A Killer Pattern

A man, dark circled-eyes and lean, strained as he pressed his shoulder into the paint chipped door; it didn’t budge. This small back alley was to be his prison for the time being, unless he could find a new way out. A collection of dive bars had back doors leading into this closed off alley, and all kept their doors locked. A click sounded to the side. One such door swung open, and a worker of one of the surrounding bars strutted out with a bag of trash in one hand, a phone in the other. The man stood as he waited for her reaction, none. She was too focused on her cellphone, tapping out rapid words on the on-screen keyboard. Her steps paused. Her eyes rose, up, up, up. She dropped the bag. She hesitated only for a moment, only long enough to suck in a great breath, and then she screamed.

Like a squad car with full sirens she shrieked towards the man. He stumbled backwards, pushing his hands up, waiting for an impact that never came. She rushed into, and then right through the man. A beep sounded as the door behind the man opened, then a slam as it shut. The man cursed.

“Dammit, I missed my chance again.”

He cursed himself for a while, that was the perfect moment. He had got too caught up in the woman screeching towards him after she saw the corpse. His corpse. The body of Detective Steven Barrett laid cooling not ten feet in front of the him, and it had started to attract flies. He hadn’t expected to die today, not least in the way he did. It was his day off, his required day off, according to the Chief.

“You’ve been working too much, you look like a mess,” the Chief had said.

He wasn’t wrong, Barrett’s recent days were a whirlwind of murders scattered around the city, Detective Barrett’s city. He was a murder detective, dammit. It was his job to figure these guys out and put an end to their sick games. And yet, nothing ever came of it. No DNA, no fingerprints, no witnesses. Murder after murder had popped up around the city, and he had nothing to go on. One month. It doesn’t sound like a significant amount of time, but when a murder happens every single day, it’s a lifetime.

Barrett paced down the back alley, kicking at his body. He waved his foot at the flies, they pass right through.. He can’t touch living things, but dead things are fair game, it seemed. Not that it had much effect on the world. He kicked his torso a few times, only a faint rustle of his bomber jacket showed his effort. Aren’t ghosts supposed to be able to throw things? Aren’t they supposed to be visible? He assumed he was a ghost. He looked alive enough when he looked himself over. Besides the bloody holes in his chest where buckshot tore his heart to shreds, he looked perfectly alive. He felt alive, too. Not only didn’t his chest hurt, but his torn ACL from a few months back felt good as new, as did his stomach ulcer. In fact, he felt better than he had in years, too bad he was dead.

A few more kicks landed on his corpse as he began to curse again. Why did he come to this damn alley? He should have taken the day off, like the chief told him to. But instead, he had followed a potential lead. The killer had been killing in a sort of pattern back and forth across the city, and somewhere around here would be his next victim. Turns out he was right. One second, he had found himself locked in this back alley, the next, a shotgun erupted behind him. The double barreled shotgun still laid on the ground near his corpse, both hammers dropped, both barrels emptied. A distinctive feature of the killer, they always left the weapon behind, and it would always be clean. Not a single clue would found at the scene, nor on the weapon of choice. Those varied as well. Knives, guns, even a sword once. Each time, the killer stole the murder weapon nearby, and then put to use on some unfortunate soul. As for this unfortunate soul, by the time he bled out and found himself discovering what a true out of body experience felt like, the killer was already gone. He didn’t get a single glance at the bastard, and now, he was back to square one.

He sat down, looking at his body while he waited. Not that he had to wait long, only twenty minutes or so had passed before sirens echoed on the street outside.

“Funny, that would normally be me,” he spoke to himself, “now though, it would probably be…”

The door behind the man snapped open, a shaking voice spilled out from the doorway.

