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The Assault in the Fog (standard:horror, 1814 words)
Author: Nathaniel MIllerAdded: May 24 2016Views/Reads: 632/384Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Story based on prompt activity: As I crossed the street I tripped over a...

San Francisco, better known as the city, swirled in a misty shadow as
night fell upon the semi-deserted streets. A place known for its 
homeless, crime, and cold nights is the place of the tale I tell. It 
was on the city streets at 2 AM that I received the call in the car, an 
incessant beeping on the radio for the call-up signal, and then the 
grated voice of dispatch giving out the calls it receives for a city in 
turmoil. No night is different, just crime, violence, and homeless in a 
city turned upside down.  My name is Murphy and I am a detective for 
San Francisco Police Department.  This is my story. 

“Car 55, come in please.” The voice said, and I glanced at the radio
sitting idle as I let the heater do its work, on a cold night.  I shook 
my head as I reached down to adjust the radio volume.  The call was for 

“Car 55, here.” I said, picking up the receiver. 

“Possible 187 at 4th and King Ave.” The voice said. I grimaced at the
code for Homicide but I shook my head, clearing my negative thoughts 
and focusing on rolling to assist. I hated this code, there was a 
person killed for nothing usually, and their innocent blood spilled 
over the usual urban violence of the city. 

“Roger.” I replied, and I put the car in gear and with lights and no
siren, I rolled down the city streets. I happened to only be two blocks 

I didn't hurry with sirens blaring, and only lights would be adequate.
It wouldn't tip off the perp if he was still in the area that someone 
reported his actions to the police department. . 

When I arrived at the street, I stopped the car, and got out. As I did
so, I holstered my service revolver at my side, and checked the charge 
of my tazer unit. Slowly I walked in the thickening fog, across the 
street, the yellow street lights muffled by the mist and sprinkling 
rain falling upon me, quite the usual weather for the city this time of 
year.  The street was abandoned at this hour, not a living soul usually 
inhabits this area except homeless or criminals, being that it is an 
industrial area near the docks and near the rail lines belonging to the 
Cal train ™ Commuter service people working in the area. 

As I walked down the street I tripped over a body lying on the curb. It
was that of a brunette woman, her clothes in tatters, and the throat 
was brutally slashed. Two holes piercing her neck at the nap of it too. 
A pool of blood glistened in the yellow streetlights, and the mist 
growing thicker with each passing minute. 

“Bravo six to dispatch.” I said shakily in the handset. 

“Bravo six, go ahead.” 

“I need back up. I need three units sent, found a civilian down, at 4th
and King, near Cal train. I think it's Officer Crawford, whose off-duty 
and listed as missing the last three days. Send Ambulance to location.” 

“Roger, Bravo six.” 

“All units, backup requested at King and 4th Street.” The voice said,
“Officer down.” It was followed by a beep. I heard a clatter in the 
shadows and I drew my service revolver.  My heart leapt as the mist and 
fog swirled along the street, the light above muffled by its thickness, 
making it hard to see anything. 

“San Francisco, Police Department!” I shouted, “Come on out.” 

There was another clatter and I slowly moved forward. 

“Come out, where I can see you, or I will send in the dog!” I shouted,
and again it was met with silence. 

I saw a shadow in the darkness, a lumbering figure and I raised my

“Hands in the air, or I will shoot!” 

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