Central Park
Detective Ed Green strode up to the site, followed by Detective Mike Logan.
A murder victim and an assault victim…
When they made it over to where the body lay, Ed Green had difficulty believing what he was seeing.
"What the hell is…that?"
Ed Green stared down at the body
The murder victim looked like…
A troglodyte.
Clad in what looked like leather, an arrow protruded from its chest. Lank blondish hair straggled over blue-gray eyes that stared sightlessly up at the overcast sky.
Someone shot this…thing…with a bow.
The M.E. smiled apologetically.
"Don't ask me what he is…"
"He?" Green asked.
"Yep," the M.E. nodded. "Definitely male. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was a Neanderthal."
"Cro Magnon?"
"Nah…that's us." The M.E. grinned as he closed the body bag. "Liz is gonna love trying to figure this guy out."
"There was an assault victim too?"
"Yeah…one of the trash picker-uppers," the M.E. nodded over to the right. "EMTs are working on him now."
Logan nodded, and made his way over to where the EMTS were working on the victim, Green hurrying to catch up. Logan stopped dead, staring at the EMTs, and the victim they were working on.
"Can't he ever catch a fucking break?" the detective murmured.
"Mike?" Ed Green laid a hand on Logan's arm.
"It's Jack McCoy," the older detective said, staring down at the victim.
McCoy was alive, but it looked like someone had done their level best to bash his skull in.
The right side of his face was already bruised, blood smearing down the right side of his head, and from his nose.
"It's not as bad as it looks," one of the EMTs said as he pressed gauze to the bloody wound to the side of McCoy's head, and bound it up with a bandage. He continued to speak.
"He's gonna need stitches for sure, and the docs will probably want to keep him overnight. He's concussed. But that's about it."
Logan nodded.
"I'll have to call the Halfway House," he muttered. "Let them know what happened."
…..
Bellevue Hospital
Detective Mike Logan sat in the waiting room, along with Ed Green, waiting for someone to come out and tell them how Jack McCoy was doing.
Yes, Jack McCoy was a friend, but there was more to this than that.
He might have witnessed what happened to that…other guy.
But finding Jack…like that…had put Logan in mind of another time he'd found Jack McCoy in a badly battered state.
Skyland Mountain. He could have been killed then. Practically everyone else was…
"Detective Logan?" the man's voice brought him back to now.
"Dr. Liam Kennedy," the man said. "Mr. McCoy is going to be fine, I think."
"Is he awake?"
"Uh…"
"Look, doc, there was a murder. We think Jack may have witnessed it. So, is he awake or not?"
"In the technical sense of the word…yes."
"In the technical sense? Doc, either you're awake, or you're not, so which is it?"
Kennedy sighed.
"He's awake, but…" he sighed again. "We had to give him some heavy pain-killers, and this is on top of the meds he currently takes."
"So…he's…what?"
"He's higher than a kite. You want to talk to him? Fine. Just bear in mind that the world he's in right now might not be the same one we're in."
"Okaay…"
Logan had interviewed stoned interviewees before.
More fun than a barrel full of monkeys…
The hospital bed had been curtained off for privacy, and Jack McCoy…
The right side of his face was already beginning to turn all the colors of the rainbow. But he was smiling when he saw his visitors.
"Hey, buddy," Logan had to smile back as he pulled a chair up and sat. "How are you feeling?"
"Everything's…blue," McCoy sighed.
"Blue…well…That's nice. Jack, I need to ask you some questions about what happened. You up to that?"
"Yeah…"
"Okay, Jack…What happened?"
McCoy frowned, slowly began to speak.
…..
"Today was my first day," he said. "I was picking up the trash…"
He paused.
"I never realized until today. But people are swine. The trash cans are right there, but they can't even be arsed to walk just two feet over..."
He heard Logan's chuckle.
"Stay on track, buddy. What happened?"
"Yeah…Was picking the trash up when I heard something to my left. And, suddenly, there was this funny-looking guy, and he was frightened…"
The man looks to be in his thirties, or thereabouts, he's short and squat, just a touch over four feet tall, and McCoy thinks…
A Neanderthal…a Neanderthal in Manhattan?
The man grab's McCoy by the shoulder, says something in a language McCoy doesn't understand. But the fear is plain enough to see. So, he grabs the man by the wrist, seeks a cop on a horse…
Then, there's a weird…flare of light, and a man appears out of nowhere, body haloed by this light, and he's riding a stag, a…sword in his hand that shines with a copper-bronze sheen…
…..
Mike Logan listened to the tale, and all he could do was shake his head.
"A guy on a stag?"
"Yeah…" McCoy nodded slightly, wincing as he did. "Biggest stag I've ever seen…Might have been a moose though…and the guy…he was wearing this fancy-looking armor. Looked like some sort of chain mail, like in the movies. And he had a crown on his head."
"Apart from that, what did he look like?"
"White-blond hair, and pointed ears…I think. But I didn't get much chance to see. He was right on top of me before I could do anything. Mike…the other guy…"
"He's dead, Jack. Did the other guy carry a bow?"
McCoy shook his head, again, wincing with the movement.
"Don't know," he closed his eyes. "You going to catch the guy?"
Logan sat there, by McCoy's side.
"We're certainly going to try…"
…..
Morgue
Dr. Elizabeth Rodgers had an unexpected surprise waiting for her. Actually, there was more than one surprise waiting for her.
First, of course, there was the presence of a bona fide Neanderthal lying on one of the slabs in her morgue.
Then, there was the presence of three FBI Agents, all three congregated around the body on the slab, as if it was the answer to all the secrets of the universe.
When anyone with brains can tell you the answer is forty-two…
Agent Dana Scully, noticeably pregnant, was carefully examining the body, Agent John Doggett by her side. The third FBI Agent was carefully examining the arrow that had been used to kill the victim.
Monica Reyes was almost ecstatic.
"Arrows of this type have only ever been found in barrows in the Old Country…"
"Old Country?" Rodgers raised an eyebrow.
"Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and Brittany…" Reyes looked down at the arrow in her gloved hands. "There are legends about the Sidhe, and their Great Hunts, how they would hunt the peasantry…"
"The…Sidhe?"
"Yes," Reyes nodded, put the arrow back on the table. "Later stories made them out to be mostly benevolent, or harmless pixies or fairy folk. But in the oldest tales, they could be quite evil; Banshees, for example."
Rodgers regarded her severely.
"You're not trying to tell me this was the work of a…fairy?"
"Our stories and fables have reduced them, made them into fairies and pixies. But they weren't that at all. Some of them were great and terrible, more like Tolkien's High Elves. And some of them were…Evil."
"And that's not the biggest question," Scully finally spoke up. "Which is, of course, how did a Neanderthal make it all the way to Manhattan?"