“He’s out there! I heard something like a gunshot earlier, but nobody else seemed to…” The girl from earlier was pointing the way to a pair of officers. Chief Brooks was in the lead, scowling as he saw the body. Behind, a shaking face popped up. She stared, then looked away. Dammit. The rookie of the detective department, his rookie. Katie Brewster. She was good, a bit naive, a bit too positive on her outlook and assumptions of people, but good. Somehow, he hadn’t thought of others reactions to his death. He wanted to get on with it, whatever it was. The light in the sky? The great afterlife? Or was he doomed to haunt this alleyway forever?

But seeing those you cared about made it so much more… regretful.

“I told this bastard he’d either work himself to death or get himself killed.” Chief grumbled, looking over the body.

“C’mon Chief, you gotta give me grief even now?” Barret shook his head, unwilling to submit to the waterworks that threatened to wet his face.

The older man, lean, yet solid leaned over the body, gazing at the face. “Dammit, Steve,” he spoke, his voice wavering.

Seeing this iron bar of a man shake a bit brought an even larger weight of regret and sorrow to Barrett’s mind. Chief had always been a hardass, always yelling at his detectives, especially him. He had a habit of telling him to go home already, erupting in anger at his wild theories, and berating him for going out without his partner. He was right, in the end, but Barrett didn’t care much about his wellbeing, he didn’t want to drag his partner along in his bad decisions. Looking over at that partner, she was still in the doorway, staring and shaking. Barrett didn’t expect to see such a reaction. he didn’t know why, but he assumed there weren’t many people who cared about him. His parents were dirtbags, his wife ran out on him, his kid hated him. He was alone in the world, and that was just fine. But now…

“Sorry Chief,” said Katie. Still in the doorway, she began to back away, her eyes not leaving Barrett’s face. Dammit.

Chief Brooks waved his hand, letting her go. She whipped around and fled the scene, leaving Chief to do the job, Barrett’s job.

“Perkins! Halloway! Get the… secure the area, interview the witness, get forensics over here.” He spoke on a single breath as he continued to stare at the corpse.

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit! Barrett turned and walked out of the now open door, walking through barkeepers and waitresses, and his old colleagues. A sour gloom hung over the officers. The killer was still walking free, and one of their own was the most recent victim. Barrett felt rotten, like he had failed at his job. The killer had been right there! He had found them! And yet… he had never even caught a glimpse of their face!

Furious at this turn of events, Barrett swiped at a salt shaker on one of the tables. The shaker skipped off the table, shattering as it hit the floor. The man halted his steps, he didn’t expect it to actually move. His actions until now had been akin to a soft breeze pressing against the world, but now? He tried pushing another shaker, it doesn’t move in the slightest. He tried and step to another table, but found himself unable, he felt a wall had formed in front of him. He pushed, and struggled to move past, but a barrier of wind seemed to have appeared in a line, over the trail of scattered salt.

He stopped his struggling and looked down at the white line. So, salt actually works against ghosts? Huh. Somehow this calmed Barrett down a bit. He can influence the world, could he still do something about this killer? If he can put that asshole away, could he rest in peace?

A waitress stepped through Barrett, and began cleaning up the salt as an officer apologized.

“Sorry, I must have hit it with my arm or something.”

“It’s fine, it’s, okay. It’ll be okay.” The waitress was the same that found the corpse, at least she seemed to be doing a bit better. People who found bodies were always pretty shocked when you got to them, but they got over it quick if they didn’t know the person. Katie though…

Barrett walked outside to find her car wasn’t around, she had already left. Could he even ride inside a car? He stepped off the curb and leaned against one of the police cruisers. The cool metal felt as solid and real as always. Does that mean he can hitchhike? An officer grabbed the handle of the car, and Barrett felt the metal soften, then dissapear. He fell through the car, stumbling as he did. Interesting. He marveled at the feeling of being able to move his vision though steel, like a cutaway book, he leaned through the car, glancing through the vehicle.

