After Life

Timely

DETECTIVE CALEB DOUGLAS

"Understood. Signing off."

Phew.

Two hours and thirty minutes later – I take a peek at my watch to be sure – and The Chief has finally decided we've had enough of him. An extensive vocabulary of expletives, the overplayed tale of the millions invested to create this elite task force, and our utter failure to neutralize a siege provided him with just enough ammo to cuss us the fuck out.

"Honestly, I thought the call would've been longer. Think him did done or him jus' tired?" 12D's characteristic comedy is met with the usual laughter, but not by everyone this time. Though all faces are concealed, it's evident that no sound is coming from the other side of the room.

"Where are you on finding out who killed 11T and 14G?" The voice is rigid with aggression as 4R looks around the room at the two empty spots where 11T and 14G should have been.

"Not far," I tell them, forcing the image from my mind of their bullet-torn bodies sprawled across the veranda of a country home. "They were executed. I could tell that much. Whoever attacked the house was obviously heavily armed but marginally skilled. I have some idea of where to look. For now, leave it to me. Filter out."

With that, they each leave the room at 10-minute intervals, disappearing through various passageways out of the old warehouse to avoid being tracked. Though we are a highly skilled and efficient unit, no one actually knows the person they're next to, for security reasons. That has its downsides though. Because we only know each other by numbers combined with the initials of whichever Member of Parliament recommended us to the unit, we are unable to properly mourn our losses. All we see are just two empty chairs waiting to be filled. Instead of sadness, there's just emptiness and instead of anger, we feel insulted that they were killed so easily.

"That was tense," Walter said, removing her mask as the heavy metal door slams shut behind us. We're the only ones left here now as she lets out a loud sigh and throws her head back in the chair. At least she and I know each other, contrary to the rules. "How was the funeral yesterday? I tried reaching you but... nutn."

"You ever watch someone die?" I ask her, removing my mask as the screen behind me whirs and recedes into the black wall. The absurdity in my question is apparent the moment the words leave my mouth.

"What?" She responds with appropriate disbelief.

"Of course, you have. None of us would be in this unit if we hadn't. It's just..." My thoughts are heavy on my tongue, yet Walter leans forward expectantly, knowing these are the moments I'd typically retreat into silence. She looks at me, her hands folded beneath her chin as she is propped up on her elbows, nudging me to continue.

"It's just that when someone realizes they're about to die, hope is the first thing that fades from their eyes. Then shock, then horror, then finally... fear. Fear always wins, not because it is any more powerful than all the others, but because it is simply what's left in the absence of life. When you witness that fear, it stays with you. When you witness it more than once, it haunts you. You get me?"

She nods, keeping her eyes on me while her hands organize some dockets in front of her.

"That's probably why," I continue, "though it's a month later, I still remember Sophie's body going limp in my arms as I rushed her from the house to the ambulance. I tried not to look, I really did, but when her head swung back, I glimpsed it – that fear in her eyes. That's when I knew. And yesterday," I paused, chewing on the words before I say them, "though he is very much alive, I saw that fear in Newman's eyes too. And mi jus'... I don't know."

"Caleb," Walter says sternly as the sound of heels clacking against tiles gets increasingly louder with each step towards me. "You lead this group. You know the only way we function is unless we hold firmly to our creed. You preach it as often as you can. You need to remember it. Now."