Chapter 1
“Twelve victims were found…The drug has yet to be identified in the attack…” The evening news droned from the back of Peter’s corner shop. A heavy-set, middle aged man with thick glasses and thin, graying hair sat muttering behind a cash register, “this damn Country…goin’ to the dog’s I tell ya’.”
“Hmm…No fresh fish today, Pete?” said Mira from the other side of the counter. She was bent low behind a glass case, examining the small assortment of fish spread on slowly melting beds of ice. “No? Pete?”
“Huh? AH! Mira, my girl!” Pete said, breaking into his usual toothy grin. “When’d ya’ make it in?”
“I came in earlier, but you were too engrossed in the news cast to hear me. I was asking if you’ve got any fresh fish.”
“’Fraid not,” he said, running an agitated hand down the back of his neck, “my supply truck got delayed again. The government is stopping all the trucks coming in from the mountains.”
“Hmm…that’s disappointing,” she said, straightening.
Pete banged his fist against the wooden counter. “Making my life damn difficult, I tell ya’!”
The Breaking News theme caused both adults to briefly look up at the old television set in the back of the small shop. “A victim’s family speaks out…Autopsy results have been delayed…Interior Minister arrived later this evening for a briefing on…”
Pete scratched his chin for a moment. “I’ve got a few smuggled from the lake. Let me pull one from the back for ya’.”
“No, that’s fine. We’ll do something else tonight.” She gazed up at the tall shelves, raking her memory for what else she needed to buy, but after a moment of thought abandoned the attempt.
Pete hovered behind her. “So, what’d ’ya think of the news, Mira? You understand that drug stuff, don’t ‘cha? Workin’ in a lab and all…”
She handed a few worn bills to Pete, meeting his gaze with a faint smile. “I’m thinking it’s best to call it a night, Pete.”
Pete’s eyebrows rose briefly before he broke into another toothy grin. “Right you are, my girl.” He picked up the dusty remote control from under the counter, and as if to prove a point, clicked off the TV set.
Mira waved goodbye, pushing the door open. She dropped the groceries in the front basket of her bike and gazed at the newspapers hanging in front of the shop. “The New Killer on the Drug Market, Contd. on pg. 7,” read one of the headlines. Picking one up, she skimmed as she pedaled. Not long after, she folded the page and shifted all her attention to pedaling as far as possible up the long hill home before she’d be forced to dismount and push.
Halfway up the hill, it started to pour. She dismounted the bike and quickly found shelter under a partially covered alleyway. As miserable as the prospect was, she’d have to wait it out. Leaning heavily against a concrete wall, she peered up at the steep rode ahead. At this time in the early evening the neighborhood should’ve been echoing with the voices of people returning from work and children playing outside after school. However, today it was eerily quiet. The only signs of life apparent were the stray cats that pawed at her slipper clad feet and begged for food. A window high above her head cracked open. An elderly woman was pulling in her hanging laundry, which had already soaked in the rain. “Alright down there?” she said, seeing Mira huddled in the narrow alleyway below.
“I’m alright,” she said, looking up, “but it looks like your laundry isn’t.”
The woman’s answering laugh echoed in the narrow space. She waved good bye before closing the window. A ghost of a smile flitted across Mira’s tired face. This was home. A small residential suburb that sat on the edge of the city hillside. It was a concrete jungle of a place with vine coated stone walls winding between narrow neighborhoods of turn of the century city housing projects knitted between outdated shanty houses like hers. A stranger to this part of the city would easily get lost between its high walls, steep concrete stairways, and narrow alleyways. However, she’d grown accustomed to the familiarity of it all. Locals sipping their morning coffee outdoors, girls clad in uniforms gossiping their way to school, woman with heavy bags of fresh produce from the market, and old men whistling on their morning stroll. She’d lived here since she could remember.
Her dad, an extreme introvert by nature, spent most of his time reading, dusting and arranging books in the small book shop he ran down the street. Although he was her dad, Mira likened their relationship to that of a distant friendship. Her mom had left years ago when she was still a baby. Her dad never talked about the past, nor the present, nor really anything else. He wasn’t much of a talker. But though he rarely commented or asked, she knew he always listened. He’d given her a simple life, but that was okay with her. Enjoying a walk in the autumn foliage, dreaming in content on freshly washed sheets, taking the first bite of a strawberry ice cream on a hot summer day, sitting atop the stone walls watching the city from the most beautiful spot on the hillside above, these where some of the perks of living this simple life. Mira’s only present concern was how soaked her groceries had become.
It’d been ten minutes, but the rain fell without hesitation giving her no chance of running up the hill. She looked up at the quickly darkening sky, seeing no signs of an end to the storm. She couldn’t keep waiting like this, the rain could keep falling for hours. Making up her mind, she ran out under the rain. She was drenched within minutes, but it couldn’t be helped. She quickly ran, turning a corner. There were only a few more blocks left to reach her home, she sprinted across the street trying to block the rain with the useless cover of her hands. Turning another corner, she stopped in surprise. A long line of identical black cars with blinding headlights where speeding up the hillside. Mira immediately stepped back against the stone wall, missing one of the cars by mere inches. For several moments, she stood motionless, too shocked to notice just how soaked through she was in rain water. She watched with alarm as car after car drove past her, never before witnessing such a sight in this area of the city. The cars turned the same corner she was on and continued forward. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she quickly pushed off the wall, intending to follow. After all, they were heading in the same direction as she was.
