Linda was unconscious by the time I burst into the dilapidated home, her slight breath on my neck the only indication that she was still alive. I wearily stumbled over to a nearby sofa and unceremoniously threw her down on the dusty cushions, dropping to the ground to catch my breath. Not much else was in the room, save a few cracked cabinets and small piles of scattered debris. One wall was even marked with what looked like several bullet holes. The past experiences of Linda and Winder had not been good ones.
I started searching around the room for medical supplies and soon found a roll of bandages in a scuffed first-aid kit. Patching Linda up wasn’t too bad, and her injury didn’t seem too serious; the bullet hadn’t exited the body and had missed her vitals. She definitely needed medical attention soon, though, and I was confident that Winder would know a place to keep her safe. If he was meeting us here, anyway.
I stared down at my own body now, suddenly aware of the insanity that I’d been through. I’d gone from a promoted officer to a wanted criminal in one day, and the exertion had caught up to me at last. Dropping heavily into a nearby chair, I rested my head on the table before me and closed my eyes, gratefully slipping into a deep sleep.
The one dream I had was quick but vivid. I stood before Winder, in his spartan office, who glared at me angrily. I nervously stepped back, not used to this level of acrimony from him. “Sleeping on the job, I see,” he growled, his usually sarcastic banter gone. “Typical of any new recruit, I suppose.”
“I’m tired, and I just went through the worst day of my life,” I protested. “Besides, I’m only waiting for you to catch up with us.”
“Do you really think that?” Winder gave a derisive snort, rising from his desk. “Did you not see the signs? The wind-up bird that Linda showed us. This killer has a personal vendetta with me, and I intend to finish it myself.”
“So you just left us here?” I demanded. Winder was no longer looking at me though, but rather beyond, his face suddenly drained of any anger. I became aware of faint but distinct noises behind me, but my body refused to turn around.
“Wake up, you idiot!” shouted Winder, and I burst awake from my sleep, sweating profusely. For a second I was frozen in confusion, but the dream revived itself in my head after a few moments. I remembered how Winder had stared behind me, how he had yelled at me. The muffled noises that erupted behind me.
Linda.
I knew before I had turned around, but the sight wasn’t any less disturbing. Her body was mutilated as much as the body I’d seen in the alleyway this morning, if not more. From the expression I could discern on the agonized remains of her face, she had been awake when the killer had come in, but had failed to raise me from my slumber. I felt sick inside. My eye caught the glint of blue in the visceral red which spread across the sofa, and with a trembling hand I reached out to grab the plastic object caught in Linda’s fingers. A small wind-up bird. Trying to block the scene from my head, I dazedly walked outside only to suddenly keel over in the grass, violently retching. It was just about midnight now, the full moon shining forlornly down on the empty street.
I could have saved her, if I’d just woken up sooner.
But why was I still alive? For some reason, this killer wanted me alive. He wanted me to be a part of some terrible plan. Which meant that he would have left some kind of message. I slowly looked down at my still hand, the plastic toy tightly in my palm. A scrap of paper was rolled up inside the bird’s mouth.
Thirty minutes later I found myself surrounded by huge factories, the air hazy and stifling. Sparrow Precinct, the largest industrial area within the city. I guess the name wasn’t a coincidence. The killer wanted his mission to end tonight with Winder’s bloody corpse spread across the cobble roads. And he wanted me to witness it.
I didn’t expect to see many people, but the streets were eerily empty. During the conflict between the city and the gangs, the Chain took over several factories to secure supplies. The government responded by sending in a militia to take them out. Only after the death of two dozen civilians did both sides finally retreat, but the memory lasted. No one dared to loiter in the area if they could help it.
The brief note hadn’t been specific, and for a moment I wondered if this was all a ruse to keep me away from Winder. But then I saw a figure through the slight smog, seemingly staring straight at me. I could barely make out any features, but one aspect I saw quite well: his left arm dangling loosely, the silhouette of a knife grasped in his fingers. My heart skipped a beat. I stopped moving forward but continued to stare at the shadow before me.
“Newt,” the figure said suddenly. I jumped a little. “Here to find Winder, are you?” The rough drawl identified the speaker as a man. I saw his knife twitch slightly. “Are you here to save your hero from his inevitable demise?”
“No,” I said with surprising calm. “I’m here to kill you.” I lifted my pistol and fired straight at the man, each round momentarily dispelling the fog. The man grunted and tumbled backwards, fading into the darkness.
With one bullet still left in the chamber, I approached his still-writhing body, kicking his fallen knife away from a grasping hand. His unshaven face turned to face me, eyes bitter and mouth twisted in pain. “Nice aim,” he groaned, “but unfortunately for you I came prepared.” A heavy Kevlar vest had blocked most of my shots, indicated by shredded marks, but one bullet had penetrated his arm, his sleeve slowly turning a shade darker. The man slowly struggled up, his hands weakly up in surrender. “If you’re as smart as you’re good with that gun, it’s no wonder why Winder would want you.”
“Don’t stall for time. Winder’s coming here any minute now, and I know you have some plan up your sleeve to take him out. I want you to answer my questions.”
