Where is the truth? It hides so well, in cold and stark places, devoid of any meaning. Slippery like an eel, you can’t ever really hold it for more than second in your fingers.

When there’s that tiny moment, I realised I have been lying to myself all along. I felt meek, like I was submerged, underwater, I couldn’t speak.

He asked me again, but the question made no sense, so I couldn’t respond. The anger in his eyes was sparking, it was like tinder waiting to flame. I could see his arms were twitching, electrical pulses as the adrenaline kicks in. You can’t just stand there in silence. Accusatory, blame, guilt, perniciousness.

So, I turned and ran, it seemed the only illogical thing to do, and I’m a fan of doing the absolute worst thing. Once you’ve done it, you are safe in the knowledge that it can’t get any worse - right?

I wake up to the sound of cars on the road, a horrid smell filling the air. I desperately want to cover my nose but find myself paralyzed, unable to move. A light tap on my shoulder startles me, and despite my hesitation, I don’t dare open my eyes.

"You need to wake up now," I hear a voice say. "You're running out of time."

Using every ounce of strength, I finally force my eyes open and meet the eyes of a man wearing an EMT uniform. His face is smeared with an unsettling amount of blood. Is it mine? His? Or is it someone else's?

"Hurry, you need to wake up," The EMT repeats.

Confusion sets in; I am already awake. He must be stupid. Looking at my surroundings, I realize that I’m inside an ambulance. An IV pump is attached to my arm, and on the floor is a motionless body, swarmed by flies.

I turn to the EMT, hoping for a rational explanation. But he simply repeats, "You need to wake up," followed by a solemn declaration, "There isn't much time."

Suddenly, the ambulance comes to an abrupt halt, catapulting me off the stretcher, out of the door, and causing me to hit my head on the pavement. Everything goes dark.

This time, I wake up standing before a door. I’m wearing my Halloween costume, clutching a plastic jack-o'-lantern, remembrance washes over me. I swear I have done this before, haven't I? Last night at 9:00 PM with my friends. So why am I back here now?

As the thought consumes my mind, the doorbell rings on its own, and the door creaks open. A woman is standing there, wearing the iconic zombie cheerleader costume. She’s holding a large bowl of candy. She deposits a handful into my jack-o'-lantern and locks her gaze with mine.

"You have to hurry. You're looking in all the wrong places," She says before closing the door, leaving me standing there, more confused.

It must be a dream, I reason, as I instinctively reach into the jack-o'-lantern, hoping to get some candy. But as expected in dreams where nothing goes to plan, I pull out a blood-soaked note instead.

Its words taunt me: "You're running out of time. You have to find the murderer."

Murderer? And why is everyone talking about time? I crumple the note and let it fall from my hand. Soon, I'll wake up, I reassure myself, turning to leave. Yet, I’m met by Sam, my best friend, his throat slit, and his costume drenched in blood.

"You have to find my murderer." He says. "Before it's too late." Then, he pulls something out of his pocket and hits me on the head. My body falls to the floor, and once again, darkness is everywhere.

This time, I wake up in a graveyard.

Arabella felt the pain leave her body. Like a ghost. She was numb. She was a ruthless killing machine. Who was going to die. It was no use, being kind. She saw that now. She was good as dead anyways. She didn’t want to win. She didn't want to win the fame that came with this battle. This was only a game, they promised! They lied. “Do it quick,” she told Charlie, her best friend. They had entered together, wanting something new in life. Charlie nodded, face unreadable. “ARABELLA VS. CHARLIE! 3, 2, 1, BATTLE BEGIN!” It was silent. Nobody moved. You could hear a pin drop. Then Charlie advanced. Held the gun. But…not to her. Not to Arabella. To her head.

“No, Charlie no!”

Pain wrinkled in Arabella’s forehead. Horror laced in her words. Fear is hidden deep inside. And… Horribly… Triumph. She could win. She could live. Charlie would die. Her loss. She would win. Alive. With Tyler… Then reality hit her. Charlie was going to die. And so. She aimed the gun. At her forehead. “If we’re going down, we’re going down together.”

“Planet 378. Journey across the universe has, so far, hardly been rewarding. At this point, I doubt extraterrestrial life exists. We found a couple of habitable planets, a few unintelligent microscopic species, but nothing ideal. It is quite unfortunate, but it seems to be the truth. Landing now. Hopefully, our luck will turn soon. Captain’s log, over.”

