Andy's Shorts to GA Prompts - 17. Prompt #117

“What is that smell?”

“I’m not sure sarge. I’ve never smelt anything like it in my life. If I had to compare it to anything, I’d say it smells like burnt caramel.” The PC held a handkerchief over his mouth and nose in a vain attempt to block out the smell.

“I’ve attended death scenes before Matthews, but I’ve never seen anything like this.” Sergeant Carl Munroe looked around at the crime scene, and took in the room in all of its horrific detail. The walls were splattered in blood, there were dead animals strewn around the floor and the human victim was sitting in a chair. The body had an opening in his chest through which it was clear his heart had been removed and he been flayed; the sergeant hoped this was done after death, for having a heart removed and being skinned whilst alive was something the sergeant was unwilling to even contemplate.

A queasy-faced young PC entered the room wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I’m sorry sir.”

“Nothing to apologize for Thompson,” the sergeant said in a gruff voice.

“I was just so shocked sir. How can someone do this to another person?”

“It takes a sick mind Thompson; a bloody sick mind. Have a seat until you get your legs back.”

“Sarge, look over here.”

“What have you found Matthews?”

“It’s . . . it’s . . . Dear God in Heaven it’s written in blood!” The colour drained from PC Matthew’s face, he placed his hand over his mouth and he ran from this house of horrors.

Sergeant Munroe thought to himself, “These young ’uns haven’t got the stomach for this, and to be totally honest I’m not so sure if I have either”.

A very ashen-looking Matthews came back in. “Sorry sir.”

“Never mind that, what did you find?”

“Over here. It’s writing. It says ‘In honour of . . .’ I don’t know that word, I’ve never come across it before, but I would assume it’s a proper name of some description.”

The sergeant looked at it. He pulled out his i-phone and googled the name. What the sergeant read made him empty his stomach on the spot. “Matthews. Please tell me this does not say what I think it says?”

PC Matthews took the i-phone with shaky hands wondering what could have affected his senior officer in such a way. What he read forced him to swallow. “Sorry, sarge. I’m afraid it says exactly what it says.”

“Sir, I’ve just heard from . . . are you two OK?” asked PC Thompson.

“No, Police Constable Thompson! I am not bloody well OK! But as you were saying?”

“I’ve just heard from base. The victim Max Tyner has just been released from prison after serving nine years for running over a child, who was killed in the incident. Also sir, this is not the only victim to be killed in this manner.”

“How many?” Sergeant Munroe really really didn’t want to know the answer to that particular question, but as a consummate professional he knew he had to ask.

“There have been five since 2007. A body has been found in this same fashion once a year over the past five years. March 21^st 2007, and then every March 20^th since. This one makes number six.”

“The Spring Equinox,” PC Matthews said flatly.

“I suppose. I would have to look it up to be sure, but it sounds right. You don’t seem surprised?”

“I’m not.” Matthews handed him the i-phone.

“The Aztec god Xipe Totec, ‘our lord the flayed one’,” he read aloud.

“Keep reading,” Matthews instructed.

“The annual festival of Xipe Totec was celebrated on the spring equinox. Captives or slaves were chosen to be sacrificed to the deity. Their hearts were cut out and then the body was flayed. The skin was then worn by Xipe Totec’s priests for the following twenty days.”

The sergeant pulled out his walkie-talkie “Sergeant Munroe to base. Get the Coroner’s Office down here, we’re done for now.” He then thought to himself, “Thank God this is someone else’s problem.”

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