Apocalypse Now Now

Free Apocalypse Now Now by Charlie Human

Book: Apocalypse Now Now by Charlie Human Read Free Book Online
Authors: Charlie Human
jagged eye has been carved into the wallpaper.
    ‘What do you know about the Eye of the Sieners?’ Schoeman asks, tapping the photograph with a thick, sausage-like finger. The word ‘Sieners’ reverberates through my mind. ‘That’s what it’s called,’ he continues. ‘The eye. It’s some Afrikaans mystical bullshit.’
    ‘I’ve never heard of it,’ I say, averting my eyes from the photograph.
    ‘Like you say, this is something that the Killer has never done before. So maybe this is a special case. Maybe he has a special relationship with Esmé.’
    ‘Stop beating around the bush,’ I say, sliding the photograph back across the table. ‘Just spit it out.’
    Schoeman smiles, baring his canines and causing his jowls to wobble. ‘Full of yourself, aren’t you?’ he says. ‘But OK, I’ll say it. I think you have something to do with Esmé’s disappearance.’
    ‘This is ridiculous,’ I say, standing up. He leans across the table, surprisingly quickly for a fat guy, and grabs my hand. With a jerk he twists it back so that pain shoots up my arm, forcing me to sit back down.
    ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I hiss through the pain. ‘That fucking hurts.’
    ‘Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re dealing with your average dull-witted cop, Baxter,’ he says, leaning in close to my face. ‘I’m going to catch the Killer and I’m not messing around.’ He lets go of my hand and leans back in his seat. ‘So I’m only going to ask you this once: anything you feel like getting off your chest?’
    ‘No,’ I say, rubbing my hand. ‘I didn’t kidnap Esmé. So why don’t you do your job and find out who did?’
    ‘Baxter?’ he says as I get up to leave.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘If you’re the Mountain Killer I’m going to find out.’
    I slip out of a side door and walk around the back to Esmé’s apartment. Judging by the grey powder on the door frame the place has already been fingerprinted. I look around for cops but the media circus out front is keeping them busy. I nudge the door open with my elbow and step inside. There’s a pang in my heart as I look through her collection of curios. Everything is pretty much the way it was when I’d last been here.
    I look carefully through her stuff but nothing is out of place. I’m about to leave when I see something sticking out fromunderneath her dresser. I get down on my knees to look at it. It’s a small skeleton. Hammy. He looks like he’s been gnawed on by some kind of animal. Jesus. I push the skeleton away with my foot and notice something else as I stand up. A strangely shaped grey tooth is poking out from beneath the rug next to the dresser. I pick it up. The one side is serrated and it’s warm to the touch. There’s something really odd about it. Out of the corner of my eye it looks like it’s glowing.
    It’s not something Esmé’s stolen. I know that because she would have told me the story of the thievery, deftly weaving the tale of the sleight of hand and misdirection that had allowed her to make off with her prize. I slip it into my pocket and then climb over the back wall of her garden and into the alleyway behind her house. I slink round the front, grab my bike and push it slowly along the canal.
    I put my hand in my pocket and feel the tooth as I walk home. It’s possible that she intentionally left it there to tell me something. But what? Alternatively it’s some kind of new calling card for the Mountain Killer, but I can’t even begin to process that. This emotionally vulnerable thing is completely new to me and, to be honest, I can’t really see the point of it. What’s the point of an internal state that makes it impossible for you to think about things rationally? Surely the opposite should apply. Surely I should be rational, clinical and lucid enough to evaluate all of the evidence objectively. But the dull ache in my chest, and the spiralling cacophony of worry that wraps itself around my head, just won’t listen

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