Captain Grundy ended his short monologue with a sigh. The solo mission he has embarked on, with the hope of revolutionising science, had been unrewarding. Even as he let the ship descend, penetrating a promising atmosphere, he dared not get his hopes up.

He almost cried out loud when he saw what seemed like intelligent life. What followed, however, made him wish he hadn’t.

These beings were oddly built, giant and ungainly. Each movement seemed violent. A group of the aliens surrounded another. The victim oozed some thick liquid from all over, screaming. In the corner stood another alien, wailing with a tiny creature held close. The tiny creature was bones and flesh- barely alive at all. The group, finished with the victim, who lay spreadeagled on the ground, something sharp sticking out from its chest. They turned to the being in the corner, who, eyes wide, screamed something in garbled gibberish. They moved to reveal even rows of white blocks set in their faces. The little alien was flung aside.

Grundy, horrified and scarred, swiftly flew the aircraft away. But wherever he went, his eyes beheld similar scenes. Violence, screaming, starving aliens, massacres, bodies of water squalid with toxins, air black with smoke, aliens fighting each other, racing to harm and suffocate their compatriots. He landed the craft. Decided to find out what this monstrosity was called. Quickly, he got out. Pulled on a suit, specially designed to morph his appearance to seem planet-appropriate. One of the most admirable developments of the twenty-third century.

He stopped to scan his surrounding. Aliens, racing away from an explosive device, rapidly leaking some noxious gas, causing excruciating pain to those it enveloped. One rushed past him. He grabbed its flailing limb. It turned back, eyes wide and red.

“What are you doing man? Run for your life!!! My wife and children were too late, and they were swallowed by the bomb! Save yourself!” Having quickly downloaded a comprehensive database of the region’s languages, he understood the man’s screams, and the urgency of the situation. However, he’d come on a mission.

“I sympathise with your grief, comrade. I have also not failed to comprehend the severity of the disaster that has befallen you… us. But before you depart, I must question you this.”

“What the hell is wrong with you man? We need to go, now!” The alien spat in its native language, tugging a blackened limb away.

“I understand. But I have but one question of you. Answer me this: what is the name of this planet?”

“Are you crazy?! Apocalypse has struck, and you want to act like a character from a sci-fi movie! We’re going to die man!”

“Pray tell me, I beg of you. I’m entirely serious.”

“Fine, I’ll humour your nonsense if you’ll let me go.” Grundy let go, and the man writhed away from him, manic in his fear.

“Earth.” He screamed, before running away.

Where was she? I clung to the railing, looking down at the trains. There were so many. How could I- There. A glimpse of black hair with streaks of blonde. Her face was stern but her cheeks were still round with youth. Just a single guard was with her. Just one? They didn’t know. My heart picked up pace as the train began to move. I couldn’t let her go like that. So, I vaulted over the railing. I tumbled onto the roof of the first car. I’d made it. Or not. It was picking up speed. There was nothing to hold onto. The wind pushed me back. I scrambled for a hold. Any hold. My feet thumped against something. I held there for a second. The wind was blinding me. But it had to be the gap between the cars. I scooted into the gap. My foot slipped. And my heart leapt. But I’d managed to grab the door handle before tumbling off into the water far below the tracks. Once inside I forced myself to breathe. And wiping the sweat from my brow, I looked around. This seemed to be the control car. Several screens sat before a control panel. And before that was the single guard. Asleep. Here I was wheezing with my heart about to give out. And this guy was sleeping. I pulled back on his chair hoping to get a better look at the security cameras. My arm twisted back. I yelped at the strength of the man. His gaze was dark. “What’s a sweaty little fat boy like you doing here?” “The duchess is in danger.” I gasped out. “Look.” He followed my gaze. Several people were pulling up beside the train on hover cars. They were already boarding. “Not on my watch.” The guard let go of me and started fiddling with the controls. The train shook as parts began to move. Some parts shook off assailants. Others crushed them. I’d never seen a convertible train in action. But something was wrong. The bodies were blocking the moving parts. The guard swore. He sat me down in the other chair and pointed at a few controls. “We’re coming to the river. Once I clear everything, push this button, flip this switch, and pull the lever that appears into full throttle. It must be in that order, understand?” I nodded. Then he was gone. I watched the screens as I felt the sense of weightlessness. This car was being stacked on the on behind it. But the cameras showed several bodies in the way. Without a good seal we’d drown. The guard came into view. He knocked the dead into the water. And those still alive tasted his blade. I touched my own sword that I kept on my belt. But I could never be as good at wielding it. Too slow. Too fat. Too- I shook my head. The river was coming up quickly. Too quickly. The guard was still on the outside. But if I waited too long we’d sink. I pushed the button and saw the roof retract. A flip of the switch brought a wheel out of the ground as the floor raised to where I could see the river with my own eyes. I ran to the wheel. It had its own controls but the most important was the lever. We hit the water. I managed to keep my footing. And I pushed the lever into full throttle. We zoomed down the river. And it was all I could do not to hit any other boats. Boats that happened to be firing at us. “Joey?” The duchess had come on deck. “What-“ “Behind you.” I tossed her my sword just as a man attacked. Unlike me she excelled at the blade. I kept an eye on her only just glancing at the river before us. The guard was down below, jumping from boat to boat. He was dispatching them so easily. “Joey!” I looked back to see a man had the duchess at knifepoint. He smiled at me. “Now you’re gonna dock this boat nice and easy.” My heart thudded as I slowed the boat. Looking around I saw one of the bodies holding a gun. An illegal weapon. But at least I knew how to use it. I grabbed it. The guy never stood a chance. Neither did the others behind him. Soon it was just me in the duchess. She smiled. And I smiled back.