“And why not finish me off now and let him tell you the answers?” the man wearily replied. “You’re right, Winder’s coming here as we speak, but I wanted to talk to you first. Alone.” Even as he said that, I saw the killer’s eyes sweep the area around us. “It seems as if you don’t want to kill me now, do you?”
I didn’t speak for a moment, but I finally gritted my teeth and looked straight at him. “Who are you?”
The man smiled drily, but the expression quickly gave way to a pained grimace. “They called me Newt,” he said.
“You mean Winder called you Newt?”
“Yes. I see he named you in my honor, perhaps to satisfy some sadistic urge. Anyway, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we were an unstoppable team. The best in the force. The golden years, those were, and we had the envy and respect of every other officer.” The man paused. “But then I began seeing a nastier part of him.”
“Explain.”
“I was just about to. It’s just that, you know, my arm has a damn bullet in it. But yeah. It turns out Winder has a brutal streak in him. Violence was something he took for granted, maybe even enjoyed. In all of our cases, he’d find some excuse to beat the crap out of some poor schmuck who looked suspicious. It was never overt. Hell, I didn’t find out until a year into our partnership. But it just kept getting worse.” He once again glanced around us nervously, wiping his forehead with his good arm.
“I’ll hurry this along. Soon I found out that he had connections with a lot of the gangs in the city. As a young and morally righteous lad back then, I was shocked by this, even felt a little betrayed. We started arguing a little. But the kicker came when we were sent to track down an escaped prisoner. The kid didn’t do anything too bad, just some drug charges and small theft. The second Winder cornered him, however… he was merciless. By the time I drag Winder off the prisoner, he’s so messed up he can barely breathe. Winder, though, he just glares at me, tells me to mind my own business. We get into a nasty spat, and I realize that I can’t work with him anymore. So I report him.
“Winder is furious. A week later, I’m assigned for some work near the river west of the city. He ambushes me right there, stabs me right in the stomach, beats me, then gets a gun and tries to shoot me. I barely manage to jump in the river before he pulls the trigger, and I’m swept away by the current. I realize I’m not safe if Winder realizes I’m alive. So I fade away. Winder is charged with murder, but within a few months the accusation is dropped. There’s no doubt Winder and his underground connections were behind that.” He stopped again and sighed. “And you know, that hurt to watch. Someone escaping justice just like that. I know, it happens all the time, but someone like that? He deserves to be dead.”
“And so you decided to take revenge on him?” I asked. “Through murdering people he knew? Including his little sister? What kind of justice is that?”
He spat on the ground. “I don’t regret what I’ve done,” he snapped, “and you won’t change my mind. It’s too late, anyhow. Winder’s a wanted man, and his precious Chain Gang will collapse within a week. My job is complete.”
“But you wanted to talk to me,” I pressed on. “Why?”
“Because I feel sorry for you, kid. Winder put on a damn good act, and you fell for it. Now you’re caught in the middle of some crazy murder mystery with no way out. You know what the real Winder is like now. All you gotta do is claim how he threatened to kill you if you didn’t obey him, and they’ll eventually let you off the hook. The force also knows how dangerous Winder can be; it’s just that they’re too scared to do more than sneer.”
The old Newt looked at me earnestly. “Get out of here, Newt. Let Winder deal with me; I suppose I deserve it. But everything will work out—”
“You really think so?” snarled a voice from behind me. The same voice I’d heard in my dream. Then a hand threw me backwards onto the ground, knocking the breath out of me. I heard old Newt cry out in terror, followed by pain and cracking noises as Winder savagely assaulted him. My hand reached out, searching for the gun I dropped. As my hand wrapped around the pistol’s handle, Winder grabbed me by my neck and dragged me over.
“Listen, Newt,” growled Winder viciously. His overcoat was torn and his hat was gone, showing a bruised but deadly face. In his hand he held his metal rod, severely dented since the last time I saw it. Red stains coated the entire bar. “I don’t know what shit this man said about me, but every word he said is a lie. We don’t have much time now. Detective Krig is surrounding the entire precinct as we speak. So you get to make a choice here. Your final test from me.” He grinned psychotically. “You shoot that scumbag traitor lying over there, and I’ll get you out of here safe and sound. I know plenty of escape passages around here.”
“And if I shoot you?” I heard myself saying distantly. The gun hung limp in my fingers.
Winder’s smile vanished. “You actually believe hi—” he started furiously, then contained himself. “You shoot me, you’re on your own,” he said slowly. “You’ll be shot by the officers you once worked with. You mean nothing to them, Newt. They’ll gun you down without hesitation.”
The old Newt was nearly unconscious, and his face was nearly as bloody as those of his murder victims. His swollen eyes looked weakly at me, begging for me to make the right choice. Please. Shoot him. And yet I still couldn’t lift the gun.
“Hurry up, you idiot!” Winder hissed, shaking me urgently. “I swear, I will make everything clear once we get out of here.” I didn’t respond. “Make the damn choice!” he yelled, looking as if he were about to take the gun and do it himself. I jerked out of his grasp and backed away, slowly raising my weapon. Just one bullet left. Behind me I heard shouts and incoming footsteps.
I made my decision. I slowly looked into his eyes, watched them as he realized my choice. What did he feel? Betrayal? Fear? Acceptance? It didn’t matter now. I steadied my aim and fired.