Catharsis [Novel]

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

           

            "Double poopy," I say to the chilling night air and the creepy alley (Oh good, my upbringing has kicked back in.  Just what's needed here: politeness.).

            Examining the pipe and his chest a bit closer, I surmise that the pipe was likely the cause of death here (Have I mentioned that I'm kinda smart?  At least I am with words and stuff.  I tend to read a lot, and I've picked up "big words" over the years.  It used to get me bullied until I stopped caring how the cretins of the world thought and just tuned their idiocy out.  I bring it up now as I tend to get verbose when I'm nervous.).  I can see about three inches of brownish-red metal pipe as thick as a baby's arm sticking out of his chest where a breast plate should have been.   The pipe that isn’t covered in rust is covered in thick blood, and it doesn’t appear to be a “flesh wound” (As Monty Python’s  Black Knight was apt to say – I should also mention that I’m fond of old movies.  Well, old in relation to me, anyway.).  It looks rather severe.  And lethal.

            Grabbing the edge of the hollow, protruding pipe between my thumb and forefinger, I give it a wiggle (I do my best to not make enough contact to leave any finger prints.).  It’s solid, heavy, thick, and it barely moves in the guy at all.  Although it’s very well planted, it does make a slight and disgusting, glurpy sound as I ease it back and forth.

            That answers any doubts.  It’s a real pipe in a real dead guy.  That ups my current emotional state to “fully freaked out”.

            With that thought, I decide it’s time to get out and find a policeman.  Or woman.  Or policeanybody.  This is now officially over my head, and I’m ready to turn the whole thing over to somebody else with a whole lot more experience with this than me.  Or any experience at all, really.  Right now I’ll settle for just somebody that isn't me.

            Standing up, I step back from the guy with the creepy eyes (He’s still spooky.).  It’s quite the impressive scene of gore and horror in front of me now.  Black-pooled, pupil-filled eyes.  Blood-filled mouth.  Long, gray-black, greasy hair.  Expensive dark suit with an added rusty pipe tie pin jutting from his chest.  This moment is not going on my "happy, fun-time remembrances" list, that's for sure.

            Turning from the body and heading towards the open end of the alley, I begin to jog to try and increase the distance between me and the mess of past humanity near the dumpster (I mean that was human...wasn't it?).  I slow after several yards, though, as every step closer to the mouth of civilization at the end of the alley causes me a twinge of pain.  After what I've gone through, though, this isn't the kind of pain I’m expecting.