Untitled #1
Contributors: Ahchie, The Diesel, Brother Nature, Throcksmorton, Albuquerque Tom
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen (stay tuned...)
Frank silently made his way alongside the bus. One trooper had stopped halfway to the patrol car with momma to check out something on the ground. The other trooper was close by, but did not yet see Frank. Getting a closer look, Frank was relieved when he recognized Trooper McHenry. Knowing this would be a lot easier than he first thought, Frank breathed an audible sigh of relief and came out from the cover of the bus.
“Am I glad to see you,” said Frank. He braced himself, knowing that this initial exchange was crucial. There was a chance McHenry was edgy enough that he would shoot first before seeing who it was.
McHenry swung around, his gun ready to fire, and took a long look at Frank, then said, “What the…? It can’t be. Frank?” McHenry lowered his gun and Frank knew he was home free. “Is that really you Frank? You look like you’ve been in a blender.” McHenry leaned in a little closer and took a whiff of the air around Frank, “You ought to ease up on that cologne – it smells like you took a bath in musk.”
“It’s me all right. Everything’s under control now – we just need to use your radio,” Frank said as he began to make his way toward the patrol car.
Still a ways away from Frank and McHenry, trooper Adams looked up from the open suitcase that lay in front of him. His face was as white as snow. He realized that a strange man was walking toward the patrol car, but was too stunned to react.
Momma did not react to the suitcase – she had seen it before. She was
about to look in Frank’s direction, but movement out of the corner of
her eye caught her attention. She turned her head in time to see a body fall
face down into the mud a short distance from her demolished van. Sensing that
going back to the patrol car might not be the best idea, momma used the distraction
of the suitcase to quickly make her way to the figure she had just seen fall.
McHenry followed behind Frank, asking, “What’s going on, Frank?
This is absolutely insane. It looks like demons were unleashed on this area.
How can you say everything’s under control?”
“Have you called anything in?” Frank asked, ignoring McHenry’s question.
“Just that we were going to check something out. Adams there…” McHenry paused, realizing that Adams was still on his knees with all of the color gone from his face. He slowly continued, “…was about to call for backup.”
“I’m in charge here,” said Frank, turning to McHenry. “I need you to tell dispatch it was nothing and you’re continuing on your way.”
McHenry didn’t know what to think. “I … I,” he stammered. McHenry pulled himself together and said, “Frank, I didn’t know you were still on the force. I didn’t even think you were still alive. How can you ask me to say there is nothing going on here?”
“I know it doesn’t make any sense, John,” said Frank as he put his arm around Jonathon McHenry’s shoulder. They were continuing their walk to the patrol car, ignoring Adams. “Everyone is supposed to think I’m dead. I’ve been promoted since I last worked with you, but it’s all under wraps. All hell broke loose tonight, but it is imperative that no one else get involved. Call it in and I’ll explain.”
His instinct was telling him to be on alert and not do what Frank was asking of him, but trooper McHenry ignored the feeling. He and Frank had started together as rookies and even though seeing him here was odd, McHenry figured that Frank would be able to shed some light on what had just happened. It was the first time in his career that he ignored his instinct. It would turn out to be his last.
While McHenry finished the call to say that there was nothing going on and that he and Adams were proceeding to the fire, Frank noticed a woman wearing only a large purple sweater moving in a running crouch toward his banged up car. He realized that she was the one that had darted from the bus when he was dealing with Felipe. She must have figured that his car may be the only way to escape, but Frank was confident that the car was inoperable.
In the other direction Frank saw momma falling to her knees with her hands on her face. She seemed to be in distress as she looked up to the sky. At her knees was something on the ground, but he could not see that it was the lifeless body of Charlotte. He was intrigued to find out what made momma act in such a way, but decided to take care of the troopers first. The call that McHenry made bought him enough time to get out of here, but there was no way he was going to let either McHenry or Adams get out of this alive.
Back in the bus, in the greatest of all ironies, Felipe finally experienced for the first time an abdominal aortic aneurysm, brought on by the severe trauma that Frank had inflicted on his body. He had always thought that was what was happening to him whenever he had a particularly strong case of acid reflux. Now it was real and Felipe lapsed into a state of unconsciousness with a smile wrapped around the phone that was still lodged in his mouth, dreaming that he was handing Harold Jenkins a bright green skittle as they entered a bustling, opulent Las Vegas hotel.
- - -
As McHenry sat in the front seat of the squad car he thought about how he was going to explain his call to the Commander and still keep his job. He began reaching for the handset to change his original report when Frank sidled up beside him. McHenry feigned to be putting the handset back into its holder, and as he began looking towards Frank, he noticed the significant amount of blood on Frank’s shoes.
Before he could speak, Frank had pulled the long knife from the back of his belt and forced it up through the bottom of McHenry’s chin. In one violent upward thrust, the blade was forced through his chin, slicing his tongue in half, and exiting through the top of his nose. The blade could be seen through the slight opening in McHenry’s mouth and the thick knife handle hung from underneath his face.
McHenry was paralyzed from shock and the immediate swelling began to tighten his body’s hold on the knife. The pause allowed Frank to calmly reach for McHenry’s gun and unlock it from his holster. With the gun snug in the back of his pants, Frank placed one hand on McHenry’s forehead and pulled the knife down and out with the other. In McHenry’s head, the amplified sound of the knife ripping against bone and cartilage flashed an image of a bomb being detonated while his head was underwater. The blood that was pouring from McHenry’s nose and mouth slowed to a trickle as everything flowed through the hole at the bottom of his chin and onto his uniform.
Frank looked over at Adams who was running towards the squad car, yelling about something in the suitcases. Adams appeared frightened.
Frank stood up, with his hands by his side, as Adams neared the rear of the car.
Frank yelled, “What happened?”
“In the suitcases, I saw, in the suitcases, there was - -” Adams fumbled.
He stopped speaking when he made it around the back of the car and saw McHenry bleeding profusely and Frank’s bloody hands holding a long knife.
Caught off guard, Adams began to raise his weapon as he looked up towards Frank. Before Adams could raise his weapon high enough, Frank shot him with McHenry’s pistol. The shot caught Adams high in the shoulder, shattering his collarbone and exiting through his shoulder blade with ragged fragments of his police uniform trailing behind.
Adams’ arm went limp and his weapon fell to the ground discharging a bullet into the chest of McHenry. Once the bullet hit him, McHenry felt his life exiting his body, taking his pain and fear with it. He forgot about Frank, the photos of his dachshund that he hid under his couch, and the $8.00 he owed Adams for lunch. He felt comfortable as he sat up moving slowly from side to side. In his dying mind the final 27 seconds of his life were as peaceful and calm as anything he had ever experienced. The smoke from burning vehicles clogged the air and blood stained the dirty street as McHenry took his last breath. As soon as his heart ceased pumping the surging flow of blood from his wounds became a barely noticeable trickle. His right arm fell limp to his side, landing on the handset and placing an open call to Dispatch.
Frank walked over to Adams and stood above him. He cocked his head slightly to read his badge. “Adams #111463. So, officer Adams, what do you think is going to happen next? You know what’s odd is that I was born on November 14, 1963. Neat stuff.” In pain Adams looked at Frank and said nothing. Frank stood above him for a minute and said, “Well, since I can't think of anything else clever - -” then fired two bullets killing Adams.
Frank knelt down and pulled the car keys from Adams’ front pocket. He threw McHenry to the ground and started the car. The dispatcher then yelled, “Officer McHenry, what is happening?”