Without warning, he found himself shoved into the trunk. Like the salt, he could feel an invisible force rejecting him as the officer took his hand from the door. Barrett had always suffered from claustrophobia, and this is the worst kind. Dark, tight, he began to panic right as the officer gripped the door again. Barrett fell through the car and scrambled away, desperate to not trap himself again. Is this how ghosts go crazy? They get trapped by accident and are doomed to insanity by sheer torture of isolation and imprisonment? He shook his head and vowed to keep away from cars, though, does that mean he needed to walk everywhere?

Hours later, Barrett finally walked to the front of the police station. He wanted to walk home, but an empty apartment with nobody around didn’t feel like home. His actual home would always be the office. It was late, 3am, and nobody was around. This station housed the city's detectives, their investigators, and many of the pencil pushers that are necessary to actually operate a police force in a city this big. He walked up to the door, but of course, nothing happened. The sensors wouldn’t detect him, and even if they could, the doors should have been locked. Barrett leaned against them, unsure of what to do next. Wait till morning? He had plenty of time. As the thought passed through his mind, the door became ethereal. He fell straight through the body of his partner Katie, as the Chief manually slid open the door. Barrett stumbled catching himself, not that his two coworkers noticed.

“Just take a few days off, rest, Steve wouldn’t want to see you beating yourself up like this.” Chief gently pushed her out the door. She resisted a small amount, but she looked exhausted, and couldn’t put up much of a fight.

“Chief, it was the killer, Steven had the right idea, there’s a pattern! If I could figure it out…”

Why was everyone so friendly now that he was dead? He had always been ‘Detective Barnett’ to his coworkers, and especially the chief.

Chief pushed her through the doorway, a bit more firm this time. “Get some rest, and don’t think about going out on your own. This killer doesn’t shy away from killing an officer, I don’t want to lose another detective.”

The two walked out, Chief sliding the door shut behind them. Dammit. Barrett thought he wouldn’t have had any regrets in the past, even if he had worked himself to death, even if he had died on the job, as long as he got the job done. But now, he felt like shit. Grumbling, he walked through the dark halls. There wasn’t the annoying squeak of his sneakers on the linoleum, nor the rustle of his jacket. As he walked, he was made aware of just how silent he now moved, how silent the world is with only him in it.

“Like a ghost.” His face soured at his own joke. He knew people thought he was a bit of an ass sometimes when he quipped, but it helped the day go by, made a couple of people smile. But out loud, alone, it felt like such a waste of breath. Ha.

The door to his office was thankfully open, same as it was when he left, except for a few small touches. His badge, still with blood in the nooks and crannies, sat numb on the desk, his notes had been pulled out, searched through, and tissues filled with tears and snot now filled the trash can. Dammit Katie. She was such a good kid, but definitely too sentimental. What was she, twenties? Early thirties? How can a cop be such a crybaby? Barrett thought this as tears began to well up in his own eyes. It was kind of nice, having someone care that you’re gone. But the warm feeling began to twist, into a deep sense of anger and frustration at this damn killer. They struck every day, and the killings are about the same distance apart. Each and every time, the suspect slipped away without leaving a single clue.

“This is seriously too much.” Talking to himself seems to help. He looked at the page Katie left his notes open onto. He had taped in a map of the city, and had drawn lines, connecting the murders. Same distance, same direction till they reached the city limits, then they’d turn back, and kill along a new line. The problem was the weird minor changes in the target area. He couldn’t figure it out when he was alive, he had gotten lucky in finding the right spot this time, or perhaps unlucky. Though, if he hadn’t been there, would that waitress have been the one murdered? That seemed most likely, none of the victims seemed connected. Wrong place, wrong time.

Barrett sat in his chair, at his desk, and tried to look over what happened, what he should do, how should he proceed? Hang around the areas where the murders will occur? That seemed to be the only thing he could do. He could always come back to the station and check on any new information, see if Katie can carry the torch and figure this bastard out. He stood, prepared to leave, when he realized he was locked in for the night. Ah, dammit.

