PERCHANCE TO DREAM By: CindyR

Chapter 1

[Columbia University: November 5, 2:15 am]

Plainclothes policewoman Deloras Hernandez picked her way carefully across the hard-packed earth of the campus, a fraction of her attention on her footing, the rest centered to the full on her surroundings. Deloras was a six-foot amazon of a woman, more muscular than many of her male counterparts yet attractive enough to make her useful for this decoy work she so loved. An ex-Army drill sergeant trained in two styles of martial arts, Deloras was well able to handle herself in any situation police work could throw at her ... or so she thought.

"I can't believe no one's fixed the light behind that dorm," she muttered just loud enough for the microphone taped to her left breast to pick up. "Make a note of that, Mark; tell the Dean that if that bulb isn't replaced by tomorrow I'm going to pay him a visit to explain the matter -- personally."

She cursed softly in Spanish as the toe of her low boot caught in a clump of weeds but recovered her balance instantly and resumed her casual stroll from the dorms to the labs. A breeze rustled the leaves in a small copse of trees to her left bringing her to a halt.

Deloras wrinkled her nose. "Mon, smell like something died out there." She turned her face into the breeze, a quick calculation telling her that the stench originated from the direction of the copse. "I don't remember checking those trees out before. Bear with me guys, I'm going to do a walk- by and see where that smell is coming from.

"Hey, O'Brian," she added cheerfully, "you better a'got those Lakers tickets -- I've been looking forward to that game all week!"

Based in a nondescript van not a hundred yards away, Deloras' partner Mark O'Brian adjusted the volume on the speakers minutely to ensure that the signal remained strong, then offered the radio's operator a friendly wink. "We're both Lakers fans," he explained, following the woman's progress by the crunch of her boots in the dry leaves. "She used to shoot a lot of hoop in high school."

"I'm not surprised," the operator returned amiably. "Big woman."

"Good partner. I.... She's stopped." Both men fell silent, leaning closer to the speakers in an attempt to hear more.

"I-I thought I saw something move," Hernandez murmured, an unfamiliar knot of nervousness in her voice. "I'm going to...." A pause. "Madre--! It's not...! Mark! Mark, it's not human! Tentacles! Mar--" The sound of shots followed, then a shrill scream, both clearly audible even without the mike. Sgt. O'Brian drew the heavy service revolver he was never without, already through the van's doors before the scream truncated into a low gurgling noise more horrible than even the scream.

Well familiar with the lay-out of the campus, O'Brian had no trouble locating the strand of trees Deloras had mentioned, nor did he have any trouble finding Deloras -- or what was left of her.

"Oh, my god, kid." O'Brian dropped to his knees beside the remains, not noticing the half-dozen men, guns drawn, covering his back. Face blanked with shock, he took the woman's hand in his own and pressed it to his cheek. "Aww, Deloras," he whispered, "an' I was gonna surprise you with season tickets, too."

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