Breathing heavily, Harry, Abigail and Yuri slowly rose to their feet as the ripples of the waves washed over their bodies. The swim to shore had exhausted them more than they had expected. It was good to have solid ground under their feet again, even if this sandy beach could hardly be called solid ground. From here it was about 25 meters to the boardwalk. The inviting looking entertainment mile that stretched along the beach to the marina where they had boarded the Sea Lord was lit with slightly futuristic looking lanterns and neon signs. Even at this early hour, the discos and bars were still open, and the soft music could be heard all the way to the water's edge, melding with the gentle sound of the ocean. The few revelers on the boardwalk, so close to sunrise, took no notice of the TRAP agents in their soaked clothes. In the distance, they could see the lights of the Sea Lord on the horizon.
Yanny had surfaced in the submarine off the coast and had to let her three comrades off, so to speak. They could not avoid swimming the last part of the way, otherwise the sub would have been in danger of running aground. The North Beach did not have a large draught over a wide area and was too shallow for a submarine anyway. At the marina, on the other hand, it would have been difficult to land the sub without attracting unwanted attention from the harbor keepers. Yanny had gone on alone, looking for a good place to hide the vehicle. There were a few secluded bays with caves that would do the trick. From there, she would simply walk ashore with the captured, mysterious-looking computer and then continue on to the nearest phone booth. Finding a phone booth was also the plan of the other three. Wordless and tired, they shuffled through the pale sand toward the boardwalk, when suddenly a white lump fell to the ground from Abigail's soaking wet dress. As she picked it up, the first rays of the new day poured over the beach.
"What's that?" asked Yuri. At first Abigail didn't know what this little lump was either, but then it suddenly dawned on her. With trembling hands, she tried to unfold Viktor Konakov's completely soaked business card. But all caution was in vain; the thin cardboard was completely softened by the salt water and fell in two pieces. The name and phone number were completely smudged and illegible. Thunderstruck, she stood staring at the sad remains of the card.
"This... this can't be..." she breathed incredulously in a hoarse voice, biting hard into her cheek. How could she have been so incredibly stupid and completely forgotten to protect the card from the water in any way before swimming?
"What's wrong?" Harry gasped, holding his aching chest again. He and Yuri had stopped and were looking at her questioningly. Abigail turned to face the sea and was blinded by the sun's rays. In the backlight, the Sea Lord was now unrecognizable. The shreds of card fell from her hands back into the sand.
"Nothing... it's nothing..." she said with a thick lump in her throat, then shuffled off to the boardwalk, her head hanging. Harry just shrugged and staggered after her. Even the daylight seemed to cause pain in his eyes now. Only Yuri looked at the horizon for a few more moments. Would he ever see Lisa again?
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"Ah shit..." he murmured softly, sighed deeply and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. Then he turned to his comrades and called out to them from behind, "Hey, you think we can send nipple to Bronko Boyz by mail too?"
The photographer readjusted his camera's lens and glanced at the flash's indicator light. Satisfied that there was enough power left in the batteries, he focused on the half-eaten body in front of him and pressed the shutter.
"How many of these incidents is that now?" he asked the officer standing next to him. Will Morgan sighed and pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket without taking his eyes off the body on the ground in front of him. It was rather unusual for him, the head of Elysium's homicide division, to go to a crime scene himself. The man with the strikingly old-fashioned monocle over his right eye was known to prefer to stay in the background. But this case had become too conspicuous, too dangerous, and too mysterious.
"The twelfth..." he finally replied, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it. "*incident* my ass... these are fucking massacres, man, just look at this shit." With that, he gestured around the subway station, where the bodies of dead passengers were strewn everywhere. "And we got nothing but these crazy rumors.... Little humanoid creatures with coal-black skin, running on all fours, suddenly appearing out of nowhere like ghosts in subway stations and start killing people. Then they disappear, faster than they came..."
"The twelfth already?" The photographer shifted his position slightly and took another picture. Morgan nodded and took a deep drag on his cigarette.
"Aye. In a very short time, and it's happening all over the city. In some cases even at the same time in places far away from each other. If the rumors are true, we've got these creatures down here in droves. I'll inform Mayor Stanford personally first thing in the morning. We need security at all stations immediately." The shutter clicked again, then the photographer paused and looked thoughtfully down the subway shaft.
"The tunnels are all connected?" He slowly lowered the camera and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Morgan nodded and exhaled a cloud of blue haze.
"I know exactly what you mean. There are plenty of places to hide, and we definitely don't have enough people to comb the whole damn tunnel system and keep the city safe at the same time." The photographer pressed his lips together, refusing to comment on the statement. The security situation in some areas of the city was already catastrophic. Suddenly, a cold shiver ran down his spine. Had something just moved in the shaft back there? Or were his eyes playing tricks on him?
The series continues with the title:
The Fruit of Darkness