Between the Rows of Murder Draft 1 Part 1 of 3

Between the Rows of Murder

by

David Kirlin

The garden enjoyed a peace bliss, the type of quiet only known when only the cricket sisters, their million strong sang and no other sound could be heard, except perhaps the gradual whisper of the moon as it streaks across the sky. The rows of the garden were neatly ordered, the Farmer God having been on bended knees, strong hands sowing every last seed with love. The vegetables themselves lived in a peaceful society in-frequently bothered but never shattered by the occasional youth who thought they could whip up the veggies and rebel against their Farmer God. It was because of these annoyances that the Officer had eventually been created. They dealt with all the problems and issues, from helping find lost sprouts, to keeping the peace. They had never been called into anything more serious than that, that is until now.

“Cobs” Officer Kernel shouted towards his half dim witted friends in arms, fellow corn that had yet to mature.

“Yes Captain.” They all resounded as a group, well almost all, except tiny greenhorn Buddet, she lay still on the ground, half way between fainting and fleeing. Luckily the rest where veterans and could swallow even the most astounding scenes, even one as vicious as this.

“I want you all to form a perimeter and hang some leaves and such. I want know one else seeing this... this slaughter.”

“Yes Captain.” They again replied, each one swarming off to do their duty.

He kneeled down, making sure to avoid touching any of the looming innards that were abounds. Around him the rich earth was bathed in red, gooey pieces of ripped flesh and seeds, mixed equally with the stained leavings of green, the poor tomato still being connected to it's vine.

Or it would have been. Kernel thought to himself. If it was still in one piece.

Muttered and dim thoughts filled his head. It had been a long time since any of the vegetables in this garden had been done up like this. It was one thing to meet the end of one's life on the dinner table of the Farmer God, but another to kill each other.

Why? Why would someone do this? Kernel wondered to himself.

“Right, well I imagine someone will be having quiet a filled tummy tonight.” A familiar voice croaked beside him. “I suppose you want me to give you a synopsis of this...” A small green scaled hand reached out and snagged a chunk of the tomatoes flesh, bring back to it's mouth and gulping it down before Kernel could even being to scold the scabby Lizard.

Rounding himself about, he turned and confronted the beast. A beast that serves it's purpose. He reminds himself. The Lizard stood looking at him, smacking it's red stained lips. A slight glint of further menace an almost unperturbed thought of snacking on corn seeming to arise and quickly recede to the depths of it's eyes, eyes that never both settled on the same spot. One currently focused ahead at Kernel and the other watching the various Cobs put up strings of vines and hanging up leaves around them.

“I wish you would wait until the curtains are up.” Kernel scowled.

“And I wish you would have the decency to season one self, or perhaps thrown oneself on the fire, before I come to the crime season. Now wouldn't that be a good one, a self seasoning tomato, would almost taste like ketchup.”

“The Cobs are almost done, you will refrain yourself from any further... consumption until then.”

Lizard nods his head in agreement.

“I will be waiting for you on the outside” With out waiting for any further agreement, Kernel slides through the last gap between the leaves, right before the Cobs complete their obfuscation of the crime scene. Once done they surround their Kernel glancing at him with eager eyes.

Like the commander he is, order immediately started rolling off of his tongue. “Yellow, I want you to take Buddet back to the Plant House and give her some nice soil to rest in. Sweet and Pop, I want you both to stay here and guard the scene until the Lizard is done. The rest of you are dismissed. A collective groan from the last 5 Cobs resounded around the Kernel. He turns his back to them ignoring the protest.

He chews on his lower corned lip, deep in thought. It had to be that dastardly Celery! Who else would feast upon another vegetables. Once I catch that rotten green, I am going to see him served to the rabbit hordes about and ripped leaf from leaf.

It does not take long for the Lizard to finish. Soon his head pops out of the parted leaves, a few seeds sticking to his lips here and there.

“Well?” Kernel asks, anxious to proceed further. Behind him the two Cobs glance nervously at each other, neither one having much experiencing with the eaters of the dead.

The Lizard licks it's lips, one final attempt at clearing itself of the stuck seeds, a very unsuccessful attempt. “I don't know.” It croaks.

“What!? What do you mean 'I don't know'?”

“I have a side taste of something gruesome, but it is something I have never had before, therefor 'I-don't-know'.”

Kernel taps his foot, anxious and upset, he gazes straight into the beast's eyes. Lesser vegetables had been known to wither under that gaze of Kernels, even the mighty field mouse poacher of 2004 had turned and ran, and that had been with only one of Kernel's eyes.

The eyes of the Lizard both look away, neither one daring to fix upon the frightening display of this singular powerful piece of corn.

“Ok...ok...” Lizard gives in. “I may not know what this piece of thing is, but I do know one other thing. One thing or plant to be more precise it can't but at the same time it is slightly flavored with....” The Lizard pauses, one eye finally gaining enough courage to look at the Kernel. It finds it self caught in those deadly beams of radiance, and quickly changes target to the side, taking in the Cob called Pop.

“Roses.” Lizard smacks his lips, definitely roses.” He smacks his lips. “or my grand-mother was a toad.”

Kernel's stare never drops, never dims, wanting to make sure that he has received every last bit of information. Yet no more information comes forth, the Lizard seemingly empty of information.

Kernel swings north. “Pop, Sweet, follow me.” He says, walking directly towards the out most boundary of the garden.

The two Cobs fall in line, one on each side.

“Sir! Sir.” Cries Sweet.

“Yes?”

“The roses, sir. They are outside of your jurisdiction. We can't go out there.”

Kernel stops. Twisting around to face his two officers. The casual Pop seeming non the perplexed by Kernel's sudden about face and the always nervous Sweet almost shaking in his leaves.

“If either of you have a problem with where we are going, then consider yourselves dismissed.” Having delivered his ultimatum, Kernel swings around, neither caring nor needing any response from his subordinates. He plows on, the shuffle of both Cobs feet still behind him.