Totem Phase

San Fernando at dawn. The old buildings glowed red-hot in the morning light. Ocean shimmer played tricks on the eyes.

Emilio sipped his juice. Winced. From the balcony, he watched a couple walking on water. A mutt snapped at the waves, paws floating above the sand. Silhouettes against the sunrise.

Caruso crooned from the radio. Solomon scratched the new linoleum.

"Out, Solo, before you wear a hole."

He let the dog out. Beach was near empty. Joggers, dog walkers. Salty, his ex's dog, chased gulls. Good exercise. Sal had walked out a month ago. Said she needed space. Emilio got the dog.

The grapefruit was bitter. He wanted honey. Not on the diet. He forced it down.

The radio droned news. More looting. Shops wrecked since the quake. Floods made it worse.

The day it hit—Emilio was coming off shift. Stopped at Café Ol Lar. Sat in his booth. The ground shook. Plate glass shattered. He ducked. A jagged shard hit the table instead of his throat. The road rippled. Eight seconds of hell. By five p.m., he was in a squad car, Jim Kryzcki driving him home.

Apartment still standing. Looked burglarized, but solid. Then the call—Kryzcki never made it back to the station. Emilio didn't think. Just moved.

Got in his Oldsmobile. Started backing out. Then—aftershock.

Woke in darkness. Trapped. Crushed. Six hours in the wreckage.

They found Kryzcki drowned. The cracked dam had done him in. His siren still wailed under the water. That's how they found Emilio—buried alive under two tons of rubble. Broken wrist. Bruised ribs. Nothing else. But sleep? Gone. Every time he tried, Kryzcki's screams pulled him back.

Phone rang. Bran flakes untouched.

Two rings. He let it go. Didn't need another sobbing call from Sal. Picked up anyway.

"Emilio, how's the arm?"

Lt. Koresh. No small talk. Business.

"It's needlework, sir. You getting soft?"

"I need you in. Got a body. No personnel. Cut your convalescence short?"

"I'm back in four days, can't it wait?"

"Nope. South of Baldwin Hill. Buried for a while. I want you on it."

Emilio thought of Kryzcki. A new partner. His turn to be the trainer now.

"Can't you take someone off a desk?"

"I want you, Emilio. You've been waiting for this. You're ready. Now, deal or not?"

Koresh sounded strained. Desperate. Emilio exhaled.

"Give me the location."

Sun high. The mudslide from the dam burst had hardened to crust. Koresh met him at Inglewood. They drove three miles in near silence. The roads—fractured jigsaws. Old trees felled like matchsticks. A Dodge truck lay in a ditch, driver's door hanging open.

Koresh broke the silence. "Gonna be a nice day."

"Uh-huh."

"So, Mickey. How do you feel?"

"I don't."

"It takes time. Maybe you should reconsider—"

"Don't." Emilio cut him off. "Not getting counseling. Not now. Not ever. No head-shrink's gonna play inkblot games with me."

Koresh shrugged. Sweat trickled down his brow.

The crime scene tent flapped in the breeze. Yellow tape cordoned off the site—far from anywhere. Two white vans parked back-to-back. Forensic techs milled in white coveralls.

Emilio stepped out. Heat smacked him in the face. The baking sludge stank. The ground—hardened clay, cracking underfoot.

Inside the tent, the air was cool. He and Koresh pulled off their shades. Toni Marcellus, head of forensics, glanced up.

A lab tech dusted mud off a body. Emilio saw it instantly. A child.

Koresh kept his voice low. "How's it going, Toni?"

"Almost done. We're taking a chunk of the mud with her. Set like concrete. No unnecessary damage."

Marcellus, small, bald, methodical. Short temper. Emilio had seen him explode on day one as a rookie. Away from work? Good guy.

Marcellus got up. "How you holding up, son?"

"I'm fine."

"Sorry about Kryzcki. Tough break."

Emilio brushed past him. Didn't want the talk.

Marcellus gave Koresh a look. Lips pursed.

Emilio squatted. Examined the body. Facedown. Limbs twisted wrong.

"Ten to thirteen years old. Dead five weeks. Rough estimate."

Koresh asked, "Cause of death?"

Marcellus shook his head. "Too decomposed to tell. Peat preserved her. But she's been exposed two weeks. The sun ate her up. Autopsy will tell us more."

Emilio lifted the ragged fabric at the neck. "Did you see this?"

Marcellus craned his neck. "I saw it."

Base of the skull. Puncture wound. An imprint around it. Almost a tattoo.

Koresh's face darkened. Emilio felt his own go cold.

He wasn't ready for this.