Blades of Autumn

The crisp day air of autumn, as pleasant transition into winter, disappeared as any moisture on the blades of pure green grass froze over. It seemed like a perfect night to cuddle on the couch with a book in one hand and a cup of raspberry green tea in the other. Perhaps though, that perfection was for someone else, and not meant for the man who is in desperate need of that kind of night. One glimpse out the window of his front door and he could tell, by the dim silence of the night outside something could go terribly wrong. He wasn’t sure of it yet, but something was growing in the pit of his stomach, an uncomfortable feeling of suffocation.

He flicked on the porch light before shifting his old and tired self to the sitting room, plopping himself down on the stiff yet cool couch. The old man stared down at his hands, covered in liver spots and silver hair. His skin wrinkled and folded over his bones as if no flesh remained. What a terrible sight, and yet, time is beautiful yet disastrous, and he would have it no other way. He side in content yet something was still poking through the insides of his dusty old organs.

Instead, to take his mind off of all these troubling thoughts, he grabbed for the remote and switched on the television, basking in the pixilated images yet to come. But isn’t it full of lies and propaganda, no way could any of this be informational. Yet it was distracting, and this old man was in need of a distraction but too old to find comfort in the technology of today that the younger generations find amusing and useful. He side as the cable box finally decided to turn itself on and the cheery face of an anchorwoman was released onto the television screen. It was something about a teenage boys body found washed up on the bank of the river, his limbs and head disembodied and all of his body air had been scorched. Things were simpler when the old man was young, much more younger, and even though crime was still regular, no one bothered with their creativity to deform a victim in a way that they cannot be recognized. The old man shook his head in shame.

Ding Dong! Ding Dong!

The familiar sound of the old man’s doorbell reverberated through his small two-bedroom home, which had been equipped before hand of the necessary items for survival. The old man took his time lifting himself from the stiff yellow flower patterned couch to shuffle his feet and lead his bag of bones to the door. He unlocked the dead bolt, but not after looking out the window, a safety precaution of course. A boy, nearly the same age as the boy on the television, stood before him. Almost as black as the sky with teeth as white as silver, unless someone counts the yellow from obviously smoking cigarettes, as the boy reeked of the smell and burned the old man’s nostrils.

“How may I help you, young man?” The old man asked, and he could feel his dentures begin to slip from his gums, but no worry, this should be a quick visit, not long enough to stall his time.

“I was just wondering if you could…. uh…. tell me where the nearest gas station may be, or at least, how far away it is. A friend’s car of mine…kinda broke down in the middle of the street there.” The boy spoke, pointing a finger to a black shadow erecting out of the street. Sure enough, the outline resembled the same as a car, and the old man realized he had nothing to worry about, yet whatever is in his stomach from later is growing worse with anticipation and paranoia.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you can take Robertson road left on CY and somewhere between the Wal-Mart is a gas station at the corner of the-“ but the old man had no time to finish his sentence, as a white cloth closed over his mouth, and with fear in his eyes everything instantly went black.

A woman, with curly brown hair, thrown into a messy bun, threw down a cream folder marked with a stamp saying “confidential”. Yet, her and her partner was about the rape this folder of its “confidential” secrets, for more theories behind their next case. Her partner, a man in his mid-forties, smiled up at her with coffee stained teeth as he flipped through his contacts.

“Is this the new case?” The man asked as he continued to flip back and fourth between pages, the concentration and obvious frustration leaking through his fake smile and bitter tone.

“Yeah, Duglous thought we’d be the ones to do it. Of course, this is only a missing persons case, I’m pretty sure it will be easy as pie.” The woman spoke as she opened the folder, but what she saw astounded her. The face of an old man with thin lips, a beaks nose, and eyes sharp as a hawk’s, smiled unwearyingly up at her. “What, you’ve got to be kidding me?” She cursed; skimming the page the picture was stapled to.

“What is it?” he asked, looking up from his contacts book to stare at the woman questioningly. But she just shook her head in disappointment.

“Take a look at this! It’s just an old man! Who is going to miss an old man?” The woman complained as she threw the folder to her partner’s side of the cherry wood desk. The man seemed almost as disappointed and surprised as his partner, but she was younger then he, not possessing the ability of being non-judging and kind to all aspects of the case. “How could Duglous do this to us?”

“It says his family members, a daughter and three sons, have not heard from him in a week and decided to file a missing person report. It has their names and…number here. They must live together.” The man spoke as he reached for the telephone, quickly dialing in the digits and waiting for the call to be received. He gave the woman a look as she scowled with honest distaste of the downgrade of this case.

