Cracked Sources – B03 E12

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The sound of tolling bells filled the air. The street was dark, unusual and quiet, no soul could be seen.

A man placed in the dim of the lights before, suddenly moved; every of his step brought him closer to the deserted street.

He was on a journey, one to meet his maker.

His name, Andrew Brown!

 

Andrew opened his eyes. It was painful at first to do so, but he successfully managed to. He was dazed and bloodied – normal, considering what he’d been through – he staggered forward. It was as though each step he took dragged life further away from him. He appeared undead – eyes almost entirely blood shot, with scaly skin to accompany. All he wanted was water, but no one could hear his cry; that was when he looked around to see no one. His feet started to feel itchy so, he ditched his footwear and his clothing, leaving only his boxer-brief on. He was scared. “Somebody. Anybody. Can somebody hear me!” He shouted. But his voice returned to him void. He continued to walk in silence.

“No one can hear you.” A voice said from behind him.

At first, he was too afraid to turn, but finally mustered courage to. He was relieved when he recognized the person.

“Thank God it’s you,” he said. It was his friend, Huey. “How are you here? What are you doing here?” He asked, without a pause in between.

“To set you free of course.”

Andrew couldn’t understand: Huey’s words were beyond the scope of his comprehension. As he wallowed in his inability to decipher, he took notice of the street that had begun to change. It wasn’t as lonely as when he started on the path, the street lights were now on, and with them, people not previously seen came into the new light.

“We’re all here to set you free.” Huey buttressed his claim.

Andrew could see them all, they had the faces of everyone that mattered in his life – Patrick, Akin, Mark, his Mother, Agnes, even his father he couldn’t really remember. He stared confused. “What’s all these?” He asked. No one answered. They all stretched forth their arms beckoning him to come to them, to come home with them and be free. He ran the other way. He ran till he hit a rock and came crashing. On opening his eyes, he saw Anna before him.

“Help me, Anna,” he cried, “They all want to kill me.”

“Of course, I will,” Anna said, “I’m here to help you. To set you free.”

“Not you too!” Andrew cried. He was too weak to run anymore. The others had caught up, and together they clamored for his membership, “Come join us, and be free” they said.

Anna dug into his chest, and ripped out his heart, and while he still watched, she munched on it. They all fed on it, and as the last chunk was taken, he fell into slumber, one he was never to wake up from.

“No!” Anna shouted. She had been dreaming, and jumped out of the hospital bed. “God forbid!” She spat on the floor to accompany her prayer point, Andrew wasn’t going to die. “Where is he? Where is Andrew?” She asked. As no reply was forthcoming from the attending nurse, she started to disconnect the saline-drug from her arm. It took the intervention of four extra nurses to hold her down long enough to administer a sedating drug.

 

How does one quickly get around the death of a loved one?

That was the question that ran through the minds of everyone at the morgue – Huey, Akin, and Patrick – they stood waiting to identify the corpse as Andrew’s. By the time the mortuary attendants were done retrieving and unveiling, the trio’s greatest fear was confirmed. It was indeed Andrew. He had been shot to death at close range. An awkward silence filled the room.

Akin couldn’t take anymore, “My son! That’s my son!” He lamented. Andrew’s death was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. His tough heart betrayed him: one can only process so much grief in a single lifetime, and he was almost at the peak of his threshold. “Andrew,” he called out again, “Please talk to me,” he said as he settled to the floor, as though it’d cause him to come back to life. But nothing happened, he was dead and gone.

The sound of tolling bells filled the air. The street was dark, unusual and quiet, no soul could be seen.

 

A man placed in the dim of the lights before, suddenly moved; every of his step brought him closer to the deserted street.

 

He was on a journey, one to meet his maker.

 

His name, Andrew Brown!

 

 

 

Andrew opened his eyes. It was painful at first to do so, but he successfully managed to. He was dazed and bloodied – normal, considering what he’d been through – he staggered forward. It was as though each step he took dragged life further away from him. He appeared undead – eyes almost entirely blood shot, with scaly skin to accompany. All he wanted was water, but no one could hear his cry; that was when he looked around to see no one. His feet started to feel itchy so, he ditched his footwear and his clothing, leaving only his boxer-brief on. He was scared. “Somebody. Anybody. Can somebody hear me!” He shouted. But his voice returned to him void. He continued to walk in silence.

 

“No one can hear you.” A voice said from behind him.

 

At first, he was too afraid to turn, but finally mustered courage to. He was relieved when he recognized the person.

