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Red

A missing persons' case, a butcher shop, and an alleyway...

By Anya WassenbergPublished 3 years ago 19 min read
1
Image by Jimmy Chan (Pexels / CC license)

“Requesting back up.” It was on the tip of Officer Brown’s tongue, his finger poised just above the com at his shoulder. Then he saw a sliver of light in the back of one of the buildings across the alley. “Shit.”

He ducked into the shadow of the nearest garbage bin as he waited for the motion light from the store a few doors down to dissipate. Brown stared at the glow that was coming from the slightly open door tensely, until the motion light finally flickered out.

Officer Brown knew he should call it in and wait, but what did he really know about this situation? He glanced up and down the alley furtively. All he had were a couple of missing people, drag marks, and now this light from across the alley, he reminded himself. He peered into the darkness in the middle of the alley earnestly as if expecting an answer to reveal itself to him spontaneously from the shadows.

It did not. After a few moments, Brown took yet another look around. The weeds rustled slightly in the evening breeze, and the thin sliver of pale light that marked the outline of a door fluctuated slightly, as if someone was moving inside.

Surely, it wouldn’t be against procedure to take a quick look. Assess the situation. Then he’d know whether backup was needed.

The blade of the knife was long, sharp and silver, but not shiny for very long. It was soon stained and splattered red. Specks of blood cover a wider and wider circumference around where he worked as the knife worked its way down into the flesh. The sound of it, wet and slick, filled the air.

A bell, a sharp ringing.

Karl looked up quickly. “Jozef. Customer,” he grunted.

Jozef, the smaller of the two, turned towards the storefront and wiped his hands reflexively on a once-white apron. The toe of his boot swung the door open out to the store, and in a few steps, he took his place behind the counter with a smile.

“Can I help you?” he asked. The door shut quietly behind him, Karl disappearing from view.

Wrapped in a dark trench coat, the woman was staring down into the display case. She looked up from the glass and smiled back uncertainly. “Well, I'm not really sure what I want,” she said. Her voice was soft.

“We have some very nice pork chops on sale, Miss.” Jozef let his voice trail on the last word. He leaned into the display to point them out, looking into eyes that were dark and brown, almost liquid, as she leaned towards him just on the other side of the glass. “Over here. Loin chops. You see, hardly any fat, very lean. On sale half price this week.”

“Mmm..” She was still uncertain.

“Or perhaps a steak, a nice sirloin?” Jozef reached under the counter to pick one up. It draped over his hands, thick and red, dripping back onto the paper that lined the tray. She bent down, and Jozef watched the glass mist with the warm breath that escaped her lungs. “It's a lovely steak, Miss.”

Her face was plump, the skin sleek. “Yes, it does look good. I guess I'll take two.”

“Just two?”

She thought for a moment, pursing her ripe lips.

“No, actually, maybe I'll take four – two to freeze for next week. They do look delicious.”

“Very juicy, Miss.” Jozef’s large hands pulled four large sirloin steaks to the counter quickly. “Especially if you like them rare.”

“My husband does.” She smiled as his fleshy hands tore off a strip of brown paper and wrapped the red meat expertly. “I prefer well-done.”

“That can be very nice too.” Jozef’s face stretched into a smile as he handed her the package over the counter, and he began to move down to the till. “But you must promise me not to over-cook.”

She laughed as she reached into her purse, a warm and bubbling sound. Jozef slipped into professionalism, the charming shopkeeper. The inane pleasantries rolled off his tongue effortlessly.

“Okay,” and her voice was almost shy. “I promise.”

Their eyes met again with a smile. Jozef watched as she pocketed her change, and then seemed to hesitate a few seconds before drawing her coat around her.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Come again.”

Image by David Kaiser (Pixabay / CC license)

They could leave now, he consoled himself as he stepped into the freezer. Surely this was enough? He glanced around at their supplies, counting. Zartok had said the shuttle repairs were almost complete. He thought for a moment of the gut wrenching sensation he’d felt when the shuttle’s systems had failed, sending them plunging from the sky into this curious civilization of humans. Luckily they had arrived in the darkness of night, in this odd district of small spaces devoted to intensive commerce, and larger, largely empty spaces like the one that now held their shuttle. Zartok knew what he was doing. It would be fine.

It brought his thoughts back to his crewmate. He stepped out of the freezer and swung the door heavily shut. There were only six. Perhaps they did need one more. He stepped away from the freezer door thoughtfully. The walls at the back of the store, hidden from customers, were riddled with scrapes and discoloration, the furniture sparse and worn. He leaned his back bone against a large flat thing, held above the ground with pegs. It was a strange looking object – as strange as everything else in this hellhole of a place – but just the right height for such leaning back, as he discovered. Surely it must have been made for this purpose.

