• Jake Corbin

Last Week’s Memoir #16


Art by Paul Rios


Editor’s Note: The Last Week’s Memoir series is a collaborative story written by Jake Corbin, Bryce McEfee and Paul Rios. View previous LWM Serial No.1 entries to read the story from the beginning.

“How can I help you?”


The captain was still facing the freshly closed blinds when he asked the question. Andy was still focused on whether he had just caught the entire police station staring at him.


“Excuse me, son, how can I help you?”


The captain was facing him now and seemed rather annoyed. His tone snapped Andy back into the reality of the moment.


“I… I don’t know.”


Andy had not been give the chance to process being shot at by complete strangers—not to mention audibly witnessing the murder of his co-worker.


“You don’t know?” the police captain repeated. He was definitely annoyed now. Andy had hoped for a little more sympathy.


“Well, let’s retrace your steps a bit: You ran into the station, quite alarmed I might add, and yelled for help, saying someone was trying to kill you. Correct?”


He didn’t wait for an answer.


“You also said they were right outside. Does that sound right?”


This time he waited for Andy to respond.


“Yes, sir.”


The officer’s question reignited the panic that had temporarily taken a backseat when Andy arrived at the precinct.


“I was in the alley in the warehouse district and someone told me I needed to leave. I decided he was right. I got up to go, and there were two men in black suits—they had guns and they shot Larry.


The captain didn’t flinch at this information; he just kept staring and listening to Andy.


“I ran; they started shooting at me. I think Larry is dead. I don’t know what they think I saw. I didn’t see anything, but they just shot Larry. I don’t know why they shot at me.”


Andy was borderline hyperventilating at this point.


“So you never saw anything, Andy? They just started shooting at you?”


Andy caught his breath in one big gulp. He stared at the captain, his mouth agape, not saying a word—he didn’t remember telling anyone his name.

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