its fair share of Persian exports. He thought about how wealthy the occupants were compared to him. He understood that they were not millionaires by any stretch of the imagination, but they could afford premium cable as he looked at the 52 inch theatre sitting nicely in the corner.

No wall brackets he thought to himself.

At least they were not idiots because TVs are notoriously unstable mounted on walls.

He did notice that they had some marvellous paintings on the wall, but he didn’t genuinely care for art. He started to realise that maybe he was paying attention to the mundane because of what lay in the corner of his eye. He finally decided to acknowledge the 15 neatly piled bodies in the corner of the room. Bullet holes are scattered all over the corpses. He was sure that there was not one pint of blood left in them.

‘Shit. That’s sad,’ Frank said to himself

‘What’s sad?’ A woman’s voice hissed into his ear

Frank turned to see a tall brunet woman standing next to him. She was wearing a white lab coat, so he assumed she was part of the forensic team. She was pretty but overly assertive in the way she stood. He knew that she knew she was good looking but she was the type of girl, in his estimation that saw that as a burden.

‘It’s sad that the Persian carpet underneath the bodies can’t be sold at the police auction. It’s probably worth at least $800; I could have gotten it for $150, always wanted one of them rugs,’ Says Frank

The woman in the lab coat doesn’t seem too impressed by his sense of humour.

‘Frankly I don’t honestly care for overpriced tat. I would be more concerned with the fact that 15 people were murdered last night. That in its self is a scary enough thought, let alone the fact that he is still at large,’ The pretty woman says

Frank lets out a little laugh

‘I’ll catch them. That’s what I do,’ he says

‘Well let’s hope you do Mr McKenzie,’ says the woman

Frank’s eyes light up

‘Ah, so you do know who I am? I was hoping that you do
 because now I can just skip all the small talk and get to the fun!’

‘I can assure you Frank that the only fun we will have
 is this,’ the pretty woman says

‘Damn, I was just playing around lady. Haven’t you ever been told that a little joke here and there can do wonders for your life? I’m sure that the things you see every day are just as bad as the things I see.
 So releasing steam is what I do best,’ says Frank

He looks at her as she blatantly isn’t impressed and just wants to get away from him.

‘Look Miss, I’ll catch the bastards. They are only human after all,’ says Frank, trying to convince the lady in the lab coat.