“Moriton police department!” one of them shouts. “We got a call about a disturbance?”
What the fuck?My hands curl into fists as I back further into the shadows. Someone in the building must have called the police when they heard the commotion in this unit earlier.It figures they’d show up now, right when I was finishing the job. Just my fucking luck…
The officers walk deeper into the apartment, searching for any sign of struggle. If they had come an hour earlier, the smell would still be permeating the apartment, but thanks to my handiwork, they have no idea something horrible happened here. It gives me a few more seconds to plan, at least.
“Anyone home?” the second officer asks, finishing it off with a deep sigh. “Zack, I don’t think anyone’s here.”
“Well, we came all the way out. Might as well sweep the place,” the man—Zack—replies.
“Comeon.It was clearly a bogus call. Let’s just head back.”
“If you want to get chewed out by the chief, be my guest,” Zack says, walking in the direction of the master bedroom. Or, more specifically, the place I’m hiding.
As the two unknown officers devolve into a heated discussion, I place the bag softly on the ground and retreat behind the door of the bedroom, watching Zack approach from a slit in the door, my heart thrumming with excitement. Just before he reaches the threshold, he stops, gazing down in confusion at my duffel bag.
“The fuck…” He reaches down, unzipping the bag and pulling out one of the body parts—from the looks of it, a forearm. He turns the wrapped arm over in his hands, then begins peeling the tape back, revealing a thin strip of pale flesh.
“Oh my God.” His eyes go wide with horror. “Tom! Jake! Get the fuck over here!”
“What’s wrong?” Jake asks. “Holy fuck. What is that?”
“It looks like… like a fuckingarm,” Tom gasps. “Fuck.You don’t think…?”
“I do.” Zack raises his head to stare at the bedroom door. “I don’t think the call was bogus…”
Zack pulls out his pistol while the other two retrieve daggers—strange, but I’m not going to question it. All three stalk single-file toward the door, and I back up, pulling my own dagger from its holster, poised to strike.
As soon as Zack steps through the door, I lunge, stabbing my blade hilt-deep into the side of his neck. I rip it out with a wet squelch, and Zack falls to the floor, gurgling and clutching his throat, the gun lying useless on the floor. Before one of his buddies can grab it, I deliver a powerful kick to the weapon, and it slides underneath the dresser.
“Zack! No!” Jake storms through the doorway next, jumping over his friend's body and slashing his blade wildly through the air. He’s powered by rage and sheer adrenaline, and though I’mfar more skilled than Jake, his sheer brutality allows him to deliver a few painful slices to my arms and torso.
I lunge for Jake, but I don't realize Tom has slipped behind me. Just as I’m about to bring his blade down, Tom’s dagger stabs into the flesh of my shoulder, and I double forward with a soundless wheeze.
Gritting my teeth, I redirect my momentum, spinning around and jamming my blade into the side of Tom’s upper arm. It was supposed to connect with his throat, but I misjudged Tom’s height, and what should have been a fatal blow becomes a mere inconvenience.
As I’m ripping my blade out, Jake comes up behind me, slashing wildly for my throat. I dodge at the last moment, but his blade still manages to connect with my collarbone, slicing a deep gouge into the flesh.
Tom lunges forward, slicing at my arms, trying to get at my neck like his friend, but I take a step back, crouching low to avoid Jake’s unskilled attack. Grabbing a second dagger from my boot holster, I lunge forward, sinking both blades deep into Tom’s chest.
Sensing Jake about to attack, I swipe the blade from Tom’s hand and jam it back over my shoulder, smiling when it connects with Jake’s eye socket.
Both officers slump to the floor, the life draining out of them as the seconds tick by. I stand over them, breathing heavily, listening to my blood drip down onto the carpet beneath my feet.
“I fucking hate carpet…”
I close my eyes for a moment to collect myself, and that’s when he stabs me in the thigh.
My eyes fly open, connecting with Zack’s smug grin. One hand is pressing to the wound on his neck while the other grips the hilt of a dagger—the one I forgot to check his body for.
“Fuck you.” He uses the last of his strength to force the blade sideways, cutting a deep gash into my inner leg.
I cough, and bile bubbles up my throat, coating my mouth with an acrid taste as blood seeps from the fresh wound, soaking the fabric of my pants and dripping down to the floor in a puddle beneath my feet.
That’s… not good.I’m pretty sure he nicked an artery, but I can’t worry about that right now. I have to kill this asshole.
Vision fading, I reach out, wrapping my hands around Jake’s throat and squeezing hard. I stare deep into his eyes, watching the life drain slowly from his dull green eyes.
He dies in my hands. Though I should feel some sort of satisfaction, I can’t bring myself to feel much of anything. My fingers are strangely numb, my movements slow, my head unusually heavy. In the back of my mind, there’s a voice screaming that I’m dying—that I need to get help.