The teacher asks me to write down what I love most about my mom. She says we are making cards for Mother’s Day. Other kids are already writing their favorite things about their moms, but there’s so much i love about my mom, I don’t know where to start. After all, she’s all I have.

 I write down that I love that my mom is brave. It’s true, she is the most brave person in the world. She wasn’t even scared when the doctors told her that her heart is going to stop working soon. 

 The teacher says I need to keep writing. I say I love that my mom is patient. And it’s true, she is so patient and always listens to everything I say. In fact, that’s all she does is listen. She doesn’t talk back anymore. I think it’s something to do with her heart going bad like that doctor said. 

 My teacher says I need a few more sentences. So I keep writing. I love that my mom will always cuddle. Since she stopped talking, she has been in bed curled to the side, always ready for me to cuddle when I come home from school. She doesn’t move around a lot, actually she’s very good at being still. We cuddle until I have to shower in the mornings, because she is starting to smell. I think it’s something to do with her heart. 

 Almost done with her card. She’s going to love it! I just need one more line. I love that my mom is fun. She never makes me eat my vegetables. In fact, I can eat whatever I want. I asked her if I can have candy and soda for dinner, and she didn’t even say no! She didn’t say yes, but I think when she doesn’t say anything that means it’s okay. 

 I look at my card. I love my mom because she is brave, patient, cuddly, and fun. It’s perfect.

"I'm thinking of ending things," I said quietly as I brought my car to a stoplight.

"Bro! Then what the fuck are you doing going to that weirdo's house to have dinner and meet her parents?" Kenny demanded.

The light turned green and I passed through the intersection. "I don't know," I said behind a scoff, my eyes falling to the bottle of wine on the passenger seat.

"Dude. I know you're not feeling her. We even said that something feels off about her. You should have cut it off..."

"I did cut it off," I interjected.

"Well, then you weren't clear enough. I really don't know what you're doing meeting her parents tonight. You're an idiot."

I didn't have a valid answer for that. I let out a sigh and replied with a joke. "Free meal?"

That was bad, even I didn't buy that, and neither did Kenny.

"Oh, horse shit Aiden. You have more than enough food to cook at home. You don't need to have dinner with that lunatic and her family." I could sense a good amount of frustration in his voice.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Well they're expecting me and I'm almost there."

"Turn around. Seriously, you're wasting your fucking time. Come home and play Overwatch with us, you're missing Double XP time."

I sighed. "I can't."

I could see him shaking his head on the other end of the line. "Whatever man. I hope you at least get a good meal out of it."

-BEEP.BEEP-

The line went dead. He was pissed, and he had every right to be. There wasn't a connection with Audrey and I'd been well aware of it. She was a sweet girl, but we didn't share the same interests, our opinions varied on more than a few things and our backgrounds were a bit too different. I for one wasn't religious, quite the polar opposite and I knew that could be a problem.

There were also things she'd say and do that I found off-putting. It wasn't the worst, and maybe that's why I didn't end it as clearly as I should have. But there was something strange about her and I couldn't put my finger on what it was.

