WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 5

4

  Jerry drifted outside, not really seeing anything; he was on autopilot now. The crowd had thinned considerably. Maybe they’d decided that they were wasting their own time, waiting to see a dead body. Whatever the reason, he was glad. The sunlight warmed his face and he looked up. Most of the clouds had dispersed.

  Jerry turned left at the gate and walked away from everything. He let his subconscious do its work, like always. He thought without thinking. He tried to piece together the puzzle in his head, and he discovered that he didn’t have half of the pieces…or maybe he had them, but didn’t realize it yet. No worries, he was sure it would come.

  But something…something kept bothering him about this death. What had happened back there?

  Jerry shivered as dread drew a cold line down his spine. Something was giving him the creeps, and the worst part was that he didn’t know what it was.

  He felt somehow…just somehow…something big was about to happen.

  His mind could not come up with anything to contradict him.

5

  Like it or not, Chris felt good. Absolutely good. Fine as paint. He stood up in the gloom of the closet and inhaled deeply.

  Aaaahhh…He sure loved the darkness.

  Chris stepped out of the closet and walked to the light switch. Flicked it on, and walked towards his bathroom. Caught sight of his reflection in his and stepped back till he was standing in front of it.

  At 6 feet 3 inches, he was quite tall, and not bad looking either. He stepped forward till he could stare directly into his eyes. In his opinion, his face was his most endearing quality…and his most potent asset. His eyes were a deep shade of brown, which was what most people saw when they looked.

  They didn’t see it when the brown turned to black. Anyone who did, did not live long after that.

  It’s all coming together now. Soon…

  Chris smiled, chuckled low in his throat.

  Well, he had to go to work now. He would have preferred people working for him but, he just couldn’t choose now, could he? Besides, this situation suited his purpose here. Soon, none of these things would matter anymore.

  In the bathroom, Chris turned on the cold water shower.

  As the water splashed on him, steam rose from his body…

WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 4

3

  Jerry made his way carefully around the people in the room, about four of them; there was a flash from a camera and he blinked. He glanced at their feet, and cursed silently. Now there was no way they would be able to pick out one clear footprint from this place. Why didn’t they wear something to differentiate their footprints from the others, like a rubber band? Well, thank God for small mercies; at least they wore gloves. Dismissing this, he stepped slowly to the bed. The air in the room reeked heavily of violent death. Had that little girl seen this happen?

Jesus…

  The body was covered with a white sheet, but even that wasn’t helping much. What little blood that was still coming out was soaking the sheet slowly. They would need another one.

“And I thought I had seen it all,” Jerry said softly.

James nodded silently beside him, his jaw clenched. “Who,” he began, then thought the better of it, and corrected himself. “What did this?”

Everywhere Jerry looked, there was blood. The walls, the floor, even the ceiling. The bed was a forgone issue.

And he had not even seen the body yet.

His stomach turned to ice at the thought.

James signalled for one of the men to pull back the sheets, and Jerry inhaled sharply, then let it out slowly. He could barely make out the blue stripes on her pyjamas which was now thoroughly soaked in blood. It seemed as if someone had gone to work on her with a hammer and a million nails – that was the only thing he could think of now.

  But the worst thing of all…was her face. Or what was left of it…

  The nose was pretty much non-existent, and the mouth was…not right at all.

  And the eyes…well, the eye-sockets were just filled with drying pulp-like stuff that traced down tracks to the bed…

  What the hell is this?

  This was the stuff nightmares were made of, and it seemed this girl had experienced a killer of a nightmare, literally. This nightmare had obviously followed her into reality.

“Bogeyman,” Jerry said softly.

“What?” James asked.

“Nothing.” Looking at James, he said, “Look. I need to go. I think I’ve seen all I need to see for now.”

“Think so?”

“Yes. I’ll-”

“-come back when everyone is out. Yes I know” James completed his sentence. “See you later then.”

“Okay.” Jerry tapped his friend on the shoulder. “Make sure they get everything right.”

  Nodding, James said “Will do.”

