Numbers
The rain continued to batter the ground while
the shadows grew larger
and the night became all-encompossing.
There was very little, if any, light
avalaible in the alley for the man to finish
his task But that was okay, he
didn’t need light. In fact, he shunned the light
and lived in the beauty of
darkness.
Rising from his latest victim (number 12, he remembered
them
all), the man took his vibroblade from its sheath
and set about carving the
twelfth line in his chest. Each line was
a remembrance of his victims, a
tribute to their deaths. Finishing his
latest work of art, the man wrapped a
medicated bandage around his torso, to stop the
profuse bleeding, then
decided it was time to flee the alley.
His latest victim had been rather
noisy; surely someone had heard something and
it wasn’t time to end his
work; there was still one line that needed to
be added. Then, and only then,
was his work allowed to conclude. After
wiping off his vibro-blade, the man
turned to leave the alley.
Jaster Mereel hated the rain. Why, when
a call came in of someone
finding another body, was it always raining?
It was as if some higher power
was content to play games with him; if there
was a higher power and Mereel
wasn’t so sure that there was.
“What do you think, same perp?”
Taylor Heigl’s question snapped Mereel out of
his reverie.
“Seems the same,” replied Mereel; pulling his
rain jacket’s collar higher
around his neck.
Heigl laughed to himself. After almost a
year of being Mareel’s partner,
Heigl hadn’t heard the young man say more than
a couple of sentences at a
time. It seemed as if Mereel just didn’t like
to talk, for some reason. And
because of this quietness, Heigl knew very little
about his partner. But he
was a very smart young man and a damn fine Journeyman
Protector.
Possibly the best here on Concord Dawn, a distinction
Heigl himself once
had for years before Mereel showed up; and to
Heigl that was the most
important thing.
The rain started to fall harder as Mereel bent
down to study the near
gutted female body lying in the alley.
Mereel knew instantly that this murder
was definitely committed by the same killer as
the other eleven bodies found
around the capital city of Concordia. Same neck
to waist wound as the
others. But not just any wound. Deep
cuts, almost to the point of dissection.
And done with precision. Not just haphazzard
slashings, but almost surgical.
Whoever this killer was, as Mereel had assumed
many times before, he was
familiar with surgical practices.
“Any numbers?” asked Heigl.
Mereel glanced at the body from head to feet,
noticing a small tear in the
victim’s dress, just above the buttocks.
Peering closer, Mereel could make
out two small cuts in the skin. The cuts
were in the shape of the number
twelve.
Pointing to the cuts, Mereel said, “Yes, here.”
As Heigl crouched down to see the numbered cuts,
Mereel rose to his
feet and began to peer around the alley. Even
using his glowrod, the alley
was too dark to make out much, and the pouring
rain was beginning to
aggravate him.
As Mereel continued his investigation, he heard
the sirens of the rescue
unit approaching. Not much use, thought
Mereel; all this one needs is a
hole.
After the rescue unit had transported the body
away, Heigl approached
Mereel; who had faded deeper into the alley.
Heigl asked, “Find anything?”
“No,” replied Mereel.
Heigl had known the answer. This killer
had left no clues at any of his
murder sites and Heigl didn’t think he would
start now. This killer was
smart, Heigl had to admit, and thorough.
Shutting off his glowrod, Mereel turned to Heigl
and said, “Let’s go.”
Then Mereel walked toward the alley’s mouth and
the waiting patrol
speeder.
Two days later, sitting in a dark room in a seedy
hostel, Adrian Crowley
put the finishing touches on his true face.
He had painted his entire head red
with a slash of yellow fire running down his
face, from just above his right
eye to below the left corner of his mouth.
It was time for his crowning
achievement; his thirteenth and final victim.
After number thirteen, the past
would be finally erased and his job would be
finished.
Ian Kyle is being hunted; of this he is
now sure. Yet another face from
his past was murdered 2 nights ago and unless
he gets some kind of help
immediately , the unseen assailant will surely
track him down. For the past
two weeks, since the third murder, he has been
hiding out. Ian went on a
leave of absence from his job and left his home
when he discovered the link
to the murders and has tried to stay a step ahead
of the killer. Ian is sure that
if he would have frequented his usual haunts
or stayed in his apartment, he
would be dead as well. Now with the killer’s
twelfth murder, the final one
besides himself, Ian believes there is nowhere
left to turn but the authorities.
He had pondered going to the authorities
sooner, but wasn’t sure how deep
the conspiracy went; if it was a conspiracy at
all and not just his
overreacting. But no, he was sure it was a conspiracy.
One to keep certain
people quiet. People, like himself, whose memories,
he believed, had
somehow come back to them. Therefore, it
was now time, if not past time,
to contact Taylor Heigl, the Journeyman Protector
he had seen on holo-vid
news; the Protector who was working on the case.
Jaster Mereel dreams, and it is the same dream
he has had countless of
times in the last 4 months: a large building-
with two of its wings burning, a
red-faced man shouting threats through a holo-vid,
the sounds of people
dying, the smell (smell?) of burnt and burning
flesh, soldiers charging the
building- being cut to pieces, holo-vid camera
crews being murdered; then,
suddenly, the inside of the building- in
one of the wings that was not afire,
peering into different rooms of the building
looking for planted explosives,
seeing rows upon rows of cylinders reaching to
the ceiling in nearly every
room, approaching the cylinders, looking inside
them, then......awakening.
Always at the same part of the dream. What
was in those cylinders? Why
does their contents seemed to be hidden from
Mereel? Is the dream even
important? It has to be, if not then why have
it over and over again? And
why does it always end the same? Stranger still,
muses Mereel; why is he
dreaming at all? He can remember many years
in which he never dreamed,
so why so much now? And why the same thing?
So many questions and
Jaster Mereel hates questions. All he is
interested in, is answers. Answers
and results. And, Mereel promises himself,
this is exactly what he will get.
When Jaster Mereel reached the station early that
morning, Taylor
Heigl was sitting in his office with a man claiming
to have information on
the “numbers killer” case. Heigl calls
Mereel into his office and makes
introductions. After pleasantries are exchanged,
the three return to Heigl’s
office where Ian Kyle relates the story to the
two protectors. And what a
strange and fascinating story it is. For starters,
it seems Ian Kyle is not even
this man’s real name. Instead he claims
it is Jaquila Shyn and that at one
time he was a very prominent physician on the
planet of Mandalore. Mereel
admits to have heard the name from somewhere,
maybe news-holos, but
claims to not know much about her.
“That’s exactly what they wanted” he said.
“What who wanted?” asked Heigl.
“The ones in charge of the project we were working
on.” he answered.
“Project?”
“Yes. Me and twelve other physicians and scientists
were working on a
project on Mandalore. The project was supposed
to be top-secret. I didn’t
even remember anything about this myself until
two months ago. Apparently,
even the ones working there were conditioned
to forget.” she said.
“But why? Why would someone or someones set up
a project for a
group of scientists and physicians, then wipe
their memory? What were you
working on that was so important?” asked Heigl.
“Cloning.” replied Shyn
End of Part I