December 2023 Short STory

     As a train roars by the large beat-down storage building on the far side of the tracks, it seemed everything shook from the vibrations, and a distinct clinking sound from inside could be heard. As Lance poured melted glass over his latest victim, he let the material take shape before dousing it with water and letting it cool to a solid. Carefully prying the glass mold off the body, he stacked it on a pallet, where several other figures were also stored. Wrapping the body with a garbage bag, he tied the ends and slowly opened the door, looking to see if anyone was nearby. Having it all clear in the dark night, he ran over to the river’s edge and dumped the whole bundle into the water. 

     Hearing a commotion from the bluff above, he quickly hid himself, watching as a flashlight sought to reveal his location.

     “I’m sure I heard a splash Nick. I’m not crazy.”

    “Yeah, haven’t you ever heard of something called fish?”

    As the railway workers got closer and closer, Lance cursed as he had left his pistol on the desk and all he had on him was a small hunting knife. Brandishing it in case they were to come around and spot him, his held his breath and it felt like his heartbeat was going a thousand times a second.

    Hearing the discussion die down and the flashlights gone, he rushed back to his hideout, and looked at a bulletin board with pinned photos of various police officers, detectives and agents. Having spent nearly a year working in the record’s department of the Ministry of National Defence, he had secretly attained the names and residences of all personnel who were involved in the failed operation to stop the January bombing. Lance’s wife was one of the hundreds killed, and he vowed to get revenge on the authorities for what he saw was gross criminal negligence when it was leaked to the media that the police already knew of the bomb plot. Putting a photo of officer Brad onto his board, he smiled as he formulated how he was going to terminate his next victim without getting caught.

    “Brad, you’re needed in the boardroom. Boss isn’t in a good mood today.”

    “Thanks Rhonda, the boss never feels good on a weekday! Hah”

    Entering the room, Brad nodded to his boss before sitting down amidst a table of law enforcement, nearly an all-men’s affair besides the two proud-looking women near the front.

    “So from what we know, this unsub is targeting law enforcement personnel; I’m taking agents, officers, and even detectives. We have yet to establish the connection between the killings other than their occupation. So I want everyone to be vigilant, and this case is taking highest priority from today onwards.”

     Driving his SUV down the highway after his shift ended, Brad suddenly noticed a car behind him that had been tailing him for almost twenty minutes. Taking a right turn to the exit leading to Coquitlam, alarm bells began ringing in his head as the black sedan turned with him. Pulling over his car on the side of the road, he took out his handgun and looked into his side mirror, and to his horror, a hooded man was walking towards him with a shotgun. Quickly grabbing his phone and opening the door, he spun around to shoot but found himself staring at nothing. With the stranger out of his sight, he ran for the trees while trying to call for backup at the same time.

    “Hello! This is Constable Miller, I’m currently on Skiff Drive off Highway One and there is an armed gunman headed my way.”

    “Sir, please stay calm, can you defend yourself with anything?”

    “I have a hand gun, but it’s really dark, I don’t think I can aim properly. Please send for backup!”

    Bhoufff! Bhouff!

    “Mister Miller, Mister Miller are you alright?”

    Lance took the open cell phone from Brad’s limp hands and he stepped on it, crushing it under his foot. Taking the dead police officer to his car, he torched the SUV, letting it burn before driving back to his hideout, where he was almost done completing his set of glass figurines made from casts over the dead law enforcement personnel. Putting the finishing touches on his latest figurine, he opened a drawer and took out two glass eyeballs which he glued to the inside of the cast, so that it could be seen from the front through the glass.

    Suddenly, hearing the blaring sirens outside, Lance started to panic realizing the dead cop must have been wearing a tracker, leading the cops to his hideout. Taking his shotgun and loading two shots into the barrels, he kicked open the doors and ran like a manic at the nearest police car, blasting the windshield before being gunned down by automatic fire from the SWAT team that surrounded the building.

    As detectives examined the hideout, they were horrified to find piece after piece of glass cased figures, which had a tremendous amount of detail imprinted on them. Glasses, teeth, noses, clothing and even hair could be seen stamped into the glass bodies, eerily showing enough detail to be identified by the detectives. More importantly, they found a manifesto booklet, detailing what and why Lance was committing his serial murders.

    On December 11th, 2020, a bomb detonated in a busy Vancouver intersection, killing 

hundreds of innocent victims, one of which was my wife Shannon. The authorities had been 

watching the bomber and monitoring him for two months, yet they did nothing to stop the 

culprit. That is why I plan on taking my revenge on law enforcement, because if my haunch is 

right, they won’t do a thing to stop me from hurting people. They need to learn that inaction 

can result in many people unnecessarily getting hurt.

    As the detectives examined the dozen or so potential victims, perhaps Lance was right, sometimes they were simply too late.

The End