“Awe, yes this is Investigator John Reeves, is this the home of Keeano, Naomi, Dustin, and Joshua MacMyer?” The man, John, asked into the phone. A smile crept onto his lips as if he had just been giving a satisfactory answer. “Well I had just gotten the folder of your father’s case, would you please come speak to us here at the Downtown City’s Criminal Investigation Hall. You will? Thank you very much.”
“What?” The woman asked as the man gave her a look of triumph, his lips curling into an almost sinister smirk.

“Well, Debra, I find you might like this case. The family will be here in an hour and a half. Lets take a lunch break.”

***
The young girl, barely above 25, entered in first through the lobby of DCCIH, the warmth in here a big contrast to the crisp cold of autumn. Her three brothers followed in suit, clad in almost the same as their sister, with black winter or trench coats and striped scarves. Each of them had a look of worry and concern, the young woman though, sharing familiar bags under her bright blue eyes much like her brother, Dustin.

“I can’t believe he is missing. The old man always checks in with us. God I’m freaking out.” Dustin kept whispering over and over again under his breath, like a broken record, old and dusty. Naomi was thinking the same over and over in her head, so she couldn’t really complain all that much, yet the verbal aspect of her brother’s concern was a bit unflattering, especially now that they were upon public eyes.

“What can I help you three with?” A rather happy secretary spoke, sitting behind an oval dark brown desk with black cat eyeglasses hiding sapphire blue eyes. Her hair was a dark chocolate brown, and by the looks of her, she seemed a very petite and fragile woman.

“We are here for questioning.” Naomi asked quietly, leaning against the desk, the black bangles on her arms jingling as her palms made short contact with the desk. It frightened the lady a bit with the sudden harshness of Naomi’s movements but the stress of this situation had taken a vital toll on the young girls mental health.

“Your last names.” The woman demanded as she posed herself in front of her silver laptop computer. Naomi smiled sickeningly sweet and nodded.

“MacMyer.” Naomi answered, looking over her shoulder briefly the catch the distant gazes of her three older brothers. They were all tired and worried about their poor father, and all the scenarios that could lead to the answer.

“Alright, I’ll let Carry take over and I’ll lead the way.” The secretary spoke, leaving her post and walking around the desk to shake their hands and introduce herself as Miss Destry, then preceded to take the three worried family members to the back room for questioning.

The old man opened his eyes, one slowly after the other to take in his blurred surroundings. A light shined down upon him, and for the briefest of seconds he almost wondered if he had died, but when a shadow loomed over him he knew he couldn’t be dead, other wise his vision would have come back, maybe would have never been blurry in the first place.

“Wake up, old timer.” A deep voice spoke and was particularly familiar to him, and then it all shattered. It was the boy standing on his doorstep, asking him where the nearest gas station was located. And realization began to sink it, slowly like poison but surely as death. They were going to kill him, end his worn out life before the hands of nature could grasp and take his life away.

“What…. what do you want with me?” The old man barely managed to speak, his voice groggy and weak as fear began to ebb into his stomach, weaving itself around his heart like a spider cocooning their victim in its silk.

“You don’t remember old man? That’s a shame.” The kid spoke, leaning into him, his breath smelling like the rotting remains of a carcass once after being feasted on. It made the old man gag, but he contained his frightened composer. Just give them what they want, the old man though in his mind as the kid sniggered at the obvious confusion written all over the old man’s face.

“You most likely lived in a time where prejudice seemed like the way to go, born and raised into a family who believes we aren’t deserving enough!” The kid shouted, pointing at himself in exaggeration. The old man shook his head in disbelief, and the kid backhanded him, breaking the poor man’s fragile nose. He screamed in agony, but the pain became a dull throbbing sensation and it hurt to breathe through his nose.

“You scowled and talked behind our backs for doing volunteer work at the senior center. Everyone did it, and each of those people got what they deserve. You were the last one to leave the building, old man! And you are not going to get away with what you did!” The kid yelled sharply, his voice ringing in his mind, rattling the thoughts of fear. The old man began to cry tears that reeked with the pleas of forgiveness, but these kids, both of them, weren’t going to be forgiving.

“It’s time this world learned that we have a place too!” The kid screamed, picking up a polished wooden bat and, as quickly as one could blink, swung the bat towards the old man’s head. Everything went black once again.

“What does your father do for hobbies?” Debra asked, looking expectantly into Naomi’s eyes. Naomi smiled and shrugged, thinking of all the things her father loved to do in his spare time. He never did much work any way, he had arthritis in his knuckles and is wrists from working in the oil field for more then half his adult life.

“He use to go to the senior center every Sunday to play poker or bingo with other seniors.” Naomi answered; smiling at all the times he use to call her in the middle of the night, happy that he won a bingo game or a poker game. The fact that that may never happen again was enough to make the moon cry tears, as it clenched at her heart, squeezing harder each time her heart tried to beat.