He was able to slip out in the morning as the front desk officers showed up, he leaned on the door and let himself fall through once the living touched it. Outside, in the early morning sunshine, he felt somehow refreshed. He haven’t seen the sunrise in years, his mornings instead beginning blearily at 10am or so, a hangover preventing him from enjoying much of the early beauty of the world. But now, the sun doesn’t hurt his eyes, the air feels fresh, and the world looks quite a bit brighter than it had in years. Had he been missing out?

He walked towards the center of the city. The next murder should happen sometime today, about ten blocks west of the last murder. His murder. Where in those blocks would it occur? He hadn’t the faintest. Neither did anyone else. They couldn’t tell people to stay away from large swaths of the city every single day. Instead the police presence ramped up in the targeted area, searching only afterwards for any evidence of the murderer. The Chief assumed the killer would slip up sooner or later, that the detectives would catch them in a mistake, but an entire month without a single clue had Barrett doubt the killer ever would slip up.

He continued on, walking around the general area, taking in sights and sounds he hadn’t been able to see in years. Morning sun, school kids, peace.

A shrill, terrible scream brought him out of his musings as he walked, a woman’s scream. Through the window of a nearby house, Barrett could see a man was beating a woman with a savage rage. The man was scrawny, wearing only loose shorts and tattoos as he gripped the hair of an equally skinny woman. He punched her over and over as she screamed and sobbed, but neither the man, nor the neighbors took any notice. Methheads gonna methhead, was what the narcotics guys would say. People tended to numb themselves when violence and screaming was so common.

Pat, pat, crunch. The man was beating this woman senseless. Her face was already bloody, and now her nose broke. Barrett looked around, half expecting someone to do something, but the apathy in the neighbors was clearly visible. No police around, pedestrians have already walked away, nothing he could do. The woman collapsed, and the man began kicking her as she dropped. She was going to die at this rate. Barrett looked around once more, but again, nobody cared, nobody did anything. He wanted to stop this, do something other than watching as a man beat this woman to death in front of him.

He glanced down to small, light colored rocks that lined the path up to the house. One was loose, the size of a baseball. Barrett reached to grab it without thinking, he felt his grip actually latch on for a moment, before sliding off. The rock rolled across the ground, coming to a rest near his foot. He had moved it! He reached again, grabbing the stone and lifting, pouring his urgency and will into lifting the white stone. The stone was immovable at first, but, slowly, carefully, he picked up it up. He strained jto hold it at his shoulder. He could feel it wanting to fall, it wanted to slip through his fingers and obey gravity once more, to return to where it belongs.

He looked up, he could see the man was now stomping, downwards, the woman out of sight. Barrett’s anger returned and he poured it all into throwing the stone, hoping to distract him, to stop him from actually killing the girl.

The stone pushed along, resisting his hand before rushing away. Like a rocket from his hand, it sailed right through the open window, through the curtains, and right into the side of the man’s head. Crack! He paused mid-kick, stunned as he turned to look out the window, but he didn’t make it the full ninety degrees. He collapsed, blood running down the side of his face.

Barrett huffed. That took a lot of effort. It felt like the stone was moving through molasses as he pushed it, but as soon as it left his hand, it rushed away. Shit. He didn’t kill someone, did he? He walked up the path and slipped into the open window. The room was dark and musty, the carpet grimy under his shoes. The tattooed man man laid hidden by a couch. Barrett took a deep breath before stepping around.

The man was breathing, thank fuck for that. A sudden movement caused Barrett to jump. The woman, a violent bloody mess stood from behind the couch, wobbling as she steadied herself. Good, she was alive too, good. Her face was in a bad way, multiple fractures, Barrett thought. Deep lacerations too. It’s good he stepped in when he did, otherwise she would most likely be dead by now. Barrett continued to praise himself as the woman searched around for her savior. There was only a bloody rock. She picked it up, looking it over for a moment, and then brought it down. She began beating the man as savagely as he had beaten her. Worse. Soon, his chest halted its movements. She threw the rock away, huffing through the blood.

