Pouring the, now cold, rice into a bowl, Mark sat down at his wooden table and began writing the report. Mark always hated writing reports, he found it boring. However he just couldn't seem to rid his mind of that body, what had happened and why. His mind raced attempting to conjure up an idea of what might have happened. His fingers danced across his keyboard as he recalled this morning's case. His phone began to buzz. Breaking the silence of the room. Mark's hand hesitated as he reached out to grab the phone.
It was Carmen.
He answered and held the phone to his ear.
"Mark?" Carmen sounded stressed as she spoke. "You need to head down to the station now."
"Ok, I'll be down in a couple minut-" Carmen hung up the phone.
'Ok...' Mark thought to himself as he quickly scooped the remaining rice grains into his mouth and returned the bowl onto the counter.
Mark pulled up to the station. It started to rain once more, much heavier now than ever. He'd forgotten his umbrella. Opening his car door, Mark stepped out into the deluge, his shoes drown as he waded toward the station. He pushed the wooden double doors open and wandered into the station. Silence. The station was eerily silent. The noise of droplets dripping from his trench coat echoed throughout the marble-floored hallway. Turning a corner, he spotted Carmen who appeared to be waiting with her arms crossed leaned up against the door of the commissioners office.
"Come on in." She said, waving her hand in a beckoning motion, instructing mark to enter. "They have been waiting to talk to you."
Mark passed through the door and was greeted by Damien Gaw (Assistant Commissioner), Wilfred Hans (Deputy Commissioner) and Matthew Song (Commissioner).
"Hello Mark.. Tomohiro, ahh that was it, sorry I'm not great with names." Damien said as he rose, reaching his arm out for a handshake. He was a tall man, six foot at least and wore perfectly circular glasses. Mark returned the handshake and sat on the chair opposite to them.
"Thank you Carmen, you may leave now." Matthew spoke in a calm and lulling tone, before leaning on the desk and interlocking his fingers.
"So, Mark I think we should start by discussing your little 'incident' you had at the scene this morning." Matthew now spoke in a different tone, one that was much less comforting. "You see, we got a message from one of our officers on the scene.. who stated that you fell asleep on the body."
Butting in Mark says, "I fainted, I'll go see a doctor about it tommor-"
"Do not interject whilst the Commissioner is speaking detective." Wilfred Hans spoke quickly and sharply. "You will get a moment to say your piece once the time is right."
Mark apologised and encouraged Matthew to continue.
"Ok.. erm where was I? Ahh." The commissioner cleared his throat. "Now this is an incredibly bad position you are in Mark, whether you fainted or not it is very disrespectful to whoever that was."
"Wait.. excuse me for speaking sir but, you mean to tell me you still haven't uncovered who the victim was?" Mark Interjects.
"Sadly yes, the body is in such a bad condition that we may never find out who it was."
'Oh my god.' Mark thinks to himself as he leans back in the chair, touching his forehead.
"Anyway, back onto what you came here for. This is a fireable offense Mark, and I know that you understand that. However."
Mark began to lean forward, his hand returning to his side.
"I am willing to offer you a second chance."
Marks face brightened up.
Matthew continued, "Now that does mean that any small slipup will land you out the front door. I have asked for Chief Inspector Carmen Sawyer to watch over you and to report to me if anything goes awry."
"Thank you Commissioner!" A smile grows on Marks face.
"You are dismissed." Matthew says cheerfully. "Oh and don't forget to write your report on the case, don't worry you don't have to include your little accident."
Mark gets up out of his seat, the chair is wet from his coat. He waves and walks out of the office.
As he nears the exit he hears a voice.
"Hey, don't leave just yet."
It's Carmen.
"I want to show you something."
Mark pivots and says, "I'm sorry Carmen I'm really tired and need to head home and finish my report."
"Hmm.. Oh really, well I could tell the commissioner that you aren't obeying my orders, he did tell me to watch over you after all."
