Intentions

The tires jerked along the deformities of the concrete road, accelerating to almost 120km/h as surrounding vehicles scrambled to the left lane. Officer Hawkes scrunched his nose at the lingering bitter smell of the air conditioner in the car, watering his eyes. His freckled face contrasted with his pale skin and his frowning moustache tickled his narrow top lip as he talked.

“Make a right turn here,” he ordered, competing over the wail of the siren. The tires screeched onto a dirt clearway. Skeletal branches knocked and scraped against the car’s exterior as they stood with their roots submerged in a tangle of dehydrated roots.

“Look at the size of that,” Officer Hughes announced.

“Gee whiz!” Hawkes gasped. In all his 25 years of working in the police force, he had never been called to something larger than a domestic neighbourhood home. It was darkened in colour by time and had numerous gaping holes attempting to breathe in the non-existent wind. It stood completely isolated.

“Are you sure the screams were reportedly heard from here?” Hawkes questioned.

“That’s it ain’t it? It’s the only property in Gumgoyle street,” Hughes replied as the car came to a halt. Hawkes took a glimpse over at Hughes’ magnified blue eyes which sat behind his glasses. They were crowned with blocks of chocolate brown, making him always look frustrated. Hawkes felt a feeling of fear kick in. Something was surely not right here.

They stepped out the vehicle simultaneously and charged uphill towards the building. The sun beat down strong and was heavily absorbed by their navy blue uniforms.
Hakwes curled his fingers into a fist and hammered at the fragile wood door. “Police - open up!”

“Help!” a brittle voice of desperation cried. “Please help!”

Hawkes and Hughes exchanged glances. Without further warning, Hawkes struck his foot at the door, knocking it down in an instant. A pungent smell of an animal corpse bolted to his nose like a bullet, throwing him back a little.

The building was oddly dim, lit ever so slightly from the sunlight, revealing an empty corridor with open rooms on either side separated by a flight of stairs smack bang in the middle.

“Right - I’ll check the rooms on the right. You go left,” Hughes commanded. Hawkes whipped out his gun. He cocked it deliberately loud to indicate he is armed.

His feet hurried in and out of each room pointing his gun the same direction as his eyes while his heart was pounding in his ears. He couldn’t shake the feeling of fear and his nerves were building up even more and he felt as though he was going to puke.

He entered the third room and gasped at a female tied by her bony wrists and ankles lying front ways on the cracked ground. He tucked his gun back and exchanged it for his pocket knife and began slicing through the rope around her wrists. The door squealed to a slam, stimulating a violent shock in Hawkes as if he had just been tasered. His eyes shot over at the victim’s. A devilish smile crept across her face. “He’s here,” she cackled. Her smile was quickly wiped away and replaced with a scowl. “Get him.”

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