Barrett watched, mouth agape, stunned into inaction as the woman beat the man to death. What the hell? She glanced around, grabbed a bag and a ring of keys, then stumbled to the front door. She fumbled open numerous locks before swinging it open and stepping through. Stumbling to the street, she set off, casually walking away. Barrett felt bizarre, did he assist in a murder? Did he save a murder victim? What would you even call that?

He looked over the dead man. As the blood began to soak the carpet he half expected to see… something. A ghost? A soul? What is he if not either or both of those things? But no, the man laid still, the blood continued to drain, the lack of breathing obvious in the quiet. No sound came from the house anymore, Barrett only added to the silence as he left. This case would have landed on his desk if he was among the living, though it would have been the woman’s murder he would have investigated.

He turned away from the house and continue on his way. What else could he do? He counted out the number of blocks, moving along until he arrived at a block of shopping stores and restaurants. This was it. The shopping strip was brightly lit, it was public, surely the killer wouldn’t show up here, right? Barrett counted out the blocks in his head again, thinking over the supposed route the killer should have taken. Yeah, somewhere, in this block should be a murder tonight. Since it’s a large parking lot and a row of shops, it narrows down where it could occur. Barrett walked through the cars, keeping clear of the steel traps as he walked. The front of the shops were pretty and lit well, large lines formed for a Korean BBQ and a burrito shop. There were a lot of people, too many people to keep track of. Barrett sighed to himself as the groups of people surge by. It took some time to walk here, and it was getting late. If the killer kept to their patterns, they should show up soon. They should be here.

Barrett did’t know what he was looking for. He wanted to keep an eye out for whoever would run from a scene. He worried he wouldn’t be able to do anything, prevent anything. All he wanted, the bare minimum, he realized, was to see their face. He wanted to finally know the face of the killer that had haunted his city for a month. Twenty eight victims, a record amongst killers, at least in this city. Nobody had taken his theory too seriously, the maps, the lines, the patterns. Chief, bless him, was convinced that there were multiple killers, perhaps gang related.

It was always gang related according to the man.

Barrett let out another deep sigh, it was becoming a habit, and turned away from the crowds. Inside, a small Vietnamese restaurant was churning through customers. The owner, a neat older lady chatted happily with a couple as they payed for their meal. A small flash of light caught his eye as he moved to turn away. Something was coming towards him from the kitchen, something was coming towards her. The owner laughed unknowing as a kitchen knife turned, and then hovered behind her. Barrett rushed to the door, and pushed. Nothing. The door wouldn’t budge, but the knife continued to raise. He pounded on the glass and shouted, but none seemed to notice over the lively atmosphere inside. A man stood to leave, he stretched, reached for the door, and then turned away, going back for his jacket. Barrett screamed at the man to just touch the door, to brush up against it, anything!

A scream silenced the room. The couple watched in horror as the owner shrieked without warning. Her eyes bugged out, her mouth opened, as if she wanted to say something, and then she slumped forward, a knife handle jutting from her back. There was a moment of calm confusion before the restaurant erupted, a surge of people rushed out, allowing Barret to storm though the stream of people, not a soul halting his progress.

A thump hit his shoulder as someone passed by. Barrett reached out instinctively, accurately gripping the person who shouldered him out of their way. He could feel cloth, grimy, dusty, but his eyes saw nothing, he was now holding air. Slowly, something began to form. An overcoat, wrapped over a short, balding man. He was filthy, he was crying, and he was struggling to pull from Barrett’s grasp.

“You!” Barrett shouted at the man as he tried to halt his movements.

“Geh, gah, no, please, guh muhfurwhudonuh” The man struggled to speak, his eyes rolled in their sockets as he strained for the door. Barrett could feel the force he was fighting against. He didn’t look like it, but this man was strong, damn strong, and he was winning in this game of tug of war. Barrett resisted, the man steadily pulled towards the door. They would soon be out. The flow of people began to slow.

