Dickory

The Clock Struck Six

Connor stepped out of the car, hazel eyes blinking as he took in the large barn-like structure. He'd never been to a battery farm before. He breathed in slowly, analysing the stale, decaying air. There was a lot of bird faeces and a certain amount of decomposition lingering in the area. He believed a human would find the aroma unpleasant. The thought was soon confirmed as Hank exited the car to join him. His face was a picture of disgust as he wrinkled his nose and raised an arm over his face.

"Jesus Christ!" he cursed with a cough, though he knew he'd get used to the smell in a few minutes. He was almost envious of Connor and his android senses. So far, androids didn't smell the same way humans did. Even if they were given the ability, it was likely that Kamski would fit them with the option of turning it on and off. Colin was already waiting by the open barn door. The barn itself seemed empty from the outside. The chickens were either caged up or running loose as workers tried to wrangle them. They looked terrible. Patches of feathers were missing on many, the skin beneath swollen, sore, and unhealthy. Their wings were crooked and misshapen from constant crowding and lack of use. The feathers of their wings were kept short, so they couldn't even try to fly anyway. Connor reflected that it was cruel. However, the poor treatment chickens weren't the reason they'd been invited.

"Lieutenant Anderson, Detective. Good of you to join us," Perkins greeted as he waited by the entrance. He was wearing a set of blue surgical gloves, and he'd clearly been inside. His expensive looking shoes were caked in feathers and white excrement from the captive birds. Connor greeted him politely while Hank did his best to hold back his amusement at Perkins' shoes being covered in shit. His own would soon be no better, but his were also nowhere near as expensive. Hank had no idea why he'd agreed to come along, but he may as well take a look since he'd driven all the way there.

"What have you got this time?" he asked curiously as he looked inside the darkened barn. There were lights, but they were really old and dim. Poor chickens were probably blinded when the door opened...This is why I only buy free range. Hank took in the dilapidated state of the barn. The chickens had been kept in one big open area with barely enough space to move by the looks of it. There must have been at least two inches of matted feathers and shit on the hay strewn floor. Connor stepped inside without a second thought, wading across the filth to the small figure lying on the ground.

"Like many of the previous copycat victims, this young woman was killed with a high dose of tranquilliser before being placed here. She was dropped off sometime during the night. When workers arrived this morning, they found the barn doors open and the body inside. The killer left enough feed scattered outside that the chickens largely ignored the victim's body...He also left a sizable amount of feed within this clock," Colin explained as he led Hank over to what he'd assumed to be a long trough. In reality, it was a broken grandfather clock. The door had been ripped off, and the innards filled with birdseed. The face of the clock had been wound to show six o'clock. Certainly seems to carry on from the last verse...Hank recalled Connor telling him about body number five.

"What's the verse this time?" he asked as they stepped away from the clock. The clock itself was likely just a side piece, something symbolic but not overly telling. It was there simply because it needed to be to keep the Hickory Killer theme consistent. Hank watched Colin's LED blink yellow as he opened the sound file. Hank cringed as Colin began to speak with the sing-song voice of the distorted child recording.

"Hickory Dickory Dock, The hens pecked at the clock, The clock struck six, Oh, fiddle-sticks! Hickory Dickory Dock, Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock," Colin recited eerily, which explained the grain in the clock. There was no other way the killer would get the hens to peck at the wood. Without Reed there to fill in the blanks, they couldn't say for sure what had happened last time. Hank remembered vaguely that a body had been found inside a beat-up old clock, but besides that he was uncertain. Something about...chicken heads in the victim's throat? And I think...she got pecked?