His fingers found the shape of the communication box in the garment he wore. It had taken hours of research and observation to decipher its use, but they’d left the mother ship with little in the way of tech, so they had to make due. Why this species produced such an arcane design was beyond anyone’s guess. Even now, he felt some trepidation in using it as he pressed the buttons awkwardly and waited for the annoyed buzz. The buzzing stopped, and he could hear the gasp of slightly static air.

Zartok – can we not leave this place? I think if we ration we can make it with what we have now.

There was a short pause.

I will be there soon, Zartok answered.

UFO by Enrique Mesegere (Pixabay / CC license)

Jozef nodded to himself as he heard the heavy footsteps retreating behind him. There was a slight electronic buzz as the door to the back room opened and closed. He was left with the memory of liquid brown eyes as he washed his hands, then wiped the area around the sink with a tattered grey cloth that smelled like bleach.

The woman was still on the sidewalk as he looked up, just a few steps from the door of the shop. The curves and valleys of her back filled out and strained against her tight fitting coat, from her round shoulders down to the curve of her rump. He thought of the sausages he’d filled with meat just this morning.

She was evidently rearranging her shopping bags, and as she bent over, the blue uniform and cap of a cop came into view, crossing the street towards the butcher shop. He was tall, with broad shoulders underneath the blue serge, and very short black hair. Karl watched as the two looked to be exchanging pleasantries before parting, the woman to continue down the sidewalk, and the policeman to the door.

The face under the blue cap with its bright badge was a different colour than most of those who’d come into the shop these last few days. Jozef considered the observation, but put the thought aside as he creased his face into a smile.

“What can I get you, officer?” Jozef began to wipe the counter, maintaining a distance from the policeman.

“Oh,” and the cop seemed slightly taken aback. His hand drew a notebook out of his pocket. His face was unlined, with dark eyes, and a pleasing symmetry to his features. “No, nothing,” and he smiled. His teeth were quite regular and nearly white. “I’m not here as a customer. Official business,” he said. “Officer Brown of the Metro PD,” he added, flashing what looked like a policeman’s badge at Jozef.

Jozef reached for a bottle of vinegar and water that he kept beside the counter and sprayed the back of the display case, never missing a beat as he wiped. “How could I help you, officer?” he asked. Jozef spoke slowly, letting the thick accent drip off his tongue. He enjoyed the sound.

The policeman’s eyes flicked about the room quickly, scanning the small space and its spartan aesthetic of white tiles walls and floors that reflected the overhead lights. A corner of the room by the front door held a few shelves with rye bread, mustard, and Polish jams. He seemed to be waiting for Jozef to finish speaking, but the older man kept wiping instead, moving down the counter and forcing the cop to edge to the left to follow.

Wipe, wipe, wipe. The wet cloth slid easily against the counter and display case, worn but still clean. With a small intake of breath the only outward sign of impatience, the cop reached into his pocket and pulled out a mobile phone. He touched the screen, flicking to the right a number of times before pausing. He stared at the screen for a moment, then turned it towards Jozef.

“Ever seen her around here? Especially over the last few days?” the cop asked.

Karl stared at the screen, which displayed the photograph of a woman with an oval, unlined face. She had mid-brown skin, and large brown eyes under arching brows. Full, smiling lips.

The cop shoved the phone closer to Jozef’s face, who stopped wiping the counter to take it from him. He examined the image carefully.

“No,” he said, holding the phone where the policeman could take it back. But, instead of taking the phone, the cop’s finger flicked to the right of the screen. Another image appear, this one of a man with yellow hair and blue eyes in a pale skinned face.

“How about him?”

“No,” Jozef said again, shaking his head as his eyes flicked briefly over the image.

The cop took the phone back into his own hand, his eyes never leaving Jozef’s face. The cop with his bulk and dark blue uniform overshadowed the short, stocky older man’s frame. His finger flicked over the screen again. “There’s one more,” he said, turning the screen to Jozef.

This time, Jozef leaned over the counter, staring at the picture of a man with lines around his eyes and a large black moustache. “No,” he said, “I have not seen him.”

“You’re absolutely sure you’ve never seen any of these three people?”

“Yes, Officer Brown.”

“I’m asking because all three have gone missing, and the one common thread we can seem to find is that each of them appear to have come to this neighborhood over the last two weeks or so.” He paused, staring directly into Jozef’s eyes. “You’re absolutely sure?” he repeated.

