Chronicles of Han: Preserving Creata: Part 1: Learning Curve

The housing development our crime-scene was situated in was one of the most sought after middle-class neighbourhoods in New Haven.

It ran parallel to the WE1 Highway, taking it out of the rush of the inner city, but still being accessible within minutes to every corner of necessity. The house itself was on the corner of Winding- and Weld Streets.

This particular house was situated in the middle of the spacious, open property with lawns sprawling to every side. There were only fences on the sides of the property flanking the neighbouring houses, leaving the front yard exposed and accessible to anyone who whished to enter.

At first glance it looked like a normal, liveable, single storey family house.

Homicide tape was still sealing the door.

Tucker broke it and found the door unlocked.

Our new acquaintance calmly followed our every move, seeming quite intrigued by what might happen next.

Sensaii made his appearance on demand, but my new friend did not seem to notice him.

*What would be the best way to proceed?* I wanted to know from Sensaii. *I cannot see anything that would trigger an immediate vision.*

*Try the dried blood in the middle of the floor,* Sensaii suggested.

Not wanting to take any chances in case I was swept away and fell over or something, I sat down next to the large brown stain in the middle of the lounge.

Upon touching the stain, I was indeed swept to this room immediately after the murder had happened . . .

A man wearing a ski-mask was bending over the body. The hardball bat he held was broken and bloodied. He wrapped the bat in plastic. I followed him as he rummaged through the house with gloved hands. He took disks from the study, turned around and calmly walked out of the door.

I had to follow, as he was my only lead. Briefly glancing back at the body, I followed the man outside.

A block away, the man entered a vehicle. I took note of the make, model and identification number of the vehicle.

The man took off his mask.

I was plunged back into my own body . . .

I found myself lying curled up in a ball next to the pool of dried blood.

I felt nauseous and, as awareness and memory returned, I started to struggle to stand up.

My body did not respond.

Tucker’s strong arms encircled me, helping me up as I croaked “toilet”.

We made it in time for me to release the nausea into the appropriate container.

I sat down weakly on the floor as the spasms wore off, resting my head on my knees.

Finally, when the world stopped spinning, I was able to look up at Tucker.

He and the spirit were eagerly awaiting a reply. I suddenly found myself in a huge pickle.

The Low-life standing in front of me had ruined lives as far as he went and now he demanded justice!?

Sensaii had already indicated that it was up to me to make my own decisions.

What I had to do would be on my conscience.

“How long was I gone?” I asked Tucker.

“About two, maybe three minutes. Do you want to share?”

“No, not right away. There are too many things to sort out. Please take me home. I feel horrible.”

Tucker did not make any comments, but he looked greatly concerned.

He took me home and even climbed the stairs with me – the elevator still being out of order.

He left me at the door.

“I’ll call you later to see how you are doing,” he said.

The Low-life was no-where in sight.

I thought back along my short term memory and saw him staying in the vehicle, faithfully guarding his file.