Equivalent Exchange
Someone must have seen him, because the police were at his door.
“Evening, officers.”
This was directed at two cops: one tall, one short. Neither listened. The tall one whispered to the short one, who nodded and went around back.
“Mr. Munro,” said the remaining officer, “Keep your hands clear and show me inside.”
Cutting right to the chase? Munro tried a sheepish grin, but the scarred face in front of him wasn’t one for introductions. With the cop’s eyes holding him at gunpoint, the middle-aged man had no choice but to raise his arms and lead the way.
“Your house usually this dark?”
“It cuts down on bills.”
Munro’s bony finger flipped a switch, filling the hallway with the dingiest yellow that could pass for light.
“Would you like some coffee, Officer?”
“Show me upstairs.”
He must’ve heard it. Munro cursed under his breath as he climbed the stairway.
“You live alone, Mr. Munro.” It wasn’t even a question.
“That’s right.” The floorboards groaned with each step.
“We’ll see about that.”
As they reached the top of the stairs, their footsteps produced an audible splash. The officer continued regardless.
“Door on the left. Go on.”
Munro did as he was told, revealing a pitch-black room. A sliver of light from the hallway barely illuminated an unmade bed.
“Lights.”
“I’m afraid the bulb burnt out just yesterday.” Munro scratched his head with a slight chuckle. “Looks like I’ll be buying a new one with this week’s groceries.”
“Who’s here with you?”
“Huh?” Munro went silent before laughing hoarsely. “Officer, haven’t we already established that I live alone?”
“Explain that.” The officer pointed at the bed, where sheets and blankets wriggled about.
Munro put a hand on the officer’s shoulder, smiling. “Like I said, I’m the only one living here.”
In an instant, the officer jerked himself away, took out his gun, and aimed between Munro’s eyes.
“Don’t screw around. Half an hour ago, a young boy was abducted from the park across the street.”
“And you think I did it?” Munro’s face was halfway between a grin and a grimace. “What could you possibly be basing this ridiculous accusation on?”
“Past accounts of suspicious behaviour from your household.”
Munro raised his arms — not in surrender, but in a pitiful shrug. “Officer, with all due respect, I find it unreasonable for you to jump to such conclusions. For one, I disagree about—”
The man stopped upon feeling cold metal rammed into his forehead. Nothing had pierced his skull, though the officer’s eyes promised that possibility.
“Your opinions don’t matter. Just admit to what’s clearly in that room.”
The face under the gun hardened. “Go ahead and check the bed, then. Seeing is believing, after all.”
The two exchanged glares before the officer trudged into the darkness, keeping his gun pointed behind him.
Within seconds, he reached the wriggling mass on the bed and tugged off its fabric encasing.
“Just so you know, Officer,” said the suspect, “I haven’t lied to you yet.”
An earpiercing shriek filled the air, followed by the thud of something collapsing to the ground.
“What…”
The officer’s voice was barely a murmur. His body shook violently on the floor, enough to render the question unintelligible. Between tremors, he felt his hands grasp at something soft.
Clothes. Lots of them. They reeked of urine and fecal matter. Such depravity seemed out of place, compared to the clean-cut suspect, so the officer grabbed a sample of it with trembling hands.
A checkered t-shirt. Apart from feeling damp, it was ordinary. But something wasn’t right about it being here, in this house. After eyeing it up and down, the reason became clear.
It was too small.
All of the clothes, in that graveyard of laundry, were much too small for a middle-aged man.
“What do you think, Officer Harvey?”
“How… my name…” Harvey’s voice came in sputters and gasps as he turned around on all fours.
The silhouette at the door held up something small and familiar. His wallet.
“You dropped this.”
Harvey reached out, on his knees, but was met with an explosive pain to his chest. His body flew back into the bed post and upset the wriggling mass above. When he opened his eyes, the sole of a shoe blinded them again with pain.
“You seem to know a whole lot about me, Officer Harvey. Only fair that I get to know your name, don’t you think?”
Harvey couldn’t decide what hurt more: the endless kicking that his face received, or the heart-grinding fear of that… thing being inches from his back.
“And yet you still need to point out that I’m alone. Why? You already know, so WHY? Is it so you can rub it in?”
Tears streamed down Harvey’s face. He wanted to sob, but his mouth was quickly becoming another scar that wouldn’t heal.
“One more. I just needed ONE MORE. But YOU had to come and interrupt it. Didn’t your parents ever teach you that it’s rude to barge into people’s homes?”
A hideous odour snaked its way into what crevices remained of Harvey’s nostrils. Blood, urine, feces, and… something else. Something that rotted and oozed behind his back.
“I won’t let anyone take him away again. Instead, I’ll give back exactly what you fucking brought here!”
A metallic click.
Muffled screams.
The barrel reloaded.
And then…
“Tom! TOM! Stop it! I said— GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”
The kicking stopped.
The gun dropped to the ground.
Bones snapped and flesh tore at a steady pace, providing a pleasant rhythm to the song of a dying man’s screams.
Harvey didn’t look. But in his mind’s eye, he saw a gaping maw approach him with fangs bared. It came closer and closer and closer, until it engulfed his field of vision.
And smiled.
A scream ripped itself out of Harvey’s body. It echoed through every fibre of the man’s being, like a dissonant note travelling through a broken instrument. Vision and feeling left him. His existence became no more than an audio wave — like a constant distress signal, or a dying infant.
“Papa…”
A voice rung out in every direction, loud enough to overpower Harvey’s scream and silence it. With his consciousness returned, Harvey found himself lying prone on a bed of grass, legs aching almost as much as his face.
“Harvey!”
A pair of arms cradled his battered body. The last thing he heard, before nodding off, were sirens — or perhaps himself — wailing like a baby.
“So they were all in there— ack!” Harvey grabbed at his chin.
“Please don’t speak, Officer Harvey,” said the doctor. “We’ll be arriving at the ER soon, so just relax and listen to Officer Menlo.”
Harvey sighed and nodded slowly, being mindful of the oxygen mask strapped to his face.
“Yup,” said Menlo. “His garage was full to the brim with ‘em. They were all missing some parts here and there, and…” He held back the urge to vomit. “I shoulda known back when these incidents started last month. We…”
His already-small body shrunk back.
“We were too late to save anyone.”
Silence hung over the ambulance, broken only by the uneven beat of the cardiograph.
Eventually, Menlo brought himself to ask: “What about our suspect?”
“Dead. Deader than dead.”
“Did you—”
“No.”
Menlo took off his cap. “Well, this is a mess. Now we got a house full o’ corpses in the middle o’ the suburbs! That can’t look good for real estate.”
“Burn it to the ground.”
Menlo shot Harvey a wide-eyed look. “What’re you saying?”
The supect had been lying earlier, at least partially. Harvey knew that now. Using all of the strength that he could muster, Harvey forced his eyes open and stared into Menlo’s.
“I’m saying that a child should only be born once.”