2. Not Quite Human

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It was sheer coincidence. It was only a matter of random circumstance that the young officer Markowski was out, doing his rounds, surveying the town and keeping watch over its inhabitants. It was not so random circumstance, however, that he was asked to go look back into the old docks where they had just made an arrest the night before, and it just so happened that he had been the officer that had been asked to do it. He thought nothing of the assignment, assuming it'd be easy work—a quick sweep, then he was home free and in the good graces of the chief. But it was never that simple.

He stepped out of his car and walked a few paces towards where all the action had happened, stopping and wondering what it might have been like to be one of the officers who responded to the call. It was a sour point with him that he never got to do any of the fun stuff—only useless legwork like now. Although it wasn't as useless as he thought, because behind him he could hear faint humming coming from someplace that was barely out of sight. At first he considered it might just be a drifter—after all, this place was frequented as a den for junkies looking to shoot up.

The humming went on, so softly, and without thought he gravitated towards it, discovering he had an overwhelming need to see where it came from, which voice gave it life. When it seemed to be coming from inside one of the old sheds he stopped, noticing that something about the tune seemed to be off. Yes, it was soft, but in its way it was also broken—choppy, boxy, an eerie sound that emanated from within. Somehow that didn't seem to stop him, and he twisted the handle and let the door creak open slowly as he clicked on his flashlight and shined the beam around the room.

Immediately the light reflected off the pearlescent skin of the woman who was crouched in the corner facing away from him. She was clearly naked, and as if not having noticed him yet she continued on with her humming. The officer wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, because in a way he felt almost paralyzed standing there in her presence. It wasn't long until he saw blood dripping from somewhere in front of her, and after lowering his beam a little he could see the unhealthy amount of red that was already staining the floor.

He called in gently, a kind inquiry to see if she was alright, and it caused the noise she was making to immediately be cut off. At first she did nothing, remaining motionless and silent as the cop considered going to her, but then she gradually erected herself, the sickening sound of her bones rearranging catching him off guard and unnerving him. Maybe he would've been afraid right then, maybe he would've understood a little better what was happening if he wasn't filled with such complacency looking at her.

When she finally turned to him he could see that the blood did indeed cover her front side, but none of it was her own. A trail of it led from her mouth, dripping from her chin, and he could see the dead rodents that she held in her hands. A swift check with his flashlight showed that she had already collected a pile behind her, and he told himself he should be afraid. On her face, the only thing visible to him were her lips, which curled impossibly up as she let out a shrill laugh and took an uneven step towards him. Again, he asked her if she was okay, if she needed help, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"Hungry," the voice that came from her was inhuman, distorted and wailing. Though he still felt a little tranced before her, he could feel the threat she posed as she took another step towards him. He told her not to move, that he would go call for help, for she refused to stop as she wailed at him again. He wanted to leave, but his feet wouldn't move, so instead he put his hand on his gun, hoping that the emphasis would be enough to make her stay where she was. It wasn't, and her steps only hastened.

"Hungry!" She shrieked as she found more balance and rushed at him. The way she moved was odd, like the skeleton under her flesh was not in one piece, and all the little parts inside of her went in their own directions. He yelled for her to stop, still trying to give her a chance, but it was clear she had no intention of listening. Now he wasn't being nice, and he quickly pulled the gun from its holster to discharge one shot to her leg. That did nothing, failing to faze her as she neared, so he gave her one to the shoulder, to her stomach.

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