But then again. Maybe I was being too picky? Maybe I was looking for a reason to not like her. I'd been notorious for self-sabotaging relationships. This was the furthest I'd gotten with anyone in a long time. Maybe I was overthinking things? Or maybe I was just a big idiot.

Maybe...

I turned onto her driveway, my headlights washing over her quaint little house. I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, as my nerves got the best of me. Maybe I should turn around and go home. I wasn't even hungry, I hadn't realized it until I’d put the car in park. I could back the car out and be on the main road in a flash, give her a call and say...

The front door opened. Audrey walked out with a smile on her face.

I flashed her a grin and killed the engine. I took another deep breath and slowly exhaled. It was too late now, no turning back. I snatched the bottle of wine off my passenger seat and exited my car.

A free meal right?

"You made it!" She said with a tremble in her voice.

I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. "I made it." I wrapped her in my arms, she got on her tippy toes and gently kissed me on the lips.

"I know you said not to bring anything but I felt bad, so I got this. The review on Bevmo's app said it was good, figured I'd take their word." I said showing her the bottle of wine.

She smiled up at me and kissed me again. "They'll love it."

She grabbed hold of my hand and walked me to the front door, she turned the knob and pushed it open. I was greeted by a sweet smell that washed over me like a tidal wave. It was strong, causing my eyes to water, forcing me to stagger at the doorway. It smelled like an orchard of rotting fruit, with a hint of rotting meat. The strange odor clung to my nostril's hairs.

"Oh wow. That's..." I couldn't find the words. "Are we having dessert first?"

Audrey laughed and shook her head. "You're so silly, of course not."

I felt her hand tighten around mine as we made our way through the entryway and towards the kitchen, then she stopped and spun around.

"Oh my God!" She shrieked. "Your tattoos!"

I flashed her a puzzled look and glanced at the tattoos that graced both arms.

"My father hates tattoos!" She began unrolling my long sleeves, frantically fumbling with each button around my wrist as though she were concealing a heinous crime.

She stood on her tippy toes again and began sniffing the air around my mouth. "Did you smoke today?"

I shook my head. "Not since yesterday afternoon," I whispered.

Audrey nodded her head frantically. "Alright, good. My Mom hates smokers."

She'd never mentioned any of this to me. I had no idea her Mom hated smokers and that her Dad condemned tattoos. I dreaded the idea of religion popping up because I didn't have a good answer, and I was horrible at thinking on my toes. My mind began to race with the questions that her parents would ask me. I became very aware that the night could go sour with a single question.

“They’re in the kitchen. They can’t wait to meet you!” Audrey said with a smile.

It was then that I noticed the dynamic of the house. The walls were covered with a tacky red floral wallpaper that looked way too old. The curtains along the front window were an uninviting shade of burgundy that was caked with dust. An end table sat to the right of the front door, littered with those weird porcelain babies dressed in everyday work attire. It looked as though their entire family room was frozen in the mid-1980s. But the most bizarre piece of "furniture" was the carousel horse. Just a full-blown carousel horse, with the pole jutting from the top and bottom, standing in the far left corner of the family room, by the window facing the street.

Audrey tightened her grip around my arm, I felt her nails dig into my flesh, to the point where it hurt. My startled grunt cut through the silence of her house...

It was really quiet in here. Why was that? It seemed as though we were the only two in the house. I didn't hear any conversing amongst her parents, no dishes being moved around, no music or television. Just silence.

Maybe we were having dinner in the backyard?

But that didn't feel right either. I could see into the backyard from where I was standing and I couldn't see a thing, all I saw was an abyss of darkness.

"Ready?" She asked looking up at me. Her lips curled into a smile as her eyes widened.

I give a slow nod, my hands tightening around the bottle of wine. Before I knew it, she was dragging me through the entryway and towards the kitchen, closer to that smell.

"Mom, Dad...I'd like you to meet my boyfriend Aiden!"

Wait. Boyfriend? When did we establish that? We hadn't made anyth-

And then my eyes landed on her parents, and I learned where that sweet, and pungent smell was coming from. It was coming from the kitchen, and it wasn't rotting fruit or rotting meat. But two rotting corpses.

Audrey's parents were dead.

