fictionrulz
The wind whistled past as her body descended. She felt light as a feather despite free falling though the clouds. The sky felt endless. Though she questioned if her chute would open when the moment came.
She screamed at the top of her lungs for them to listen. Her long bony finger pointing behind them. The doctors all thought the old woman had lost what mind she had left. Muttering and crying about monsters.
Was she unstable or could they just not see what really lurked in the shadows.
The pattern of blood on the wall almost looked like art. Human art. The detective tried to detach his emotions from what he was seeing. He had to be objective and observant. Almost an admirer of this distinct artwork to catch the artist before it happened again.
The war vet sat on the park bench. He watched the new recruits march by and chant their cadences. He remembered those days of being young and having little fear.
She slathered more grease on the actuating arms and a few of the more rusted teeth of the gears. "I'm not sure this is going to help. This piece of junk has sat far too long without any care."
She closed the cover of the mammoth war machine and stepped back. "Punch it Louis!"
He turned his cap backward and pumped diesel through the veins of this metal creature. When Louis pressed the ignition switch the gears and plates trembled before breaking their bond of rust and years of dirt. The armored suit took one step then another.
She let out a yell and raised her grease smeared arms in victory. If they can revive a few more of these beasts, the allies may yet have a chance.
He scanned as much of the dark room as his eyes would allow. He felt it, the weight of its presence. He thought they were finished with him these visits were over. There would be no more lights, no more experiments. It moved from the shadow toward him large black almond eyes held no comfort. It wasn't over, it would never be over.
He watched her through the glass. The nervous twitch of her hands. She wanted to drink the glass of water but didn't want to give them her fingerprints. She shifted in the uncomfortable wooden chair for the umpteenth time. Her hand shook as her fingers combed through her hair now unkempt from doing this over and over in the three hours he let her stew in the interrogation room. Her nervous gestures telling her guilt in the sad crime amused him.
She walked down the aisle of the airship. Designer clothing, shoes polished to a high shine. Even one of those popular purse puppies tucked under her arm. The grand dame looked around as she passed through the curtains into first class as though we had been privileged to be graced by her presence.
This was a fine mess he'd gotten himself into. He could hear the sirens blaring as they came down the street. The sound of their tires squealing as the coppers skidded to a stop right out front of his hiding place.
They must have spotted the getaway car out front. "Damn it!" he swore half under his breath. He should have held onto that dame for a hostage, he might have had a way out of this. He looked down at the bag of money on the floor next to him. Maybe all those greenbacks weren't worth this kind of trouble.
Hushed voices came from the back of the abandoned shop Blue and red lights flashed as silhouettes of men with raised guns passed by the painted over glass of the storefront. There was no place to go.. He was cornered and on his way back to the big house.
"Bartender, refill." This was a hell of a case. The kind that made an investigator chase his tail before he could get a decent lead. How did he get mixed up in all of this chaos?
He gave a snort and knocked back the fresh glass of bourbon. He knew exactly what got him into this mess. Toughts of chasing the doe eyed skirt who sauntered into his office with a sad story and tear in her eye. There was probably an onion slice in that silk hanky.
He motioned to the bartender for another. "Make this one a triple, Maybe you should just leave the bottle. Old Jim here and I need a long conversation about a dame."
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