firmly on his holstered , but unsnapped , gun . I wanted to spit out the putrid tinfoil taste in my mouth but couldn ’ t for fear that the policeman would grow suspicious and deter me . Instead , I swallowed hard , grimaced , and stood .
“ A bug —” I began but had to stop because of the lingering bitter taste . My eyes twitched rapidly for a few seconds before I could continue . “ I swallowed a bug , officer . Pretty nasty .”
The policeman relaxed and smiled . “ Is that all ?” he asked , letting out a bellow of laughter , much like Santa Clause from the rooftops on Christmas Eve , but he soon tried to calm himself after meeting my cold gaze . “ Sorry about that . You all right then ?”
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“ I ’ ll be fine ,” I said matter-of-factly .
“ Best be along then , Sir . This area is being cleared .” He turned on his heel and stifled another laugh as he walked away .
I immediately spit out what was left of that foul taste , wiping my mouth repeatedly with my gloved hands , and took out a silver flask from my coat pocket . A drink was the only thing that could take the bitterness away . I guzzled the contents wantonly for some time and finally came up for air , sighing in relief . The cap on the flask and the flask back in my pocket , I pressed on , knowing even more than before about the recently deceased : not only was the boy young , about five to eight years old , but he died at the hands of a Transylvanian .
I had followed the fiend ’ s stench through the back streets of New Haven for at least an hour when it began to fade at Thistleberry Drive . As I continued my search another block , a gust of wind crossed my path with a new