“Yes, officer. I am absolutely sure.”

The cop’s hand – his short-fingered hand – closed over the phone and put it back into his pocket. He picked up his notebook and pen from the counter.

“You own the place?” he asked as he flipped to a blank page.

Jozef resumed wiping the counter, albeit more slowly. “Yes, with my brother.” His head gestured right, towards the back room.

The cop took one of the business cards from the plastic dispenser on the counter, gleaming white under the fluorescent lights. His naturally unfurrowed brow creased slightly as he scrutinized the text on it.

“Which one are you – Karl or Jozef?” he asked.

“I am Jozef.”

The policeman nodded. “Karl here?”

“Not at the moment,” Jozef said. He’d worked his way to the very end of the counter. He spread the cloth out and held it against the counter, walking it back to the other end again, as if for one last time. “I do all the customer service. Karl does all the butchering, but also he makes the catering deliveries, picks up our orders from the warehouse sometimes. He is making deliveries to restaurants right now.”

Jozef folded the towel and placed it back under the sink.

The cop appeared to be taking more notes. “I’ll need to speak to Karl as well. Will he be in tomorrow?” he asked.

Jozef nodded. “I think so.”

“Any employees?”

“No.”

“Okay, well thank you for your time.” The cop flipped his notebook back together, and slid it into his pocket with the pen.

He shrugged a little, as if easing himself back into the jacket of his uniform, and then turned. His shiny black shoes crossed over the tile floor. He turned with his hand on the door. “Thanks again for your time,” he said with a slight smile.

“The alley.”

“ What?” The cop turned towards Jozef’s voice.

“You should check the alley. I take the garbage out back there,” Jozef gestured with his thumb towards the back of the store, “and I see people taking drugs, dealing drugs. Sometimes.”

The cop stepped quickly back towards the counter, taking his notebook out of his pocket as he did. “When was the last time you saw this kind of thing?”

Jozef paused. “Maybe...three days ago. I see it maybe two times a week at least.”

“Is that right?” The cop had a small smile on his face. “Any details you can remember about these people? Old? Young? Male? Female?”

Karl shook his head. “I don’t look over,” he said. “I don’t want to see. They are near the garbage bins a few doors down. You will see needles.” He huffed for effect. “Human trash,” he said.

“I see.” The cop repocketed his notebook and pen, and turned for the door.

Image used under a CC license

He watched her walk across the black and grey tiles her, brown shoes pausing carefully over the raised threshold of the door. She was bouncy. Juicy. She turned and walked out to the street and the grey December rain. Jozef took a damp cloth from the sink and wiped away the redness. Behind him, he heard the door open, and a voice over his shoulder.

“Any more customers?” Karl asked.

“I don’t think so,” Jozef said without looking up.

“I will go next door to make ready,” Karl said.

***

After the door closed behind him, Jozef glanced over his shoulder at the large, crude chronometer on the wall. He understood that the larger arm had a few more notches to go before it got to the top, and closing time. He glanced out the window left and right, then walked slowly around the counter, over the tiles to the front window, staring briefly up and down the street. He saw no human forms, only the other storefronts very much like his own. The sun was long gone, and the street lights cast long shadows on the street.

Jozef walked to the door and turned over the sign to read CLOSED to the world before allowing his hands to manipulate the lock. He heard the bolt click shut.

His legs were proportionally short, and his centre of gravity offset by a protruding belly, making balance a challenge. It was getting better, but he was frustrated at how slow and inefficient the human skeleton was. Perhaps an improvement to perfect these anomalies before they took on such a form – but it would have to be done by species, he posited to himself. Who could have anticipated anything so ungainly as these horrid creatures?

He paused when he got back to the counter. Sliding the glass door aside, he reached in to grab a handful of cow’s brain, and he began to chew it thoughtfully as he continued on through the store to the back. His hand pushed at the door, and he passed through into the larger area that took up the back of their unit, with its water flowing devices, and the colder room with its heavier door. It reminded him of the awkward door seals on the landing pod of his spacecraft, which hid just next door. It also reminded him of Zartok, and his task, but he pushed the thought aside as he hauled on the industrial door handle and pushed his head inside the cold room to count.

One, two, three, four, five, six. Or was there a seventh one hiding in the back?

