Autopsy of the Night Shift

Detective Jerome Perry stepped out of his car and into the night. He looked at the huge warehouse he was about to enter and exhaled. There were already three police cars parked in the lot, and police tape covered the entire perimeter of the warehouse. Detective Perry ducked under the tape and approached the back door. He pushed the red button that allowed him to open the door, and he found himself in a small hallway that only led to an office space. Perry walked down the passage and into the office to find Sheriff Floyd and Deputy Nelson, both staring at something that Perry still couldn’t see. “Alright,” Perry sighed, “What’s the current situation?"

Floyd looked at Perry and pointed at what he was looking at, “Just look for yourself.”

Perry followed the sheriff’s finger and spotted the dead body. He was sprawled on the floor next to his office chair, but with no obvious wounds or injuries. There wasn’t even any visible blood. “Meet Nicholas Jacobs,” Nelson shook his head. “Caucasian. Male. Night shift security guard.”

“Cause of death?” Perry asked as he kneeled down to get a closer look of the corpse.

“The coroner’s on his way,” Floyd responded. “Of course, we haven’t been able to touch him, but there aren’t any obvious causes.”

“Have you searched the premises for suspects?” Perry looked around the entire office.

“Officer Schmidt is searching the place as we speak,” Floyd nodded. “We haven’t called for backup yet. To be honest, I doubt he was even murdered. There probably isn’t anyone in here. I mean, if there were a killer, there would have to be some traces, don’t you think?”

“Not necessarily,” Perry stood up, straightening his pants. “It depends who we’re dealing with.”

Floyd frowned, “Well, if Schmidt finds anything, he’ll radio us.”

Perry looked at the four different video monitors on Nicholas’ desk, and immediately scowled, “You do know that our little security guard had access to all the cameras in the facility, correct?”

Floyd and Nelson exchanged looks, and Floyd blinked, “Well, yes, but … We didn’t want to touch anything.”

Perry rolled his eyes, “So you just want to stand here until the coroner shows up? Jesus.”

Perry moved the mouse around on the desk, but none of the monitors lit up. He started pressing random keys on the keyboard, but still nothing happened. “What the hell?” Perry mumbled. “What security guard doesn’t have the freaking cameras on?”

Suddenly, the lights in the office and the hallway turned off, filling the entire space in pitch-black darkness. “Jesus Christ,” Floyd hissed. “What the hell was that?”

“It couldn’t have been a power outage, right?” Nelson asked.

Perry couldn’t see a thing, “God dammit, don’t either of you have a damned flashlight?”

There was blare as Nelson turned on his light, “Sorry.”

Then Floyd’s walkie-talkie began to crackle, but no one said anything. Floyd grabbed his walkie-talkie, “Schmidt, is that you?”

There was no reply, only the continuous static. “Schmidt?” Floyd said. “Officer Schmidt, do you copy?”

Finally, the static stopped and someone was laughing at the other end. It was a quiet but yet hysterical laugh. “What the hell is going on?” Nelson looked at Floyd. Floyd held his walkie-talkie up to his mouth, “Schmidt, what’s going on over there? Who’s laughing?”

Then a chilling, raspy voice replied, “There’s nothing to report.”

The walkie-talkie cut off, and Nelson shivered. Perry rolled his eyes, “So it looks like we do have a killer … and he’s in here with us.”

“I’m calling for reinforcements,” Floyd fiddled with his walkie-talkie for a few minutes and then cursed, “Why the hell is nothing getting through?”

“Does it really matter?” Perry scoffed. “The back door is right across the hall. Just get into your car and call for backup. Christ!”

“Take it down a notch, asshole!” Floyd growled. “There’s a goddamned murderer in the building.” “Why are you still standing here and arguing with me?” Perry retorted. “Go get help.”

Floyd glared at Perry, but did as he was told. Perry pulled out his pistol, “Nelson, let’s go.”

“What? Where?” Nelson asked, eyeing Perry’s weapon.

“What the hell does that mean? Aren’t you a cop?” Perry gave the deputy a disgusted look. “We need to find this guy!”

Nelson blinked and then nodded, “Yeah, uh, of course.”

Nelson also pulled out his pistol and the two men left the office into another hallway. It was much shorter than the other one, and it led them to the main storage room. Boxes upon boxes laid on the floor, all in stacks of at least twenty. “What the hell do they even store here anyway?” Perry mumbled. “Beats me,” Nelson replied, shining his flashlight in all directions.

Perry noticed what he was doing and turned around to face him, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Shine your light all crazy like that. If there’s someone in here, he’ll be able to tell where we are just by looking at the beam of light. It’s bad enough that we have to use the flashlight at all.”

After walking past countless rows of boxes, the two men reached another exit door. And another body. “Dear god,” Nelson gulped. “It’s Schmidt.”

There lay the corpse of the unfortunate police officer, right by the exit door. Once again, Perry knelt down by the body as Nelson continued to shine the light. The first thing he noticed were Schmidt’s mangled finger nails, and the tons of tiny scratches on the metal exit door. “Jesus,” Perry stood up and took a step back. “He was trying to claw his way out. Literally.”

