The Lenev File

The city lived in the darkness of the Cradle's legacy, its citizens' lives torn and shaped by the misery embodied in its charred shell, and the tormented souls that haunt it. At night even the most cold-blooded murderers dared not walk alone along the twisted alleys surrounding it - people say the very ground there is blighted by the evil that is the Cradle.

The tortured voices were its birthing cry; the rising smoke its first breath. Born out of torture, oppression, murder and a history of weeping, the Cradle was ‘alive’. They say its doors will open before you. They’ll seal behind you and as long as you live, it will never let you leave.

But what if you died in the suffocating grasp of the Cradle?

They were so lost in their mirth and comfort that they didn't realize the quiet road they were walking on was uncomfortably in the immediate vicinity of the Cradle.

There was no indication whatsoever that the three of them ever saw the attack coming.

The police have a special file for such people. The boys in blue call it the Lenev File. The term supposedly originated from an unnamed police sergeant, who shortened its original moniker - "Lost, Never Found" - to "LNF", then later to "Lenev". The name has stuck ever since, and the name Lenev became a curse, synonymous with the Cradle and the countless unwary travelers, vagabonds and crooks who were unfortunate enough to seek refuge within its broken walls.

Officially, the person responsible for the 'upkeep' of the Lenev File was a serial killer on the loose, a man who had escaped the Cradle in its dying days as the inferno razed it to the ground. Unofficially, however, it's a different story: the story of how the Cradle and its lingering malice murdered before, luring luckless souls to their doom.

But for the past few nights, more and more people were steadily adding to the thickness of the Lenev File, disappearing mysteriously both day and night. Anguished relatives and friends turned up by the truckload at police stations across town, demanding, begging that action be taken.

How could you expect the police, brave men and women though they are, to face up to an enemy they didn't even know for sure?

Then it started one chilly winter's night.

A family, returning from the circus in town, were enjoying the cool breeze of the night. One can almost picture them - smiling father, grinning mother, and laughing son, holding his parents' hands, walking down a quiet road home. They were so lost in their mirth and comfort that they didn't realize the quiet road they were walking on was uncomfortably in the immediate vicinity of the Cradle.

There was no indication whatsoever that the three of them ever saw the attack coming.

By the time the reporters reached the scene, videocams rolling, cameras flashing, the police weren't even done picking up the last remaining pieces of bone and skin that were still scattered all over the street. But miracles do happen - they found a little boy, drenched in blood from neck to knees, cowering inside of a nearby dumpster.

After much persuasion on their part, the police managed to get the boy away. Away from the inquisitive paparazzi and the nosy public, he was brought to Greenward Hospital nearby under armed escort.

The police were right to take precautions. The ambulance that delivered him to Greenward left shortly after on an emergency call. Presumably, it never reached its destination - the ambulance was found hours later in a ditch, windows smashed, body panels dented and shredded in an inhuman way. The only trace of its crew were the bloodstains all over the upholstery within; not that there was much of it left, anyway.

Before the ambulance's remains were found, though, at around 7.00, the lights at the hospital flickered briefly. The doctors and nurses still went about their daily rounds - electricity interruptions were frequent in this part of the city, near to the slums. Dr Kara was in charge of the operation to save the boy's life and patch up the wounds he sustained, and she was on the fourth floor briefing her crew at this time.

Fifteen minutes later or so Officer Li failed to report for duty at the hospital main entrance, much to the chagrin of his colleagues there. Repeated attempts to contact him went unanswered. Frustrated, his sergeant went in search for him on the second floor, and found him there. The trouble was, Officer Li was lying face down in a pool of his own blood, without his throat.

The alarm was sounded. The call was made to the nearest police station for reinforcements. Unfortunately it was cut off midway suddenly, and the officers and doctors and staff at Greenward came to terms with the horrible realization that they were all alone.

That realization was compounded all the more by a gruesome incident. On the third floor, a window shattered and something large and soft dropped all the way through it to the ground below. It was the sergeant who had found Officer Li.

The remaining police scrambled to the fourth floor to protect the only surviving victim that could help with their investigations. Five officers took the stairs in the northern wing up while three more took the decrepit, but fully functional, elevator in the eastern wing. The five were the lucky ones. The entire hospital echoed with the dying screech-crunch of the lift plummeting to the ground from four floors up.

Dr Kara and her team, meantime, were completely unaware of the chaos in Greenward. By virtue of the soundproof room they operated in, they were fully focused on stitching up the boy's wounds. They would only come to know of what happened later.

Meanwhile, screams were heard from a corridor in the south-eastern wing of the fourth floor. Officers Prabu and Kian went to investigate, hands quivering slightly as they held their own guns firmly. As they rounded the corner they were confronted by a veritable mass of muscle - all six feet of it.

The giant, garbed in tank top and black cargo pants, was standing over the severely dismembered body of a young nurse, a bloodied meat cleaver in hand. His face was simply disgusting to look at - it didn't seem to fit him at all. It was with horror that the two of them realized that it didn't seem to fit him because it wasn't his face to begin with.

The face had once belonged to the boy's father's.

He turned to look at them, muscles swollen to the point of being grotesque and deformed - though the two officers had no doubt about how much damage his hulking form could take, or dish out. He lunged at them, and they were caught by surprise by his amazing agility and speed.

Prabu got off the first shot, and a large chunk of meat was torn off the monster's pulsating biceps. He bellowed with rage, stepping back and gripping his wound painfully. Kian recovered first - and tugged Prabu's sleeve back the way they came. Thankfully for them, the giant did not chase them any further.

By the time more men came to take down the giant, he was gone, and so was the corpse he had been gloating over. Only a trail of blood and gore was left...

Someone's strangled cry came from the operating theaters. The boy!

They came in time to see the giant toss a bleeding doctor out the window in front of the operating room. They drew their weapons and fired at him, catching him across the chest, arms and legs. He shrieked and charged like a raging bull, tossing one policewoman into a vending machine, and one of her male colleagues into the wall. Both of them passed out from the concussions.

The police volley continued. It seemed as if they were shredding the giant to pieces but he wouldn't bleed at all! Eventually though, the giant backed off gradually away from the line of officers, before turning his back on them and leaping out the window. He screamed as he plummeted, landing on the pavement with a dull thud.

And thus, the Greenward massacre came to a grisly end.

When the coroners came, they collected the bodies one by one, preparing them for identification and autopsies. The giant still scared them the most, even though he was clearly dead.

All in all, of the fifteen officers at Greenward, seven died while three more were warded for severe injuries. The three have since recovered fully and are back on active duty. Five doctors would never see the sunrise again, while eight nurses would have their names listed in the morgue alongside their superiors. The boy lives, however, and is now in police custody at a safe house somewhere in the city outskirts.

As they hauled the monster's massive body on to the stainless steel autopsy table, the media trumpeted the force's success in killing the butcher who was 'responsible' for the Cradle disappearances. Finally, they said, the force could rest easy and close the Lenev File for good. The men and women who died within the sterile walls of Greenward Hospital were buried in a grand ceremony as heroes who gave their lives in the fight against evil.

Two days later, the Lenev File was reopened without pomp or ceremony, just as the morgue doors were thrown open in the middle of a moonless night by a six-foot tall monster, body slick with gore and sweat. Witnesses said his body never bled from all the wounds he received...