The Great Game

I looked back to the officer. “Are you connected to your base?”

He went vacant for a moment, and then nodded. “Yep.”

“Try calling DSP, will you?”

“Sure.” Then a moment later, he frowned. “They’re off-line.”

That was definitely screwy. This whole thing made no sense. At least we weren’t being jammed, but even so, we needed to play it safe. I’d seen more than enough bodies for one day.

I nodded confidently – or tried to, at least. “We need to establish a defensive perimeter and prepare for possible attack.”

The guy blinked. “Attack?”

“Better make it at least 30 feet from this spot in both directions. Guns out and ready. Have the men warn off anyone approaching, particularly tall, chunky guys. If someone keeps coming, or reaches for a weapon, open fire.”

There must have been something in my voice. The officer grimaced, and said “Sure. What about windows and rooftops?”

I looked around. We were overlooked by scores of windows up and down the alley, and at least five different roofs. “We’ll just have to keep alert.”

“I hear you.” He started organising the rest of the squad. I heard one or two grumbles, but clearly they were all unnerved enough to take me seriously.

I bent down to have a closer look at the thing while the locals dug in. Like the guy had said, it appeared to be two separate people. One was Twisted Hallet. His flesh and bones had deformed away from his body, as if some sort of irresistible pull was tugging him towards – into – the second corpse. His clothes had just burst out of the way. The molten flesh looked the same colour and consistency as usual. I tried prodding it, and it was hard, like plastic. So was the rest of Hallet’s corpse.

From the bits I could see, the other body appeared to be clothed. The Hallet material engulfed much of it, but it seemed to be a male, average sort of height and build. He still felt fleshy, and although he was cooling, he was still warmer than Twisted Hallet. There was a fairly thin tendril at the edge of one of the engulfing spurs. I gave it an experimental tug, and then a hard yank, and then pulled out my pistol and thumped it with the butt. The tendril finally shattered. I picked up the bits in my handkerchief, and folded them away.

“Mr. Taylor.”

I looked up at the officer, who was nibbling his lip. “Yes?”

“You have to get back to DSP, sir. Urgently. There’s been an explosion.”

I stared at him.

“They told me you needed to hurry. I don’t have any details. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. An explosion. My head felt like it was stuffed with sand. “What about this mess?”

“Someone is sending a team to collect it.”

“I see.”

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Today’s photo is Rooftop by hands out yo pockets!