Work Area #3

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Published on July 16, 2010 at 2:53 pm  Comments (3)  

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  1. appeared fate would make a rather nasty u-turn itself and steer Officer Stanton’s otherwise routine, uneventful life towards an equally nasty end.
    “Fuck!!…fuck this! Wanda, don’t say a fucking thing! Not a word from you, hear? Let me do the talking when the cop gets here. Don’t even look at him. Got to keep cool – keep it together”. Scott was looking really scary about now and Wanda instantly shrank from her husband, a reaction now so natural she no longer gave it a second thought. (A little voice inside her whispered “sad, so sad you don’t even give it a thought anymore – just endure it…acceptance…giving up, giving in…where did you go Wanda girl…”)
    She briefly looked at her husband as he checked the rear view mirror. The state trooper hadn’t gotten out of his car yet, probably running the license plate. Scott took a deep breath and practically whispered “now Wanda honey, sit still. Don’t say a word, worry about nothin. I’m going to tell this cop our friend in the back seat was attacked as we were trying to escape Leadville. I’m gonna say how crazy things got back there – people fighting in the street and shit. All you have to do is look like you’re scared shitless”. Wanda stifled an ironic laugh as she said, “sure baby, I can do that easy”.
    He had no longer
    (DS1 250 wds)

  2. a capacity to reason clearly. He was about to attempt to explain to a state trooper why they had a dead girl in the back seat with blood pooling all around her, and a still-pulsating head wound.
    It did, however, occur to Wanda. And in spite of her PTSD- like responses, she had a base instinct that was trying desperately to get her attention. Someone had to tell them…not just about the girl, but about the town, too. She couldn’t bear to even turn her head and look in the back seat, and she knew that she would never forget the smell. Sticky, sweet, cloying. Or the look on the girl’s face. What was there on this earth that could bring anyone to such a terrible place?
    And, as always, she wondered how Scott would somehow make all of this her fault. Not that it particularly mattered. It never, ever seemed to really matter.

    It was registered to a Scott Miller. A few stop-sign violations, and an expired inspection sticker. But… there was a tie to several domestic calls. Mr. Miller seemed to have some trouble with authority figures. And a few court appearances for aggravated assault.
    He unsnapped his holster. His hand rested gently on the grip of the SW 4006. He started towards the car, and after only a few steps, stopped again. The blood in the back window was dripping down the glass.
    That meant it was fresh. He saw the woman in the front seat, clearly afraid to move or turn around.
    He drew the SW, and went to the full two-hand position, angled just a few degrees downward; and moved slowly and deliberately to his left.
    He could see the driver in the rear-view. He was very animated, and seemed to be barking something to the woman.
    He moved more to the left, until he could see them both clearly. He pressed the red ‘code 10 ‘ button on his lapel mike; there was no response.
    That was unusual; even if there wasn’t another cruiser in the immediate area, there was always a prompt response. He had to act; there might be a gunshot victim in the car.
    He made eye contact with the driver ( Roger, 400 wds )

  3. and realized he was dealing with a crazy man. If not crazy, then on the edge and on the edge of something bad. As he drew closer but still about 6 feet from the vehicle he saw the driver window go down. The crazy man, Miller, slowly turned his head towards him. Iced blue, cold and captivating eyes stared at him like he was the last man on earth.
    “I want you to slowly exit the vehicle Mr. Miller. Carefully, with your hands where I can see them”. He waited. There was no reaction, no attempt at complying. “Don’t make me tell you again. Exit your vehicle with your hands in the air!”
    Inside the car, Wanda’s stomach had just exited through her throat. Scott was frozen there in the seat. He had slipped the gun he pried from Chelsea’s hand in the small of his back. He had a feeling he might need it if things got hairy. The cop was getting really agitated so he opened the car door carefully and put one foot on the ground. “Don’t do anything stupid Scott,” Wanda whispered.
    He quickly turned his head to glare at her and as he did so his body turned ever so slightly in her direction, just far enough for Officer Stanton to see the gun in his belt.
    “Holy shit, he yelled. Did you kill that girl?” “No, officer I didn’t. Honest. We were driving along and all of a sudden she pulls this gun out of her bag and bang! She shot herself in the head. Ask my wife, she’ll tell you.”
    “On the ground now Miller. Now”. “Wait a minute officer, I didn’t do a fucking thing”. “Then why do you have a gun in your belt? I want you to slowly remove it and put it on the ground”. A crazy thought came into Scott’s brain at that moment, one that he knew could really backfire. He didn’t know how many bullets were in the chamber but he was willing to take a chance. They were out in the middle of nowhere, no backup coming and hell, no one else in sight either.
    Scott spun away from Wanda and grabbing the gun from behind his back dropped to the ground and fired. The shot was high and hit the trooper in the shoulder. He hadn’t planned on this but what the hell. At that minute he felt the intense pain as a bullet grazed his right temple. He returned fire again this time hitting pay dirt. The cop was down and he wasn’t going to get back up. For a state trooper he was an awful shot thought Scott. He himself had only taken a bullet to his right thigh which by now was bleeding pretty badly.
    Wanda during all this had managed to quickly get out of the car and away from the shootout. She was standing now in a brief moment of deadly silence. Silence as large as the landscape around her and just as beautiful. But then she heard Scott’s irritating bark for her to get the fuck over there and help him. She cringed at the sound. It stabbed at her brain like the Zulu warrior in the old Twilight Zone episode. And then something in the pit of her stomach twisted. She slowly walked over to where her husband still lay on the ground.
    “Wanda! Hurry the fuck up!” Scott lay there on his back his leg bleeding profusely, the gun on the ground nearby. Although it was never her strong point, it didn’t take her long to do some quick math. She picked up the gun and fired the last 2 bullets into the body of her husband. Iced blue no more. She was jarred from her momentary reverie by the low roar of an engine. In the distance she saw a motorcycle approaching at a fairly high speed. As she stood there, she felt the wind on her face and it felt good.
    “Shit christ howdy” Jimmy said to himself. What the……He shifted gears and reduced his speed. As he approached what he first thought was the scene of an accident, he did a double take. There was a woman standing there, in the friggin middle of nowhere, a body at her feet on the ground. Obviously something bad just went down but she had this almost smile on her face. He slowly pulled the bike close to where this woman was standing and sat there mesmerized. The woman looked at him, no, spoke to him with her eyes. Those eyes, were they blue or green or maybe grey? They were hypnotic. Without a sound she walked over and got on the old Harley behind him. She put her arms around his waist and in the words of the old Bob Seger song they both “rolled clean out of sight”.


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