Stranded - A Pirate's Tale - part 1

27. Useless weirdos

     Things had been messy, at first. People had screamed, cried, swore, and even retched, but had pressed ever closer around the crime scene anyway. Whatever the reaction of some, morbid curiosity would always be the driving force of a mob—even with a hand before the eyes, they just hoped to see more between their fingers.

     Don Juan knew that crazy rumors about this... gory mess were already circling Puerto Seguro, growing increasingly out of control—even if he couldn't see how anything could be wilder than the present reality.

     The Chief Constable took pride that his men acted rather professionally, even if they would be the first to gossip about it all afterward. With their help, calm had been restored around the drying pool of blood and severed body parts, and the gawkers had been pushed away, up and down the stairs. A few of his men were now guarding the access to the scene while the rest of them had been sent back to headquarters and their regular dull tasks.

     A sudden change in light made him squint. The sun had finally decided to show up, shining bright and warm. It wouldn't be long before people started to complain about the smell. Don Juan waved at the three boors that had been waiting on the sidelines for an hour already. It was time to let them clean the street. The job was well paid and there was often something to rob from the corpses*, but the old soldier pitied them. It would take hours of hard work to gather all the limbs, rewind the bowels, and wash the body fluids from the cobblestones.

     Don Juan left the jaded men to their work and turned around, glad to finally look away from a sight that would haunt him for a long time. His mind raced, considering all that remained to be done, concerned about the absence of solid leads. He had taken all the time necessary to examine the bodies as coldly and stoically as possible, but hadn't found anything else other than the bloody footprint. He now hoped that someone, anyone, had witnessed anything. However, he knew from experience that the odds were not in his favor.

     Yet, as a man and a woman had claimed to know more than the rest of the crowd, it was his duty to listen to what they had to say. They were waiting at the bottom of the stairs under the supervision of Sergeant Mendoza—not the brightest recruit of the Watch, but very reliable and physically impressive. Don Juan beckoned his man and the first witness was invited to step forward—by a firm shove in the back.

     The tall, skinny man looked pale and feeble. He was also painfully prognathous. To avoid staring, Don Juan tried to focus only on the man's eyes, but they were of no help: wide open and distraught, they rolled in every direction. The Chief Constable hoped that his whiskers hid his twitching mouth.

     "I'm Don Juan Peña Hernandez de la Luz, Chief Constable of our beloved city. Your testimony could be of the highest importance in helping me restore peace in its streets."

     The pallid man didn't seem very impressed by the speech. He kept looking at nothing in particular, slightly shaking.

     "So... Did you see anything?" asked Don Juan, patiently.

     The man's eyes locked with his so suddenly that the constable couldn't restrain a jolt. The man's voice was a frightened whisper.

     "I saw so many things! Things beyond reason and sanity," he said.

     Don Juan couldn't blame the man. If he had witnessed only half of what happened here... No wonder he was so distressed.

     "I saw a mighty creature, the Demon-God from the abyss."

     "Wha—"

     "His vaguely anthropoid body was covered with scales, his head was that of an octopus."