He sighed impatiently, and stepped inside the freezer. He had counted the stiff, frozen carcasses twice before noticing that in one, the face that he was staring at was the same as the one he was currently sporting. Jozef’s large, oval head, with its rim of salt and pepper hair, stared back at him blankly, albeit covered with a shimmering layer of frost. The eyes bugged open in permanent surprise, just underneath the small red hole in his forehead. Just like the others. He edged towards the back of the freezer, nudging past a tiny brown skinned body. She toppled over, but his hand caught her, saving the carcass from perhaps shattering on the floor, but in doing so, a chunk of her frozen hair broke off in his hand.

He shivered in disgust, dropping it like a hot coal onto the floor. Revolting organisms really, he thought. He shuddered, remembering the brain dive that had been required to hide convincingly among the Earthlings. That flood of sickly chemical-induced delusion – it had been so difficult just to discern the basic facts of their existence, so shrouded in this subjective goo was their consciousness.

For a few seconds, in protest, he clicked at the button at the back of his head, and the replication algorithm slipped, allowing him to regain his original – and much more beautiful – form. He moved back towards the door of the freezer. His claws scraped disdainfully at Jozef’s cheek as he passed, and his sharp blue tongue flicked at the plastic wrapped carcass in distaste. But, he began to shiver almost immediately with the cold, and was forced to replicate the human form once again. He flipped the switch, and the implant vibrated for a second or two against the base of his brain before he could feel his body beginning to retake Jozef’s crooked shape, and his Earth-oriented metabolism.

Image from Pexels.com (CC license)

He watched as a tall Black woman locked the door across the street. The storefront was painted a light olive green, the windows a jumble of brightly colored paper products. Her figure was curvy, and brushed against the loose tunic over her jeans.

Officer Brown wondered how much business you could really get for specialty envelopes, datebooks, and cards, when it was just still a few doors away from light industry in this neighborhood.

But what the hell do I know? he thought.

He turned to face the street, glancing to the right and the shiny string of shop windows that reflected the streetlights. The short block had retained its blocky, mid-century facade; once rundown, a recent wave of gentrification had brightened the look and brought more business.

But, it was closing time, with the early December sunset, the stars were already twinkling in the sky, and the block was virtually deserted. He looked to the left, at the barbed wire topped fence that marked out the back end of an automotive shop that had been there since before the wave of gentrification. The pavement buckled and cracked under the weight of perhaps a dozen cars in various states of dis- and reassembly in front of a dingy building that had once been white.

As he ran he eyes over the shapes of cars in the lot, looking for any anomalies, he drew his notebook out of his pocket. Brown read his own scratchy letters across the page. Alley...alley...and yet again: alley, this time with the word underlined. Three of the business owners on the west side of the street had mentioned trouble with suspicious types in the alley.

Probably bums rummaging through the garbage, he told himself. Probably just a few junkies handing around, but you never know. It could have gotten violent.

He rested his palm on the butt of his gun. In a shuffling gait that crossed the ground quickly, he crossed the street to gain the perspective of a little distance, pausing before he approached the entrance to the alley from the far end, near the auto shop. He walked over the sidewalk swiftly, stopping just across the street from the car lot.

Weeds grew about knee high along the edges of the alley, around the refuse containers that were parked at the back of each of the stores. At its widest, it would only just fit a van – not a truck. He made a mental note of that fact. The alley was sparsely covered in gravel, with two ruts carved by a generation or so of tires running between the rows of stores on either side.

He approached the nearest garbage bin cautiously. Motion lights flickered at the back door as he approach the last store on the block. Here, paint on the concrete block had faded and not been replaced. The weathered concrete and rusty railing belied the sleek entrance he remembered from the sidewalk.

Crunch, crunch over the gravel, past one store and then another. He paused as he saw them, suddenly illuminated by the motion lights – twin tracks that ran across the tire ruts from one side of the alley to the other. Slightly irregular and soft in shape, they ran roughly parallel, about a foot from each other.

Just like somebody dragged a body across here.

The hairs stood stiff on the back of Officer Brown’s neck, and his right hand drew the gun from its holster reflexively.

Image by Computerized (Pixabay/CC license)

He felt the receiver inside his skull vibrate with the small ting that announced incoming communication.

Zartok, he said. But, it could only be him, in truth.

The shuttle will be ready shortly. We can leave when the lunar body rises, and the Earth creatures sleep. But first, I need the cloaking device.

I will disengage it and make my way over.

He thought briefly. How to bring the meat over to the ship?

We will bring the shuttle to hover above the door. Then we can load in the meat for our journey together.

Yes, good. There are six. It will be enough.

Seven. I have one more.

science fiction
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About the Creator

Anya Wassenberg

I'm a long time freelance writer of both fiction and non-fiction.

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