By Abigail Falanga
Two multiple-homicides in a 3-block radius, and I got the one with no survivors.
Dark backroom. Dead bodies still seated around a game of poker.
Each man was a high-ranking member of the Martinez Gang. Even if I didn’t know them from run-ins or rap sheets, the distinctive neck tattoos advertised it. At least where their necks were visible. The throats of three out of the five were slit—neat, clean cuts made by someone who knew what they were doing. The other two were shot, fallen on the floor.
“Larson.” Shaw barely glanced up. He squatted near the minifridge, looking at something invisible to the naked eye. “Any of this look familiar?”
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, surveying the carnage and not wanting to admit it did. “Thought they wouldn’t let you near a case like this after your screw-up last time.”
Shaw rose, putting on the glasses that allowed him to see normally rather than at his default microscopic level, which was the superpower that made him such a good detective. “Everyone else was busy at the shooting, so I got this. My chance at a redo, right? And this is definitely the Harvester.”
I gave in. “How many does this make?”
“Fourth case in two years, that we know of. Same MO: clean slit across the neck, maybe one gunshot. Same kind of victim: shot-callers, hoods.”
“Last one was the 6th Street crew.”
“Works both sides.”
“Both sides in a turf war wouldn’t hire the same hitman.”
Shaw shrugged. “How else do you explain the similarity?”
“Retaliation.”
“Come on, Larson. You know as well as I do—they always retaliate the same way: guns. That shooting must’ve been these jerks. I’ll bet we match the ballistics from the drive-by.” He circled the table, hands in his pockets. “No. This was the Harvester. We’ll get him this time, too. We pulled a fragment of disposable glove from that chair.”
I’d seen this happen too many times. Shaw was a good man, dedicated, smart. But when someone like that gets their teeth into a case and won’t let go—whatever the evidence, whatever the bureaucratic pushback—it tears them apart.
But I had to admit his point. “Fine. We’ll go after it. But like any other case. Look at who has motive first. So, let’s talk to the 6th Street boss.”
“Barnes?” Shaw smirked. “We can’t. It was his house that got hit.”
I cursed.
A couple hours of paperwork, preliminary reports, and no better ideas brought us to the hospital where Barnes and the other victims in his house had been taken after the drive-by. The distracted tech at the ER desk sent us to the doctor who had overseen the case.
“You caught me at a good time.” She smiled, stopping in the middle of a relatively quiet corridor as if we’d dropped in for a chat. “But I’m afraid Mr. Barnes is dead. A few hours ago. Whatever it is, he can’t help you.”
“Damn,” Shaw said, heading out without waiting for more.
“Don’t mind Det. Shaw. He’s after Barnes’s lieutenant, which’ll take time.” I smiled at her. “Det. Greg Larson.”
Hard to say which was more attractive, the compassion in her rich brown eyes or the way her untidy black ponytail set off the curve of her neck.
“Dr. Teresa Socorro.”
“Veteran?” I asked, noticing the emblem on her badge.
“Combat medic.”
“So, an inner-city ER wasn’t much of a career move.”
“I try to go where I’m needed.”
“Barnes was a dirtbag, but the others didn’t deserve to be caught in his crossfire. Eight victims, right? How are the rest?”
Dr. Socorro’s jaw set. “We got there too late for Barnes’s girlfriend.”
“You were with the ambulances?”
“I ride along sometimes. The other six were children: three of Barnes’s, a cousin, and two friends. They all made it. We managed to pull them through, and they’re in recovery.”
A knot of tension released. “Thank God!”
She swallowed and blinked hard.
Shaw stormed back in, heading toward the back stairway. “Barnes’s lieutenant just left. Went down to the parking garage.”
He slammed through the exit while I was still thanking the doctor.
I was a few steps behind entering the parking garage. It was dark and almost empty, which meant voices echoed with only distant traffic for competition. Shaw had been in time. He’d cornered the thug, Shredder, between a concrete pillar and his truck.
“Told you before, man! I don’t know nothing about the Harvester.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Shaw said. “Somebody must’ve made the call to get payback for Barnes.”
“Think this is about payback?” Shredder snarled. “The Harvester doesn’t work for money, and she doesn’t play sides!”
That stopped me cold in my tracks as I edged toward them.
Shaw gasped. “She…?”
Suddenly, Shredder held a gun. Fired.
Shaw crumpled.
I pulled my gun, jumped forward, expecting another shot—
Shredder’s gun dropped. He swayed, gurgled as blood seeped from his throat.
Fell.
Behind him, Dr. Teresa Socorro stood, a combat knife in her hand and tears on her face. Her eyes met mine.
“Drop it,” I commanded, past the shock.
The knife clattered to the concrete, and she raised her hands.
“You’re the Harvester,” I whispered. “But… Why? Revenge?”
“What good would that be? Harvesting is my superpower. I discovered it on the battlefield. If I killed an enemy, I literally held their life and could give it to one of my injured brothers. I take a life; I can give a life!”
“The Martinez Gang?”
“I knew where their HQ was. I went there and killed them. I had to save those children. They would’ve died otherwise! It was only fair. Martinez orchestrated the hit.”
“There were five victims, but six children.”
“Barnes died for his son.” Teresa’s voice cracked. “He wanted to!”
Shaw groaned.
She nodded at him. “You can take me in. But first, let me use this man’s life to save your partner!”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
It was a good story and I liked. Good pace and a good twist at the end. It must have been hard to get that into 1000 words. The superpower came quick and unexpected. In a longer peice, some more explanation might be in order, but you did a good job fitting into the word limit. Good job.
Paul
Thanks, Paul!
Yes, it was a challenge to get it all in under 1000 words! There’s sooo much more detail I want to add. Maybe I’ll do a longer version sometime
Story Spinner, aka Abigail
Oooh brilliant
Thank you so much, Julie!
Story Spinner, aka Abigail
I like the set up but a couple more hints would make the twist more solid. Great story.
Thanks, Alex!
And you’re right. I tried to drop a few hints of what was really happening earlier in the story, but there’s only so much you can do with 1000 words. (And now, of course, I keep thinking of things I could add or change!)
I’m glad you still found it a great story :D
Story Spinner, aka Abigail
Great story! I was completely surprised by the unexpected. Never even suspected the doctor when it was revealed that the Harvester was a “she”, until Greg Larson saw her with a knife in her hand.
Good fun and oh so twisty! Well done.
Very cool premise granting powers to different people! I wonder if the main character has anything that helps in his line of work.
Is it bad that I don’t want her to get in trouble for using her superpower? Saving innocents by using the lives of corruption sounds like a good trade-off…
Excellent read!
gave me chills!
Amazing superpower! Nicely told story, easy to read, hard to forget.