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The Last Case Chapter 6
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 Created on 2-7-08
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More bodies appeared everywhere. The same graves were bloody, but none had bodies. Nothing inside the dug-out holes at all.
“Grave robbers. Great. More stuff into the case.” Patrick and Paullina sighed, their assignment harder by the minute. The murderer might have been sicker by the day, though, the grave robbing might have been done by someone else. Or maybe, what Madame Felicia Monstru, the fortune-teller and grandmother of Patrick and Ian, predicted had come true. Perhaps, the prophecy has just begun…
Cats and squirrels were quite gone, and some Pit-bulls were killed in mass numbers. “We killed some rabid dogs, but no cats or rodents.” Chief Detective Monstru replied to the inspector without batting an eyelid. Jack Hunter nodded his head, his gaze at the same policeman never faltering. Jun An went on, intimidated by the two unblinking humans staring into his Asian eyes. The interview was finally over, and both had to go back to their office. “Ian, tell me, are you okay? You seem a little shaken.” “Nothing Jack… Just how I almost had blood in my mouth, after battling shortly with Johnson. I wouldn’t mind killing him; he’s arrested for committing too many crimes, and escaping. He’s got the death sentence, I’ve read. Who’s going to be the executioner, Justin, or Kelvin?” “You. Both are too injured, didn’t you hear? They were caught in the shoot-out. Kelvin’s dead, and Justin’s too distraught on losing his brother. The execution will be carried out in a week.” “Thank you Jun An.” With that, he pushed the wooden door closed, letting go of the handle when a click was heard, sealing it from others to peek at his work.
Handing him the folder, Jack licked the tips of his fingers and placed one wet one at his ear. “WET WILLY!” Monstru remained nonchalant. “Whatever…” Then, in one fluid motion, he gave Jack one in return. “Hah! Got you!” Ian returned to his work. Distraction wasted time, but he seemed to accept it very welcomingly.
David Olsen had earlier taken pictures of the crime scene at the graveyard, wrote down some notes, and even a clue: a bloodied razor in a sealed bag given to the forensics department. He was impressed by him, so, this case was his as well.
“Forensics Report to Monstru: the fingerprints belonged to Paul Terrier, recently deceased man from New York.” “Are you sure? Not any of his relatives or something?” There was a hint of fear there. “Absolutely. Our hospital gave us the records we needed. He is the killer for this case.” “HIM? HE’S DEAD!” “Believe it or not, sir, we’re not pulling your leg.
“Goddamn it! Paul is alive. I’ve got to silence him for good… That’s the only way…” The ruby-eyed man stared at the topazes glimmering with fear and horror. Reluctantly, he nodded, but the deadlier had sensed his discomfort, and so calmed him down by telling him, “It’s okay of you do not wish to help me in deleting the zombie for good. Just this will kill him and send him to hell for good. I’ll make sure you live, you deserve it, and not for death to put you on his list. Even if it means my life to be sacrificed for yours…” Scarlet were the golden-eyed monster’s face. “Thank you, sir… I’ll help you. It’s just a bit of pay for the sacrifice you are willing to make.”
Ian pondered on it. Then, it hit him, as if he actually slammed into a brick wall. “Send seven armed men to the caves near the graves. I’ll be going as well.” He told his secretary. Under his shades, the fiery pits of hell was well hidden from the people who were about to hunt the zombies who terrorize the living. He ran to the place, leading the policemen carrying guns to the cave he could trace decay coming from. “Open fire!”
But none seemed to kill the half-humans. Finally, a cranky survivor of the attacks the undead made came from behind the tree nearby. Use these ammunition, it’ll destroy them…” The zombies quivered at the blood of some sort of unknown species of animal. They melted once the hot blood hit them, they all died on impact, and Paul dragged the man away, but his time on earth was slashed, the blood hit him, but in the slow process of turning into black smudge, his final words were, “You’ll be in hell, I’ll see to it…” With that, maniacal laughter was echoed throughout the whole forest, the eerie sound being heard by everyone in the forest. Monstru was comfortable; he had never been shaken by any murder he had to commit, to the criminals who had to disappear for good.
“What?” The armoured policemen stared at the Detective who was dressed all in black, and to them, he commanded, “Go back to your duties. Your job here is done.” They obeyed without any objection, their faces betraying their fear, their minds filled with nothing but nightmares. Cold sweat were on each of their forehead, not because of the shoot-out, but because they were frightened by their scary boss. But there was something unlit in his heart-forgiveness.