Perry realized at the same time that, like Nicholas Jacobs, Schmidt had no signs of injury. Then he noticed Schmidt’s walkie-talkie on his utility belt. Perry leaned down to pick it up, smirking, “How strange.”

“What?” Nelson looked at the detective.

“Whoever spoke to us through the walkie put it back into Schmidt’s belt, as if it wasn’t used at all.”

“This just doesn’t make sense,” Nelson whispered. “If Schmidt desperately needed to get out, why didn’t he just open the door with the red button.” Nelson shone his led on the small button adjacent to the door.

Perry pushed the button, and the door didn’t budge. As disturbing as it all was, a smile spread across the detective’s face, “Because someone turned off the power, making it impossible to open the exit doors, and whoever called us on the walkie called us after the power went out.”

“So could there be more than one killer in here,” Nelson said, his voice getting quieter with worry.

Then the footsteps began. It seemed as though they started where the two men had come from, and the noise continued to get louder. “Wh-who the hell is that?” Nelson stuttered.

“Shh!” Perry hissed as he grabbed the flashlight from Nelson and turned it off. “Get on the floor.”

Both men dropped to their stomachs, and the footsteps continued to get louder. A few seconds past, and by that time it sounded as though whoever was walking towards them was only inches away.

The footsteps finally stopped, and a cold hand touched Perry’s head.

Perry didn’t breathe, and the hand lifted off of his hair.

Nelson screamed, there was a loud gunshot, and the lights turned back on. Perry covered his eyes with his hand as he rapidly tried to adjust to the sudden light. Luckily, his eyes adjusted quickly, but he gasped as he saw Sheriff Floyd on the floor, with a bullet wound right in his stomach. “Oh my god,” Nelson stepped back and his voice cracked. “I just shot the sheriff.”

Floyd lifted his head and looked at his own wound. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He dropped his head back down, and the blood started to spread out on the floor. “Shit!” Perry yelled as he quickly took off his jacket and rolled it up into a ball around his hand. He put his jacket-covered hand on Floyd’s wound, and pushed hard on the sheriff’s stomach, “It’s alright, Floyd. It’s okay.”

Floyd groaned in pain, rolling his head side to side on the floor. Meanwhile, Nelson stood in shock, “I just shot the sheriff. Oh dear god, what have I done?”

Perry looked behind his shoulder at the panicking deputy, “Shut the hell up and help me pick him up!”

Nelson finally stopped talking and grabbed Floyd under the armpits. Perry picked up Floyd’s feet, “One, two, three.”

The two men lifted up the sheriff, and shuffled over to the door where Schmidt’s dead body lay. Perry pressed the red button with his elbow, and the door slid open. The detective made it through the door before the lights turned off again, and the door began to close. Trying to speed up, Perry lost his grip of Floyd and fell back, leaving the two policemen inside of the warehouse. Perry stood up quickly and pushed the red button at least thirty times, but the door would not open.

The detective ran to his car and got inside. He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. At the same time, his phone rang. He picked it up immediately, “Hello?”

“Jerome, where the hell are you?” It was Detective Lewis, Perry’s partner. “Sheriff Floyd just called me and said that you’re still not at the crime scene. What are you doing?”

“Wh-what?” Perry shouted. “I am at the crime scene. I’m at the warehouse. And how did Floyd call you? He got shot in the stomach. Someone’s in there, but I got locked out. I don’t know what’s-”

“Buddy, buddy, slow down,” Lewis replied. “What are you talking about? What warehouse?”

Perry blinked, “Th-the warehouse. The crime scene.”

Lewis chuckled, “You need to lay off on the beers, man. We never sent you to a warehouse.”

Perry realized that he couldn’t remember why he had gone to the warehouse.

Then there was a hard smash against Perry’s car, and everything went black.

Detective Fred Lewis stepped out of his car and into the night. He looked at the huge warehouse he was about to enter. There were already three police cars parked in the lot, and the entire perimeter was surrounded by police tape. Detective Lewis ducked under the tape and approached the back door of the facility. It required the push of a red button to open. Lewis did just so and walked in, finding himself in a small hallway, leading to a small office. In the office Lewis could see Sheriff Floyd and Deputy Nelson, staring at something on the floor that Lewis still could not see. Lewis approached the two cops, “What’s the situation?”

Floyd turned to Lewis and pointed, “Take a look for yourself.”

Lewis followed Floyd’s finger and locked eyes with the dead body sprawled on the floor.

Lewis knelt down to get a better look, “No obvious signs of injury. No blood anywhere it seems. Cause of death?”

“The coroner’s on his way,” Floyd replied, “but we haven’t reached any conclusions either. Officer Schmidt’s searching the whole place for any suspects.”

Lewis nodded, “And who exactly am I looking at?”

Nelson looked grim, “Meet Jerome Perry. Caucasian. Male. Night shift security guard.”