With Civil Hearts and Hands: A DHB Story

Chapter 5: Traces

The warehouse loomed large and dark in the cold morning air. Connor climbed out of the car, dressed in civilian clothes rather than his usual work attire. Hank climbed out behind him, similarly dressed. This was one of several warehouses they'd scoped out from a distance earlier in the week as potential trafficking sites, and none so far had shown signs of movement or occupation, and their methodical searching of previous ones had turned up nothing.

As they approached, Connor noticed relatively fresh tire tracks around the back of the building. Signs of recent activity? Exchanging a quick glance with Hank, he pulled out his gun, pointing it downward as he took position at the side of the door. Hank did likewise then pushed the open, carefully stepping inside as he raised a flashlight.

"Clear." He muttered the word, stepping into the dim building.

Connor followed close behind, scanning carefully as he cast his eyes about the room. Along the door frame, he found several sets of overlapping fingerprints, too smudged to scan properly. Fresh scuffs marred the dust on the floor, and among them, Connor saw at least three distinct pairs of large footprints, likely adult male based on the size of the prints and length of the strides.

As he moved toward the center, Connor's scanner picked up traces of dried thirium. He crouched down, analyzing. The traces were too dry to properly sample.

"See anything?" Hank spoke softly, shattering the stillness of the abandoned warehouse.

Connor nodded, then relayed what he'd found. "Thirium traces, relatively fresh. They appear to be from within the last 72 hours, but too dried to sample." He stood, stepping back, careful to avoid ruining intact footprints. "There were at least three adult males here, based on the footprints."

Connor moved toward a far wall. As he drew close, he saw something glinting in the light from Hank's flashlight. On closer inspection, he realized it was a phone. The screen was cracked and the body heavily damaged, but the interior components appeared to be relatively intact. More scuffs lay in the dirt, along with several long streaks, like something had been dragged. Connor scanned again, and more traces of thirium lit up. A bleeding android had been dragged. Connor turned his head, and he saw several more trails, all leading toward a door at the back of the warehouse.

Something dark flickered inside him as he followed the trails. He stared down the closed door, for a moment not wanting to open it. It loomed up, the handle and frame stained with thirium, both old and new traces.

"What is it?" Hank spoke from beside him, startling Connor. He hadn't heard the older man approach.

Connor mentally shook himself. "The thirium trail. It leads here." Steeling himself, Connor reached out to grasp the door handle and pushed the door open.

At first, Connor couldn't see anything. He stepped in, then felt his foot knock into something. Connor bent down to pick up a dirty, white object. As he turned it over in his hands, he realized it was a head. An android head, heavily damaged and stripped of its vital biocomponents. Connor's scanner activated, shifting to night vision, and as he cast his eyes around, his thirium pump stuttered, a dark, burning sensation flickering to life in his chest.

Limbs, torsos, heads. Piles of discarded limbs and body parts filled the corners of the room. The floor and walls were stained with thirium, enough of it that parts were still sticky with it despite how long it had been since the blue blood was spilled.

He heard a scuff behind him, alerting him to Hank entering the room.

"Aw, shit." The old man's voice was hoarse as he took in the sight. "Those bastards."

Connor looked down at the head in his hands, scanning it. Several cracks and scratches marred the surface, and the central processing unit had been utterly destroyed. There would be no reviving this android. Despite the damage, the serial number was still readable. It belonged to a WR400. Annie.