Both sitting at the dinner table, each appropriately dressed for the occasion. Her father was wearing a long-sleeved, button-up shirt, with a red tie. His graying black hair parted and combed to the left. He sat facing me, with both hands on the table, his head tilted slightly backward, his eyes staring at the ceiling fan. Her mother sat off to his right, her brown hair done in an elaborate bun. She wore a red dress with black stockings and matching red heels. She sat on the chair like a discarded marionette, arms hanging limply to her sides, her head tilted in my direction. Her lifeless eyes stared directly into mine. The kitchen lights made them look like wax figures. Their skin provided a certain shine, a gloss I'd never seen before.

"They went all out for tonight," Audrey said from off to my left. "Mom wore her best dress, and Daddy bought a new tie."

I was at a loss for words, it was as though I’d lost the ability to speak. My mouth was hanging open and I could taste the smell that had consumed the house. I could only see her parents, their ashy and paper-white skin, those glossy and lifeless eyes. The flies that swarmed above and around them.

Questions raced through my mind at lightspeed. When did she kill them? How did she kill them? How long had they been dead? Did she dress them herself?

Was she going to kill me next?

I needed to get out of here. My mind was screaming for me to run but I was frozen in place. I could taste the rotting smell of death, I could feel tears running down my cheeks.

RUN.

I turned for the door and that's when I felt the sharp pain in my stomach. I felt my muscles tighten and scream in pain, I could feel my breath escape through my lips.

CRASH!!!

I looked down at the sound through blurred vision. I'd dropped the bottle of wine. I could see the red liquid flooding across the kitchen tiles. I could feel warmth washing over my hands and through my fingers. I fell to my knees, the pain radiating from my stomach and surging through my body.

Audrey stabbed me.

I blinked my eyes, my mind struggling to separate the blood covering my hands and the wine on the kitchen floor. In the distance I could hear Audrey's footsteps, I could hear her talking but I couldn't make sense of what she was saying. I watched through blurred vision as she walked up to me, she sounded as though she were at the end of a long tunnel.

She grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head upwards so I could see her face. Her eyes were cold and expressionless.

"By the way Aiden." She whispered as she pressed the large knife to my throat.

"I'm thinking of ending things."

And then she slit my throat.

"That's it. I'm filing a complaint against those damn dogs." Zoey snapped.

"Go for it. I don't think that useless landlord will do anything. She still hasn't fixed the laundry room door and that thing's been busted for..."

"I know, since before I moved in," Growled Zoey. She paused, the yapping and growling from the two dogs downstairs elevating through our living room window. "How long have they been barking and snarling like this? It's ridiculous."

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. "Feels like all fucking day.”

"Have you ever considered talking to the lady who owns them? How can you work from home with them barking like that?" Zoey asked, her hoarse voice waging a losing battle with the dogs below.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I've thought about that, but...I don't know she looks difficult."

Zoey crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean? What do you mean by difficult? The only thing that’s difficult are those fucking dogs. Jim, it sounds like they’re tearing the furniture to shreds. I’m pretty sure I heard one of the coffee table legs break, that’s how loud and disruptive they are.”

“I don’t know, she looks like the kind of old woman who’d use her age as a defense you know? Start saying crap like they’re the only companions she’s got, and that her age prevents her from calming them down. Then turn on the waterworks and play the victim when we haven’t even mentioned filing a complaint. Saying crap like: she’d die of loneliness without them.” I paused, trying to read Zoey’s reaction. “I mean, I could be way off and I probably sound like a dick, but she just comes off like that. And I'm sure you see the caretakers that are in and out of the apartment, emphasis on caretakers. Did you ever notice that?" I asked.

Zoey shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

"They're always different, like every couple of weeks. They’re constantly changing, and my guess is that she's a bitch...or she's super difficult. Or hell, probably both."

Zoey shook her head. "Okay, I see your point, and I actually think you’re right. But I think we should say something."

I paused the television. "Are you thinking of doing something like that right now? Do you want me to go with you?"

Zoey nodded her head. "Yes, come with me. Seriously, I can’t knock out for fifteen minutes because of these shitter dogs."

"Alright, let's go talk to her. I guarantee you she's going to give us some bullshit story that she can't do anything. Oh, I can't maintain Rocky because he's too fast for me, and I can't calm Brownie down because she'll just get more agitated, blah blah blah." I mocked.

"It's worth a shot," Zoey said as she yanked open the front door.