Patrick wrote his report down. But, words raged in his mind. Hadn’t his grandmother gasped a prophecy just moments before her imminent death? “Undead will roam the land… Our family’s blood to blame… The monster to devour us, for revenge and food, slowly increasing the number of his kill, along with his brother, not related in blood, but in the hunger for gore. He will be the only one the monster loves, no one else. Just a day after the head zombie’s death, he will rise again, he will take some with him. Werewolf blood will be spilt to kill the walking dead.” “But who is the monster?” “He is…” Madame Felicia Monstru died of a heart attack. Her death was fast, to the second, just before her answer to his question. Someone in his family will betray… this crime must have something to do with it…
The blue-eyed man threw the empty ink cartridge of the printer into the bin. Replacing the substance with another block of black ink, Patrick thought, who in our family will kill? Charlie, Ian, Kevin, or even Samantha. There were many suspects, but all seem to revolve around just one guy… his birth brother- Ian.
“I have a theory, but I doubt it’s true anyway.” Paullina pulled out her notebook and pen from her pocket. “Shoot.” “It all began when my blind grandmother had predicted a monster in my family…”
“So, that’s all?” “Yes.” “Should I tell your brother?” “NO! Keep this conversation private. This information will be known later.” “Okay. I’ll keep this page. I’ll only write it down when needed.” Pippins left the room, only stumbling into the Chief Detective himself. “What do you have there?” “Nothing, sir.” “Liar! My brother told you to keep quiet about this little meeting, and not to write it down. Hand it over.” In defiance, she threw it over to Patrick. He timidly threw into the dustbin, which the note was discovered by his brother. “I see. I’m your suspect now?” Patrick nodded. “Good theory. We’ll see this when all else fails.”
They both jumped in shock; Ian had never been this kind of “Sherlock-Holmes”. Was he following his own motto, which is from Sherlock Holmes, ‘After eliminating the impossible, whatever remains must be the truth’? Maybe he would say, but his lips never moved when he left the room.
Night fell, and the two hunted in the city. The park was deserted, all but two joggers, the Krill sisters. Passing the bush, the two men leapt out and tore out their vocal cord before throwing them into the grass near the trees, which joined to the forest, so as to prevent blood on the ground. Dragging the corpses into their feeding house, the vocal cords were chewed upon on the way, as appetisers. They were brutally mutilated, and relished, before what remained of the two monster’s meal were thrown into the closet.
“Grave robbers. Great. More stuff into the case.” Patrick and Paullina sighed, their assignment harder by the minute. The murderer might have been sicker by the day, though, the grave robbing might have been done by someone else. Or maybe, what Madame Felicia Monstru, the fortune-teller and grandmother of Patrick and Ian, predicted had come true. Perhaps, the prophecy has just begun…
Cats and squirrels were quite gone, and some Pit-bulls were killed in mass numbers. “We killed some rabid dogs, but no cats or rodents.” Chief Detective Monstru replied to the inspector without batting an eyelid. Jack Hunter nodded his head, his gaze at the same policeman never faltering. Jun An went on, intimidated by the two unblinking humans staring into his Asian eyes. The interview was finally over, and both had to go back to their office. “Ian, tell me, are you okay? You seem a little shaken.” “Nothing Jack… Just how I almost had blood in my mouth, after battling shortly with Johnson. I wouldn’t mind killing him; he’s arrested for committing too many crimes, and escaping. He’s got the death sentence, I’ve read. Who’s going to be the executioner, Justin, or Kelvin?” “You. Both are too injured, didn’t you hear? They were caught in the shoot-out. Kelvin’s dead, and Justin’s too distraught on losing his brother. The execution will be carried out in a week.” “Thank you Jun An.” With that, he pushed the wooden door closed, letting go of the handle when a click was heard, sealing it from others to peek at his work.
Handing him the folder, Jack licked the tips of his fingers and placed one wet one at his ear. “WET WILLY!” Monstru remained nonchalant. “Whatever…” Then, in one fluid motion, he gave Jack one in return. “Hah! Got you!” Ian returned to his work. Distraction wasted time, but he seemed to accept it very welcomingly.
David Olsen had earlier taken pictures of the crime scene at the graveyard, wrote down some notes, and even a clue: a bloodied razor in a sealed bag given to the forensics department. He was impressed by him, so, this case was his as well.
“Forensics Report to Monstru: the fingerprints belonged to Paul Terrier, recently deceased man from New York.” “Are you sure? Not any of his relatives or something?” There was a hint of fear there. “Absolutely. Our hospital gave us the records we needed. He is the killer for this case.” “HIM? HE’S DEAD!” “Believe it or not, sir, we’re not pulling your leg.
