Tom Moses

His house was still a wreck from his meeting with John, most of that mess had been cleaned up, but there was still the matter of the black scorches on the stairs left over from the Paramedics. Rubber gloves on his hands he had been at work cleaning the bedroom from top to bottom. For whatever reason, the act of cleaning usually gave him time enough to think and sort things out; it was almost a similar exercise to his morning runs and workouts, except there was more to think about when he was not as active.

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The trio of cops groaned, and watched as their new team leader bolted across an open field with tiny explosions kicking up the grass all around him.  He sprint until every muscle in his legs screamed to make him stop, his lungs were about to burst when he saw Prodic’s body and he skidded across the wet grass and scrambled to check if he were all right.  Nearly lifeless eyes shuttered open and a smile tried to form on his lips.  He tried to speak, but only dribbled blood instead.

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The street lamps were dim and yellow; the few that worked hardly provided enough light to keep the streets safe at night. Jackson kept his eyes roaming while he canvassed the area from the safety of his Honda. Counting the illicit customers coming and going from the yellow house on the corner of Third and Elm, seeing no apparent pattern at this time of night, but all the same the plan did not matter to whatever pattern the customers took, there were no innocents in this equation.

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It was not the sort of way he wished to spend a Saturday afternoon, but it had to be done. Emily was stable but the damage to her body was severe this time, the chemically induced coma was something the doctors needed to help her recover but it was Doctor Evans that put his hand on Jackson’s shoulder, “It was bad this time, you know.”

“She should be dead.”

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