Mark sighs and walks back down the hallway of the station.
"Follow me." She says guiding him down into the morgue.
Descending the staircase, Mark noticed that the white marble that once covered the floor was now dirtied by mud and things he didn't want to think about. He had never been down to the morgue.
"I take it they told you." Carmen said knocking on the door of the autopsy room.
"Told me what?" Mark replied confused.
"About the fact that they haven't identified the body yet and that they don't think they ever will."
"Oh yeah.. Quite messed up don't you think?" Mark asked peering through the murky window on the door.
"Definitely... Come on how longs it taking those forensic guys?" She knocks louder this time, practically punching the door.
"Alright, alright I'm coming." A voice from within complains as Mark watches the blurred outline of someone in a white lab coat approach the door. "You seriously didn't need to knock that hard y'know, almost broke the whole door." The man was indeed wearing a lab coat and had safety goggles resting on his bushy eyebrows. "Alright, come on in you lot."
Following the scientist in, Mark's eyes landed on a horrific sight.
"What the fuck!?" Carmen averted her eyes.
Mark neared the table which the body lay on.
It was hollow. All organs and innards had been removed from the man, all that remained was his bones which held up his skin like a display at a museum.
"Hey, I had the exact same reaction when I opened him up." The scientist said as he pulled up a chair and sat by the table.
"How,, How is this possible?" Carmen stuttered as she spoke.
"Well,," The scientist began. "It's not impossible to remove these body parts." He scratched his head, seeming confused. "What is odd and should be impossible is how there were no signs of any surgical instruments used on the man. No stiches, no sign of any entry or exit of organs."
Mark just stood in silence and disgust, pondering what horrors this man had gone through.
"Have you reported this?" Carmen spoke in a shocked tone.
"Reported what?" The scientist replied, standing up and hurrying over to his notes.
"What do you think.. Maybe the fact that there's some magical shit is at play here."
The scientist turned around with a humiliating expression spreading across his face. "Your joking right?" He walked back over to the body pointing at it with his middle finger. "There is always an explanation, lets not resort to mystical means just yet. Maybe I missed something, now would you do me a favour and leave me to work... On my own?"
"Sure.." Carmen said prompting her and Mark leave the room and begin making their way back up the staircase.
Halfway up the staircase, Carmen turns to Mark asking, "What's your take on this situation, I noticed that you didn't speak in the room back there."
"I was just... confused." Mark replies, "I mean.. whoever the killer is must've had an interest in organs because, I took a look at the scientist's notes and they read, 'Judging by the lack of any marks on the inside of the mans body, I deduce that the organs were removed post mortem.' This could maybe narrow down our suspects to someone who may be an organ seller, or something of the such."
"Wow your pretty fuckin' observative." Carmen replies as they continue climbing the stairs.
Once they reach the top Mark checks his phone. '13:32.' "Oh, I should probably get lunch." He looks over to Carmen. "Do you want to ge-"
"I have a meeting starting in ten." Carmen butts in, smiling.
"Oh alright."
"Bye Mark, see you whenever I see you again."
He waves goodbye and heads out the double door entrance of the police station.
As Mark walked back to his home his mind reaches a crossroads, 'Should he head home and finish writing his report like the Commissioner asked him to or...' Mark ended up in the local 'American Diner' and found a booth seat next to the window. The seats were red with strips of white and the table was metal with a white tabletop. As Mark reached out for a menu, he noticed someone walk past and sit on the chair opposite.
"Can I help you?" Mark asked, confused on why this random man had sat in his booth.
The man remained silent.
"Mate this is my booth, there are other free ones I'm sure," Mark pointed over to a free booth. "Look, there's one. I'm sure you want privacy too."
Remaining silent the man pointed towards the menu, signalling that Mark should buy something to eat.
That's when he got the dreaded feeling again. He could feel something squirming around in his head, his brain pulsated harder now. He wanted to scream but he couldn't. Mark sunk down into his seat, head in hands. 'Why?' he thought to himself. 'Why me, what have I done?"
