Jonathan Maberry - SNAFU - An Anthology of Military Horror

“Out of this world.” Heisen repeated softly.

He jumped when the phone rang in his hand. “Shit.” He quickly jammed it against his ear.

“Detective Edward Heisen.” There was a pause.

“It’s me.”

Heisen breathed a sigh of relief at hearing the young man’s fear filled voice. “Hi Klaus. How you doing?”

Several seconds of silence greeted his question, and Heisen thought he would ring off. But there came an intake of breath, a clearing of the throat and then Klaus came back on.

“Not good.”

“We can help you,” Heisen responded automatically.

“Bullshit. No one can. There’s fucking little people after me… and they can walk right through the walls.”

Heisen squeezed the phone as he concentrated. “What do you mean by little people?”

“I’m not mad.” Klaus said softly.

“I know you’re not. In fact I believe you. Tell me where you are, son.” Heisen felt he was holding his breath.

The silence stretched again. “Wilson Street… number seventeen. Third floor, apartment 3B. It’s an old brownstone.”

Heisen knew the area, and told him so. “It’ll take me twenty minutes to get to you. Stay inside and keep the doors locked.”

“Are you shitting me? I’m never going outside again.” Klaus rung off.

Heisen pulled in to the curb and sat for a moment as he examined the dark brown building on Wilson Street.

“Little people,” he said to the windscreen as he searched for anything out of the ordinary in the building’s third floor windows. “Fucking little people.”

If he’d had the conversation in an Irish bar he would have got the joke. But the weird oval burn holes, the even weirder way people were being killed, and the tiny footprints left behind in Mrs. Silberman’s ash outline — those tiny, perfect footprints — he didn’t think it was a kid for a second. The foot was too narrow — like an adult’s, but much smaller. Something was seriously weird and it was no joke.

“Little people,” he said again softly and then snorted. “Little fucking people with laser guns, executing our citizens.” He laughed out loud. “Haven’t had a drop to drink, Chief… honest.”

He pushed out of the car, checked his gun and then sprang lightly up the several flights of stairs to 3B on the third floor. Heisen knocked once and immediately stood to the side — old habits die hard, especially after you’ve seen half a dozen hollow nose slugs tear through a door dead centre in response to the old open up, it’s the police request.

Heisen waited. There was movement inside.

“Who is it?” whispered from behind the door.

Heisen stayed with his back against the wall. “Detective Heisen, Klaus. Lemme in.”

“How do I know it’s you?” Klaus’ voice was high and tight with fear.

Heisen groaned and resisted the urge to swear, deciding instead to cut the kid some slack given he still sounded scared shitless. “Klaus, we just spoke twenty minutes ago…” He lowered his voice. “… about the little people.”

A bolt slid back, and then what sounded like packing tape being ripped from around the frame. The door opened a crack, the security chain still hanging in place. The eye ran him up and down, and the door closed for a second, to be immediately pulled back open.

Heisen guessed he looked enough like a cop to pass the test. He stepped inside. A pale youth stood in the muted darkness wearing a stained t-shirt, jeans and bare feet. His eyes looked sunken — the kid needed some hot food and about a week’s sleep.

Heisen quickly looked him over for weapons — old habits again. He sniffed; the place stunk of body odour, cigarettes and mildew.

Klaus half smiled. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

Heisen smiled and nodded, letting the kid unwind.

Klaus motioned to a formica table and chairs. “I’d offer you a drink, but there’s nothing left. I ran out of food a few days back and have been too scared to go out. Uh… do you have anything? Food I mean.” Klaus asked.

Heisen shook his head. “Just some gum.”

Klaus seemed to think about it for a few seconds, and then shrugged. “Okay.” He held out his hand.

Heisen gave him the pack and Klaus jammed a few sticks into his mouth, chewed for a few seconds, and then swallowed the entire mass. He quickly stuffed the rest in and did the same.

Heisen sat down. “So, tell me about the little people?”

Klaus swallowed again, breathing heavily and savouring his first meal in days. He sat down heavily, and looked up with exhausted eyes.

“They’re after me.”

“You said that.” Heisen said. “What do you think they want?”

“They want what I found.” Klaus responded lethargically.

Heisen shrugged. “The skeleton — the Neanderthal — that?”

“No, no, I don’t think so. I mean I did at first, but not anymore. It was what the fucking cave man had in his hand.” He rummaged around in his pocket. “This… they want me because of this.” He placed his fist on the table. He opened his hand.

Heisen leaned forward. It looked like a fountain pen, brushed chrome and about four inches long with a slight bulge at one end. He squinted. There seemed to be a glow coming from inside.

“It’s still working.” Heisen sat back.

Klaus licked his lips. “I know, and that’s impossible. The matrix we dug this from was at least fifty thousand years old. Whoever, or whatever, dropped this thing was around at the time these Neanderthals were spearing mammoths on the German steppes.” His mouth worked for a second or two before finally finding the words. “I don’t think it came from our world.”

Heisen frowned as he stared at the object. “And now they want it back.”

“I’ve got to get rid of it. You take it.” Klaus slid it across the table.

Heisen didn’t move to touch it. “What does it do?”

Klaus’ eyes went wide. “I don’t know, and I don’t fucking care. I just want to get rid of the damned thing.” He lunged at Heisen. “I know… I know what it is… it’s a goddamn homing device or something like that. That’s why they keep finding me.”

He stood so quickly his chair flipped back onto the floor. “I just need to give it back and get on with my life.” He paced, wringing his hands. “But these little things came out of the wall — just walked right out of it. I held it out to them, but they freaked. I bolted, and ran into Mrs. Silberman’s apartment. I… I jumped out her window and ran, and kept running.” He snatched the thing up in his hand and shook his head, his eyes crushed shut. “Is… is she okay? Mrs. Silberman, I mean. I tried calling her, but a cop answered.”

Heisen continued to watch the young man, not feeling any urge to tell him he got the old lady tortured and killed.

“Klaus, we’ll get you to a safe house. Get someone to have a look at that device and find out exactly what it is. Maybe work out why they want it so bad.”

Klaus scoffed. “A safe house? There’s no such thing with these guys. Have you not been listening to me? These freaks walk through walls. I’d last about…”

“We’ll have you guarded twenty-four-seven. I give you my word.” Heisen shrugged. “Besides, once it’s out of your possession, they’ll probably lose interest, right?”

Heisen waited a few seconds. He could see the young man’s mind was ticking over. He looked again at his emaciated frame. “One thing’s for sure, you can’t keep going like this; you’ll be dead from starvation in a week.”

Klaus dropped his head into his hands and rubbed the fingers hard through his shockwave of greasy hair. “Maybe I’d be better off dead.” He sighed and sat back, his eyes and cheeks sunken like a shipwreck survivor.