Trailing Behind

The Detective stood by the edge of a roaring, raging river, looking down. The water was fresh and clear, the air was cool and calm. He wondered why they let him carry on with his job. No one else cared. But maybe that was it. That was it. No one cared. They didn’t. What was the harm in letting him carry on. And so he did. He knew there was only advantage to this search. He knew, he felt it in his bones, in his very soul, that this was the one. Once he got to the bottom of this mystery, he would understand why what was happening in the world was happening in the world. He would understand. And maybe he would be able to stop it.

The water was deep and fast. Raging and rushing. The air was chilly. He hugged himself tighter. It was just him on this trip. He wished his colleagues could have come. This was a beautiful place. He looked around, greenery everywhere. The smell of nature unperturbed, or as undisturbed as could be possible these days. The sun was bright and warm. Each ray a pinprick bringing joy to every cell in his body.

Of all the murders, all the disasters, all the crimes, he could not pinpoint why it was this series that drew him. But when he saw the clippings, he knew he had to come. He felt something in his bones, in his soul. He knew that this one would lead him somewhere. Until that point, he had been frustrated. Going nowhere. But when this one came along, he knew it was something. So he flew to the end of the world. His superiors didn’t care. No one had much use for money anyways. Even those who had been hoarding it at the start, had stopped. There was no point. This was not going to blow over. Businesses still ran. Some, at least. But mostly, the world was in chaos. He looked at the bridge, yellow tape posted alongside it. The small building where the owner of the bungee jumping operation had greeted his oblivious victims.

It was this one that seemed the most ludicrous to him, yet it was not more strange than any of the others. It was on the same level and same spectrum of weird. The man had been imprisoned. He would not say anything but blubber about how he had always wanted to do this. This was his secret burning passion. The police here had pegged him off as mad. Police everywhere had been doing a lot of that recently. Yet, having seen some of these cases, he thought not. Maybe there was something behind it. He still had a few days left. He looked towards the south. For some reason, since he had landed at the small airport, his heart compass had been pointing in that one direction. He began to walk. The sun shone bright and beautiful. The Detective walked along grassy plains.