  As Jerry left the room, something told him these people would find nothing there.

WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 3

2

"'Scuse me.Excuse me," Jerry said, pushing his way through the little crowd. They paid him no mind as they all strained their necks, heads bobbing left and right, most on the tips of their toes as they tried to see what was going on. Voices, murmurs, questions, accusations, suggestions in the air.

"Excuse me people, Police coming through." He struggled and shuffled his way to the front where he was vomited by the crowd. He lost his balance and used a hand to steady himself. Standing, he turned his blackest stare on the crowd as he dusted his hand.

  Fat load of good it did him.

  He shook his head, wondering why these people would pack here. Well, Death had come, they would feast their senses as much as they could, so that they would have interesting stories to tell anyone who would care to listen for the rest of the day, maybe the whole week. A Constable strode towards him, holding his baton, shouting "HEY! HEY!!! WHO SAY MAKE YOU COME HERE? GO BACK! GO BACK NOW OR-"

  Jerry brought out his ID holder, flipped it open in his face. The Constable stopped as if hit by a car as he read FCID on the card.

"Sor-sorry sir," the Constable stammered, saluting smartly. Jerry paid him no mind and strode up to the timid-looking yellow bungalow that was the center of a gruesome attraction today. Glancing behind him, he saw the last of the News vans leaving. Good. They always were too much trouble for him, with their silly on-the-spot interviews and stuff.

 Their was a red Volkswagen Passat, one of the older models, parked beside the house. The Constable at the door opened the door wordlessly for him after saluting. He entered into a parlor that felt cramped. It was also gloomy inside, despite the light bulb being on, and it wasn't just on account of the closed curtains. Jerry would later recognize the problem as grief; the place had been made dark by grief. On the sofa directly across from him he saw the victim's family; mother holding and slowly rocking the smallest one, father holding twin boys-Jerry placed their ages at nine, maximum. They were all crying. He couldn't blame them. From what he'd heard, the smallest one had seen everything. Well, not a reliable witness.

  Besides, he was no monster, despite what people thought about him. He would never put any kid through the ordeal of having to relive the death of a loved one...or anyone for that matter.

 A smart looking lady in a black suit left the family's side and walked to him. Her eyes were moist. Hmm...

  She stuck out her hand, introducing herself. "Inspector Amaka Okoro."

  "Jerry. Detective Jerry."

  "I know. They said you were coming. I'm glad you did." Her voice wavered for a bit and she fought for control of her emotions. Jerry let her. "I know the family. I knew the-the-I knew Mary."

Figures, Jerry thought, confirming his suspicions about her tears. Well, life...

  "I'm sorry."

  "Well, I think you can tell that to the family. They need it more than I do."

  Nodding, Jerry moved towards them.

"Hey, Jerry." He looked. It was his friend and colleague, James; Sergeant James. A Detective in the FCID too. He raised a hand in greeting as James motioned for him to come. He made a pausing gesture, then went to the family. He was always uncomfortable in these kinds of situations. How did you tell the family that everything was gonna be alright, when you all knew that everything stopped being alright the second their loved one died? Worse, they would start looking to you for closure, and if you didn't give it to them, you became the bad guy; you were just like the person who stole their loved one from them. Or even more worse, if you didn't catch the culprit, they would begin to think you knew all about it; that you had been 'settled' and you had let them go. Crappy.

  In the end, he muttered some apologies to them. They didn't really listen, and he was grateful. He went to James, leaving them with the lady Inspector.

"Good morning James."

"More like, bad morning eh?" James said, handing Jerry a pair of gloves outside the door.

"Just tell me why they would request for the FCID on a case like this? Why they would request for me?"

"Trust me buddy," James said, his face suddenly somber, "when you take a look inside, you'll see why. It's a real mess in there."

  James was right.

  It was a mess.

  And yes, they would need him.

  Shit.

WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 2

In your dreams, anything is possible...

-Anonymous.

