The Green Light — Chapter 1

Take a trip to the Union of St. Andrew's Island, where the Arctic meets the Atlantic... and people fall out of the sky, apparently.

Welcome to the first chapter of the new five-part Thorfinn Grimm serial, “The Green Light”. Here’s the link to the the index if you’d like to catch up on older stories. Enjoy!

Every morning as he left for work, and every night when he returned, Constable Joe Peres would pause at the door of his cottage and smile.

He was a man of simple pleasures and regular patterns. He didn’t ask for much, which was just as well because there wasn’t much to ask for in the tiny northern village of Havnvik. This close to the Great White Line, both people and opportunities were hard to find. Joe didn’t mind it much, but his best friend Dilshan did.

“Don’t you ever want to leave this crummy place, Joe?” He would ask him every time they hung out, and every time, Joe would respond with an indifferent shrug.

Joe and Dilshan had been inseparable since childhood. They liked to joke that their ancestors probably came to the island on the same ship. But while Joe was stoic and methodical, Dilshan was a dreamer who flitted from job to job and scheme to scheme in his never-ending quest for fame and fortune.

This key difference in personality had never been a cause of distress between the two friends, though. They met every Friday night without fail, drinking and hiking in the woods outside the village, shooting the breeze and having a good time. That was all Joe needed, really: good company, good drink, and the mind-blowing beauty of the northern skies.

This time, however, something was different. And nothing in Joe Peres’s life would ever be simple or regular again.

The night began like any other, with the two friends joking and horsing around as they made their way leisurely across the slopes. The trees were more spaced out here, giving them a clearer view of the night sky, but the stars were hidden behind brooding storm clouds.

“Did I tell you I met a girl?” said Dilshan. “Yeah, met her at a bar in the city. Irish girl, name’s Siobhan, and get this, she plays the trombone. Have you ever met anyone who plays the trombone?”

“Bernice down at the church plays the trombone,” Joe pointed out.

“Yeah, but Bernice is sixty-two and walks with a cane. I meant a pretty girl who plays the trombone, obviously. You know, sometimes you can be pretty daft.”

They were interrupted by a sound like the clap of thunder, and something struck the ground at their feet at high speed.

“Get down!” Joe yelled, shoving Dilshan out of the way. “Someone’s shooting.”

That’s when something much bigger fell out of the clouds. Something that crashed directly into an old pine tree, impaling itself on its branches. Something that looked suspiciously like the body of a man.

Dilshan ran screaming for help while Joe cautiously stepped towards the tree. The man was stuck on a branch just a few feet from the ground. The tree creaked and groaned as Joe started to climb. Swaying unsteadily on his precarious perch, he reached out and touched the man’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. Miraculously, there it was.

The man inhaled sharply and grasped Joe’s outstretched hand.

“You’re alive,” the constable assured him. “My friend’s gone for help. You’ll be alright, I think.”

He was lying. The nearest house, which belonged to retired scientist Dr Morgenstern, was a good two miles away. There was little chance of Dilshan reaching the doctor before the man bled out. It didn’t matter anyway, as the victim didn’t seem to hear Joe.

“Green,” the man muttered deliriously, blood flowing from his lips with every word. “Green… Light.”

Before Joe could ask him what that was, the branch broke, bringing both of them to the ground. By the time Joe struggled out from under the splinters and twigs, the man was already dead.

He checked the victim’s pockets but didn’t find anything. He looked around, trying to see if something had fallen out when they crashed, but the moon was still hidden, and he couldn’t make out anything.

For a moment, however, Joe did notice something moving, the shadow of a man disappearing into the tree line. It was little more than a glimpse, though, and he told himself it was probably just a trick of the light.

There was nothing else left to do. Joe sat down on the grass beside the dead man and waited for help to arrive.

A week later, Havnvik was unrecognizable. It seemed like every reporter, conspiracy theorist, and self-proclaimed Ufologist in the Union had descended on the village, combing the woods during the day and filling up the local inn at night. The Incident was all anyone could talk about, and at the centre of this publicity maelstrom were Dilshan and Joe. Mostly Dilshan.

After the initial shock wore off, he wasted no time telling everyone he met that the Incident was clearly the work of aliens. In a small country like the Union of St. Andrew’s Island, that was enough for a national headline and guest spots on leading talk shows. It was a dream come true for Dilshan and a nightmare for Joe.

The constable had dutifully reported everything he saw at the inquest, but the mention of a “green light” just seemed to encourage the general public’s conviction that there were extraterrestrial forces involved. As for the villagers, half of them thought it was all a joke, making snide remarks whenever he passed their shops on his beat. The other half thought it was real, which was frankly worse.

