Jamais Vu (Never seen)

It is always the same dream.

I’m standing in a old green barn, sunlight beaming through the dilapidated structure. Dust motes dance in the those golden rays. I remember the musty-sweet smell of hay, seeing emerald paint peeling away from those wooden boards. A threadbare blanket lays in one of the stalls.

There are flies, so many flies… The devil is in the details and I remember all of them.

I’ve been here before, I know what is going to happen. There is something wrong. Something so dreadful it curls my stomach into a knot, stabbing at my guts with its invisible knife.

I want to scream, to cry, to loosen the hold it has over me. Someone is behind me. I know it. They are the reason I feel like my insides are painfully entangled. The flies buzz louder, drowning out all other sounds.

But as I turn to see who it is, I wake up. If I can just see that face…



“Maybe you should see a shrink,” My partner mused as he dragged hard, blowing a stream of cigarette smoke to the side. Rubbing my face, I pondered the benefits of having my head examined.

“I dunno man, they skeeve me out. I saw one for a psych eval after I shot that perp back in Reno, the dude had this real intense stare, y’know? Kept asking me how I felt.” I shook my head and took a swig of coffee. “Felt like punching him right in that smug face of his.”

Garcia chuckled, smoke blowing from his nose. “So what then, you’re just going to keep having nightmares?”

“Just gonna soldier on and pretend nothing’s wrong.” I shrugged.

He scratched the stubble on his chin and glanced at me sideways. “So what happens in these dreams, exactly?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Besides, we have a job to do.” I said curtly and focused my attention on the file in front of me. We were investigating a child murderer, a real sick fucker. He liked to pose the bodies as if the victims were praying.

So far there were no solid leads except for some words he left at several crime scenes. Unicis intrant caelum. It was a Latin phrase: Only children enter heaven.

I translated it when I saw it, thanks to years of Catholic school. Garcia was impressed.

We figured the killer was an educated type, possibly academic, definitely someone who thought he was hot shit.

I rubbed my burning eyes, wishing the coffee would drive away the drowsiness. No dice. I could have downed a whole pot and it wouldn’t make a difference. My head wouldn’t stop pounding. It felt as though nails were being hammered into my skull.

Garcia eyed me with concern. “Sure you’re up for this, Santiago? You’ve been looking pretty rough lately.”

“First of all, you should never tell a lady that. Secondly, if I tell you I’m fine then you’d better believe it.” I glared, daring him to question my well-being again.

He flashed me a cheeky grin and mock saluted. “Aye aye, captain. Read you loud and clear.”

So far, the murderer had left three bodies and showed no signs that he planned on stopping. Forensic data showed no DNA or anything that could be matched to potential suspects. Whoever this guy was, he left nothing behind but corpses and riddles.

Only children enter heaven. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“He has to work in law enforcement.” Garcia posited, analyzing the meager amounts of evidence. “Either that or he has some knowledge of how we operate. He’s just too clean.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “But what makes you so sure it’s a he?”

He sighed and threw up his hands. “For all we know it could be a fuckin’ Martian! There’s nothing we can do but wait for the bastard to screw up.” Frustrated, he lit up another cigarette.

“That habit’s gonna kill you one day.” I said darkly, waving away the clouds. Garcia rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

“All that naggin’ is gonna be the death of me.”

I gave him the finger. He blew me a kiss, chuckling when I narrowed my eyes.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and fetch me some more coffee?” I growled and pushed my mug towards him.

“Demoting me to coffee boy? You are awfully cold today, Santiago.” Garcia grumbled cheerfully and made a show of carrying the mug aloft.

When he left, my headache returned.

I decided to throw in the towel, leaving a note on the desk that I was taking a personal day. Maybe catch up on some sleep, a rare luxury for me. I was looking forward to a long nap and returning to the case with bright eyes and a bushy tail.

Unfortunately, I picked a bad time to leave. Traffic snarled up the highway, forcing me to take a impromptu detour.

At least the scenery was fairly nice. I tried to enjoy the idyllic surroundings with my migraine, wincing when my head throbbed painfully.

I came around a curve, passing a small thicket of trees. For a moment, the sun blinded me until I pulled the visor down. That was when I saw it.

The old green barn.

It was surrounded by tall weeds, looking decrepit and abandoned. But it was unmistakable.

A strange feeling crept over me as I drove off the road and onto the remnants of a dirt driveway. There were tire marks, someone had been here fairly recently. I felt chills run down my back.

