A Jack O'Callahan Mystery: The Curious Death of Mr. Grove, Issue #5

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     Jack looked around him. He was in a war torn city. He was wearing digital patterned camouflage fatigues and ballistic combat armor. A patch on his right shoulder displayed a black raven clutching a spear, emblazoned on a field of light grey. His gloved hands cradled a Drachen K52 Combat Rifle.  His helmet was connected to his brain via neural interface, so he could think commands and his helmet would respond. The helmet’s HUD displayed his GPS location, radio channel, display mode, total ammunition capacity, the number of rounds in his rifle, a mini map and the date and time; APRL12:2031//01:21:51. He was crouched in the first floor of what he could only guess was what used to be a restaurant. The street outside was abandoned. The sounds of combat could be heard in the distance. The gun shots were a symphony of pops and cracks. Jack looked around. It was incredibly dark. He switched his HUD to night vision. His vision became clear in a varying shades of green.  A pair of helicopters roared over head. Searchlights swept the street. Jack stayed hidden against the back wall of the restaurant. The helicopters flew away after a couple of minutes. He stood, levels his rifle and moved toward the tall ceiling to floor windows at the front of the building. He crouched behind a table. He selected the scan option in his HUD. He peered out into the street looking at the skeletons of buildings. The scan convinced him that he was alone. Taking a deep breath he leveled his rifle and stepped out into the street. Even though his scan had told him there was no one in the surrounding buildings his head was still a swivel as he entered the rubble strewn street. As he came to an intersection he noticed a human form laying in the street. The body was wearing the same armor as him. He stalked over the body and crouched to get a better look. Four bullet holes were in the front and back of the armor. Blood was splattered all around the body. The smell of iron and a recently expired body filled his nostrils. He put is arm to his mouth and repressed his gag reflex. He turned the body over. A young pale face stared up at him with lifeless eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut. Shit. This trig has got to be only eighteen. he thought. He reached into the body’s collar and withdrew a pair of dog tags. He pulled on off and looked at it.

Wynter, Monty

DOB: 4/24/2014
OGS-TG-8224-60895-C-AB+

     Fuck, he would have turned eighteen in twelve days. He hung his head and closed the boys eyes. The sound of a motor echoed through the streets. His adrenaline spiked and he spun around. He ducked into a bar just as an armored car came rolling down the street. He looked out the window. The armored car had stopped just down the street and soldiers were jumping out. He counted five all together. One was giving orders to the others.

     “Spread out! I want this block secured!” The soldiers flicked on helmet lamps and began to walk up the street. One began to move towards Jack’s hiding spot. Jack slipped behind the bar and crouched out of site. He could see light front the headlamp sweep through the bar. He held his breath and clutched his rifle. The light beam passed over head and disappeared. Jack released his breath, his heart was pounding. He began to move towards the kitchen. His boot nudged a bottle which slid across the floor with a clink! He froze. The light didn't come back. He slipped into the kitchen, out the back door and into the alley. Just as he stepped outside, he saw someone turn into the alley and began to move straight towards him. He crouched behind a dumpster and drew his combat knife. The figure approached and passed him. Jack descended on the soldier wrapped his had around their mouth and pulled his blade across their throat.  There was a gurgle and blood poured from the wound. The soldier flailed against Jack’s grip. He felt blood spray onto his fingertips. The body stopped moving and Jack laid them quietly on the ground. He looked at the face. It was a young woman, she couldn’t have been older than the boy in the street. He looked down at his hands in disgust. Beads of blood dripped off the blade and onto the hot pavement. The girls neck was stained red. He wiped the blade on his pant leg and slit it back into it’s sheath. He squeezed his eyes shut.

     When his eyes reopened he was laying in his bed. The fan whirred overhead. It was just a dream. That’s in the past. Tears were in his eyes. He looked over at the clock on his bedside table; 03:41:12\\ 09-01-2043. He let out a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. 

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Issue #6: Coming Wednesday June 25th!!!!