A Suicide Or Murder?

Step… Step… Step…

Damian gently leapt forward in a fast-paced movement, with the muscular man about 80kg leaning on his shoulder.

Damian was walking back to Dyckman Street, to get the old man then return to the underground sanctuary.

...How is this man still sane? He looked at Mark with a bit of confusion.

Mark's face was covered in blood dripping from his forehead. His clothes were drenched in blood.

He was wearing a white vest under a brown denim jacket that was slightly bigger than him with black jeans and his black police boots. They were Damian's clothes.

Damian got to the 4-way intersection and turned right, back into Dyckman Street.

All the blood on Mark's face started seeping back in and his injury closed in not less than 30 seconds.

Mark raised his left hand to touch his head and muttered, "Urrgghh… My head. This is the worst hangover ever."

His right hand was across Damian's shoulders.

Damian just kept walking forward.

Mark started recollecting everything, then he blurted out, "She is alive!"

Damian was a little surprised, "Your daughter?"

"Yes! She's not far away from here!

"I don't know how to explain it but I didn't smell any death from that house…"

Damian didn't know how to react to that and just repeated, "Smell any death?"

"Yes, that's what I said. It might sound weird but I'm serious.

"When I was in a crazed state, I felt like I could see and feel everything… and at that time all I wanted to know is if my daughter was alive." Mark said as he left Damian's shoulders and went to rest in front of a collapsed building.

Damian didn't pressure Mark to continue moving although there was an 80% chance that they would be found. He even went over and sat down to rest too.

He shouldn't be tired but the tension from him almost losing his life wore him out.

"I heard that voice again." Mark said.

"I saw Curtis, my former colleague kill my daughter and turn into my ex-wife, who asked why I hurt her for no reason

"…and I killed them all."

Damian nudged his glasses and ignored everything Mark said, "Stop thinking through your balls. It doesn't matter if power is good or evil, it's all down to how it's used."

Mark shrugged and squeezed his face, "You don't know how to help someone mentally. You always talk like you've faced everything and everyone else's problem is just cannon fodder compared to yours."

Damian glanced at Mark and returned his gaze to the destroyed building on the other side of the road.

Mark wasn't in a hurry to save his daughter since he knew she was safe. He couldn't pinpoint her location and that means a power of some sort opposed his.

He was worried but he could only patiently wait for his body to return to its top condition.

"So, what did you do as a profession before the apocalypse?" Mark cheerfully asked.

Damian delayed his words, "...I was a neurosurgeon."

"Oh, my goodness! You serious? Damn. And how old are you again?"

"Sigh… 27."

"What?! How is that possible? Did you just come out of college?"

"No. I finished college at 24."

"Oh damn. So what was like… your rank in your workplace?"

"...Director."

Mark jumped from where he sat.

"Holy sh*t! How? Is that even possible? Oh, you inherited your parent's company?"

"No. My parents weren't that rich. The former director took a liking to me. He says I have 'talent' because I've never lost a patient and he didn't have kids."

"Oh damn. What crazy luck and talent. Geez, your parents must be proud. Haha, I'm starting to wish I was like you…"

...Tch… Damian got up abruptly and started walking down the street.

"Hey! Wait up! Are you angry or something?" Mark quickly got up and ran to catch up with Damian.

"So how was being a director? How did you fire people?" Mark asked as he tried to keep up with the fast-paced Damian.

"I've never been in a position of authority so I'll like to know."

"...You were a police officer."

"I don't mean that type of authority."

Damian stopped answering any question until he got to the old man.

He sighted the old man from afar and doubled his already quickened pace.

Upon getting there, he saw blood running down the old man's neck and his eyes were lifeless. His lifeless hand was holding a bloodied piece of glass.

"Dumba*s." He turned to leave.

"Wait up!" Mark came running over and knelt in front of the corpse, then observed it.

"He likely didn't commit suicide… I think he was murdered…" He said, with a slight hint of anger on his face.

"How are you sure?" Damian didn't see it as his fault for the old man committing suicide but now the mysterious discovery made him interested in the situation.

"Not sure, but it looks like the piece of glass and blood were placed there to make it look like a suicide. There are some signs of tampering…

"But who knows? Maybe the person purposely tampered with it to make the suicide look like a murder."

"Then let's go get your daughter fast and get out of here." Damian started walking down the road, back to where the truck was.

"Yeah…" Mark closed the old man's eyes and laid him flat on the ground then observed a few moments of silence on behalf of the dead man.

"I know this ain't much, but I'm just doing what I can. I can't possibly stay and dig a grave in the condition the world is in… please understand."

Although he knew he didn't need to plead like that since he wasn't a very religious oriented man, he still went through with it because he respected the dead and felt sorry for them.

He was a strong believer of the saying "As long as there is life… there is hope."

He got up and walked down the street and turned left, to enter the street he parked the truck.

Damian was leaning on the truck with his back against it and his hands in his pockets.

...Haha, I was with the keys… Mark knew Damian was slightly pissed about the wait.

Vrooomm!

Mark started the car and focused. He was trying to recollect where he felt his daughter's location was.

He drove for like 20 minutes around Washington Heights, while constantly being on guard against the armoured demons.

Damian started feeling doubtful, "Are you sure of what you 'felt'? We've been going in circles for more than 20 minutes now."

"Y-Yeah, I'm pretty sure… I guess…" Mark had an awkward smile on his face as he was sweating buckets due to panic. He also started thinking, "Am I sure?", "Is she still really alive?"

He dismissed all the false thoughts and trusted in his demonic power.

A while after, they stopped in front of a church!

"A church?" Damian blurted out.

"Yes! I believe it's highly likely. Maybe that's why I couldn't get her exact location." Mark was rejuvenated to find his daughter was in one of the safest places to be in the apocalypse.

Damian then read out the name of the church on the signboard, "Saint Rose of Lima Church."

They parked the truck and got down then proceeded to knock on the door of the church.

Knock... Knock... Knock...