Zoey stampeded down the stairs, huffing and puffing as she got closer to our neighbor's apartment. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her this angry. At this point, I was a bit worried for the woman, and even more worried for her shitter dogs. I could see Zoey delivering the news and punt-kicking one of the mangy mutts across the living room, possibly out the window and into the backyard. Zoey made her way to the woman's door, and I could see the veins pulsating from her right arm as she tightened her fist.

A penetrating odor wafted to my senses as I passed her front window. It smelled like rotting meat, but there was a sweetness to it as if the meat had been basting in cheap perfume. It brought tears to my eyes and it made my throat close up. I was scared to breathe with my nose, and even more afraid to breathe with my mouth in fear of tasting the odor. I’d been working from home all day…how did I not smell this?

“God her apartment smells like a crazy old lady,” Zoey muttered.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Both dogs started barking at a volume that escalated past ten. Their high-pitched barks caused my eardrums to ring in protest. I could hear their little nails as they clicked and clacked across the wooden floor, but it was deep within the apartment.

Why hadn’t they run to the door? Didn’t most dogs come bombarding to the front door when someone was there? The barking subsided, and the snarling continued. I strained my hearing from behind Zoey, it sounded awful in there.

And what was that smell? I fought back the urge to vomit and retreat to our apartment, discard the idea and move on with my life. After all, I didn’t notice the smell until now. It was becoming unbearable, I was starting to think that Zoey was so engulfed with rage that she had sidelined the smell to get her point across to our neighbor.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"How does she not hear this?" Zoey said through her teeth. “Maybe she’s deaf, and that’s why she’s oblivious to how annoying her fucking dogs are.” Tears welted up at the corners of her eyes…she was holding her breath.

From behind the door, the growling and snarling grew louder and more vicious. I could hear the sound of something tearing, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It didn’t sound like furniture being destroyed, it didn’t sound like they’d gotten a hold of a book. It sounded different

It sounded…wet.

Zoey raised her hand to knock again, but I stopped her.

There was something very wrong in the woman’s apartment, and I couldn’t let Zoey walk in first. I gently pushed her behind me and placed my hand on the doorknob, turning it slightly, anticipating it to stop because of the lock. But it made a complete turn, the door opening with little to no force.

I gently pushed the door open…

The woman had been my downstairs neighbor for around three years, and I’d never gotten her name. So, I didn’t know what to think when I saw the dogs eating her. One was at her side, tearing away at the flesh on her fingertips, the bone exposed on her thumb and pointer fingers. This one seemed unaware of our arrival, far too invested in its meal. But the one standing on her chest noticed us, lips curling into a sinister smile, and behind those lips came a hungry growl. Her eyeball fell from between its jaws, landing on her eviscerated stomach before rolling onto the wooden floor with a soft plop. It gave us that high-pitched bark, and then a second later they were bolting towards us.

Zoey screamed and backed away from the door. I fumbled for the knob, grabbed it, and pulled the door shut at the last second as both dogs hurled their small bodies into the door. We frantically ran up the stairs to our apartment.

As the barking, snarling and chomping continued into the night.

I rushed after Tomas, yelling at him.

“Stop!” I shouted again.

“Shush, Xander,” he hissed, “it might hear you!”

“It will kill us,” I whispered, “is it really this important?” I didn’t even know what it was! Why did I agree again?

“Yes,” he said, “now shut up.”

I grumbled and watched him dash forward, swinging his axe in the air. Why was I so stupid? I ran after him.

July 17th. Just another day on the job… and the end of an assignment.

We had been working this case for so long that both of us were beginning question which side of the law we were really on. Sometimes that line between right and wrong just becomes a blur. Still, it was time to call this one in.

A no good street rat by the name of Edwardo Cullison had become our informant over a very unfortunate turn of events. . . For him that is. Edwardo had a date with a real player by the name of Frank Brickmire. Frank just so happened to deal in guns. That was where our interests were tied. Our new friend Edwardo was to escort us to a deal that was being struck. Edwardo playing the part of an inner city gang representative, and we would be playing the part of his entourage.

Right from the start when we walked through the doors to the topmost apartment, down in a dirty corner of the city known as Smalltown, I knew we had walked into a raw situation.

“What up my man!” Edwardo exclaimed, shaking hands with the two guards at the door. He led us into the office and we stood before Frank Brickmire himself.

