MAX

The morning air was like frost against Devon’s skin as he walked down the sidewalk. He cupped his hands around his warm coffee, taking a sip every few steps. It was the first Monday in November. The city now roaring with life, it seemed to be a typical day. Devon continued down the street, his thoughts racing. I didn’t get a chance to print out those documents last night. Drake’s probably going to go on his usual rant. I wonder if he’s even awake yet. Devon reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He dialed out the number he remembered by heart and pressed the phone to his ear.
Ring… ring… ring…
“Hello?” a tiresome voice said on the other end. I just woke him up.
“Drake, where are you right now?” Devon proceeded down the sidewalk when something caught his eye.
There was a yawn on the other line. “In bed… what do you want?” Devon didn’t answer right away. He stared bewilderedly ahead of him. “Hello? Dev?”
“Drake, it’s Monday,” Devon answered still in his trance.
“No it ain’t…”
“Yes it is! Get your butt to headquarters now!”
“Ugh… you’re shitting me right?”
“Drake, get up! You’re late already.”
“Five more minutes, Mom…” Devon heard a yawn.
“Get your butt out of bed now! And would it kill you to not swear every other sentence!”
“Gee wiz!” Drake laughed. Devon wanted to smack him through the phone. “I’m not Nicole!” He rolled his eyes as he thought of his sister.
“You wish.”
“Like hell I do!” They both laughed. Devon’s older sister only by about two years or so has Drake in the palm of her hand. “All right man, I’m coming.”
Devon squeezed the empty coffee cup in his hand. “Good.”
“See you in a – ”
Devon hung up the phone and placed it in his pocket. Faintly, he could hear the man on the screen through the glass. He tossed his coffee cup into the trash and approached Pete’s Home Appliances. In the display window were several working TVs, all playing the same channel, the six o’ clock news on channel twelve.
“… killings throughout the city. Will these murderous actions of x amount of people ever come to an end?
“Well, folks, this unknown killer strikes again. Last night at one fifty-eight downtown, notorious robber, Jacob Feinstein, robbed a local convenient store. Police were in pursuit as soon as the alarm sounded. They caught sight of Feinstein just as he rounded a corner. Once our officers turned that same corner, he was nowhere to be seen. However, after several blocks, they had turned around. While cruising up the road, they spotted someone walking out of an alley. Just as they were about to question this person, they spotted Jacob Feinstein on the ground stabbed through the heart.”
The sudden vibration made Devon jump. “Geez…” he sighed and reached into his pocket. “Hello?”
“Devon, where are you? Everyone is here.”
He looked at his watch. “Sorry, I got a little sidetracked.” There was a long pause on the other end before she answered him.
“… murder from last night was most likely the same…”
“Did you wake Drake up?”
“Yeah, he’ll be there soon. So will I.”
“Take your time.”
“Thanks.”
The line went dead and Devon felt a sudden jab in his side. “This person…”
“… decided that we call this person MAX. The police found…”
“MAX, huh?” Devon shoved his hands in his pockets and continued walking. “So now they have a name for it.”