《The Bystander Effect》


 Chapter 1: Eli

    1


    How would one know if a damsel is in distress? I felt a shiver run up my back. He''s really getting in there. Why me? Why this time? Why of all days do I have to be witness to something so vile? "She isn''t technically in distress if she isn''t breathing," I whispered to myself. That''s not funny, E. The man in the navy blue was good. Too good for this to be an accident. Too good for me to get away if I run. Too good if I say anything. Should I say something?


    I backed away slowly as the man in navy blue pulled the lifeless woman''s head up from under the basin of water. She was dead, and I was a dead man walking if I got a call, as I realized that my phone wasn''t on silent. Mom told me not to take shortcuts in life. I assumed she spoke of things figuratively, but an alleyway downtown could be my demise, and that would be my final thoughts given to this world.


    What should I do, Wisdom? Can I call you that, since you and I are both witnesses to what is happening? Yes, you, the one reading as I jot my thoughts down and mark them in my brain. Wisdom is a good name, I wonder what her name was. The woman lying on the ground, still as the killer rolled her body in a blue tarp to put in the trunk of some stolen sedan.


    Why blue, out of all the tarp colors in the world, why would anyone choose blue? He''s also wearing blue... Wis, can you remember that for me? I might need that info later. And the car, black, no license plate. The woman, cold, but looking further, I could tell that she was kind. This stuff doesn''t happen to bad people. Maybe that is why I am here watching, observing.


    Maybe I am next, and it will be my kind, game over.


    This isn''t a game, E.


    I shake my head, making a grimace as I recognize that I am still here with the killer, and should probably call 911. I forgot, my phone isn''t on silent. I know what you''re thinking,  just turn it down, sadly no, I had to change my keyboard to that typewriter sound everyone uses, and unfortunately, it''s loud. Too loud for the situation I am in now.


    Should I cause a distraction? What would Batguy do in this situation? He probably would fight the man in blue. I wish I had taken a martial art when I was younger, but no, I had to learn piano. See Dad, jazz can''t save me now.


    Can you save me Wisdom? Am I going to die?


    As I creep behind a trashcan, I can''t help but hear a siren in the distance. Thank goodness for the police. Despite the social turmoil and constant injustice my people face, I am happy to hear that sweet screech coming closer.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "Police! Put your hands up!" I sigh in relief as I take another step back, but when I look up, there is no killer in sight. Just two cops, me, and a cold puddle on the ground where that damsel once lay. How did he even get away in the car that quickly? The man in blue. The man in navy blue.


    Gone.


    2


    "I didn''t do anything," I dejected. You believe me, right? I mean, you were there with me, so why am I in this cold room, with these frigid people staring at me?


    Am I a suspect?


    I''m not a killer, I even do my due diligence of letting ladybugs out of the house when they get in. Not spiders, though, because those are vicious animals. Again, this only seems to happen to kind people. Because something so cinematic as this can''t happen to the bad guys. Right?


    "Why were you in the alley, kid? Do you work with Mr. Q.?"


    "Mr. Q.? Who even is that, and why is his name so lame?"


    Can that even be considered a name?


    "Plus, I was promised a phone call, and my lawyers will be hearing about this blatant discrimination against the youth." Why do I always get paired up with old people, like I was destined to encounter only those who never even try to see from my lens as if they weren''t young and dumb before?


    Just answer the question, kid. Why were you in the exact location as a notorious killer? "Notorious," I thought. Only the police would give such a profound word to someone who murders in the middle of the day. "What makes you think I would associate with such a person? One, I don''t have a motive, two I want my phone call."


    3


    "You believe me, right? Good. Now hand it over. I won," I cheese.


    "Ugh, you always win our bets," yells Daniel. What a sore loser. "And now you hand it over."


    " Fine, but technically, you weren''t being detained, just questioned," ejects Hope.


    " Ha. A technicality you say. Whatever. I will enjoy the smell of victory while you haters count your losses."


    Those are my friends Daniel and Hope. They are the cynical type and love to think that I will lose on one of our bets, one of these days, but that day is not today.