Thankfully, as a police officer, there was still one place Joe could go where he would not be disturbed by gawking tourists in tinfoil hats: back to the scene of the crime.

Joe wasn’t actually sure if it was a crime just yet, but he wasn’t quite ready to believe Dilshan’s UFO theory either. Irrespective, with the investigation still in progress, the area where the incident happened had been sealed off, making it the only place in Havnvik where he could just relax and breathe. And once he’d had enough of breathing, he could think.

“Are you supposed to be here?”

The voice startled him. He turned around and saw the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, with inky black hair, bright eyes, and pale alabaster skin. Joe was struck by a feeling he had never felt before in his whole life, a fascination beyond words or reason.

“I’m a constable,” he replied, holding up his badge. “But you, ma’am, are not.”

“No, I’m not,” she said with a mischievous smile. “Furthest thing from it, actually. And I don’t answer to ‘ma’am’ either.”

“So what do you answer to?” he asked, trying to hide the fact that his heart was racing and his palms were all sweaty.

“You can call me Rachel, Constable. And I know you didn’t ask me what I’m doing here, but I’ll tell you: I came to your lovely village to meet someone very dear to me.”

“And have you met them yet?”

“No,” she shook her head. “But I’m glad I met you instead.” She smiled again, and that was it for poor old Joe.

They talked all the way back to the village. She was a widow, he learned, and she’d been out of the country for a while. He told her about himself, his job, and all the changes that had happened over the past week. By the time they returned, he felt lighter than he had since this whole ordeal began. He dropped her off at the inn with promises to meet again later and headed back to the police station, a man renewed.

A man was waiting for him. He was a stranger, but he seemed different than the other visitors who had come to Havnvik recently. Not a conspiracy theorist or a journalist. He was young, mid-twenties at most, with a genial face darkened by some recent tragedy.

“Constable Peres? I’m Pippin Morstan,” he said. “Doctor Pippin Morstan, actually. I graduated last month. I’m here about the body.”

“You mean the one that…”

“Fell out of the sky, yes. I read the description in the news, and it… Well, it sounded like him.”

“The body’s at the hospital,” Joe said. “We don’t keep them at the station.”

“That’s alright, I’ve already been. Sorry, I should have said that. No, I’ve already seen the body, and I’m here to officially make a statement identifying him. It. Them?”

“Who is it?” Joe snapped, immediately regretting his impatience. “Sir, do you know the victim?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Pippin, biting his lip. “It’s my roommate, Thorfinn Grimm.”

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Later that evening, Joe told Rachel everything he’d learned over a round of warm beers at the inn.

“So this guy was a detective?” she asked. “I suppose that explains why someone would want to kill him.”

“But was he killed? We don’t know anything about how this Thorfinn person happened to fall into that tree.”

“You don’t actually know if he fell either. Or if his name really is Thorfinn Grimm. Sounds made up to me.”

“Not my problem anymore,” Joe shrugged. “Sergeant says the name’s good enough for a report, and unless we find something else, the case is closed.”

“But the case can’t be closed,” Rachel protested. “A name doesn’t explain anything. What was he doing here? Why did he die? You don’t know any of that yet.”

“It doesn’t matter, Rachel.” He sighed and sipped his beer. “Orders are orders, and that’s the end of that.”

She seemed upset, but Joe couldn’t figure out why.

“If that’s what you really think,” said Rachel sharply. “Then you’re not a very good policeman. And I’m not staying here any longer, thank you.”

“But…” he was at a loss. “But why?”

Rachel didn’t reply. She got to her feet, left a few notes on the table for her drink, turned on her heel, and walked away.

“Fine,” he shouted after her. “It doesn’t matter. You’re just a tourist, anyway. You were always going to leave eventually.”

And he thought he meant it, too.

Joe returned to his humble cottage with a weight on his heart. Not even the sight of his home, a place of peace and sanctuary, could break the poor constable out of his misery.

He stood at the doorstep for a moment, staring up at the sky and trying to push down the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. The whole world was tilting at an angle, and he felt like he could fall off the face of the earth at any moment. He wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea.

Something caught his eye, a flickering, almost imperceptible flash of light. A moment later, Joe realized it was a green laser point, and the door exploded.

To his great surprise, Joe discovered that he wasn’t dead. He had been tackled to the ground at the very last instant by a young, dark-haired man dressed all in black.

“Constable Peres?” His saviour whispered. “My name is Thorfinn Grimm. And, unless you listen to me very carefully, we’re both going to die.”

To Be Continued…

The Green Light: Chapter 2 arrives on July 12.