If he could keep him inside, they'd both be trapped, he could get his answers, he could finally be done with this. Barret spotted salt and pepper shakers on a nearby table, and smacked them off. A line of salt scattered towards the door, narrowing the path the killer could take.

The man screeched at the salt, but continued to pull, dragging Barrett a few more feet. Half of his body slid out of the door as the last of the customers rushed out. The door eased shut, spitting the two out. One on the outside, the other, inside. Barrett watched the killer as he stumbled around, found the direction he wanted, and then hobbled off. He had a badly injured leg, and could only hobble as he made his way. His figure became less distinct, and then faded from Barrett’s vision.

A ghost? Is that how Barrett looked? The killer had an air of insanity that burned away anything else. What all did he want? To kill? Barrett shook his head. There’s no point in trying to figure out what he wanted, or what he was planning on doing next. He’d kill, that much Barrett was sure of. Around ten blocks west of here, in a straight line, as he always had. Barrett glanced over at the cooling body of the shop owner. Shit.

The door opened, and in walked police officers, pistols drawn, flashlights on. Barrett passed through the group and the door, out onto the street. He looked at the direction the man had headed. The killer would be slow with that limp, it would take him all day. Barrett could imagine his route, perhaps he could get there first, and prepare for the bastard?

…

Prepared to do what? He wasn’t sure. The killer was stronger than he was, the short bald man pulled him like a bull towards the door, he doubted he could capture him. Kill? What worked against a ghost? He would like to know that for himself, if only to not be stuck wandering the earth until the end of time. Barnett was not a fervent believer in Christianity, but it’ d be nice if there was something after all of this, somewhere to go to. He’d have to haunt a priest later.

He shook that thought form his head. Barnett stalked west, towards the next location, a hill. An old monastery that predated the city, and still watched over the city with all of the ardent warmth a dozen or so nuns could provide. The grounds were treated more like an attraction nowadays, but tomorrow was a weekday, wouldn’t it only be the nuns inside? This made Barnett’s job easier, though, he was still unsure as to how exactly he’d deal with the phantom. The path to the hill were empty of the bald man, according to Barrett's eyes. He searched all day, but resigned himself to work on the killer's terms. He headed up the hill as evening fell.

The steps up the hill were easy and without exhaustion. Being a ghost, Barnett didn’t feel tired or sore. He felt ready to do… something. As Barnett considered his plan, he reached the top of the long climb, and found himself face to face with a familiar face.

Katie, panted great gulps of air as she propped herself up on a nearby post. She took great gulps of air, before pulling out a large plastic jug, taking great gulps from it as well. She stood up straight, stretched, and then marched towards the front of the monastery. Barnett followed. She reached the entrance and knocked on the great, wooden doors. What was she up to? Dammit! Now there was another person here! Barrett had this under control! He began fuming at his partner as the doors creaked open.

“Yes?” An older nun creaked, sounding awfully similar to the door hinges.

Katie straightened, putting on an authoritative air. “Hi! My name is Detective Brewster, I called you yesterday?”

“Oh yes, the detective, would you like to come inside?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure the sisters understood to stay indoors and out of sight, if at all possible.”

“Yes!” Barnett shouted and danced next to Katie. Brilliant! He wanted to clap her hands and pat her on the back. “That’s my partner, let’s go!”

The old nun smiled. “Yes, we’ll be sure to stay inside, are you sure you don’t want to come along? You said there was a bad group of people coming?”

“I’ll keep an eye out here, don’t worry about me,” said Katie, giving her best confident smile. Good kid, she learned well.

The old nun seemed to pause for a moment, then glanced over the shoulder of my partner and stared, Barrett would have sworn, right at him. She smiled as he stared back.

“We will pray for you,” she creaked, before shutting the door with a clang.

Katie turned around, trying to find what the woman was looking at, but failing that, she relaxed and strolled over to an old well, taking sips of water as she sat by the disused stone circle.

