Senus Fugit Archives

April 27, 2007

Jim: Senus Fugit

The sun hung like a hot, molten orange against the desert sky’s blueness while small desert creatures slept, panting in their burrows, except for those who were scurrying around from rock shadow to rock shadow trying to pry small seeds - shriveled dry – off of the few brown plants sprouting from the shifting sand.

With his shirtsleeve, Jacob wiped beads of sweat from his wrinkled brow and grimaced down the straight highway to the horizon where it vanished in shimmering waves of heat. He suddenly grinned and retrieved a pistol from the truck’s wreckage.

A car would pass by soon.

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May 28, 2007

Jim: Senus Fugit II

The highway cut surgically straight through a landscape that mirrored Jacob's face: timeworn but still stony hard. White lines on the pitted asphalt flashed a steady cadence as the minivan sped away from the deepening sunset.

The young couple had offered him a ride out of the desert and he’d told them about his home. It was back east somewhere, a modest place where his wife waited for his return. Funny how he couldn’t recall her face…

That couple had been so nice. Sometimes Jacob looked around and wondered where they had gone. But all he saw was drying blood.

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July 3, 2007

Jim: Senus Fugit III

The morning sun glared low on the horizon while Jacob’s long legs ate at the distances towards it. The minivan had run out of gas several miles back so he left it beside the highway. He didn’t remember where he had gotten it, anyway. All Jacob knew is that the previous owners were slobs, as testified by the scabrous bloodstains in the interior.

He grinned at stretching, verdant fields and decided that the increase in greenery meant that he was getting closer to home. So he hitched his belt for the concealed pistol to ride more comfortably and kept walking.

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July 13, 2007

Jim: Senus Fugit IV

Special Agent Clancy looked up from the manila folder. “Why do we call him the Heisenberg killer?”

“The nerds at HQ named him that,” Lt. Upton replied around a smoldering Marlboro. “From some scientist’s theory that you either know where an atomic particle is, or which way it’s heading, but you can’t know both.”

“It fits, though,” Clancy grimaced. “We know this ‘Heisenberg’ guy is heading generally east, killing as he goes. But when we deduce where he’ll strike next, he’s off killing someplace else.”

Upton stubbed out the cigarette. “Nineteen completely random murders! Dammit, Clancy, we need a lead!”

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