The Sandman Stories - Book #1: TALONS

1

The blades of the chopper were still spinning when Agent Boone stepped out onto the landing pad. He began a crouched run toward the group of fellow agents that had been eagerly awaiting his arrival. As he approached his colleagues, the one in the middle of the gathering spoke first. He was yelling in order to be heard over the clangorous hum of the helicopter's engine.

"Jesus, Boone, you look like hell"

"Good to see you too, Murphy," he answered.

Agent Patrick Murphy was Boone's partner and good friend of ten years. Murphy looked like the stereotypical Irishman with brilliant red hair and scattered freckles across his rosy cheeks, often earning him the nickname, Agent Opie.

"You should try sleeping once in a while," bellowed Murphy.

"Sleep is for mortals," Boone joked in return. "What have you got for me?"

Although irritable from his lack of sleep, he still welcomed the sight of his partner. There was no one that Boone trusted more than Murphy.

One of the other agents handed Boone a manila folder. "Not for the squeamish," he said with a look of warning.

Boone opened the folder to discover several 8 X 10 photographs. The blood began to drain from his face as he examined the pictures. He had to remove his sunglasses to make sure that what he was seeing was real.

"Where?" he asked.

"A little town called Bushwood. About one-hundred miles southwest of Dallas," responded Murphy.

"What time?"

"Estimated time of death is about 2:00 A.M.," Murphy answered before Boone had even finished the question. He knew his partner too well.

"They are still heading north," deduced Boone.

"My thoughts exactly," Murphy agreed.

"There goes my nap time," chimed Boone. "I need a secure phone line now. Time to call BROTHER. And somebody get me a damn cup of coffee."