Dark Plague

THE TRAVELER A female police officer is standing in a living room covered in dust and sees an old tape recorder lying on the floor. The officer picks it up. With a whisper, “Brand new?” The play button is clicked, followed by a man’s voice. “March 17, 2235. This is my 16th attempt to find the cure to my, little problem. I thought if I went back to where it all began, I could find clues to how I stumbled onto the success of my invention.” The officer continues to listen to the voice on the recorder as she shuffles through old newspapers, with pages practically crumbling in her hands. A piece of the paper that didn’t crumble into pieces was partially readable. “Boy genius wins 1st place at high school science fair with molecule manipulator.” The date on the newspaper reads June 2, 2055. The voice of the man continues. “I can feel the change inside of me increasing with every jump. I came here to see what I’ve done that made this possible. Instead I come to a place I barely recognize.” The sound of someone sitting on a thick leathery fabric is heard with the sound of the man exhaling as if he’s been walking for days. “I never got to see them. Maybe that should be a good thing.” He can be heard licking his lips followed by a short-lived laugh. “It’s funny. I should be celebrating my 12th birthday by now. Never even made it to my senior prom. Too young to of been asked, and now too old to ask someone for that matter. Ah! The pain is getting worse. I think, maybe, my last jump should be for a place that makes more sense.” Clicking is now heard over the recorder, followed by a high pitch noise and the sound of the recorder hitting the floor. The officer slowly turns around towards the large window facing the furniture as the light from the sun tries to make its way through the dust covered window, casting shadows on the walls. Walking away, the officer notices something strange. Her shadow didn’t move off an old sofa. The officer walks over to the dusty couch and rubs her finger along the dark image sitting in front of her. “Ash?” The officer gets on her radio. “Lt.” “Go ahead,” replies a voice. “Sir, I think you should meet me in the living room.” Not a minute later, you can hear footsteps coming down the rotting stairs. “What did you find, Anderson?” She answers with ash falling off her hands. “I found the same type of ash we got locked up in evidence from old case files. Spread out in the form of a person. This can’t be a coincidence. Very strange.” The Lt. hands Anderson a photo album with photos and papers inside. “What’s this?” “Something I found in a wall safe upstairs. There’s a letter inside. More like suicide letter.” “What do you mean?” “It seems that one Melissa Talpert gave up her son for adoption and instructed the agency never to reveal what happened to his parents.” Melissa Talpert? I know that name.” “The mother of one Danny Talpert. The boy genius.” “Of course, my grandfather went to school with him, and went on and on how this kid made a cat go from one box to another at the end of the cafeteria with light at his high school science fair.” “As you told me over and over again after I took you on as my partner.” Anderson stands up and looks over to the Lt. “What I didn’t tell you was that Danny did find out about his father’s death and his mother’s suicide and became very disconnected from society.” She walks back over to the dusty window. “He then went missing a year later. Never heard of again. But not before spending weeks on end at his mother and father’s grave.” Static comes over both of their radios, followed by a voice. “Unit 13, we have a report of a possible grave robbery in the Stretson Cemetery. Get this, a witness says that he saw a man walk out of a light in the middle of the graveyard.” The Lt. responds on his radio with a grin. “We’re on our way. Lets go officer. We’ll leave this place to forensic.” Anderson lays the photo album on an old desk next to a busted flowerpot and leaves with her partner.