12. Trench Code 587
I wanted to replied with a sarcastic comment along the lines of, “Could you be a bit more blunt?” but my mouth just said, “What?”
“You killed Jacqueline,” responded my officer.
“I did not such thing,” I said, convicted at what I was saying.
“While you were drugged, yes.”
“Drugged?” I asked, highly offended.
“One can do strange things when they are drugged with Hypo-whatchamacallit.” “Hypo-what?”
“Hypo-something or other.”
“Is this what made me forget this last month in its entirety?”
“Yes. Be glad it wasn’t a higher dosage, because if it was, you’d have forgotten
“Yep. Even your Mom.”
“How do you know all this?”
“The government lets me in on some secret information. I’m not allowed to tell
“I’ve been drugged. Aren’t I allowed to know why or how?”
“All I can tell you is that the revolutionaries are the ones who drugged ya.” “Talking about my mother, I feel like she’s forgotten me. Could it be related?”
“I wouldn’t put your hopes too high.”
“Did this drug cause me to kill the detective’s wife, or is it me that did it?” I asked
sincerely, having never thought that I was capable of murdering someone.
“Who cares, it’s not who you are now,” he answered. It did not make me feel
better. I had to know more.
“Tell me if I killed her when I was sane or not!” I yelled.
“Don’t raise your voice to me. Everyone in the police station knows already.” “They all know what?”
“That you’re a murderer,” he said slyly.
“Why don’t you arrest me?”
“‘Cause you have something valuable. We can’t afford to just throw you in jail.
We want you alive and in good health, and you know the conditions in those jail cells!”” We want you alive and in good health. That is exactly what the leader of the
revolutionaries said to me the last night I could remember. This scared me. Repetition. Was he part of the revolutionaries? I dared not ask.
“My mother doesn’t remember a lot of things about me,” I repeated. “Yes, I know.”
“How do you know?!” I yelled.
“You told me a minute ago.”
I ignored this last comment and continued with my train of thought. “Tell me if it’s somehow related!”
“It could be, I didn’t know about your mother losing her memory until you told me. She could just have Alzheimer’s.”
“She told me that my father’s dead.”
“Oh, well I don’t know, honestly.”
I stood their for a moment, with a heart throbbing for adrenaline and a mind
longing for answers. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll get my information through someone else!” I turned around and left. I heard the officer say, “Good luck being an untrained detective.”
I did not like his humour, nor his way to tell information. My brother was dead, my father was dead, and I had killed the detective’s wife while I was drugged with Hypo- something or other. I had to discover why all of this was happening. I asked Mike on the way out what the detective’s address was. He had been there before for some reason unknown to me. He told me quickly, and I was out the door. I looked through a window of the police station and saw the officer talking to Mike. I thought nothing of it. I was off to the detective’s house.
I told myself that after I was done questioning the detective, I would go to Ike’s house and question whoever was there. After that, I would go on a lead I assumed I would get.
I got to the detective’s house at about 9 o’clock at night. I knocked on the door and he answered right away.
“Come in!” he said before I could say anything. I did as asked and he quickly closed the door behind me. “I’m sorry about my behaviour back at the police station. I’ll tell you everything!”
‘Wow,’ I thought to myself. ‘This could be a setup. I’d better be careful.’ “Come with me,” he said, leading me to his living room.
We entered the room and I what I saw was surprising. The room was as if
ransacked. Tables were overturned, lamps were shattered, a couch had fallen on its side, and papers and books were sprawled everywhere around the room.
“What happened here?” I exclaimed.
“A struggle,” he answered vaguely.
“Between who? I thought it was a robbery!”
“Oh no. It was a struggle between you and Jacqueline.”
“Who’s Jacqueline?” I asked, forgetting.
“My wife,” he responded calmly.
“When did I kill her?”
“12 days ago. The only thing gone out of the scene is my dead, bloody, and
“Why is it still in this condition?” I asked, pointing to the room confused. “Because I wanted you to see it,” explained the detective.
“Why?” I asked, offended once again.
“Wanted to see if you’d remember.”
“To see if you’re an honest person,” further explained the detective. “And am I?” I asked, curious of what the detective thought of me.
“Yes, you are.”
“How can you know for sure?”
“After being a detective for 25 years, you can tell who’s telling the truth.” “You said you wanted to tell me something?”
“Yes, Sit down.”
“Where?” I asked looking at the demolished room.
“Turn that couch over and I’ll sit in that single-person couch,” he ordered.
I did as asked and he did as he told me he would. He then looked at me and
started to explain what he thought was everything.
“So here’s the thing: a few years ago, the government got there hands on some
drugs that some street-rats had had for a few months already. They tested it on street- rats and some of them tested it on themselves. They lost their memories. So then-”
“What’s the drug called?”
“Hypo-whatchamacallit. The officer would know. Anyways, this drug makes people forget, and the government tested it on different people using different dosages. The more the dosage, the more they forgot. One poor man forgot everything. He ended up throwing himself off into Suicide Valley. You know why it’s called Suicide Valley? It’s because-”
“I know why, but let’s get on to what I’m here for.”
“Right. Well what happened is that all the drug was used up and they find anymore of the drug. They didn’t know the formula.”
“Do they know it now?” I interjected.
“Well, the rebels now have it. You were the first person in three years to have the effects of this drug.”
“What are the effects?”
“The individual becomes violent, hence my dead wife, and the individual also becomes very dizzy.”
“Why did the revolutionaries drug me?”
“Don’t know, but what I do know is that the government wants it, and they want you to help them get it.”
“I don’t remember where the revolutionaries are!”
“That’s besides the point. The point is that the government thinks you do. Therefore, you do know where they are.”
“Why does the government want this drug?”
“For a project called the Trench Code 587. It works kind of like the hibernation project, but shorter term.”
“Is this drug what they used for this Hibernation Project that you’re talking about?”
“But what is this Trench Code?”
He did not answer, for a bullet sizzled through the air and went threw his skull the
To be continued…