“Father! Are you there?”
A bald man, in a black suit, walked out. “Gregson! My you’ve grown.”
“Father, I’ve been the same height for years…”
“No, I mean… you’ve gotten wider.”
“Oh—come quick. Someone’s been attacked. Their leg is bitten off.”
“I’m not a doctor.”
“I thought you went to medical school.”
“No; I got a doctorate in philosophy. I bore people to death. I never save them, unless you count their souls.”
“I’ve got a belt. We can stop the bleeding. Do you have a car?”
“No car; I believe they speed-up access to sin. No internet, either; I don’t even wear a zipper. All were inventions of the devil, to gratify the flesh.”
They pinched off the artery, but the man was dead, lying in a puddle of blood.
“I never made Eagle Scout,” Gregson lamented.
“He may’ve been dead for some time.”
“How do you figure?”
“Look at the congealed blood.”
Gregson noticed it, and gave the Father a look.
“Oh, I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies in my day— lots of last rights and funerals; plus, I watch CSI Miami.”
A girl ran towards them in spandex shorts and a red halter-top.
“Miss, you can’t run through here. This is a crime scene. We’ve got to tape-off the whole area.”
She pouted, and ran the other way. Gregson admired her form—her tropical legs, soaked in the summer sun, with red tattoos on her ankle.
“Be careful miss!” Gregson called after her. “There’s a monster on the loose!”