Monsters

by Farmer847

A single phone call pulls our two favorite San Francisco Homicide Detectives into the depth of an unsolved crime so sinister that the locals would rather see it buried in the back of an old file cabinet, never to be mentioned again. What will it take for Mike and Steve to fight off the monsters along the way to seek justice for the victims, no matter the cost?

55. Chapter 55

Despite his physical strength, his nearly sixty-year-old body was not made for shoveling for a prolonged period of time.

As such, Mike could feel his biceps burning, the tight muscles in his back cramping more each time he dug into the soil.

In the process thereof, he'd come across several rocks, some large enough that it took two of them to lift it out of the shallow hole that was to be his gravesite.

Mike didn't begrudge the time it took, for every wasted minute would bring him closer to a chance of being found by their backup crew.

Survival had taken on a different meaning over the past hour, an altruistic, bizarre notion that had rarely ever crossed his mind before.

Then again, there hadn't been situations like this too many times before either.

Survival now meant to remain as a sole witness to the horrible atrocities committed, to stand trial and make sure Morris, Mears and the rest of their group would be found guilty on all charges. It meant to bring his partner's body home for a proper burial, full honors, add in a commendation or two for bravery post-mortem, take care of Steve's effects and make sure his death wasn't in vain. It also meant passing on the news to his parents, and, probably just as dreadful, to Jeannie.

He knew it would break his daughter's heart, her relationship to the young Inspector as close to a siblingship as it could get.

Survival meant to move on from the loss, no matter how grueling that would be.

Most of all, with everything down to the wire now, survival meant refusing to let evil win.

"What is taking you so long?", Morris asked impatiently, standing a couple feet higher, Steve's .38 in his gloved hand loosely pointed at the ground.

"You're asking me to move a lot of soil all by myself. It takes time.", Mike countered evenly, pointing at a couple more rocks that were starting to appear beneath the dirt, "I am probably going to need help moving those."

Groaning theatrically, Morris took a step back, as if to evaluate whether or not the grave was deep enough yet, then tapped one of his goons on the shoulder.

"Let's get moving here guys, I haven't got all day. This needs to be taken care of."