Tales from the Triverse

The creature: part 2

Late shift
On duty: DC Yannick Clarke and DC Lola Styles

London.
1973. February.

"Feels like this is going to be one of those cases," Clarke said as they left the tram and walked the distance to the park.

"One of what cases?" They'd come straight from the morgue after the call came in. Another victim, another barely recognisable body, this time found in a park. This time it was a child. She had a tension in her belly, an urge to turn and run. Grinding her teeth together, she fought it down.

"One that keeps me up all damned day and night," Clarke said, "entirely ignoring my supposed shift pattern."

"You're sounding old, Clarke."

He glanced over at her. "I'm sounding tired, Styles. There's a difference." He took deep breath as they crossed the road. "Though I admit they do seem to go together."

The park was cordoned off already, police tape stretching across the gated entrance. There was a crowd gathered to the side, the usual mix of onlookers - concerned parents with small children in tow, business suited people on their lunch break, a couple of seemingly homeless folk pushing trolleys.

A uniformed officer named Paul met them at the entrance. "Tell us the essentials," Clarke said, as they showed the officer their badges.

"It's grim, sir," he said, his face the kind of pale that follows nausea. "Family on a day out, walking through the park and the little boy goes off to hide." He led them into the park, towards a dense cluster of trees and a group of other officers. "Sister found him not five minutes later. Poor little bastard. Sorry, sir."

"It's OK, officer," Lola said, briefly touching his arm. "We'll go check it out, make sure you keep the crowd outside the park and away from the scene."

"Yes, detective, of course." He turned and strode back towards the entrance.

"He looked like he'd lost his lunch," Clarke noted, his face hardened into a grimace.

"Glad I haven't eaten today," Lola said.

The officers standing next to the bushes nodded and one pulled a branch aside to give them easier access to whatever lay behind. Lola caught they eye of one of them. "Where's the family?"

"Down at the station," he said. "They're in a bad way, as you can imagine."

The sheltered glade on the other side of the bushes would have been a serene shelter from the rest of the city, if it wasn't for the grisly mess. What had once been a person was scattered around the leafy clearing beneath the trees. There wasn't much left this time, but what pieces remained had the same tell tale marks of acid burns as the body back in Wong's morgue.

"Fuck me," Clarke said, running the back of his sleeve across his forehead. "I didn't need to live long enough to see this shit." He took a breath. "What do you think?"

"There's only a few pieces here, other than lots of blood. Whatever's doing this, it didn't leave much."

He nodded. "Are we thinking animal, then?"

Lola crouched down next to a lump of flesh. "Same exact burn patterning, at least to my eye. We need Wong here to confirm."

"Said he'd be following right behind with his team."

It wasn't immediately evident, but Lola slowly realised that she was looking at a hand and forearm. The fingers were melted together, such that it was difficult to identify as having been a hand. "If this is an animal, it's not from around here."