Killer

“Are you into the lab?” whispered a voice in Galanos’s ear. 

“Yeah, Jimmy, I’m in,” whispered Galanos. “Now cut the channel. We don’t know if these VOC guys can monitor these frequencies or not.” 

“Are you sure they’re going to be there?” 

“The Nash data was good. The missing Archetype samples are here, I’m sure of it.” 

“You seem to be awful trusting of that Nash Industries these days. Is it that slick Michael guy who’s always calling you?” 

“Goddamit Jim you know I can’t give you all the details,” growled the detective. “Now shut your trap and close this channel. Galanos out.” 

Galanos sighed as she tapped her ear twice to kill the policeman’s grumbling reply. She knew that the gesture was inefficient, the Nash Industries implants able to respond to her voice commands automatically. Despite the middle aged woman couldn’t yet bring herself to trust the Nash devices completely.  

The detective crept through the grimy research center, turning over the information that had led her to the low-end science labs that had rented themselves out to all comers.  

VOC stole the Archetype samples from Nash Industries, using the Nash turncoat D’Courcy. D’Courcy gets stupid, and gets dead. These corporate pirate types then try to sell off the remaining samples, but of course, there’s more money to be made in reverse engineering the product rather than just selling it to the highest bidder.  

Galanos walked quietly past a set of broken double doors, peering inside to spot the burnt-out remains of a drug lab.  

Crack-heads and Salt-fiends, she thought sourly. We should have sent teams down here years ago, but the force is already stretched to breaking point. Even if we burnt the place to the ground, they’ll just find a different way to get high out of their own skulls. 

No wonder VOC was able to hide here – they’re offering the same product, just a more complicated drug for a much, much higher price.  

The Archetype Project. A chemical treatment that allows you to take on the memories of someone long dead with just a touch. Just the tiniest hair or tooth, and you can see… everything. 

Galanos pushed down a shiver. Her last two contacts with Archetypes had thrust her into the memories of a depressed corporate tyrant, and before that, a young girl dying of cancer. Months later, she still found herself waking up in a cold sweat, fighting off nightmares that didn’t belong to her.  

The detective waved her hand over a budget security lock, the implant near her wrist overriding the simple encryption program and forcing the door open.  

It’s cold. Too cold.  

Immediately the habits of decades kicked in, Galanos tallying the small details of the lab as she descended the stairs into the science facility’s basement.  

Functional air conditioning. Clean rooms. Professional security locks in the inner doors. VOC poured a lot of money into this lab. 

The detective’s wandering eyes caught a smudge of red that screamed out in the shiny, sleek halls. Following the drops of blood, the spatter was joined by bloody fingermarks on the walls that led into a set of wide double doors.  

Galanos readied her gun, reassured by the small buzz in her wrist as the implant recognized the weapon. Gritting her teeth, she kicked open the doors.  

“Baltimore PD! Put down your weapons or you will be fired upon!” 

“Heh. You’re finally here,” gurgled a voice from the corner. Moving carefully through the rows of computer terminals, Galanos recognized the space as an improvised communications and security hub, lit by a pale neon tube above. The blood spatters trailed through the room, terminating in a corner where a heavyset old man wearing combat fatigues clutched his side and breathed heavily.  

“Are you armed?” snapped the detective, scanning the crumpled figure for weapons.  

“No. Should of been,” came the reply. “He got out. Got- got a weapon.” 

“Are you part of VOC? Where are the Archetype samples?”  

“Gone,” giggled the old man, shaking and clutching at the bleeding wound until the laughter was pouring out of him. “You’re too late.” 

As the old man spoke, the screens in the room flickered, the hum of the air conditioning grinding to a screeching halt as the neon light suddenly dimmed.  

Further up the halls, Galanos recognized the sound of security shutters dropping to the floor.  

“What have you done?” she snarled, backing against a wall swinging her gun back towards the door. 

Silence was her only reply. A glance was all it took for the detective so see that the VOC, his smile a jagged gash that matched the wound in his side.  

“God dammit,” growled Galanos, reaching up to tap her ear. “Officer Molan? Hey Jimmy, do you copy?”  

When no response was produced, the detective grimaced and fished out her mobile phone, feverishly trying to dial with her free hand while keep the gun aimed at the door. The screen remained stubbornly blank. She almost dropped the small device when a scream echoed through the empty hallways. 

“Oh God help me! He’s got a knife!”  

