Policing

Posted on Fri May 5th, 2023 @ 11:20pm by Hale Stratton

890 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Bangor or Bust
Location: Millinocket Police Station
Timeline: 25 AUG 10 - 3:00 p.m.

The big lights were out in the garage but as Hale and his newly assigned partner, Andy (the actual cop) approached, they could hear a sort of shuffling sound coming from within. The big bay doors were down but Andy, who had grown up in the area, moved with the confidence that only comes with familiarity toward the office door.

Keys were hanging out of the lock and the door itself stood ajar. Andy stepped through into the office and called out in a voice that seemed to reverberate through the building, "Millinocket Police Department."

From behind Andy, Hale shook his head slightly. Not my circus, not my monkeys, he thought. That bit of wisdom, the notion that there could only be one ringmaster for things to work smoothly, had helped him adapt early on to Army life and had given him the motivation later on, to get the training he needed to join the ringmasters.

Andy made entry and Hale followed. They didn't know each other yet, hadn't done the countless hours of training together that he had with his team, but Hale was good at adapting on the fly. Hale did what he knew to do, clear the rooms, look for threats. The office was small with a counter on one side and displays rack on the other side. He came around the edge of the counter but things looked fine.

The door on the wall opposite to the entrance was also ajar and he stepped through. Bathroom on the left was clear; the shuffling sounds were louder now and Hale, as he listened, could pick out two patterns. He pulled even with Andy, who had been clearing the storeroom, and hand-signaled the number 'two', Andy nodded in response and gestured toward the entrance to the service bays. Hale went first, turning the knob slowly to prevent excess sound, and slid the door open and back out of the way before moving into the bay.

Though the overheads were out, there were small security lights casting pools of illumination across the shop's floor. which made it easy to see the two bays, each with a damaged vehicle; the farther of the two had one of those eight-drawer rolling toolboxes beside it. Spotlighted as it was, the stains were evident. Grease but something else as well. Blood maybe. Andy and Hale shared a glance and Andy nodded.

Hale moved to the left and crouched down so that he could see underneath the cars while Andy flicked on his flashlight, sweeping the shadowed corners. Two pairs of legs. Movement slowed and stopped for a moment, and then moving again. Faster.

Hale gestured for Andy to go right while he went left, circling around the ends of the cars. He could hear soft moaning sounds, something between a moan and a growl, and pulled his weapon. Andy did the same and both stepped out at the same time.

There was a third bay. That was what saved their lives. Because, God forgive him, Hale froze. For a full second, he just stood there, gun in hand, while he stared at the two men in the maintenance pit. His gaze traveled from them to Andy whose facial expression mirrored his own. "What the actual hell ..." Andy said as he moved forward to get a better look and slid on a slick patch on the floor. He went down hard and the men, if you could call them that, started moving in this weird, disjointed shuffle toward Andy, arms outstretched.

Hale came around the edge of the pit at speed and pulled Andy back from the hands that were trying to get purchase on his leg, from the mouth of a guy wearing grease-stained overalls with his name sewn onto a patch on the right side.

Bob seemed determined to take a bite out of Andy's leg, his mouth open, his teeth stained with blood, making that weird sound that was somewhere between a moan and a growl. Andy shot him twice in the chest but Bob, well, he kept coming. Hale took in the eyes, filmed over the way they did in death, and the pale mottled skin and fired, one bullet between the eyes, kill shot to the brain.

Bob fell backwards. The second shot took out the second of the two. Civilian dress. No name evident.

"I ... I thought they were going to ... kill ... me," came a weak voice from the deepest shadows in the corner.

Hale turned, gun raised and pointed at the corner, but Andy laid one hand on his arm, shaking his head. "Jace, that you," he asked.

"Yeah, it's me," Jace answered. He groaned softly; they holstered their weapons and came closer to find the shop's owner sitting on the ground, with wounds that looked a lot like bite marks on his shoulder and arm. "Bob was always volunteering to work late and I ... I brought him pizza ... found ... this."

"We've got to get you to a hospital," Hale said quietly. He did what he could though he was no field medic while Andy called for an EMT. The two of them talked while they waited, the cop keeping the mechanic's mind off the horrors he'd seen, while Hale hopped down into the pit to check the bodies ... and do a lot of thinking.

 

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