“Mira! Why are you out in the middle of a storm!” came the sudden, startling shrill from behind, halting her mid step.
Swiftly turning around, Mira’s eyes widened in surprise at the pointed face of her aunt mere inches away from hers. Aunt Magda tilted a black umbrella over her drenched body.
“Aunt Magda, what’re you doing here?”
A brief look of amusement flitted across Magda’s face, “We had a dinner arranged tonight.”
“Oh! Of course, I…I’m so sorry, I must’ve forgotten.” She felt herself coloring under her aunt’s knowing gaze.
“No worries, darling. I was actually just down at the bookshop to see your Dad.” She pulled out a thin, silver tin and light a cigarette. “He wasn’t there, so I was on my way up to the house.”
“It’s very late, let’s go up and I can make you a cup of tea.”
“It’ll have to be another time, I’m afraid. An important meeting came up and I have to return to the Capital. Do apologize to your dad about this evening. I’ll make it up to him next time. OK?”
“Of course. We can do dinner next time, Aunt Magda. I’m sorry I forgot about today.” She awkwardly tucked her wet hair behind her ear, her hand trembling. She could feel her lips turning blue from the cold. Aunt Magda inhaled her cigarette before dropping it on the street and turning the corner to walk back down the hillside. With the cover of the umbrella gone, Mira quickly recalled her original purpose and sprinted in the direction of her home. She ran up the last stretch of the hill and was mere meters away when she was several men exiting through her rusted front door. “What on earth…” she whispered. The black cars she’d seen earlier were parked unnervingly close to her home. The men who’d just exited her front door made their way back inside one of the cars. She knew that her dad rarely had visitors. Even if they did happen to have the rare visitor, it was either Kamil, her best friend who lived over three hours away, or Aunt Magda’s usual visits. Mira walked towards one of the cars, knocking on the tinted passenger window. Nothing happened. “Excuse me, can I help you?” she asked. Whoever was sitting inside didn’t roll down the window. “Excuse me,” she said louder, “I live here. Are you looking for someone?”
The window remained firmly shut. Before she could say another word, the engine revved and the cars began moving. One after the other, the cars drove past her, disappearing down the hillside. Mira tried to follow them with her eyes, but visibility was already low due to the storm and late hour of the night. Still feeling dissatisfied, she gave up on following the cars and made her way inside the house. A foreign, metallic smell assaulted her nose as soon as she stepped over the threshold of the front door. She shivered. The house felt damp and cold. Taking off her shoes and coat, she called out, “Anybody home? Dad?” She was answered with silence. “Dad? I’m home! Are you in the kitchen?” She walked down the hall, taking care to step over an upturned chair in the dim foyer. To the right of the hall was the kitchen, she peered in to find it empty. Feeling anxious, she quickly turned and sprinted to the living room calling out once again. “Dad! Come on, where are you? I’m sorry, I was running late at work and Pete was out of fish, and I saw Aunt Magda--” Her voice died on her lips as she caught sight of a pair of feet peeking out from the partially opened closet door. The blood froze in her veins. Walking slowly towards the door, Mira held her breath before swiftly kicking open the door. SLAM! The door hit the wall and bounced back, swinging on noisy hinges. “Get out!” Mira shouted, jumping back in fright, but nothing happened. Frightened and confused, she slowly lowered her gaze to the floor. The breath left her. There lying in a pool of his own blood was her dad, beaten and battered, with a knife stuck into his lifeless corpse. A raw, piercing scream exploded from deep within her. “Oh God! Oh God!” Mira screamed over and over again. She slid down to the floor, still gripping the door. “Dad! Dad! DAD!” It was already too late and she knew it. Mira crawled away from his body, her hands and knees smeared with blood. She picked up the phone, dialing the emergency number with slippery, violently shaking fingers.
“My dad’s dead. He died. Someone murdered him!” She said, shivering all over. She knew she wasn’t making sense, but nothing was clear to her either.
“What is your name? Are you hurt, are you okay? Is the perpetrator still there? Don’t hang up, we’re on the way.”
The emergency operator was still speaking. Mira couldn’t answer coherently, she couldn’t make any sense of herself or anything happening around her. Dropping the phone, she crawled back to his body, shaking him again. Maybe he still had a pulse! She desperately searched for a pulse, her hands clumsy and cold. The pungent smell of blood was nauseating her. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to think clearly. The scene kept replaying in her mind in all its raw veracity like a video permanently stuck on repeat. A trickling warmth was spreading from her toes to the balls of her feet, a gooey purplish red substance. Bile rose up in her throat. She tried to take a breath but found she couldn’t. Looking at her dad, she felt another wave of hysteria rising, but forced herself to calm down. She brushed her hands over his face, his body, and then the closet floor. “Why? Who? Why?” She kept repeating the same questions, searching the floor as if crazed. Suddenly, she brushed over something cylindrical. She couldn’t see what it was in the dark closet. Crawling back out into the hall, she held it up to the faint light coming in from a window. “What the hell…” she whispered, staring at what appeared to be a long, bloodied syringe. The writing on it was faint and illegible, she took a step closer to the window, trying to get a better look. As she squinted closely at the syringe, a movement caught her eye. She turned to look but a sudden sharp pain exploded in the back of her head. Everything went dark.
