[Reviews - 27]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story |
Printer Chapter or Story |
ePub eBook Chapter or Story |

Has been viewed 3088 times

- Text Size +




Prologue

The rain poured outside, courtesy of Charlie; the tropical storm turned hurricane everyone was now taking heed of, even though we all had a weeks warning beforehand, as he raged through Florida and the Carolinas. Guess most just hoped it would pass us by like most of them did. We had been sitting in a diner, not our regular place but a place to get out of the rain that seemed to chill to the bone. Hank had been telling me about his time in Nam, and how for days they had to sit in rains, much like that, that was falling outside the window we sat in front of. He always had a way of linking up any situation to one he had experienced in Nam, though when you started questioning him about those situations he’d shutdown immediately or act as if he hadn’t heard the question. Henry ‘Hank’ McCoy, had been on the force a little over forty years, and even though he was due for retirement in a few weeks, which he claimed he’s be taking, everyone in the precinct were taking bets he wouldn’t go through with it. Hank and I had been partners since I got out of the academy, going on twelve years now. Hank was an average height standing at about 5’11”, though I thought too short to carry his weight of 200 pounds, and that was mostly muscles, impressive for a man now in his sixties. He came from Irish immigrant parents, who he saw in every elderly Irish person, causing him to always go out of his way to help them, most times above and beyond what was called for. Even though he had never married or had children he was what I’d call a family man, and I knew he had thought of me as a son. And God knows I wished my bastard of a father, who never taught me anything except how to terrorize a woman and a seven year-old kid, had been like Hank. He was a good Guy, one of the true blue good guys. Fuck what one reads in the paper everyday about bad cops and corruption on the force, which for the most part was all true, except when it came to ole Hank, Mr. Incorruptible.

Hank saw them coming in before I had he sat facing the entrance that I had my back to. After so many years together you learn things about each other; facial expressions, posture, body movements, and I knew as I looked at Hank that he thought some shit was about to go down, and he was never wrong. It was scary sometimes how right on he always seemed to be. ‘Instinct, Jimmy, cops are born with it and if ye aint got it, then ye aint really no cop.’ He’d always say, and in hindsight I know he was right.

I wiped at my mouth and then lifted my coffee to sip as I let my eyes scan the diner, and they landed on the two men who had entered; one taking a seat at the bar as the other moved to the back, most likely checking for a back way out, in case whatever they had planned, which I’d wager was a robbery, went wrong they’d have another escape route. I turn my gaze back to Hank, who in turn shot his eyes to the back, darkened corridor, where the bathrooms were and where the other guy had disappeared. I slowly stood and followed, seemingly going to take a leak, cautiously making my way down the dimly lit corridor, walking past the bathrooms and moving further to the back. As I was about to turn a corner at the very end, the perp came around it, nearly smacking into me.

“Hey man, sorry was looking for the can.” I said trying to look and act as indifferent as possible to him being back there.

“The first door on your right,” He replied but made no effort to move, as if waiting for me to turn and head back up first, and there was no way in hell I was turning my back on this guy.

“Thanks man, ya got a light?” I asked as I pulled out my pack of ‘Boro’s from my coat pocket, tugging out a cigarette and pulling it between my lips. He pause and regarded me suspiciously before reaching into his coat pocket and, causing me to move my free hand to my back, where I kept my gun. He pulled out a book of matches and tossed them to me. I caught the matches and struck one, and lit my cigarette, but before I could give my thanks a shot rang out, causing the perp and I to jump, instinctively reaching for our guns. I have heard that in moments such as this, everything moves in slow motion, but that wasn’t the case at all. In fact it wasn’t until I had heard another shot ring before I gained my bearing and saw that I had fired and the perp now lay dead on the floor at my feet. I turned and rushed back to the main diner, where I saw a scene I didn’t expect to see. The Perp sitting at the counter was now behind it, rummaging through the register while pointing his gun at the waitresses behind the counter with him. Everyone else in the diner, those not brave enough to run out, laid flat on the floor or cowering under the tables. My eyes shifted to the table by the door that Hank and I had occupied, and I saw a Man on the floor, but only his legs and feet the rest of him was hidden by another table. My mind couldn’t register it as Hank, even though this guy on the floor wore the exact same clothes Hank had been wearing. My mind just couldn’t, wouldn’t get around that fact, instead it said that Hank had gotten out and was now at the car calling for backup, and with that settled I turned my focus back to the guy still behind the counter, in the register.

“Freeze!” I yelled as I rounder the corner and pointed my gun at him, he stood a brief second surprised not sure what to do, his eyes wild and wide, and I knew he was probably high on something and this was all just to get a fix. I moved to point the gun, that he had lowered as he stuffed money in his pockets, and I shouted a warning. “Don’t do it man, just drop it, it aint worth it, don’t do it.” Even as I said it I knew he wasn’t listening, having seen the type many times before I knew that when they were this high they couldn’t understand anything, nothing matter to them except getting that next high, and with in what had to be a two minute time span another shot rang out, the second one from my gun.

I quickly moved to our table, to the guy laying on the floor, and as I looked down at him again my mind still wouldn’t register what it was seeing, still couldn’t believe that this was Hank, mainly because the guy laying on the floor, bleeding, though he wore Hank’s clothes, had no face.





You must login () to review.