Frank was already standing. He wore a grey suit, a fedora hat, and black shades. His hands were in his pockets, and he had a rather disdain expression on his face. He seemed to look right past us at the guards who now stood with their M16 rifles pointed at our backs.

“Aye man! No need for the formalities!” Edwardo tried to break the ice, but cautiously putting up his hands in surrender. “This is a quick one. In and out, cash up front no names please!”

Frank stared us all down for a moment. Then he said without changing his expression: “Who did you bring?”

I could see the sudden fear in Edwardo’s eyes. He figured he was close to being made by Frank. He had every reason to be afraid as far as I was concerned, but Frank had to go down.

Edwardo gulped, but picked himself back up suddenly and replied “Why these are just a couple soldiers from us 29th Cats. You know the buyers. They are gonna help me unload the goods you dig?”

Something was not right. Again Frank said nothing. Instead he slowly took one hand out of his pocket and grabbed his shades, removing them to very disapproving blue eyes. He took a few paces up close to Edwardo. My partner and I stood a foot behind, with Machine guns butted up against our backs. We needed the confession on tape. . . But at what cost? There were no easy exit routes this time. We had backup around the corner but they wouldn’t arrive quick. I got a sudden chill of fear down my own spine.

Frank leaned in close to Edwardo’s face. “This is how you deal? You think I am a fool?”

“Say what!?” Edwardo tried to act shocked.

Suddenly I was kicked to the ground from behind. The guard watching me struck me again to the floor this time with the butt of his rifle. Then I felt him rifling through my pockets. A second later my police badge was tossed onto the floor before us.

Our ruse was up. The second of decision was before us. I shot my partner a nervous glance, sweat pouring down our faces, hearts pumping out of control.

“Edwardo… Edwardo… tisk tisk… shame on you.” Frank said to our informant, now producing a pistol himself. “You bring two cops to my office. I cannot have this.”

“NOW!” I yelled and with a dash, shoved the guard behind me before he could gain control of his rifle. My partner was paralleling my moves. I grabbed the guard’s side arm and shot him in the chest, eliminating him from the situation.

There came another shot. I wasn’t sure from where.

I spun around and saw two pairs of men struggling on the ground. My partner had lost control of his guard… he was choking him out. I aimed my gun, trying to steady my hand. I had the guard in my sights. I pulled the trigger and he fell over, mortally wounded, allowing my partner to escape.

We turned to face Edwardo and Frank. Edwardo laid on the ground in a pool of his own blood, lifeless. He had been shot in the head. Frank had a pistol pointed at us, his hands shaking madly. “Don’t… Don’t come any closer!”

Police sirens came from outside. At least five squad cars came screeching to a halt outside the doors to the building. The sound of helicopter blades came next. . .

“Put the gun down Frank!” I yelled. “Its over! Theres nowhere to run, your finished!”

“Am I?” Frank asked, taking a look backwards at the window behind him.

I shook my head, realizing where his decisions have led him. A caged animal backed into a corner. I started to lower my gun as a show of good faith. “Don’t even think about it Frank. Just toss the gun and come downtown with us.”

“Im sorry friend.” Frank said, with a genuine look of deep remorse. “But Now I am a dead man either way. You do not understand the game you are playing. I was just a distributer. They have others… the men I get my guns from. If Go in, they will kill my family one by one. So I cannot.”

“Frank! NO!” I reached out.

Suddenly he shot at us, but purposely missed up into the back corner of the room. Both of us ducked in reaction. Then Frank bolted and crashed through the window. Next came the thud, terrified screams, and awes of the law enforcement below.

Just another day on the job and the end of an assignment.

Three dead bodies in a top floor apartment, and one scrambled to a pancake on the sidewalk below. I felt bad for Edwardo. He was a good kid in the end, even if he had started out a street rat. . . When you play in this line of work, lives get lost. But how many more did we save by keeping 26 crates of automatics out of the hands of a bloodthirsty gang?

Still as these days go on and we uncover more, there is always a new layer. Someone deeper to chase, another class of management in their plan to run guns into our town. Maybe our chase has no end. . . Maybe we are really the bad guys after all. Protecting the people is a bloody business.

I reckon that The Chief will reassign me soon. Back out on the streets working a new angle to this ongoing problem. This is just the beginning, and there are plenty more associates of Frank Brickmire running around out there.

I never did sleep at night all that much anyway.

July 17th.

Officer Calvin Barnes. Oceanside PD: Undercover unit