1

  Jerry woke up with a bloody headache, quite the substitute for his alarm clock which he'd permanently set at 5.45 am. He opened his eyes to the darkness in the room. Power had been cut sometime in the night; no wonder he was sweating like a Christmas goat. By the way, why the-

BAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

Huh?

BAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

Oh snap, the alarm.

BAAA-

Cursing, Jerry reached out and slapped the button on the little clock on his bedside drawer, clattering it to the floor for the umpteenth time in its insignificantly significant lifetime. At least it stopped making that noise.

Shit.

  He sat up, peeling back the sweat-soaked sheets that were glued to his body. His body felt clammy; he could feel a thin rivulet of sweat make its way down his spine.

AND THE BLOODY HEADACHE JUST WOULDN'T STOP!

Jerry gritted his teeth, hoping the day would-

Blink!

"AARGH!" he exclaimed, hands flying to cover his reflexively shut eyes. The stupid Power company had decided to restore power now ehn? Stu-

The cool breeze mercifully stopped all thought as it cooled him down. Sighing, Jerry shrugged out of the damp covers and lay back down, letting the breeze wash over his body, down his sweat-wet boxer shorts and his legs. After a while, he turned over and let the breeze do the same to his back.

And the breeze was also doing wonders for his headache as well.

When he was feeling marginally better, Jerry got out of bed and went to his bathroom. Relieved himself. At the sink, he splashed cold water on his face, then rinsed his mouth-he felt like he'd eaten a whole bunch of bitter-leaf vegetables over-night. Back in his bedroom, he saw the Heineken can lying on the ground. Grunting, he walked to it and picked it up. Went to his kitchen and dumped it in the trash, then began rummaging in his kitchen cabinets for his electric boiling ring, cursing when he didn't see it in the first drawer, the second. He found it in the third, and then a buzzing sound drew his attention to his sink; the dishes from yesterday's breakfast, and the dinner before that. He went back to his bathroom in search of a bucket, filled it with water and took it back to the kitchen; he really had to change his accomodation. No heater here, But he had to see out his contract here. In the kitchen, he plugged in the water with the boiling ring and went to the sitting room. Turned on the TV and went to the news channel. Nothing new or interesting after 2 minutes, so he changed the channel to Discovery. Picked up the empty beer cans-so unlike him, had he really had this much to drink?-and took them to the trash in the kitchen. Washed the dishes. Put water in his electric jug, plugged it in. He went back to the sitting room and sat down in front of the TV, looking for anything to lift him out of the black mood he'd been in since yesterday. So far, nothing was helping. He looked at the clock. Almost 6.35.

  He was risking lateness.

  Jerry went back to his kitchen and checked his fridge, took out his beverages, the half loaf of bread left. Turned off the jug and poured some hot water into a mug. Made some tea. He bit into the bread; no time for butter now. Gulped some tea without tasting it. Took another bite of the bread, then gulped some more tea. Finished his breakfast, and threw the leftover bread in the trash. The water was now hot enough to bathe with. He took it to his bathroom where he brushed, then took a shit.

  Five minutes later, after having his bath, he was dressing up; blue jeans, black T-shirt, black jacket, All Star Converse sneakers. Very unlike a Detective, but who gave a hoot?

  Certainly not him.

  Snatching his phone from the center table in the sitting room, he left the apartment, locking it behind him, and walked briskly to the road to hail a taxi. His car was at the mechanic so...

  Jerry's whole life was about to take a left turn.

WHISPERS OF THE SANDMAN 1

WHAT MARY SAW

"No Chris, I don't want to do it!! I can't! I can't do it!" Shaking her head "Don't you understand that I JUST CAN'T DO IT?!", she shrieked, her voice shrill with terror.

"But we have to do this Mary baby," Chris said, his voice smooth and oddly soothing even in this place of danger. But it did nothing to stop her terror. "I can't move her alone. She's big and heavy, and she's YOUR mother."

"I know, I-"

Is Mum that big?

"I just can't do it Chris. I mean, you know very well that I'm afraid of snakes."

