Pete Marley

Boxed inside a cubicle, sat a man typing slowly into his computer. A closer look would show a simple game running on the screen, rather than any actual work. Knowing this, he would promptly click away whenever anyone else in the office would hurry past, clearly unfazed by everyone else's workload.

"Hey can I have a cappuccino please?" A man peered over the cubicle opposite asked.

"Yeah of course, I was just about to do a drink run." He sat up and turned off the monitor, pausing the game beforehand. He pulled out a small notepad and scribbled down the order, summoned by the notepad, people begun to give their own coffee orders as well. Yet he seemed to handle it well enough and paced off to the break room. The life of an office intern was simple, as long as you looked busy enough then you got a positive review at the end of your internship.

It only took twenty minutes to finish the coffee orders and he was back to sitting at his desk, clicking mindlessly at the 2D snake chasing the apple.

Footsteps alerted him to click away to his excel spreadsheet, "Hey Pete, how are you? Working hard or hardly working?!" A man bent over and placed his big grin right in front of Pete's face, un-fussed by the notion of personal space. Marcus slapped his shoulder playfully and started wheezing at his awful office humour.

"Ah you know, it's a lot for me, still quite new here after all." Pete spun on his chair and said, lying effortlessly.

"Well feel free to let me know about any work extensions you might need, we want you to enjoy your time here after all." He patted Pete on the shoulder one last time and walked off.

Marcus walked off to talk to some more people around the office, and this was the cycle of Pete's day. He spent about 30 minutes working and the rest was spent looking busy, justifying this by saying "I don't get paid for this anyway."

Six o'clock came and everyone begun to leave, elevators filled and the stairs were empty as usual. Pete crammed into another 5 people in the lift and started his way back home. Walking to the bus stop he put on his headphones and waited, listening to an odd variety of music on shuffle. The bus came down the road to the tune of Ji-Woon Hak's last song, '단어 자르기'/ 'Cutting Words'. He got on his usual seat on the back left of the lower deck and begun taking a nap, reliant on his own body clock for getting off at the right stop.

And yet dulled sounds awoke him as he saw a crazed homeless man screaming as he crawled down the walkway near him. Still adjusting to being awake, Pete shifted away from the man and tried to ignore him.

"You! You have to help me! Please I swear it's after me!" He leapt at Pete's legs and sobbed, screamed and snotted, pure panic and unbridled fear marked the man's face. Pete knew he couldn't ignore him now, especially since he could see the side-eyes other passengers were giving.

"Alright alright, what do you need?" He patted the man's shoulders and gestured for him to sit down. It was all meaningless and he just kept crying into his leg, pointing at an empty space just adjacent from them now.

"I-I can't, please you have to do something! It's there!" He scurried away like an insect from a fire and crouched into the other corner. His thick grey beard absorbing the majority of fluid as he rocked there.

Then he stopped.

He looked up to the ceiling and his mouth hung open, the light in his eyes going as he did so. Pete didn't know what to do aside show his concern to this obviously troubled man. He looked down for a moment to fully turn off his music and put away his earbuds, and as soon as he looked back, he was gone.

"What the- Where did he go?" He stood up, completely lost, the other passengers were no help as they looked the other way. Turning side to side in confusion, he could only remain as he was until a strong unsanitary smell gripped his nose. Spinning to look behind him, the man was stood on the bus seats bearing a large sadistic grin. Pete jumped back out of fright into the opposite chair, locked into watching the scraggy spectacle before him.

Before he could say anything, the man reached into his dirty green jacket and pulled out a needle, worn and empty. He fixed it into his hand and pointed it up, though he wasn't looking at it, no he was looking right into Pete's eyes. It felt more than just the eyes though, it felt like he was gazing straight at the soul. Observing it. Evaluating it.

Just then he jammed the needle into his own neck, pushing all the air from the needle into his own throat. Veins and capillaries audibly burst from both attacks, only to be repeated over and over decorating his own throat with pin sized holes.

And none of it removed the smile on his face.

The body collapsed as the bus went over a bump, the silence was broken and a woman's scream brought the bus to a halt. Blood trickled down the walkway coating the souls of people's shoes, some cried, some screamed. Pete stay sat there gripping onto a pole like it was a lifeline, in absolute silence.

****

Detectives pace around a messy office, clearly being given a workload unsuitable for their numbers. Charts decorate a pinboard and grotesque images all but line them.

"What the fuck!?" One of them shouted aloud, to no one in particular. "This isn't even our department! We're not some psychiatrists, weren't detectives!" Throwing his arms to the side before pinching his eyebrows.

"Vince you know why, there too many cases that it qualifies an investigation for foul play." A soft-spoken man with a clean bald head patted his shoulder reassuringly. "I don't get it either, I don't know how the victims are supposed to link but it's our job to find something."

"Bullshit! That's all we're gonna find! The only thing linking these lot is the fact they are all dead!" Vince started slamming his hand into the headshots of the victims. Not dissuaded by this, Harry spoke up once more.

"Now now, there's something here actually. I know we joked how it feels like someone in our town drops dead every week, but…" Harry slowed down as he rooted around some papers searching for something. Vince skulked over, obviously pessimistic on this reveal. A moment later and Harry pulled out 8 papers, the basic files on each of the victims.

Arranging them on the table he begun to point at each of them, "But, they really were dying every week! Exactly 7 days apart, maybe a few hours apart here and there but still consistent mostly. People have been dying consistently every week in our town, I think I can see why they want police on this. So we have the times here, so location next? Seems logical." Harry started going through the reports and Vince reluctantly followed.