Grasping my service weapon, I exited my vehicle and approached the barn on foot. Grasshoppers sang in the long grass, twanging their banjo sound as I neared the crumbling structure.

The sagging doors were half open. Raising my gun, I quietly slipped inside. It smelled musty, the sweet aroma of hay and a faint animal scent. There was another odor.

A rotting stench. The foul reek of something long dead.

I put a hand to my nose, approaching one of the barn stalls. A threadbare blanket lays within, covering a small figure. Flies buzz around it, maggots squirming from the holes in the fabric.

There’s no need for me to take the blanket off. I know what lies beneath it. But I have to see it, I have to know. The feeling of deja vu is so strong, it makes me sick. My head is pounding even more. The flies are buzzing louder.

I’ve been here so many times but I’ve never seen beneath the shroud.

Light spills into the barn, casting a shadow. Someone is behind me. He’s followed me here, to this godforsaken place, here to witness me uncover the fourth victim.

I hear footsteps approaching then stop. What do I do? Do I pull back the curtain or see who lies behind me?

But… I know who it is already. The mystery is gone, the illusion shattered. I could smell him from a mile away.

Standing upright, I turn to face Garcia.

He is smoking a cigarette, a strange expression on his face. The look of betrayal. He is pointing a gun at me, watching my every move.

“Put your gun down, Santiago.” He says calmly, but there is a note of panic in his voice.

I stay where I am. “Garcia, what the hell are you doi-”

“I said put the gun down. We can talk afterwards.” There is a harder tone, more commanding. But he still looks unsure.

Slowly, I comply with his orders. “There, are you satisfied?”

Garcia looks at me coldly, but nods. “Kick the gun over to me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I stare at him, aghast.

He nods in agreement. “That’s exactly what was thinking. What the hell are you doing here?”

How could I explain it? “I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve seen this place in my dreams… You know, my nightmares?”

It doesn’t impress Garcia. He snorts at my explanation. “Dreams? You have to be joking. Facts are what I believe in. And the fact is you’ve been acting weird for some time now. Talking about maybe the killer is a she, knowing the Latin without having to look it up… I started to get a picture in my head.”

I couldn’t accept what I was hearing. “Garcia I-”

He cut me off. “I wasn’t finished! You know, I thought it was odd that you would just up and leave without talking to me, so I decided to follow you home and make sure things were alright. But when you took a detour here, I got suspicious.”

Gesturing towards the shrouded figure, he continued. “I think we both know what’s under that blanket. Kick the gun over to me, Santiago. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“Garcia, I had nothing to do with this!” I protested, disbelieving the situation I’d found myself in.

He shook his head sadly. “That’s not up to me to decide. If you are truly innocent, you’ll come with me and sort all this out at the station.”

The flies are buzzing louder. My head aches terribly, a shooting pain rocketing through my cranium. I turn towards the blanket.

“Santiago!” Garcia warned. “Stop fucking around! Give me the gun, I don’t want to put a bullet in you.” His firearm is unsteady, hand shaking nervously.

When I start to say something, to plead with him, another wave of agony rips through my skull. That pounding, throbbing ache is too much. The flies… their buzzing seems to drown out all other sounds.

I flinch and put a hand to my head.

A burst of pain as something tears through my chest. I fall backwards slowly, soaking in every detail.

Garcia standing there, looking shocked. His gun is smoking.

Sunlight filtering through cracks in the barn. Dust motes dancing lazily in the those golden rays. I breath in the musty-sweet smell of hay, seeing emerald paint peeling away from those wooden boards.

Only children enter heaven. But I’m no child, I whisper.

“Officer down! I repeat, officer down...” The world slowly drains away as the dust motes silently twirl in the golden sunlight.




Garcia rubbed his face, leg bouncing nervously as the shrink looked at his notepad thoughtfully. “Are you familiar with the concept of jamias vu?” The cop shook his head dully.

“It’s essentially the opposite of deja vu, the feeling of experiencing something for the first time, despite knowing you’ve been there before. It can result in thinking familiar people are strangers… Imposters, even.”

He glanced at his watch. “That’s all the time we have for today. Come back next week?” Garcia nodded, mumbling that it sounded good to him.

After Garcia left, the psychiatrist returned to his desk. He looked at his notepad and smiled knowingly. Three words were written there, below a crude drawing of a child praying. Unicis intrant caelum.

Soon, it would be time to deliver another soul to heaven… Soon.