I love TMNT and I love true crime, especially cold cases so I thought I'd combine the two.
The Backpack
Chapter One:
The Finding
May 20, 1981
Nineteen-year-old Allison Blackwell left her friend's house later than she had expected, but it wasn't as if her parents would care. End of the year testing would be around the corner and she was nowhere near prepared. She regretted all the partying she'd done, but the stress was weighing down on her.
She did not want to be twenty and still in high-school. The very thought was giving her anxiety. Even though it wasn't her fault she fell ill with pneumonia and missed half the year of school the previous year, it didn't stop her parents from riding her back about finishing school on time. She knew the real reason was so they could have one less kid to look after. Her parents had never been interested in raising children, but there wasn't much she could do about it.
Something about the night air was making her uneasy. Maybe it was the full moon or maybe it was the fact the night before she got strange phone calls while studying. Allison wasn't sure; all she knew was that she had to pick up the pace. As she turned the corner, she almost bumped into a couple too lost in each other to pay attention to where they were going. Allison apologized and continued on her way.
The streets were always fairly empty in this area, with one or two people outside. Sometimes an elderly woman would sit on her balcony watching the nightlife, but the only creatures out that night were strays and New York's infamous overgrown rats. She almost shrieked when one of the disgusting creatures darted passed her and hoped into a storm drain. She muttered a swear, adjusted her orange backpack, and kept going.
Minutes later, she arrived at her door and breathed a sigh of relief. She looked all around her before bending down and lifting the flower pot where her house key was hidden. She slipped the key into the handle and turned until it clicked. Slowly, she pushed the door open as to not awaken her parents or little brother. Allison poked her head into the house and listened out for any sounds of movement.
In the alley, a trash can fell over, causing Allison to almost jump out of her skin. She looked to her left and saw the garbage spilled out onto the street. She felt silly at her own jumpiness as a white cat ran down the street, before quickly becoming annoyed at the contents she would have to pick up. She gave an exasperated sigh and shut the door.
As she bent down to pick up the trash, unaware of the shadowy figure stepping out of the alley. Swiftly and silently they moved toward her as she finished picking up the garbage on the ground. In one quick move, they grabbed her by the backpack and hauled her to her feet. Before she could comprehend what was happening, someone clamped a hand over her mouth. Whoever had her dragged her back into the shadows, but she thrashed about in an attempt to free herself. However, her assailant only tightened their hold on her as someone pulled her into the alley by her house. The two wrestled in the darkness. Allison bit her attacker's hand until they let go. She tried to scream, but a hard shove to her back cut her off and knocked her to the ground.
Allison fell to her hands and knees, too stunned to think straight. She rolled on to her back and looked up to see a familiar face looming over her. Her blue eyes widened as she looked up at the person she believed to be her friend. The attacker was on top of her now, pinning her down with their weight. She tried wiggling free but found it was no use.
"Why are you doing this?" Allison whispered. "I thought you liked me…"
Their only reply was wrapping their hands around her slender throat. She kicked and tried to pry their hands loose from her neck, but it was useless. After several moments of choking and gasping, Allison weakened until she eventually lost all strength and her body stilled. The killer didn't take pressure off her windpipe until they were certain she was dead.
Slowly, the killer rose to their feet, took the backpack from her lifeless body, and fled the scene.
2013
"Are we even close to being done?" Mikey asked Donatello for the hundredth time that day.
Donnie was regretting bringing along Mikey for this task, but he had been the only brother willing to help Donnie. Leo was busy training as usual and Raph was in another funk.
They made their way down the old abandoned subway tunnels, that Donnie had discovered only days earlier. They could come in handy and it was important for every area to be mapped out for their own safety.
Judging by the architecture and the state of decay, Donnie would have guessed that the old tunnels were last used in the early twentieth century. While Mikey was bored to tears, Donnie was looking over the area, taking notes, and marking their trail as they went along the way.
Mikey checked the time on his newly updated shell-cell and stifled a groan. They had been out here for hours. His feet hurt, his stomach begged for pizza, and the last of his water was gone. He wished he never agreed to this. He checked his email again just in case someone left a review on his Silver Century fan fiction. So far no one had left anything. Not a review or at the very least a follow. How lame.
As if his brainiac brother could read his mind, Donnie said, "Give it time, Mikey, someone will say something and yes, I know you've been writing fan fiction."
Michelangelo felt his face heat up. "No, I don't! I just read it, that's all!" He stuffed his phone back into the pocket of his belt.
They made it to a long-forgotten station where the orange masked turtle plopped down on the ground to rest. Donnie rolled his eyes in annoyance. He took out his bo staff and whacked Mikey on the head.
"Ow! What the shell, Don?" Mikey whined.
"Get up, knucklehead, and help me out here."
Michelangelo slowly stood up and took out a can of spray paint to mark the trail. He painted over the graffiti left behind long ago. He had to admit, some stuff written on the walls were slightly disturbing.
"We were the only survivors. Everyone else is dead," Mikey read aloud. "Creepy…"
Even Donnie, who typically remained calm, agreed that it was an unsettling find.
