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Infernis – Prelude

September 7, 2012

“Ideas come from everything”
Alfred Hitchcock

Overall, it appeared as though whatever had happened in the beach house was over with. There was no obvious activity thus far. Still, the team continued the search until all rooms were cleared.

Unlike most beach houses in Palm Beach County, this one had a second floor. Additionally, it was larger than most. Once belonged to a Boca Raton city councilmen. Now, it was listed as belonging to one Richard Tirfeld. His primary residence was in Hartford where he worked for an insurance company.

Intel had come in just as the SWAT truck hit the sand and the house came into view. Stacy Tirfeld was going to school nearby. She was throwing a big party for some friends at school.

When the call had come in, a jogger reported hearing what sounded like intermittent gunfire. No shouting, no screams…just the occasional report. Then silence. He had jogged a quarter mile or so down the beach before calling to be safe.

When Sergeant Bernard Andrews took his team inside, he did not know what to expect. There had been a rampage. Numerous party-goers shot. Rear doors barred from the outside, nails preventing the sliding glass from moving with an obvious failed attempt to break through the tempered glazing.

But not the front. That door had been wide open when they arrived. Clear bloody tracks leas them to where the bodies had been dragged along the wooden entry hall and into the living room, where they had been, perhaps a dozen or more, piled one atop the other. A lot of effort had been put into that, since there was plenty of space for that many corpses in the room.

Somebody was making a statement.

One officer found a survivor halfway down the pile. She or he seemed to have lost a lot of blood but EMS was on their way. They’d at least get some answers if the kid could hang on.

But there was no sign of the perp and there was still the upstairs to search. The upstairs was smaller, only covering about half the square footage of the lower floor.

Andrews gazed up the stairs and gave the signal. Red dots and bounced around the closed double doors at the top. The first cop kicked the doors open. There was a female tied to the bed and a man leaning over her face.

“Boca Raton PD! Freeze!”

The man hardly seemed to notice. He was busy, it seemed, kissing the woman whose head was bathed in and hair was matted with blood. When the man looked up, he growled menacingly. He had blood dripping from his mouth and seemed to be chewing.

“Move! Get on the ground, hands behind your head!”

The man moved toward the foot of the bed. Rodriguez could see the woman’s face…or where it should have been. It was mostly gone. He could see some of her skull, bits and pieces of remaining skin here and there. Mostly it was a purple, black, yellow mess. One eye was also missing. Rodriguez figured she was dead.

The remaining lidless eye moved and gazed at him briefly before rolling back white. Her…teeth parted and a sound issued that he could not quite describe but sincerely hoped to never hear again.

“Gotta be a movie…”

“Secure that, Officer!”

Andrews had brought up the rear and was taking stock of the situation. The man spat out a chunk of Stacy Tirfeld’s face and charged. Out of thirty-four bullets fired, only sixteen struck the man and none in the brain. He did, however, fall.

“F***in’ zombie, man.”

“Check the rest of the floor.”

Andrews stood alone wondering what was going on. This was not something he expected this morning, or on any other day in the morning until this one. He checked the woman’s pulse. She didn’t make it. Then he double-checked that the perp was dead.

Sergeant Andrews made the sign of the cross despite not being very religious before today. He then wiped the sweat from around his eyes. This was going to a strange day.

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From → Infernis, Novels

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