“I’m coming!” yelled Galanos, dumping the phone in her pocket and sprinting down the blood-stained corridor as the voice continued her to cry out. 

“Please! Don’t hurt me – I’ll do anything you want!”  

“Hold on!” shouted the detective, rounding the corner and bursting through a set of doors. Weapon ready, Galanos recognized the table and equipment of a small surgical theater, the pristine sheets and surgical tools now splattered and stained. At the far end of the room another door swung slowly on its hinges, and curled up next to the operating table was a skinny young man bawling his eyes out.  

“Detective Galanos!” he wailed, latching onto the detective’s leg. “Oh God, thank you. He’s crazy – I thought he was going to kill me!” 

“It’s alright, we’ll get you out of-” started Galanos, but a tiny detail jerked her upright. Next to the operating table lay a small black bag, the kind that Galanos had been working with for years.  

 On it was a faded printed label: EVIDENCE CXF-0491203. SUSPECT: EDWARD HARRIS.  

Galanos tried and failed to blink away the flash memory; the rainwater in the alleyway mixing with her partner’s blood. The way his body trembled when she tried to lift him up.  

Sandra! God help me, where are you? 

I can’t see, Sandra. I- I’m scared. 

Galanos gripped her gun and looked down.  

“How did you know my na-” 

The pain exploded through her side, cold for a moment then a burst of deep red as she saw the surgical knife twist deeper.  

Galanos reacted on sheer animal instinct, screaming with rage and jerking backwards as she smashed her pistol down onto the man clutching her waist. The skinny figure grunted, loosening his grip for a second as the detective scrambled backwards.  

“Who the hell are you?” she snarled, holding a shaking gun at the crouching figure and trying to hold the wound at her side. Her free hand scrabbled for some kind of purchase, but the thick jacket was already warm with blood.  

The skinny young man in front of her just smiled, a lop-sided, crazy grin that cut across his face as he jerkily got to his feet.  

“You don’t remember me Sandra? I’m an old friend, right? You haven’t forgotten your good pal Eddie, have ya?” 

Galanos’s eyes flicked to the evidence packet on the table.  

“Listen to me,” she hissed, her gun shaking a little. “I know what you’re going through. But it’s only memories. You’re not Eddie Harris. They’ll have given you a tiny little piece of him. Just throw it away, and this nightmare will be over.” 

The skinny young man chuckled, pulling aside a yellow work vest to reveal a fresh surgical scar on his breastbone.  

“This body was some tech specialist. VOC called him in to fix the servers, or somthin’ like that. Strapped him down, cut him open. And nowww…. Here I am! And I don’t think I’m giving this body back until I’ve had some fun.” 

“You’ve got to fight him,” replied Galanos, stumbling backwards and trying to keep her gun raised. “I don’t want to shoot you.” 

“Oh you’re not shoot an innocent civilian are you?” grinned Eddie, sauntering towards the bleeding detective. “Not in cold blood? Only a monster would do that!” 

Galanos felt a cold ball in her side and a trickle of warm blood down her legs. The detective weighed her option and shrugged.  

“Well, if I wing you, I can always apologize later.” 

Eddie’s eyes opened in shock and the skinny young man dived behind the surgical table, scrambling through the far doors as Galanos’s bullets shot past him. 

“Bastard,” muttered Galanos, lowering her shaking gun and looking around the operating theatre for bandages.  

Didn’t think ya had it in ya, Sandra! Came a mocking voice in her ear. What would your partner say? What was his name now? They’re all a bit of a blur. 

Galanos hesitated, then raised a hand to her ear.  

“You hacked my implants.” 

Give the lady a prize! Do you know this body used to be some big-shot software developer? Got into drugs, now he just runs cyber security for some Cartel. Breaks my heart, seeing the working man get stiffed over like this.  

“The give him back his body and go haunt someone else,” snarled the detective, rifling through a cupboard and ripping open a pack of surgical gauze. 

You think that’s what happened here, Sandra? This guy was screwed by his company, his so-called friends, and his bitch of an ex-wife. I’m not possessing him or anything. He welcomed me.  

“Oh don’t give me your whiny working-man bullshit,” replied Galanos, tying the gauze down with a thick bandage and noting tiredly that the blood was already beginning to seep through. “Society doesn’t owe you a damn thing.” 