Barrett hadn’t moved. Could she see him? Was he in danger? Wait, wasn’t being exorcized a good thing? Or was that only for demons? He tried to shake the thoughts away as he jogged over to Katie’s side. She was rubbing a book, his book of notes. Two small marks are already worn where her fingers have been digging into the leather cover over the past day.

Katie gripped the book as she spoke. “It should be around here, the killer, somewhere on this hill, and I’m the only one here, oh Steven, I hope you’re right, I’ll get the bastard!”

He had to admit, she had done pretty well. She removed potential targets, placing herself as the only victim, the killer would be drawn to her, only to find a cop waiting for him.

The smile that had begun to form on his face abruptly reversed with force. She’s alone. She’ll be the victim. And no amount of pistol rounds would ever stop the killer. Shit. Barnett begin to pace in circles, gazing around with an intense focus. Hours passed, and still no sign of the killer appeared. Barnett resisted the urge to check on the nuns inside. Neither him nor the killer could get inside of the tall, white washed walls, not without help from the living. He began to feel the first instance of exhaustion after he had died. Watching, worrying, stressed about his partner and good friend. Would she end up as he had? Could he ever apologize enough? Apologize for not doing his job, as her partner, as her senior? He continued to stress and worry as he paced around.

A faint snore halted his steps. Katie, come on, bad rookie. Barnett tutted inside of his mind, she looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in days. A pain gripped him as he once again struggled with how much he had harmed those around him by being fearless, by going out on his own. Just as his junior was currently doing. Barrett frowned, she had learned too well from him.

A quiet clink of falling glass echoed across the courtyard. Glass? A window? Barrett searched the few windows he could see. Most were all higher up, and should be difficult for the killer to climb through. They are all whole, not one even scratched. Barrett didn’t think about breaking a window, shit. Should he circle around the monastery to check on the nuns? Even at a jog it would take at least fifteen minutes… he paced back and forth. He could fail again if he didn’t go, but his partner, he couldn’t ever allow them to be killed because of his own foolishness. He glanced back at the sleeping detective, she was beginning to drool.

Barret's face split into a grin. Heh, what a scary officer.

A shadow passed over her face in the moonlight. A long thin shadow. He looked up, to see a firefighter’s ax hefted high in the air.

“No!” he screamed, rushing towards his partner. It came down, violent, brutal, deadly, on top of his partner’s sleeping skull.

Clang!

Without a moment to spare, Barrett pushed the ax aside, causing it to instead hammer into the stones of the well. Katie waked, and dove off to the side, drawing her sidearm. She paused as she didn’t see a person. Barrett did. The nasty man glared and spat at the detective.

“Grah, anwaltyousonofabitch!” he shouted, a small amount with any coherence. The man swung his stocky arm and backhanded Barnett. It looked pathetic, but felt like a truck. His body flipped end over end, slamming hard against the stucco walls, sending cracks spidering across the front. Katie backed away from the cracks, her back to the well. Barnett collapsed into a heap, and wsa slow to climb back onto his feet. His body was aching, not something he thought would ever happen again. If he was alive, he wouldn’t have been after that blow. Katie watched the wall with suspicion as the ax lifted again behind her. The hobbling man limped over, and swung it with all of his anger. She ducked, the ax hit only air. She had good reflexes, good job. Barrett rushed over ready to help, however, he was anything but. Another back hand and he flew end over end, back into the well. The entire well shook, dust rising from the impact. This time, Barnett saw stars as the rocks met his face.

Barnett rolled over, stunned for a moment as Katie deflected another blow. The ax swung in large, heavy arcs. Katie’s pistol was in bits, she had either dodged or used the pistol slide to deflect the ax. She hadn’t fired a single shot before her pistol was already ruined.

