The blaring music faded into background noise as Alex walked towards the exit of the club. After three long hours of drinking and partying, he was ready to head home. He had been careful not to overindulge himself this time, but the low-quality liquor was still making him feel slightly sick. He sighed. If it weren’t for the tiny population in the town, maybe there would have been more clubs to choose from. He had long since grown tired of the same old drinks, songs, and people that frequented the only club within twenty miles.

Alex halfheartedly fished through his pockets to see how much money he had left. This was the other problem. He [i]wanted[/i] to add more variety to his life, but spare change wasn’t going to buy him a plane ticket or a new apartment. With his current income of “just enough to get by,” there was no way he could leave his hometown anytime soon. His nearly empty wallet was a shackle that kept him bound here. He drew a quarter from his pocket and tossed it from hand to hand. It seemed like he would just have to keep working on his tolerance for cheap booze and stingy club girls.

 Alex was jerked from his thoughts by the shrill shriek of a police siren. He instinctively froze and spun around to see where the sound was coming from. A dozens different questions flashed through his mind. What happened? Was there another murder? Was it nearby? Was the killer still on the loose? Was he in danger, too? The increasing number of murders in town had set him on edge lately. At least four people had died in the last few weeks, and the murderer had yet to be caught. In fact, the killer was so elusive people were beginning to call him “The Phantom.”

Two police cars roared down the street and sped around a corner, just one block ahead of where Alex was standing. He stared after them. After living in the same town for twenty-three years, he knew the layout inside and out. That street led to a dead end. The murder —if that’s what it really was— must have only just happened during Alex’s walk home. The crime scene hadn’t even been blocked off yet. He swallowed, suddenly swept by a morbid curiosity. Maybe he could get a glimpse of the victim. The media had been so vague about the murders. No one even knew how the people were killed. Maybe now he could find out.

Alex hurried after the sirens.

Around the corner, the police were already taping off the area. Alex crept closer to get a better look. On the other side of the yellow tape, he saw what would have been a body. However, it was too mangled to tell if it was man or beast. He paled and turned away. Seeing a corpse in a movie was nothing compared to seeing one in real life. The sight made him nauseous. Thinking about it now, Alex was surprised that none of the police had tried to stop him from looking. Normally they guarded their crime scenes with as much force as they could muster, but none of these men had even glanced his way.

It was then that he noticed what held the attention of the police. There was another man trying to intrude on the scene. It only took Alex a moment to recognize him: the town nutcase, Trevor Darklin. What was he doing here? Alex watched as one of the policemen turned Trevor away, looking seriously pissed off. The rest of the officers returned to their other tasks, but that one especially frustrated man continued to watch Trevor as if he expected him to try to get by the tape again. The scenario was almost funny. It was also a good distraction from the gruesome corpse Alex just witnessed.

“Hey,” he called out to Trevor. “What’re ya doing there?” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and smiled at Trevor condescendingly, falling back into old habits. “Find any aliens, Conspiracy Boy?”