daily – 75

“This can’t be right,” I mumble, just as uselessly. But there it is. In flat monochrome.

“Is that the-” Behind me, Officer Reynolds catches himself. “Are those bodies?”

There, on the bottom of one of the feeds half-covered by the heatmap: a collection of grey bodies piled against the closed doors. I crush the desire to power off the computer. It’s way too late.

“Officer Reynolds,” the Interpol man says with a small tremble in his voice. “Please-”

“Fix it!” Suddenly the big officer is crushing my shoulders in his hands. “Turn it back on! Now!”

“Officer Reynolds!” Gerent’s voice is thin and squeaky now. “Stop!”


I try to turn to Patrick just as Reynolds shoves me toward the screen and the desk stabs me in the chest. The steel edge catches me just below the sternum, sucking the wind from my lungs.

“Hurry up, you fat pig! Fix it!”


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