    Who knew out of the three of us I would be the first to go to jail or be arrested? I always suspected Hope, because she was so far left it just felt right. As I grab my bag from the lecture hall and pocket the cash, I can''t help but feel that there is something behind me. I turn around and look closer to the window. A shadowy figure passes by, and I can''t catch anything but the color of his shoes. Blue.


    There it is again. Wis, there is that color. What do you make of that? Me?


    I think it''s a coincidence to think about for another time.

 Chapter 2 - Mr. Q

    "Green represents the dead image of life." - Rudolf Steiner


    1


    Here lies Damsel number... Well, it doesn''t matter who came first or who will come last, as my hand executes judgment upon them. Now I know what you''re thinking, what an envious thing, that I could be the one to strip them of breath and all things green.


    To take all that the trees offer and give my tribute back in the form of early decomposition. Not my decomposition, but you get the point.


    She had forest eyes and they yearned to be returned to where they belonged. Now I''m no monster. I wouldn''t do something so heinous and just bury a body. So if you think I will get caught, sorry, wrong story, wrong person, wrong time.


    Let me take you back a few hours because, despite my exterior, I am no monster. I was having a good day just like everyone else. I was at my favorite coffee place, the Olive Branch. And that is where I saw her.


    Who she is doesn''t matter, so we''ll call her Damsel. But what she is, does, for her aura, is today''s color, green. And as I adorned myself in her wave of sage ecstasy I hadn''t noticed the waitress calling my order out.


    "Matcha latte, hold the foam! Going once, Going twice."


    "Wait!" I exclaimed. Hand reached out to grab onto the last remnants of jade going by. This Damsel was cute, she actually responded to my outburst, but as she turned to see who was yelling for her, I quickly grabbed the matcha from the cashier, threw some cash down, paying no mind to the change that halted to the floor, and rushed into a booth.


    Let''s not be reckless. I have no way of getting caught, but I will not make it easy, simply for the sport of it all. Police have been searching for me but they are unwise and unwelcome in this game I created. So I refuse to be seen giving them any leeway.


    The chime of the door is made, and as she walks off, I proceed to toss my untouched drink in the trash. As I walk out myself, I look down to see a fully rusted penny roll out the door, and an idea creeps with the smile plaguing my face. I now have a method, a gift to the trees, and a way to get my forest green.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    2


    "Dispatch said they haven''t found a body, just some clues and a bunch of pennies. What does it all mean?" I roll back into my chair and tap my temple in thought.


    "Diaz" calls the Lieutenant. "This is the fifth missing girl this month. There doesn''t seem to be a matching motive or anything that ties these girls together with the rest."


    "And pennies, not even dimes or nickels for these poor women. Cheap bastard."


    "That''s not funny, Campbell. They have to mean something; everything left behind has to mean something. He is questioning us, telling us to keep up." I sigh.


    "Yeah I know, it''s just the news won''t get off our back and I am getting fed up. Take a look at this photo of pennies lined up in a question mark. Nobody in the forest, how does this Q. guy do it?" Campbell retorts.


    Yes. Q. We have no description, no name, no face to paint with this crime, so the public has begun calling him Mr. Q. I don''t understand the national high people get on fictionalizing real killers with silly names, but now the police have "Q." to thank for that.


    "That''s it!" I exclaim, jumping into the air.


    "What, have you found our guy?"


    "No, but I have a hunch. What do forest and pennies have to do with each other?"


    They get green. They age and rust and can provide life and death. I hope I''m on the right track here.


    "Green," smiles Campbell. "They are green, what is that stuff on pennies called again?" He asks into his phone.


    "Verdigris." I state.


    He used verdigris and poisoned that woman. Where can one even find a load of that? "And that doesn''t answer where the body is, or the motive," I huff as I slide into my chair again.


    Campbell pats me on the shoulder, his face directed towards the door.


    "Well as you continue to think I have to speak to a suspect down the hall. Lewis is probably trying to intimidate them, the old bat. Keep me posted on your progress."


    "Will do, thanks, Lieutenant." As he winds down the hall, I scribble the color green down on my notepad. I will find you Q. Because you took from me something no one can replace, and that''s a promise. Turning to my computer I begin to zone out as the door down the hall opens and a voice in the distance says, "One, I don''t have a motive, two I want my phone call, there he was wearing blue, navy blue."