And some of us don’t have the CEO of a major international engineering company wrapped around our little finger. What, you think VOC didn’t know about you and your little boyfriend? Why do you think they tried to set up this little trap? Too elaborate, though. They could have just waited in an alley with a knife. How was your partner’s funeral, by the way? Would’ve loved to attend, but you know, being dead and all.  

“I couldn’t save my partner,” grimaced Sandra, lurching out into the gloomy hallways. “But I can still save the Technician. I didn’t get to kill you the first time, Eddie. So I guess I’ll just have to enjoy sending you back to hell.” 

Well, I’m somewhere in this facility, and right now you’re…cold. Still cold. Nope, not even close! Ooo, yes turn down that corridor. Getting warmer… 

The cameras, realized Galanos. He’s back at the security hub.   

You know, VOC has collected so much data on you over the last few months, Detective. Shocking, the lack of privacy with all this new technology. So I understand your can’t sleep? Bit of a caffeine addict, are we? Love ourselves a sip o’ those energy drinks? Let’s see… haven’t got any friends outside of work, no clubs, no relationships since your husband died of cancer 10 years ago. Jeez, Detective, maybe you just need to get laid.  

Galanos tried to block out the mocking voice and pushed her aching body through the blood-stained corridors. The communication and security room was dark. Squinting through the doorway, the detective make out a single bright screen, sitting in the far corner of the room. The screen had a single task window: Rescind Security Lockdown? Y/N 

A trap, thought Galanos, the tiny screen blurring a little as she felt the pain in her side. We both know it is. And we both know I have- I have to… 

“Ah, to hell with it,” she muttered. 

Lurching into the room, she pointed her gun and shot the long neon light near the ceiling, the fluorescent tube sparking and shattering over the computer tables. Galanos caught a yelp of surprise and swung her weapon around, however all she registered was a half-lit shape that barreled into her side and sent her sprawling.  

The throbbing pain shook the detective’s entire body, and Galanos felt something in her abdomen tear as she wrestled for the gun with the dark shape bearing her down.  

She never heard the bang. There was just a muzzle flash, painfully bright in the dark room, an animal moan and the weight suddenly rolling off her.  

“You bitch! You shot me you Goddamn-” 

The detective felt her heart quiver, and everything seemed cold and distant. Gripping a table, her muscles screamed as she pulled herself upright and staggered into the corner, fumbling with sticky fingers on the keyboard. The lights in the hallway flickered back to life. Somewhere, the security shutter clattered as it was slowly pulled back into the roof.  

Galanos scanned the room for Eddie, and saw the young man curled up in a pool of blood opposite the VOC operative. Without a word, the detective stumbled past the pair and back out into the corridor. The stairs to the exit at the far end beckoned, lifting higher and higher until they span crazily towards the roof.  

Trembling, Galanos reached out and slowly realized she was lying on the sticky floor.  

Didn’t even feel the fall… 

I’m cold. 

I’m- 

“Do you think I’m done with you, bitch?” snarled a voice from behind her.  

Craning her neck, Galanos blinked until she recognized the shape of Eddie Harris crawl out of the communication room, his stomach drooling blood as he dragged himself towards her. Galanos fumbled around for her gun, but spotted the weapon far, far away, sitting by the far wall where it had landed.  

“I’m going to gut you, d’year?” slurred the young man, clutching his belly and pulling himself closer to the detective. His eyes were bright, the brightest thing that Galanos could ever remember seeing.  

Stairs. I’ve got to- I’ve got… 

Focussing, Galanos pulled her hands beneath her and lifted her body forward, vaguely aware of how wet and hot the floor was beneath. With a grunt of pain, the stairs at the end of the corridor took a patient step towards her. Risking a glance backwards, she saw Eddie moan and pull himself forward again.  

“G’nna get… you…” he grunted.  

Galanos saved her remaining strength to look forward towards the stairs. Another dizzyingly painful shuffle, another gasp, and the stairs inched closer. Somewhere behind her she could hear the guttural moans and rambling curses.  

Another shuffle forward. The stairs were close now, and Galanos focussed blearily on the worn, rounded plastic protectors on each riser. Reaching out, her fingers brushed the edge of the step as she felt a wet hand grab her ankle and slide away.  

Almost there. Just- 

Galanos squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to scream as she grasped the bottom riser and tried to lift her throbbing body up. She watched the step crawl past her vision then everything blurred, and her body jolted as rough hands dragged her back down.  

“K’ll- kill you,” gurgled Eddie, clumsily flipping her over. 

