Read Online God of the Dead (Seasons of Blood #1): A dark paranormal crime thriller novel by Elias Anderson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elias Anderson
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consolation. It didn’t matter if it was on video, he could spot one of them anywhere, and this was one of them, this man—this thing —walking through the doors of the gas station, attacking the kid.
“Damn,” he said. “It’s happening again.”
* * * * *
John walked to the break room and poured himself a cup of the road mud that passed for coffee around the station house. He wanted a donut but there was nothing left in the box but crumbs.
“Buncha animals,” he muttered. He didn’t know how some people could be so damn inconsiderate.
He took a sip from his cup of Hi-Test and turned his mind to other things, mainly to AJ. He seemed like a good kid, especially compared to most of the smart-ass degenerate punks he came across in a day’s work.
John frowned, thinking of how shell-shocked the kid had seemed when he’d been brought into the station again tonight, this time over the woman that had attacked him.
What John’s mind kept turning to, though, was the way AJ’s face had collapsed when he heard the guy that had attacked him was DOA. But John could relate; in his 15 years on the police force, he’d only fired his gun twice on duty. He killed a man with one of those bullets. Sure, the guy was a junky and a murderer, but John had lost a lot of sleep after that little incident.
Had that been remorse, though, or disgust? The mess had been horrible, a .44 will make a skid mark of the human head from six feet away.
John tried to shake the memory of that shaved head exploding like a rotten melon and took a sip of coffee. He wondered how the kid would sleep tonight? AJ had looked exhausted when John had seen him out to another squad car so he could be driven home, and the kid had mentioned having something at home to help him sleep. John hoped the kid had taken it and gotten some rest.
John checked his watch. 8:30 A.M. As he turned to head out of the break room, a rookie patrolman hurried around the corner and ran into him, spilling the last half of John’s coffee.
“Ah son of a bitch!” John chucked his crumpled paper cup at the new recruit.
“Sorry, sir!”
“Why dontcha pull your head outta your ass and watch where you’re going?”
“I was told to come and find you, sir, high priority.”
“Who wants me?”
“The guy from the coroner’s office needs to see you.”
“Which one?” Irritation burned in John’s mind as the coffee burnt his arm.
“Huh?”
“ Which office ? The headquarters or the temp unit next door?”
“Oh. N-next door,” the uni said.
Something sunk inside Lubbock’s chest and he struggled to shake the heaviness that had stolen over him.
“We didn’t lose another fuckin’ body, did we?” John asked.
The uni ran his hand over his face. “Isn’t that a shit-show? Thank god that happened to County and not us. But no, no, sir, he didn’t say anything about a body. You hear the hospital morgue had one taken?”
“Yeah I heard that,” John said. But then, with what had happened at the end of the Bowden case, John had to wonder…
“Some shit I just don’t think I’ll ever understand,” the uni was saying. “This is one of them.”
“Yeah, sure is,” John said. “Look, be more careful, huh?”
“Yes, sir, sorry about the coffee.”
“Yeah? Good. You can clean it up.” John headed next door, finding each step a little harder to take than the last.
Open and shut, remember ? John thought. Open and fucking shut.
By the time he got next door the coffee had cooled and left his sleeve was cold and soggy.
John walked through the door and saw Paul Diamond, head of the temp unit. He was a short, round man with a balding head and thin, rimless glasses. He possessed a certain instinct that would have made him a great detective, but why he chose to spend his entire working life in the company of dead people, John didn’t know.
John forced a smile he absolutely did not feel to his face.
“Ay, Paulie!”
Paul squinted through his glasses.
“Damn,” he said. “It’s happening again.”
* * * * *
John walked to the break room and poured himself a cup of the road mud that passed for coffee around the station house. He wanted a donut but there was nothing left in the box but crumbs.
“Buncha animals,” he muttered. He didn’t know how some people could be so damn inconsiderate.
He took a sip from his cup of Hi-Test and turned his mind to other things, mainly to AJ. He seemed like a good kid, especially compared to most of the smart-ass degenerate punks he came across in a day’s work.
John frowned, thinking of how shell-shocked the kid had seemed when he’d been brought into the station again tonight, this time over the woman that had attacked him.
What John’s mind kept turning to, though, was the way AJ’s face had collapsed when he heard the guy that had attacked him was DOA. But John could relate; in his 15 years on the police force, he’d only fired his gun twice on duty. He killed a man with one of those bullets. Sure, the guy was a junky and a murderer, but John had lost a lot of sleep after that little incident.
Had that been remorse, though, or disgust? The mess had been horrible, a .44 will make a skid mark of the human head from six feet away.
John tried to shake the memory of that shaved head exploding like a rotten melon and took a sip of coffee. He wondered how the kid would sleep tonight? AJ had looked exhausted when John had seen him out to another squad car so he could be driven home, and the kid had mentioned having something at home to help him sleep. John hoped the kid had taken it and gotten some rest.
John checked his watch. 8:30 A.M. As he turned to head out of the break room, a rookie patrolman hurried around the corner and ran into him, spilling the last half of John’s coffee.
“Ah son of a bitch!” John chucked his crumpled paper cup at the new recruit.
“Sorry, sir!”
“Why dontcha pull your head outta your ass and watch where you’re going?”
“I was told to come and find you, sir, high priority.”
“Who wants me?”
“The guy from the coroner’s office needs to see you.”
“Which one?” Irritation burned in John’s mind as the coffee burnt his arm.
“Huh?”
“ Which office ? The headquarters or the temp unit next door?”
“Oh. N-next door,” the uni said.
Something sunk inside Lubbock’s chest and he struggled to shake the heaviness that had stolen over him.
“We didn’t lose another fuckin’ body, did we?” John asked.
The uni ran his hand over his face. “Isn’t that a shit-show? Thank god that happened to County and not us. But no, no, sir, he didn’t say anything about a body. You hear the hospital morgue had one taken?”
“Yeah I heard that,” John said. But then, with what had happened at the end of the Bowden case, John had to wonder…
“Some shit I just don’t think I’ll ever understand,” the uni was saying. “This is one of them.”
“Yeah, sure is,” John said. “Look, be more careful, huh?”
“Yes, sir, sorry about the coffee.”
“Yeah? Good. You can clean it up.” John headed next door, finding each step a little harder to take than the last.
Open and shut, remember ? John thought. Open and fucking shut.
By the time he got next door the coffee had cooled and left his sleeve was cold and soggy.
John walked through the door and saw Paul Diamond, head of the temp unit. He was a short, round man with a balding head and thin, rimless glasses. He possessed a certain instinct that would have made him a great detective, but why he chose to spend his entire working life in the company of dead people, John didn’t know.
John forced a smile he absolutely did not feel to his face.
“Ay, Paulie!”
Paul squinted through his glasses.
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