"Look around for anything useful and keep both eyes and ears open. You never know who or what could be down here with us," Donnie said.
Mikey shined his flashlight down a dark tunnel and slowly made his way down it. He swallowed nervously as he looked around the old tunnel. To his right was more graffiti art, including the well known Kilroy was here and something he had never seen before: "Children shouldn't play with dead things." That was strange and also disturbing.
On his left side, he noticed a maintenance room that hadn't been used since the days of the jitterbug. He pushed open the door, all the while cringing as the rusty hinges moaned and screeched. The light didn't work, but he didn't expect it to. Shining his flashlight into the room, revealed old rusted tools on metal shelves. Nothing useful in here.
Then he saw it tucked away behind an old broom. A dirty orange backpack trimmed with gray was leaning against the brick wall. It was an odd item to find. Did they have backpacks in the early nineteen hundreds? This door didn't look as if it had been open in decades, but the backpack looked as if it was recently placed there. Curiosity got to him so Mikey stepped inside and reached down for the bag. Picking it up revealed it to be heavier than he thought. He shook the bag to make sure they didn't have any body parts. In the back of his mind, he knew it was ridiculous, but all those true crime shows Leo and Splinter liked to watch made him paranoid.
Luckily all he heard were old books inside. Placing the bag on the workbench, he opened it, curious to know what was inside. He unzipped it slowly, peeked inside, and took out two textbooks one algebra, the other biology, a copy of The Outsiders by SE Hinton from a school library, and a journal. All of them had Allison Blackwell written on the first pages. He heard of the Hinton person before, only because Raph loved both the book and movie. Opening it, he saw Abraham Lincoln High School stamped in bold, red letters. Checking the dates showed the book was last checked out in May of '81. This book is ancient, Mikey thought. Shutting the book, he placed back in the bag and flipped through the pages of the textbooks, but nothing of interest was in those except a crude drawing of a penis in the algebra book. He opened the journal next, wanting to know who this bag could have belonged to. Part of him knew it was wrong to read such personal and intimate entries, but his curiosity continued to gnaw at him.
On the first page someone had written: To Allison: I know it's hard not having a proper place to vent, but even you need to and I'm not around, use this journal for your thoughts and get well soon!. - Mrs. Spence.
Opening the next page, this Allison girl wrote her first entry. Her spelling wasn't the best, but neither was his.
June/5th/1980
So miss Spence came by the hospital gave me this journal to help me with my thoughts. Hope she never has to read this or she'll run for the hills or have me admitted… or both. I dunno what to say exactly. Today was test day for my friends, but I'm still here recovering from fuckin pnemoinia. At least I'm doing better and the doctor said I can go home in a few days if things progress the way they do. I hate being sick and I want my bed back. Mom and Dad don't visit much, but Aunt Kathy did yesterday and she brought Sam and Maria with her! That made me feel better. Guess I better go, the nurse is here with my lunch and pills.
He moved on to the next entry, ready to read it until-
"Mikey, what are you doing? Someone's down here and we need to hide!"
Donnie's voice snapped Mikey from the journal. Stuffing the books back into the backpack, he grabbed it and left the room with the door wide open. The brothers took cover in a ticket booth. Whistling carried down the tunnels, telling them the individual was getting closer and most likely male. Footsteps splashed in puddles and clacked on the metal of old railing. Whoever they were, they knew their way around this area.
Against Don's pleading, Mikey peeked over the booth and spied the person making their way to the door. Whoever they were, they stood tall with a chubby body hidden under a baggy hoodie and black jeans. The person stopped at the door and gasped. The hood on the jacket fell revealing a man with dark hair. The man rushed inside and he could hear stuff being thrown around as they frantically searched for the backpack.
Placing the bag back in its original spot crossed Mikey's mind, but then… why would a grown man need a teenage girl's backpack? The only reason he could think of was a keepsake, but why leave it down here to rot from moisture? Something about this wasn't right.
He moved in for a better look, but his brother grabbed his wrist.
"What are you doing?" Donnie hissed.
Mikey lowered himself back down and waited for the stranger to leave. After a furious cry, the intruder stormed out of the storage closet, slamming the door shut. His footsteps were harder this time as they ran away from the scene. As his footsteps faded away, Don was the first to check if the coast was clear.
"I think he's gone. Let's get back home and tell the others," Don said. "I wonder what that was about."
He held up the bag. "Uh… I may have taken something that wasn't his," Mikey replied sheepishly.
"You did what?! You can't take something that doesn't belong to you!"
"Calm down, Don. I know that and I was gonna give it back, but this bag doesn't belong to him either. It's some girl named Allison."
"Then give it back to Allison. Is there a last name?"
"Blackwell. I thought if I looked up her name, I could give it back. It's weird it's down here, though."
"Hmm… that is strange. There are graffiti down here, which would tell me kids frequented in this area a lot."
"I'm keeping it until I find her."
Donnie nodded. "Sure, but that thing is old and gross."
Adjusting the strap, he slung the bag over his shoulder and followed Don back the way they came. He was unaware of the mystery he would soon embark on.