 

“Thank God it’s you,” he said. It was his friend, Huey. “How are you here? What are you doing here?” He asked, without a pause in between.

 

“To set you free of course.”

 

Andrew couldn’t understand: Huey’s words were beyond the scope of his comprehension. As he wallowed in his inability to decipher, he took notice of the street that had begun to change. It wasn’t as lonely as when he started on the path, the street lights were now on, and with them, people not previously seen came into the new light.

 

“We’re all here to set you free.” Huey buttressed his claim.

 

Andrew could see them all, they had the faces of everyone that mattered in his life – Patrick, Akin, Mark, his Mother, Agnes, even his father he couldn’t really remember. He stared confused. “What’s all these?” He asked. No one answered. They all stretched forth their arms beckoning him to come to them, to come home with them and be free. He ran the other way. He ran till he hit a rock and came crashing. On opening his eyes, he saw Anna before him.

 

“Help me, Anna,” he cried, “They all want to kill me.”

 

“Of course, I will,” Anna said, “I’m here to help you. To set you free.”

 

“Not you too!” Andrew cried. He was too weak to run anymore. The others had caught up, and together they clamored for his membership, “Come join us, and be free” they said.

 

Anna dug into his chest, and ripped out his heart, and while he still watched, she munched on it. They all fed on it, and as the last chunk was taken, he fell into slumber, one he was never to wake up from.

 

“No!” Anna shouted. She had been dreaming, and jumped out of the hospital bed. “God forbid!” She spat on the floor to accompany her prayer point, Andrew wasn’t going to die. “Where is he? Where is Andrew?” She asked. As no reply was forthcoming from the attending nurse, she started to disconnect the saline-drug from her arm. It took the intervention of four extra nurses to hold her down long enough to administer a sedating drug.

 

 

 

How does one quickly get around the death of a loved one?

 

That was the question that ran through the minds of everyone at the morgue – Huey, Akin, and Patrick – they stood waiting to identify the corpse as Andrew’s. By the time the mortuary attendants were done retrieving and unveiling, the trio’s greatest fear was confirmed. It was indeed Andrew. He had been shot to death at close range. An awkward silence filled the room.

 

Akin couldn’t take anymore, “My son! That’s my son!” He lamented. Andrew’s death was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. His tough heart betrayed him: one can only process so much grief in a single lifetime, and he was almost at the peak of his threshold. “Andrew,” he called out again, “Please talk to me,” he said as he settled to the floor, as though it’d cause him to come back to life. But nothing happened, he was dead and gone.

 

Huey kept his arms folded. Watching Akin grief wouldn’t let him process his, though there was one thought he couldn’t easily get rid of –what would life be like now for those Andrew left behind– Mister Death wasn’t a stranger to the firm, but he’d finally done his worst.

“Why did it have to be you?” Huey asked. He was visibly pained. He was also angry. But more pain than anger sipped out with his words.

Patrick sighed, “It’s because bad things always happen to good people,” he said “I fear which of us is next”. His words struck a chord with the other two men. He wanted to hit something but his handicap wouldn’t let him. Andrew’s death cemented his decision to leave the firm, there was no turning back – Mister Death was on a mission to claim every soul tied to the chambers, he wasn’t going to stick around long enough to find out his number on the list. He started to wheel his chair out, but stopped at Akin’s position to ask “What did you do?” It was a subtle question, one with superstitious origin, but it wasn’t out of place. If a man started to lose all his children through frivolous means, people needed to start asking all questions, just in case the right one is brushed.

 

The cell-door flew open. The cell was dark and smelled of vomit and rotten egg. The police constable at the entrance held his nose before he could speak.

“You,” he said, pointing at Mother with his other hand, “You’re free to go.” He spoke inaudibly.

Mother was perplexed. In as much as she knew she didn’t deserve to be here, she knew her released at the odd hour (9 p.m.) wasn’t normal; no one was announced to have paid her bail money; certainly, something was up. She wanted to know but they wouldn’t tell her.

“I say, we no get anytin to hold you wit. Shey na crime to reliz you again?” The constable unintelligently asked.

“We have nothing further to charge you with.” Another officer, a female, said from behind, to rectify the ignorance of her colleague.

“Where is my son?” Why isn’t he here?”

Things weren’t looking fine at all, the police were always quick to mention Andrew as the reason she was in their custody, then, all of a sudden, his name was nowhere to be found in their vocabulary. Something was indeed fishy.

“I ask again, where is Andrew?”

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