Hard Times in Black Creek

I had been years since I was in this part of town. Run down and forgotten. Barely standing in the distance, the old paper mill where my father spent 40 years of his life. To be perfectly honest, I forgot this place existed. Rarely patrolled and used as a dumping ground, Black Creek was hardly the warm community it once was.

Homeless standing over barrels of fire covered every corner. Spray painted buildings displayed violent gang art. A way of letting people know who ran that block. I never saw a lot of people, if my supervisor had asked me who the king pin down here was, I would have said “a mangy dog, and a malnourished cat.”

The pollution from derelict plants still lingered in the air. The place was retched and cold. When the plants closed and the work dried up, people turned on each other. The violence escalated too quickly. There was nothing we could have done.

It was abandoned, and forgotten.

I drank the remainder of my Jack Daniels, lit a cigarette, and locked the car.

A voice came over my radio, “Jacobs, you there yet?”

“No,” I mumbled “check back in ten more minutes, I’m having a look around.”

I lied to my boss, as I always did. I couldn’t locate the body. At least, not where the initial report said it was. All I could see through the wiry gate was old clothing, furniture, beds and lights in abundance, but no body. Only thing to do was enter this place and look around.

I needed help. I needed my partner. “Bring Reynolds to the scene, I need his eyes,” I text back to base.

By the time Reynolds arrived, I located the body.

Twenty seven, she was far too young. Hands zip tied like all the rest. Her lifeless body was nearly swimming in a pool of rusty water. It went against every instinct I had to not move her, and wrap her up in a warm blanket. Let the woman pass with some fucking dignity.

I had been doing this for 20 years, and for whatever reason this body set me off. I couldn’t take the death, the lies, the system working more for the criminal than the ones who help the victims. I checked my pockets for my flask, seems I left it in the glove box.

“It’s too fucked.” I said to Reynolds.

He put his pen away, and looked at me oddly. “What is?”

“All of this. I can’t take it. I can’t fucking take it.”

I swept my coat to the side, removing my side arm. Before I could raise it, Reynolds was all over me. I struggled and struggled, how was this man so strong? Everything I did made him tighten his grip. The man was just shy of 5’7 but had ox-like strength.

“Calm down, Jacobs!” He raged.

“Get off of me, I need this! I need this!”

Reynolds grabbed his radio, “get the needle, get the needle! For fucks sake give me the needle, now!”

Who was he talking to? I fell to the ground, completely devoid of energy.

When I opened my eyes, all I saw were 4 piercingly white walls and a padded door. Reynolds was looking at me through the inch thick glass viewing panel set in the door.

Pressing his finger on the intercom, “we will try again tomorrow, Jacobs.” He said.

A woman walked up to him, I read her lips.

“Any progress, Dr. Reynolds?”

“No, we can’t get him passed seeing his daughter.”

via Daily Prompt: Zip

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