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Hallow

by Adam Gallon

Detective Mathison detested coming here.

Skellig Alley, or "Scumbag Alley" as the guys in the department liked to calling it, was not the most pleasant place to be; for this was the home for the half dead and the forgotten. A putrid stench of excrement and vomit ranked the ghetto, in which no matter where you turned, filled up your nostrils and pushed down your throat. Whispers, quiet utterings and incoherent babblings in a language that only an alien from another planet could translate, were picked up in Mathison's hearing. Pairs of glazed suspicious eyes followed the grizzled vulpine detective as he exited his parked black Sedan.

Paranoia struck him. Even though his Salvation City Police Department badge was safely hidden from view, deep inside him knew that Skellig's residents were aware of what he was, a cop.

The seeds of distrust between Skellig and the authorities were sown five years ago. Two rookies eager for a quick promotion attempted an unauthorised drug raid in one of the north-western apartments. A long battle of a shootout followed and in the midst of the chaos, one of the rookies shot an innocent bystander, an innocent ten year old girl. Her death brought shockwaves throughout the city.

The frenzied circus that was the journalistic media blamed the SCPD for being incompetent and reckless, whilst at the same time shunned the people of Skellig Alley as society's lepers and the cancer of civilisation. Tensions ran hot but it was not until after the rookies' disciplinary hearing that everything exploded. A one year suspension with full pay was nothing more but a slap on the wrist. This was the day that Skellig's faith in the SCPD diminished to non-existence.

Rioting, looting and murder spilled out in the surrounding areas. Robert Thompson, a father of two, was dragged out of his car and beaten half to death with a baseball bat, leaving him with severe brain damage for the rest of his life. Kevin Wu, a hard working shopkeeper, was killed by being shot in the throat attempting to defend his shop from armed robbers. Leanne Taylor, a nineteen year old hairdresser intern was dumped and stripped naked in a car park with barbed wire knotted around her throat; bruises were found around her groin and buttocks during post-mortem. The daily lists of Skellig's crimes became longer, uglier and bloodier.

The rampage went on for six days until the rookie who shot the girl, out of self-guilt or martyrdom, hung himself in his home's basement. Seemingly satisfied with the rookie's death, the outward violence stopped, however, inside their territory, Skellig Alley was a different matter.

Anyone that wasn't one of them was considered an outsider, an enemy and if one crossed into their territory was in danger of being assaulted and maimed. The Mayor deemed that Skellig was a hazard and prohibited all government and maintenance works in the alley. This had led an already poor area of the city to steep into decline, turning it into a demoralised filthy trodden cesspit.

"Damn you Tom," the detective cursed in his head, "Couldn't you have chosen a better place than this?" Mathison walked cautiously to the grimly lit apartment entrance. The apartment was a worn crumbling monolith of twelve floors high. Windows, half broken and stained, were shuttered off by discoloured nailed blocks of wood hindered curious outsiders to peer at the depraved lunacy within.

The fox reached the beaten graffiti stained door. Anxiety swelled and stabbed his gut like a hot knife. "Time to breach the portal," he muttered weakly to himself. Mathison grabbed the rusty handle and swung the heavy door open. Taking a long sigh, he stepped inside; knowing full well that the level of danger he was once had has now jumped one hundred fold.