Birds chirped as they flew across Vernis, a town known for its parks and good weather. They eventually chose to settle on a building near the central park.
It had the look of a courthouse. Stairs leading up to chiseled pillars of stone, an arched front shielding the masses from the heavy rain and wide, transparent doors. Dozens of people rushed to the police station, either for cover from the sudden downpour, or to report acts of injustice.
Elyas drew stares from the passerby. His plain gray shirt and brown vest, an odd choice for the last chilly days of fall. But most of the attention came from the unconscious man he dragged by the collar in one hand, while carrying coffee in the other.
Ignoring the stares, he quickened his pace and after reaching the end of the hall, turned left and disappeared from sight.
…
A door silently opened and shut. A few officers glanced up, some smiled as they recognized the familiar face. But more knitted their brows, shaking their heads in disapproval.
"What brings you here, "old friend?" Joshua said with a grin as he got up from his desk. His twin brother, with the same sharp face and serious expression added, "Don't mind my brother's jokes, if you can even call them that." Ralf said as he walked to greet Elyas.
He added, "But seriously, did you have to make a scene out there? If it wasn't for the fact that I know you, I would have thought you were the criminal!"
Elyas chuckled. "Evidently, bad jokes run in your family."
Both hugged and exchanged a few quick pleasantries. Something behind Ralf's shoulder pulled at his feet, an officer lying on the floor. No, not lying, dragging himself forward.
One of his arms was gone, the other stretched toward Elyas, fingers trembling as they clawed uselessly against the floor. A wet trail followed behind him, thick and dark. Elyas's gaze snapped to the walls.
Blood.
Not splattered, but layered as if it had been thrown again and again until it stuck. Bodies slumped beneath it, torn open, half-eaten. One hung from the collapsed edge of the ceiling, its weight bending exposed beams. Above, the night sky gaped through the ruin, seven moons staring down like witnesses.
The crawling officer got closer, gripping Elyas's shin. The touch felt warm, and wet. Elyas closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as seconds stretched thin. Slowly, the hand on his leg pulled away. Elyas waited, and waited some more. But finally, he opened his eyes.
The bodies were gone. The roof once again whole and pristine, the dead officers, were now chatting or bickering with their colleagues. There was no crack or trace of blood anywhere. Ralf gave Elyas a strange look. "What are you looking at?" A slight scowl appeared on Elyas's face as he examined Ralf for a moment.
"Nothing." He said as he set down his coffee, reached into his pocket and gave Ralf his reports.
"By the way, thanks for helping with the case. We wouldn't have found his hideout if it wasn't for you. Although I didn't expect less from our chief." Ralf said with a smile as he took in the documents, placing empty forms in front of Elyas in return.
Josh rolled his eyes.
"So, what's new with you guys? I've started reading recently. It's fun." Elyas said, trying to spark up a conversation.
Joshua snorted. "You? Reading books? Last time you were here you acted like paper gave you allergies."
"Josh," his brother Ralf warned, glaring. "You want extra shifts again for mouthing off to coworkers?"
Joshua gasped, flailing his arms around as he spoke, "Oh come on Ralf! You're supposed to take my side! And he doesn't even work here anymore, remember? He's a private detective now."
Elyas turned back with a sigh, distancing himself from the fight and heading towards the door. "I need to pick up Michael. You two can keep arguing."
As he reached for the handle, Ralf called out. "Leaving already? What about the paperwork for sleeping beauty?" He said, pointing to the unconscious criminal.
Elyas smirked. "Your brother looked bored, Thought half an hour of forms might fix that."
Ralf's laughter followed him as the door closed.
…
RING! RING! RING!
The golden afternoon sun pierced the black clouds as the school bell reverberated across the street. Children rushed out like water bursting from a dam. In a car parked nearby, Elyas waited, sipping from his cup of coffee and listening to the radio.
The static was deafening. He flicked through the radio channels, but each one just seemed to amplify the noise. It felt like someone was ringing a bell inside his skull, a persistent, aching echo. He slammed the dial to one last station and finally, a break in the noise.
"Breaking news," said the announcer. "The infamous vandalism group known as "The Reverend" have returned, burning down an entire mall and… what? Really?!"
The announcer coughed a few times before continuing "Our sources have informed us that today, a member of their group was captured with the help of an unidentified detective. Stay tuned, our reporters are currently on their way to the scene. Local authorities have also issued a statement regarding the matter, condemning the criminals and calling them domestic terrorists—"
A soft knock on the window cut through the broadcast. Elyas turned it off and looked up. A boy with bright blue eyes and messy dark hair peered in.
