Officer Tom Lensherr of the Coral Beach police precinct wasn’t used to weird stuff.
That’s partly why he joined the force of this town. He had always said that nothing ever happened in Coral Beach. And by nothing he didn’t mean nothing bad. Literally nothing ever occurred here. It was as if this town’s purpose was solely to exist.
Lensherr never much cared for gore either. He hadn’t seen a real dead body since his first day on the job a few months ago, and that had only been a heart attack victim.
So what he saw as he shone his flashlight into the darkened alley made his stomach turn. The image was permanently burned into his mind, enough so that he would spend the remainder of his days curling into his wife for comfort every night as he cried himself to sleep.
Jamie Dawkins was sprawled out on the ground in a dark alley, thrown down like a piece of trash. There was blood all around him, smeared onto the brick walls that must have been the last thing he saw. His torso had been cut open revealing the inner body cavity and places where organs should have been, but weren’t. His skull had been bashed in, and looked like it had been done over and over again.
There was a yellow, gloppy substance all around him, something that Lensherr recognized as intestines from a report he’d seen on the Discovery Channel a few weeks ago. The distinct aroma of dung and blood assaulted his senses, making him gasp for air that only brought more of the foul odor. Flecks of marrow and bone checkered the ground around them, and the boy’s empty eye sockets glared at him, screaming at him, his broken nose and shattered teeth turning his face into one bloody maw.
Lensherr nearly vomited before picking up his radio and calling for reinforcements from the morgue. Then he shone his flashlight onto the blood blurred walls and saw what the blood spelled: Black Womb.
CHAPTER TWO:
CADAVER
“Did you hear about what happened to Jamie Dawkins?”
The news spread through the school like wildfire. Within moments of opening its doors, it seemed as if everyone in school knew. It was the hushed topic on everyone’s lips, in every gaze, in every movement. It was like a thick fog had descended into the halls, one so blinding that nobody could see anything but it.
Sara and Cathy were both still crying to Dr. Phillips, the guidance counsellor, while a shocked Mike gave statements to the police about what time Jamie had left last night.
Xander just watched, feeling terrible and guilty, thinking (if only in the back of his mind) that his wish had somehow caused this tragedy. He stared through the guidance counsellor’s window at Sara as she bent over and buried her face in her hands, tears streaming down, and her eyes red and puffy. Her usually perfect blonde hair was a tangled mess from the number of times that she had run her fingers through it. Her blouse was wetted with the salt water pouring out of her eyes.
Cathy was crying too, but was still more composed than Sara. She managed to keep Dr. Phillips’ gaze, nodding to his questions and comments at the appropriate times, only now and again bringing up a hand to wipe her runny nose. She let the tears fall, making no attempt to catch them. They just fell to the floor, softly pitting against the carpet.
Xander’s gaze fell from them. He pictured Jamie’s face, the way he had looked last year when the Cougars had won the semi-finals, his face filled with a transcendent joy. Or the way he looked the first time he and Greer Donaldson had danced at last year’s spring formal. Or the way he’d sounded the last time they’d spoken, outside in the parking lot, when he had offered to walk home with him and Sara.
Sighing, he walked over to the nearest chair and collapsed into it. Leaning back, eyes closed shut, he banged his head off of a metal filing cabinet behind him.
“Ow,” he said flatly, barely acknowledging it.
He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. There were papers leaning over the side of the cabinet with police stickers on them.
Sticking out of a pale yellow folder amongst the files were pictures of Jamie.
Raising an eyebrow, he quickly glanced over at the police officer who was now talking with Tommy Irons. Biting his lip while he fought the urge to do it, he grabbed the file and stuffed it into his jacket, rising up from his chair and out of the counsellor’s office.
Trying to remain as unseen as possible, something that he had become adept at over the years, he snuck through the halls and into the library. Hurrying to the back row of seats behind a bookshelf, he opened up the file and peered inside.
What he saw was horrific. The pictures depicted the last few moments of Jamie’s life clearly. The rumors Xander had heard about the body had been true, and worse. His clothes were in shreds, especially the Cougars leather jacket he had cherished so much. The cloth that normally would have been silky was now rough and hard with dried blood. You couldn’t really tell from the pictures, but he was sure he saw claw marks on him. His organs were all missing. Heart. Kidneys. Liver... everything except the lungs.
“What’s that?” Mike said from somewhere in front of him.
Xander closed the folder quickly, but without arousing caution.
“Um... Lit Assignment.”
“Ugh. Keep that crap away from me. I don’t need anything like that right now,” Mike droned as he sank down into a chair next to his friend. His face was flush white, his eyes distant and