Galanos looked up through a cold fog at the pale shape rising over her. The killer’s eyes seemed to be the only thing in the entire grey universe.  

And then there was one tiny little splash of colour; a neat little line of red, lying over the center of Eddie’s chest.  

The detective gasped and forced her rubbery fingers into one last burst of energy, reaching past the killer’s grasp and pushing a finger into the puffy stitches.  

Eddie’s screams sounded like a distant echo. Galanos felt a sharp, tiny object against her fingers, pulling the bloody piece out until a tiny fingernail glistened between her fingertips.  

Eddie Harris screamed again, filling Galanos up with the pain, the rage, and the sneering bile at the whole world.  

Galanos felt the killer claw at her soul, then twisted up her face in disgust and threw the fingernail away.  

The pale body flopped down beside her onto the floor, but Galanos could still hear Eddie’s screams as the darkness closed in around her.  

“Sandra? How do you feel?”  

Galanos blinked slowly. The lights hurt almost as much as her side. Dazed, the detective tried to sit up but was gently pushed back down into bed.  

“Wha-?” she murmured, letting the blur of shapes and colours slowly coalesce into the worried face of Officer Molan.  

“Jimmy? That you?” 

“Jesus, Sandra, you almost bought it in that lab. Don’t try and get up – you lost a lot of blood, but the Doctors who stitched you up saved your kidneys. Best of the best, or so I’m told.” 

Galanos swallowed and bullied her mind to start working, looking around the small hospital room. The walls were sparse, but the view out of the window overlooked the gardens and the chirping machinery next to the bed looked shiny and new.  

Molan handed Galanos a glass of water, which the detective gratefully accepted. She noted the expensive design cut into the crystal.  

“Thank you,” Galanos managed, trying to wipe her mouth before realizing her hand was still attached to a drip. “What happened? How did you find me?” 

“Wasn’t us. We got to the lab as fast as we could, but some corporate security types were already putting you in a chopper to the hospital.”  

“What? How?” 

“Nash Industries. They’ve been monitoring the implants they gave us. As soon as they lost your signal, well-” 

“Thank you, Officer Molan, I’ll take it from here,” came a familiar voice.  

Galanos focused blearily on the man framed in the doorway.  

“Michael,” she whispered. “You- you’ve been monitoring me?” 

“Just protecting my investment.” 

Galanos stared out of the window as the Nash Industries CEO showed Molan out of the room. 

“You know I can’t afford any of this,” she said. 

“You don’t have to – I keep telling you, your precinct is part of my organisation now. So long as it suits me, your precinct’s equipment and medical bills are taken care of. Even your Captain can look forward to a generous retirement package when he decides to step down.” 

“And you think that gives you the right-?” growled Galanos, trying to rise from her bed. However the moment her shoulders lifted off the pillows the detective felt a wave of nausea and flopped back down. 

“Easy now,” replied Michael, his voice grave. The dark-haired figure came and sat by the hospital bed, reaching down and gently brushing a stray hair off Galanos’s face. 

“I have no intentions of putting you in a glass case,” he said softly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you die. I only monitor the ongoing link for your implants – as well as those I gave to the rest of your precinct. When that link was cut off, I scrambled our corporate security forces.” 

Galanos frowned, dismissing the uncomfortable emotions he looked up at Michael. 

“So how’s the Technician? Has he recovered from what VOC did to him?” 

Michael hesitated, staring a the beeping monitors as he tried to find the words.  

“The stomach wound is fine,” he finally replied. “All you really did was give him a nasty flesh wound and some muzzle burn. But it, uh, seems that when contact with an Archetype is constant – such as through surgical implantation – the memory effect becomes more an… amalgamation.” 

“As in permanent?” 

Michael nodded.  

“Technician Drysdale broke out of hospital after seriously wounding two nurses,” he continued. “Your fellow officers are scouring the city, but-” 

Galanos looked up at the blank white ceiling.  

“Eddie’s still out there, isn’t he?” 

“I heard about what happened to your partner last year. If you want to talk-” 

“No,” snapped Galanos, but felt a twist of regret at the cold expression on Michael’s face. “Sorry. I just mean, not yet. I just- I just need to rest, okay?” 

Michael nodded and left the room in silence, turning out the light as he went.  

Galanos listened the relentless beeping of the bed’s monitors and stared into the dark, trying not to think about a dirty alleyway and a young detective covered in blood.