"Dad, the door's locked."
Elyas's expression melted into warmth. He unlocked the door. "Hop in buddy. We've got places to be." Elyas started the engine as Michael climbed in, swinging his small legs as he watched the houses pass by from the window.
The boy was straining his neck to get a peek of the outside. Due to his small stature, Michael didn't have the luxury of watching the view without effort. Watching his son wriggle in his seat never got old.
"So," Elyas asked, "how was school? Weren't you supposed to get your test results today?"
"Yup. Out of ten tests, I got four B's and six A's."said the boy, trying hard not to sound like he was bragging. Elyas grinned. "That's my boy! To celebrate, we're eating out. Where to?" Michael's answer came instantly: "Burger."
"You want a burger?" Elyas sighed dramatically. "You know it's not good for you… but since you've been a good student we'll make an exception."
"Yes! Thanks dad!" Michael hesitated for a bit before adding, "Can I get a toy too?"
"Alright. We get both. But not one of those greasy fast-food chains, their quality's trash, and if I recall correctly, one just got hit by another vandalism group. Apparently destroying public safety is a popular pastime now." He muttered that last part under his breath as he turned the car left.
…
That night, at nine o'clock, the Mortalle household glowed softly under the porch light. The static of the TV hummed throughout the entire home.
Inside, Elyas and Michael sat across from each other at a round wooden table. Two empty chairs waiting silently beside them.
They stared at the clock, waiting. Just as Michael lifted one of the fries his father had cooked, the doorbell rang. Elyas hurried to the door and opened it.
There was an elderly man with a face full of deep lines and a woman whose soft smile seemed untouched by age. "Oh honey, how have you been?" the old lady said with a warm smile. "Hey." said the elderly man.
"Hi mom. Hi dad. Come in, it's cold outside." Elyas said, motioning them inside.
As they walked towards the dining room. Elyas turned to the small boy, "Michael, could you turn off the TV? It's been playing static all day."
Michael gave him a confused look, but went to the living room anyway. Dinner began in pleasant silence. The rich aroma of food filled the air, punctuated only by the sound of forks and laughter.
Midway through the meal, his father asked, "So son, how's work? We haven't heard from you since last christmas."
Martha chuckled, "Oh dear," she said, waving off her husband, "Don't care for old Robert's cold phrasing. You should have seen your father's face when I told him you could have gone bankrupt."
Michael, in the middle of eating his burger, did a spit take, almost choking on a piece of lettuce. Elyas patted his son's back and said in response, "There's nothing to worry about. I've got some savings and I'm not that financially irresponsible." They come here every year to say the same thing. The same old conversation about his work, asking when he is going to marry, or why he doesn't visit them more often… Elyas felt like a broken record at this point.
His father spoke. "Doesn't matter. You deal with criminals. It's still a dangerous, unstable job. You told me yourself." Elyas's grip tightened around his fork as his father's words hit their mark. Every year. The same conversation. Every year, they would come here just to complain.
He was too tired for this, but they were his parents. It was natural for them to care. Elyas glanced at his son, his hand clenching the fork lessening in the process. He would do the same as them.
Martha nodded, "Yes! You know how worried we were? It's only been a year since you adopted Michael, you could've at least let us ease the burden of dealing with him." She said, pointing at the boy. Michael's chewing slowed down, Elyas's jaw tightened as he saw his son's reaction. He had heard enough for this year.
"My son isn't a burden." he stated sharply as he put away his utensils. The table fell silent for a moment before his mother hurriedly tried to explain herself, "Honey it has nothing to do with you adopting Michael—" Elyas cut in.
"Stop." He raised his voice, watching his own mother and son flinch in response. Michael squirmed in his chair, his grandpa frowning as he observed everything from the side.
Suddenly Robert got up, gesturing for his wife to do the same. "Come on Martha, let's go." Elyas avoided her mother's hurt expression. He didn't stop them though, letting them leave without saying another word. He remained seated, staring at his still warm steak. Listening.
Only the loud bang of the house door and the sound of a car engine starting was heard, before that too, disappeared.
Michael, still uncomfortable from what had transpired, got up from the table. He pushed his plate towards his father and looked at him only once as he left. In his eyes there was… disappointment.
He left his father alone on the full dining table. Elyas picked up his fork, but what little he ate didn't have much taste after that.
He wished he made them stay, but wishes can only get you so far.