Chapter 4. Three Thousand Bodies in Farrow Street

It took a few hours on the road to get to Westside Silverwood, but due to the urgency of the case, a private jet was used to pick up Amara and her new partner, Ethan.

Since she left the President’s office, she didn’t bother to give the charming man a single glance. His aura alone was quite intimidating, and never had she seen or worked with a man with such cold and prideful air around him. His looks alone was enough to get anyone insane and to fall madly in love with him. Those glistening gray eyes that could trap you in a trance, that inky black hair that was always in a ponytail. Amara did steal a few glances while they were on the jet, but the more she looked, the more she loathed him. Ethan on the other hand spoke no word to her, before the journey and during the journey making Amara more enraged. He was completely focused on his file, looking at each page with utmost seriousness. Somehow, his words back at the office replayed in her head making her furious. Amara had never had a partner in her years of walking on cases, and having a first one like Ethan was even more difficult to deal with, especially with the kind of looks he possessed.

How could a charming young man like him be like this? So cold and arrogant? Such a waste of a handsome face. What a pity!

With that she looked at him no more and decided to focus on the file in front of her. As she went through her file, the more worried she became. This case was indeed one she had never before seen. Though Silverwood was a strange town all together, deaths and missing cases were rampant, but this kind of mass murder worried Amara. Nothing was too complicated for her to solve, but over three thousand people, practically the half of Westside Silverwood dropping down to their deaths not only at the same time, but with weird symptoms such as blood loss and drainage, organs missing and skins dried, was something new. That was such a huge number never before seen. Something was wrong with this case, something strange, and that worried Amara.

The gentleman beside her looked unbothered, not even in the slightest. In fact, his face remained unchanged and his aura this cold and intimidating. This only made Amara angry. She wanted to make sure she showed him what she is capable of, how intelligent and smart she was when it came to dealing with these kind of cases. She didn’t want to let her guard down, not in front of someone like him.

When they landed, one of their escort led them straight to Farrow Street, the street where it all started. Amara and Ethan were led right through the massive crowd of journalists and onlookers gathered outside the scene and into the club. She noticed that Ethan had slowed his pace and was behind her, hands clasped behind his back and in deep thought. She didn’t turn back, in fact she didn’t care. She kept on going. The scene was too massive. Bodies gathered everywhere, multiple bodies on top each other so dried and emaciated that it was a nasty job to the stomach. An odd scent of blood and ash mixed in the air, and every hair on the back of Amara’s neck stood. She was used to seeing dead bodies, even brutally murdered ones, but this was different. It made her insides turn so badly that she wanted to turn around and run back. The odd and strange aura seemed to be affecting her greatly. She took out a face mask and wore it around her face.

The man guiding her seemed to notice her discomfort, he said, “every detective turned this down, they think this is the work of something supernatural. I believe you can deal with it. You are the famous Detective Amara Morgan after all.”

Amara paused for a while before nodding, she didn’t know if she should continue. The scene in front of her was indeed bone-chilling. In the harsh light of day, she found himself standing on a once bustling street that had been transformed into a chilling tableau of death.

The sun’s unforgiving rays cast long, stark shadows over the scene, accentuating the stark contrast between life and the grotesque stillness that now prevailed. Over three thousand bodies sprawled endlessly on the ground, piled against each other, eyes wide open, blood and organs missing, their lifeless eyes staring vacantly at the sky. Some twisted beyond recognition.

The scent of decay hung heavy in the air, mixing with the acrid stench of a strange powerful aura. It was a sight that defied reason, an eerie and unsettling.

As Amara walked amidst the grim aftermath, getting closer to the club, she had a chilling reminder of the silence that had descended upon this once-thriving street, although the noise from the crowd far away from her was now muffled, the silence from the bodies was louder. The distant sounds of sirens wailed, ambulances awaiting instructions to take the bodies away. A haunting requiem for the fallen indeed.

Amara’s gaze was drawn to the shattered signboard over the club. It looked like part of it was melting.

Despite the sun’s harsh glare, Amara couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, as if the very street itself bore witness to the unimaginable horrors that had unfolded here. In this haunting daytime setting, she knew that the true nature of this tragedy was yet to be uncovered, and the oppressive weight of malevolence clung to the surroundings like a sinister shroud.

Unable to think any further, she turned to the man beside her, “What exactly happened here?”

The man shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed, “Someone said it is a radioactive air pollution, but if it was—I mean, if it was air pollution, we would have ended up like them right?”

“Did all the citizens just happen to crowd the whole street last, how can this amount of people be gathered in such a small street?” Amara asked looking at a place were bodies were piled on top of the other.

“This isn’t just Farrow Street, but half of Westside Silverwood all left their home and came here to end up dying. I can’t really wrap my brain as to why?” he answered.

Amara lowered her head in deep thought, then she looked back at the melting signboard. As she was lost in thoughts, a voice came from right behind her making her jerk forward in fear.

“We need gloves and masks,” the voice said.

Amara turned back to see Ethan standing there. She had completely forgotten about his presence. The scene before was too great to include him in her thoughts. He stood there arms folded. Although he was now standing beside her, he still paid her no attention. Suddenly she was enveloped by the fragrance of magnolia flowers. Her lips twitched at this, but the scent only made her want to find the source and rub it against her skin gently and with care. That creamy, velvety and exotic fragrance was impossible to miss. It lightened up the mood around her, but once she knew the source of such goodness, she frowned and loathed herself. A staff rushed towards them handing out masks and gloves.

“Be careful in there,” he said, “the forensics are waiting inside.”

Ethan nodded and took the material. He took only a pair for himself, pretending like Amara never existed.

Ignoring him, she took hers stepped into the club, and was greeted with the worst of sights.