"You're ok." The man sitting across from him suddenly spoke, but not with his voice. It was as if the man had spoken directly using his mind. "Order something to eat and I'll explain it all to you." His voice was calm and brought an essence of serenity to Mark's mind. He reached out for the menu. Scanning it's contents, Mark eyed the 'Demo Burger'. (A double cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato and 'California Reaper Sauce'). Calling for the waiter, Mark ordered two Demo Burgers, fries and two waters.
"Are u sure sir, that is a lot of food?" The waiter said in a questioning manner.
"We'll share." Mark looked across to the man opposite him and smiled. The man smiled back. The waiter, looking even more confused now, said, "Of course sir, your food will be ready in seven minutes." And walked off to another booth.
"So..." Mark turned back to face the man opposite him, he was an old man maybe sixty or seventy. "Who are you then?"
"My name's Tom Fisher. Although that won't matter."
"Why won't it." Mark questioned.
"You'll see." Tom replied before the waiter returned with the tray of food.
'It's been seven minutes already?!' Mark thought to himself as he reached to grab his lunch.
"Tell me if you will need anything else." The waiter smiled at Mark concerningly and walked away from the table.
"Well that was quick don't you think?" Mark began devouring his burger, all he had eaten today was a bowl of plain white rice.
"I agree." Tom reached out to take the burger but hesitated before he touched it. "Sorry, to waste the food but, I'm really not hungry right now I just had lunch." Tom smiled and slouched back into his seat.
"Oh.. Alright. No worries." Mark smiled back but pondered, 'Why would he come into a diner if he already had lunch?' Confused, Mark pushed the thought to the back of his mind to just enjoy the food he had ordered for himself.
Finishing his burger, Mark looked up to see Tom, still sat in the seat as if waiting for him to finish. "So, do you live local?" Mark asked attempting to conjure up a conversation to kill the awkwardness. The man stayed silent. "What was it you wanted to explain to me? You said something like that earlier if I recall."
"You remember the body you found this morning." Tom spoke in a less comforting tone now. A sense of fear and dread washed over mark. Who was this man? Why did he know about the body? Why did he enter this diner? Was it just to meet him?
"That body you found this morning," Tom continued. "Was me."
'What'
Mark shot up out of his seat, threw twenty-five quid from his pocket onto the table and rushed out of the diner. Running down the cobbled street, Mark headed for his home, his face and turned pale in fright.
'Impossible' He thought as he ran. 'It has to be some kind of sick joke.' Mark attempted to reassure himself but couldn't, that man remained in his memory like a blood stain on a white polo shirt. Reaching his house, Mark quickly climbed the metal-black staircase and swung his door open, quickly entering his room. He took some time to catch his breath. Panting, Mark fell onto his mattress and stared up at the damp ceiling.
Two hours passed, Mark had finished his report and was ready to head back in to the station for the debriefing on the new case. Standing up from the wooden table he sent his report off to the Assistant Commissioner and flung his coat over his shoulders. As he neared the front door. The doorbell sounded. Intrigued Mark approached the door. Before he opened it, he peered through the keyhole. This was something he did most times when someone either knocked or rung his doorbell. He liked to know who he was greeting. This time however, Mark suddenly got that same feeling of dread from when he was back in the diner. He fell back. The doorbell rung again. 'How?!" Mark frantically searched around his small room. His room was split into a main room a toilet. There was nowhere to hide. Mark pulled out his phone and began to dial the police. Before he could, a noise sounded behind him. Mark turned franticly. He was no longer alone in his room. Tom Fisher, the man from the diner, the supposed dead man was stood in his room. "How-" Mark couldn't even finish his sentence before the man lifted his hand to Mark's chest and pushed him. The floor shattered around him like glass.
Mark fell. Through the floor. Through reality.
Silence.