“Goddamn it! Paul is alive. I’ve got to silence him for good… That’s the only way…” The ruby-eyed man stared at the topazes glimmering with fear and horror. Reluctantly, he nodded, but the deadlier had sensed his discomfort, and so calmed him down by telling him, “It’s okay of you do not wish to help me in deleting the zombie for good. Just this will kill him and send him to hell for good. I’ll make sure you live, you deserve it, and not for death to put you on his list. Even if it means my life to be sacrificed for yours…” Scarlet were the golden-eyed monster’s face. “Thank you, sir… I’ll help you. It’s just a bit of pay for the sacrifice you are willing to make.”
Ian pondered on it. Then, it hit him, as if he actually slammed into a brick wall. “Send seven armed men to the caves near the graves. I’ll be going as well.” He told his secretary. Under his shades, the fiery pits of hell was well hidden from the people who were about to hunt the zombies who terrorize the living. He ran to the place, leading the policemen carrying guns to the cave he could trace decay coming from. “Open fire!”
But none seemed to kill the half-humans. Finally, a cranky survivor of the attacks the undead made came from behind the tree nearby. Use these ammunition, it’ll destroy them…” The zombies quivered at the blood of some sort of unknown species of animal. They melted once the hot blood hit them, they all died on impact, and Paul dragged the man away, but his time on earth was slashed, the blood hit him, but in the slow process of turning into black smudge, his final words were, “You’ll be in hell, I’ll see to it…” With that, maniacal laughter was echoed throughout the whole forest, the eerie sound being heard by everyone in the forest. Monstru was comfortable; he had never been shaken by any murder he had to commit, to the criminals who had to disappear for good.
“What?” The armoured policemen stared at the Detective who was dressed all in black, and to them, he commanded, “Go back to your duties. Your job here is done.” They obeyed without any objection, their faces betraying their fear, their minds filled with nothing but nightmares. Cold sweat were on each of their forehead, not because of the shoot-out, but because they were frightened by their scary boss. But there was something unlit in his heart-forgiveness.
Patrick wrote his report down. But, words raged in his mind. Hadn’t his grandmother gasped a prophecy just moments before her imminent death? “Undead will roam the land… Our family’s blood to blame… The monster to devour us, for revenge and food, slowly increasing the number of his kill, along with his brother, not related in blood, but in the hunger for gore. He will be the only one the monster loves, no one else. Just a day after the head zombie’s death, he will rise again, he will take some with him. Werewolf blood will be spilt to kill the walking dead.” “But who is the monster?” “He is…” Madame Felicia Monstru died of a heart attack. Her death was fast, to the second, just before her answer to his question. Someone in his family will betray… this crime must have something to do with it…
The blue-eyed man threw the empty ink cartridge of the printer into the bin. Replacing the substance with another block of black ink, Patrick thought, who in our family will kill? Charlie, Ian, Kevin, or even Samantha. There were many suspects, but all seem to revolve around just one guy… his birth brother- Ian.
“I have a theory, but I doubt it’s true anyway.” Paullina pulled out her notebook and pen from her pocket. “Shoot.” “It all began when my blind grandmother had predicted a monster in my family…”
“So, that’s all?” “Yes.” “Should I tell your brother?” “NO! Keep this conversation private. This information will be known later.” “Okay. I’ll keep this page. I’ll only write it down when needed.” Pippins left the room, only stumbling into the Chief Detective himself. “What do you have there?” “Nothing, sir.” “Liar! My brother told you to keep quiet about this little meeting, and not to write it down. Hand it over.” In defiance, she threw it over to Patrick. He timidly threw into the dustbin, which the note was discovered by his brother. “I see. I’m your suspect now?” Patrick nodded. “Good theory. We’ll see this when all else fails.”
They both jumped in shock; Ian had never been this kind of “Sherlock-Holmes”. Was he following his own motto, which is from Sherlock Holmes, ‘After eliminating the impossible, whatever remains must be the truth’? Maybe he would say, but his lips never moved when he left the room.
Night fell, and the two hunted in the city. The park was deserted, all but two joggers, the Krill sisters. Passing the bush, the two men leapt out and tore out their vocal cord before throwing them into the grass near the trees, which joined to the forest, so as to prevent blood on the ground. Dragging the corpses into their feeding house, the vocal cords were chewed upon on the way, as appetisers. They were brutally mutilated, and relished, before what remained of the two monster’s meal were thrown into the closet.
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