4338.211 · July 30, 2018 AD
The Goose Incident
Karl and Sarah split up to investigate the Owens' property. Inside the cottage, Karl finds systematic erasure—disinfectant, stripped beds, one forgotten pillow. Then fresh blood on his finger, a trail leading nowhere. Outside, Sarah encounters escalating disasters: splinter, rake to the head, attacking goose. When her service weapon discharges, Karl hears the shot and runs, expecting the worst. What he finds is both absurd and devastating—their partnership fracturing over a dead bird in the rain.
They split at the verandah. Karl enters a cottage that feels wiped rather than abandoned—hospital-grade disinfectant masking something, bedding stripped, drawers methodically cleared. In the bedroom, one pillow remains, an oversight in otherwise meticulous erasure. The front door, left ajar. Why?
In the dining room, Karl knocks a journal from the table. Fresh blood smears his finger—impossible, given the dried trail beside it. Days-old droplets lead from table toward the lounge, then simply stop. No body. No explanation. Just contradiction.
Outside, Sarah's investigation goes catastrophically wrong. A splinter punctures her uninjured hand. A rake handle strikes her already-concussed head. When she tries to rescue a lost duck, an aggressive goose attacks her face. Instinct overrides training—her weapon discharges reflexively, killing the bird.
Karl hears her scream, then the gunshot. Bolts from the cottage in pure terror, sprinting through storm and mud. Rounds the barn expecting horror, finds Sarah trembling beside a dead goose, tears mixing with rain.
She storms off. He stands in the rain, alone with the absurdity.
Their fragile détente lies dead beside the bird.
