#4 in aimtoengage
#64 in Fantasy.. Want to get a collection of stories in all genres, of varied tasted and interests? Here are the yarns of stories I weave... A unique collection of 500 words one-shots of different tastes for the #aimtoengage conte...
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"Officer Devin?" the unsure voice on the other end rang out.
"Delancy Devin here," I mumbled, still staring at the ghastly sight in front of my eyes.
The metallic taste of blood and the coldness of death seemed to be hanging in the air, creating a miasma of mystery and tension.
Mutilated, bleeding bodies lay on the road ahead, men, women, all silenced to the earth. No one knows who did that? Was it was pickup van? A truck? Which kind of monster vehicle could crush such a huge number of people to death and escape without being caught?
"Are you at Highway 407?" the raspy voice from the other end asked.
"Yes and I'm very busy," I snapped. "So if you have nothing worthwhile to tell me, then please let me go about my work."
"So impatient? Keep cool detective. I may help you," the mysterious voice chuckled.
Unknowingly I shivered.
"Your silence says you want to hear," the voice continued. "These people weren't killed on the road here."
"So many people in the road won't be there at an wee hour. I know that," I said coolly. "If you were an eye witness, you could perhaps tell me what hit them."
"A truck passed by this morning..."
"Did you see the number?"
"The truck didn't hit them..."
"Then why are you telling me?"
"The truck unloaded them and one man in black overalls effectively arranged the bodies to look like it was an accident."
I stopped my pacing immediately and froze on spot.
"And how do you know that?" I enquired.
"Let's just say I was there. Now do you want me to go on?"
There was an edge of a threat in the voice.
"Please," I requested wearily.
"So these people were brought dead and the truck belongs to Ralph Peters of Robinson Street. He doesn't know it though. They are victims of mass genocide..."
"Genocide?" I couldn't keep the shock out of my voice. "
"Well, it was an accident, albeit unreported. Grindola's Steel has their factory at about five kilometres from the site. There was some technical glitch and these workers got caught in the machinery. The owner didn't want to get caught in the charges of negligence and actually tried to create a fake accident. I bet you have enough clues to proceed further."
I gulped, unsure," I think so. But who are you? And how do you know about the factory? Were you there too? Why didn't you inform the police? Were you a part of the plan too?"
" I'm Patience Mwansa."
The call disconnected abruptly. But before I could call her back, Officer Burley rushed towards me his face red.
"The list of the identified bodies Ma'am," he thrust a paper into my hand.
Unmindfully I looked at it and my eye got glued to one particular name.
PATIENCE MWANSA
Whom did I talk to just now?
My knees started to shake as I stared ahead at the foggy road to the end.