“What was the senior center like?” Debra asked after she scribbled down what Naomi had said.
“It was at the old fire station on the west side of town. They had no real working people there, usually some kids doing in volunteer work there. Those kids who get caught and get a second chance.” Naomi spoke, folding her arms on the table and resting her forehead against them. All of this was giving her the worst hangover headache in her life, making her groggy and irritable.

“Have you seen these kids?” Debra asked, her face contorting in a look of concern and recognition. Naomi looked at her strangely for a moment before speaking;

“Yeah, the last time I dropped him off at the senior center, the last time he went, I saw one of them standing outside with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He looked pretty pissed off, especially when my father waved hello to him. A friendly old man and the kid gave him shit for it.” Naomi spoke, scowling at the memory as it drifted through the current of her mind. Debra’s eyebrows furrowed a bit as she took notes on Naomi’s words, then flipped the spiral notebook shut and nodded her head to herself.

“It seems we’ve got our satisfactory answer from you. Um, do you mind me asking one more?” Naomi shrugged, “Have you tried going to your father’s home to search for him there?”

“We live out of town. We dropped by, but we don’t have a key to get in the house.” Naomi explained and Debra nodded her head once again, reopening the notebook and jotting notes down. Debra, without another word to Naomi, stood up from the metal chair and strode over to the door, opening it quickly and leaving the room.

***
“So what your saying is he probably had a heart attack, is locked up in his home, and they haven’t any theories? Of course, I heard from Brianne and Brent that a lady of eighty was found stuffed underneath her bed in one of the CY Motel rooms. She was beaten with a bat multiple times to the head, her family members were able to identify her through her clothing but her face was almost unrecognizable. Her son spoke that she went with her sister to the senior center as well.” John said, sneaking a quick glance at Bri and Brent’s cubical, their faces dug deep in their notes from their interviewees.

Debra gasped, “When I was interviewing Joshua, he said that his father spoke a lot about prejudice comments from the elders who were raised that way, and that he’s been caught in a lot of those bickers and even threatened by a couple of those kids. The cops were never called though; it didn’t seem very serious at the time, at least to them.”

“We need a warrant to search the man’s house, at least to see if he is still there.” John said, lifting himself, the notes, and his large cup of coffee from Debra’s desk before disappearing into the elevator hall.

The night shriveled up as the dawn set flames to the moon’s reign. Eventually the stars disappeared behind clouds of fading orange, pink, and blue that was eaten up by the sun’s delicious rays. Evidently, the sound of an engine dying out after parking an investigator’s Cruiser, cut the silence of the coming frosty, Autumn morning. The door opened to reveal neatly and newly polished business shoes and tan brown khakis pants. John appeared just as a cop car strolled up and parked behind his Cruiser, and also exited his car. Debra was already waiting on the porch by the time the two men had successfully made fools of themselves, with their Reno 911 sunglasses and cocky appearance. It made the air of tension relax.

“It doesn’t seem he’s here.” Debra spoke her observation as John knocked casually on the front door of the old man’s house. No body answered, as they guessed, and the policeman kicked the door down with one swift kick.

As John entered first, with the other two in tow, he noticed the smell first. He identified the stench of death, as it prickled all their noses. It became stronger as they lead themselves through the empty and dark living room, closer down the long narrow hallway. John opened doors, guest bedrooms that belonged to his kids once when they lived here. The last bedroom the stench seemed to roll from underneath the door, they lifted a case and took out three paper facemasks to help prevent the smell from making them gag.

John opened the door, revealing a large pool of blood from underneath the bed, and immediately they were face to face with what they feared.

“Are you sure they won’t speak about our involvement?” Joshua said as Dustin pulled his small red car into the empty parking lot, abandoned, underneath the interstate bridge.

“Those black kids just want some money for drugs, I’m sure this wad of cash with keep them quiet.” Dustin said as he parked beside a large black van, and then the doors slid open to reveal the murderers.

Naomi gulped before hiding herself under the blanket in the back seat, preventing her involvement even in the cash exchange. She didn’t want anything to do with this, she absolutely felt disgusting for fathoming the amount of money coming in from their father’s social security and life insurance, the main motive to this horrible operation. She’d been crying ever since they agreed to pretend the best they can while they were under the public’s watchful eye. No body suspected them, but Dustin didn’t want to take any chances that they might.

“Where’s the money?” The kid asked, and Dustin smirked with a large amount of confidence and handed the kid the hush money.

“You remember the conditions, you speak, and you’ll regret.”

“Why couldn’t you ask those friends of yours do it?”

“Simple, we’re white.”