The snakes paid them both no heed; they continued to slither around Mary's mother in a well-defined circle, like they were afraid of going an inch closer. Mary's mother lay on the floor, eyes closed, her left leg obviously broken. Their was a cut on her arm, another on her head, but thank God they weren't bleeding so much. She probably was unconscious. Maybe she should try n shout her name, see if she would wake.

"Chris, please help me, I can't do this. Mum. MUM!"

"Careful Mary, you don't wanna disturb the snakes, do you?""

Yelping, Mary shuffled backwards a couple of steps, eyes wide; she could barely think coherently. "Chris hold me please hold me come please."

"Look," Chris said, stepping over the snakes to where Mary's mother was. "I told you they were not gonna do anything. We just have to lift her out of this place, and we can leave here quickly." The snakes continued their circular movements, lazily slithering over and under themselves. Not one seemed to take notice nor raise its head to strike Chris as he crossed. They continued their obscene parody of a Merry-Go-Round; round, round, round we go, high, low, take a go.

Oh God please help me please

"Ar-are you sure?"

"Mary."Chris was on the verge of losing his patience now.

"Okay okay."

"Look," Chris said, his voice becoming softer, "just imagine you are crossing a gutter, okay?"

Mary nodded, eyes large, heart hammering away in her chest so loud that she was surprised she heard Chris. She looked at her hand; she was shaking badly. She walked forward, raised a leg...and almost fell in among the snakes.

Shrieking, she ran back.

"Mary!" Chris's voice stopped her from running and not looking back. She turned, crying now.

"Please don't make me do this Chris, please help me bring her over here. PLEASE!!!" Was there no one else that could help them? But then again, they were all alone here.

"Come on Mary, jump. I'll catch you. I promise. Jump baby, jump."

Mary looked at her Mother again (she still can't believe her mother is this big, but there is no mistaking it; this is her mother. What would people say when they know she could have saved her own mother and had run away instead?) and prayed for strength.

This is your mother girl. The quicker you do this, the faster you can leave here. Now go.

"Okay," she muttered to herself, although she could not figure out who or what was talking to her. But it was enough. "Crossing a gutter, crossing a gutter."

She ran forward.

She jumped.

Everything happened in slow motion.

Her mother sat up abruptly and opened her eyes-WHAT?!-and then she wasn't her mother anymore; she was some unreal being, rippling this way and that. Then she burst open and snakes spewed forth, all kinds, most of them unknown to her.

She felt like she was spending forever in the air...and she prayed she would never land.

And Chris? Oh no God, why?

Chris's eyes became flaming orbs of fire, and then he opened his mouth-was he smiling?-revealing teeth so sharp their points were indistinct. Steam poured out of his nose and ears, and his tongue flicked out, only it wasn't a tongue anymore, it was a forked thin strip of black muscle.

He stretched his arms.

Come to me darling!!!

She heard his voice, but his lips were still stretched in that smile of his and Mary was on the verge of going mad, so mad she forgot about the snakes-

THE SNAKES!!!

Her terror catching up with her, Mary screamed as she looked down. Every one of them had their heads up and fangs out, waiting. And they were everywhere.

Mary was swallowed in the sea of snakes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mary lived with her family in a three-bedroom flat. Everyone was asleep...

...until her screams woke them all up. While their sleep-befuddled brains were trying to come to terms with the source of their sudden wakefulness, it stopped, as suddenly as it had begun.

Nkechi, Mary's three-year-old sister whom she shared a room with, watched writhed in bed, fear and pain on her face. Nkechi was scared, but she was held firmly in place by what she was seeing, and she couldn't climb out of her cot. So she could only watch as her elder sister's pyjamas punctured in several places, blood spraying everywhere, the walls, the bed, blood staining her hands as she held onto her cot in a death-grip, her face. She looked at the blood, not understanding what was going on, why her sister was in pain in her sleep, why nobody was coming, why-

Mary's eyes flew open and her mouth opened in a soundless scream, her eyes fixed on Nkechi. Then they burst with little popping sounds.

Nkechi screamed.