Barnett held his ringing head, watching the hobbling old man spit and scream as he failed to kill his partner, over and over again. Katie’s pistol snapped in half, she was left holding a grip, and nothing much else. The ax raised once again, but this time she stepped into the blow, reaching up and catching the ax. Her knees buckle at the force, but she’s able to catch it. Now, the ax is just that, an ax. She stareed at the ax, hefting it in her hands, unsure if it’s over or not. Barnett searched for the old man, but the killer had disappeared on him again. He struggled to his feet. What happens if he got hit hard enough? Will he die again? A ghost feeling pain, what a novel concept.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at himself. A nonexistent breath that he had been holding let out… is it over?

A faint reflection shone in the moonlight, catching his eye. A shard of glass, from the fire ax case floated across the monastery grounds. The faded and chipped words “break in case of” written in red over the front of the shard. It rushed behind Katie as she was still examining the ax. The shard lifted, closing in towards the back of her neck. Barrett shouted, screamed for her, but she couldn’t hear at all. Barrett grabbed her water bottle and threw it, aiming it at the back of her head. It struck true, bouncing off her at the very moment the man stepped in for the kill.

For a brief moment, the bottle, as it tumbled down the back of the detective, touched her, and intersected the grimy, bald man. The glass shard came down in a violent whipping motion, cutting not her neck, but her ear, causing Katie to jerk away in pain. She rolled, coming up with the ax in hand, and stared with vigilance, as a shard of bloody glass and her water bottle, float midair above where she once stood. They hesitate for a moment, as if struggling to fight gravity, before they both fell limp to the ground.

Katie watched, but didn’t relax yet. She had already been attacked once after she let down her guard. The kid learns fast.

Barrett relax though. The man had seemed to shimmer for a moment as he struggled to keep himself from pressing into or out of the bottle. The force pushed the man one way, then the other, before a violent vacuum pulled him inside. Barrett walked over and hefted the bottle in his hands, intent on getting rid of it. Katie slid into a fighting stance as the water bottle hovered. Barrett chuckled. Good kid. Around him, there’s only one spot where nobody living will go ever again, at least he hoped. Barrett carried the water bottle away from katie, and towards the well. He could hear the man’s screaming from inside.

“Youyouyouyouyouyounooooooorririiiiiiiiiiiii!” Again, gibberish and screeches, but Barrett could feel his rage, it radiated from the bottle.

He brought it over to the well, and held it over the deep pit.

“No! No! Not again! Please! Please! Not again!” the killer shouted. His words became clear as he realized what the man holding his bottle was about to do. Barrett felt guilty, like he was torturing the bastard.

Katie approached with caution, watching as he hesitated. She took a hand off of the ax, and began to reach towards the bottle. That made the decision for him. The bottle dropped, screeching and crying the entire way down. Katie watched the plastic bottle bounce off the sides. A few seconds passed before a faint clunk sounded. The bottle had finally hit the bottom of the dry well.

Barnett slumped to the ground. He wanted to celebrate, but Katie could only look around with confusion. Would she ever know? How much she helped? What the point of it all was? That they had gotten the bastard?

“Are you alright?” the creaking voice of the old nun called out behind Barnett, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Katie snapped her gaze upwards. “Miss! Um, sister? You should be inside, it’s not safe out here!”

The nun shook her head, a hand reached out, clasping onto Barrett’s shoulder as she smiled at Katie. “You did good. You can rest now.”

Katie looked confused, as did Barrett. He looked up, at the old nun, her gaze boring down into him. The moon seemed to halo her, growing brighter than ever as her smile grew warmer and warmer. With a gradual ease, a body of light formed around where the nun’s hand sat. Katie watched as the shape of a man, a man she knew very well was drawn with threads of moonlight. He seemed to look at her, and then evaporated away.

Katie, still in shock, stared at the spot her old mentor had appeared, then faded. “He… that.”

The nun smiled, and then turned away. She tottered over to the large oak doors of the covenant of the many eyes, creaking the doors open, and then creaking them shut.