Pawns

Pawns
The car sped around the corner of the road, its wheels rising slightly off the ground on the right side. A message broke out over the radio sputtering about the shooting occurring over on elm street just two blocks away. Several shots rang out in the night and James wondered to himself how in God's name he had become involved with this.

"Officer down Officer down!" the radio sprays out again in tones loud enough to
cause disruption on the radios speakers, a dissonance which warbles the voices as they issue out making them sound otherworldly. Unreal.

The oak trees leaned over the road swaying gently in the strong wind that seemed
to funnel directly down the street leading towards Elm. Trash and clutter blew from
citizens trash bins down the road, bicycles left carelessly in the yard by children were blown over, trees released branches in treachery over the houses they once sheltered. All this while the sun was setting in the distance, you could still see its orb hanging in the sky a half circle of red shining onto everything giving the world a blood soaked look. Speeding toward 106 Elm James had his siren blaring, normally that would attract looks as he sped by the houses. Not this afternoon, not this evening the people huddled close to one another, clutching their loved ones to their bosoms fearing the horror that was the night. Scientists always tout the abilities of animals to detect the coming of a storm, an earthquake, a seizure by their beloved master. They say this as if men do not notice this as well. We notice but we think often we know better. That we should not be allowed to fool ourselves into believing the foolish superstition we know to be true. Confronted by a crack the wise man knows to not tempt fate by stepping on it. The fool takes the useless chance and steps anyway.

Of course that being said not all were huddled inside their homes clutching at
their young, calming the screaming babies as they wailed at the horrors that they did not understand but knew to well already. Telling their children happy stories to calm them, feeding them microwave dinners, letting their minds be programmed by the constant marketing brainwashing we call television. There were some, very few who stood outside and stared at Officer James car as he raced down the way, he noted those that were there, but he like most of us did not note the signification of it. A man in coveralls, filthy from a hard days work, muddled with oil and soot stood outside in his yard his fingers caressing the inside pocket of coveralls, fingering a gun. As he saw the sirens approaching from James car he stopped fingering his gun and his head whipped toward the approaching car like that of a hunting dog who had found the duck its master had shot. He was beginning to pull it out when his neighbor across the street whistled and waved at him. The neighbor smiled hello to him then stopped suddenly his face drooping slightly and a look of pure hatred crossed his face. They stand there in the seconds while James's car races
towards the house on Elm, sirens blaring loudly as the air begins to turn hazy and
shimmering between the two men. The man in the coveralls arm is bunched up as if
under great strain attempting to pull out the gun out of his pocket. Suddenly the car blares by, just as suddenly both men lose the tension in their faces, the man in the coveralls points to the sky and makes a face as if scared of the weather and waves back cheerily to his neighbor.

James raced down Oak Street and turned left onto Elm two houses down three police cars surround a house lights blaring around in circles of red and white a man lay twisted sideways in an odd manner decidedly not moving.

James hops out of his car and ducks down crouching toward a huddle of other Dixie City policemen who are huddled behind the back of a 1998 Ford Taurus police car.

James notices Sergeant Streghand motioning to him.

"James we have two children and a woman held hostage by Steven's in that house you think you can talk to him?" Streghand dressed in a black Dixie policeman's uniform slightly red from the exertion of bending over due to the massive girth of his belly.

Though Dixie is a small town and most of the men on the police force had not finished any formal college James was the exception he had a four year degree from Texas A and M in psychology. While this in itself didn't make much of a difference for helping him get a job it had seemed, it did allow him to easily qualify for a job as a peacekeeper as he thought of himself. When some years ago when a young drifter had taken some hostages at Molly's Diner he had talked the young man out and no one had been hurt. The young man even wrote to him thanking him for his courage in talking him out of Molly's that evening. James couldn't have bore the thought of Molly being hurt, she made the best damn meatloaf, tamale's and lemon pie this side of Dallas as far as he was concerned. Beyond that her chicken fried steak was so good that he would leave his Momma's cooking in a heart beat, it was better than the best chicken fried steak this side of anything. He worshipped that steak when he ate, it was that damn good.

"Absolutely Sergeant" James calm replies staring at the house, quietly he asks,

"What is the deal with this house? Someone he knows lives here? What about the State Police we have any ETA on when a SWAT team can get in from Dallas?"

"Within the hour but he is demanding to speak to someone now or he will kill the
hostages, he ran into this house after Ralph pulled him over for a moving violation." Streghand nods toward the body that lay in the front of the house. Ralph's
young partner was wiping vomit from his mouth not three feet from them.

"You have the phone number of that house yet?" James asked as he pulled out his
cell phone and settled in on the side of the car.

"Yes" Streghand gave him the number and motioned for the other two officers to
continue to keep aim at the house as a scream was heard coming from inside.
James dialed the number and waited as it rang several times and a young woman's
voice message on an answering machine picked up. "This is officer James with the DPD, Stevens if you are there please pick up the phone I want to help you out of this. If we work together everyone can get out of here without being hurt, but first you have to let the children out of the house. The situation is still small we can work this out if we just talk."

James continued to talk for a moment or two before a click and a voice could be
heard on the other line.

"Stevens?"

Silence on the other end, just breathing, no other sound was heard.

"Stevens, this is Officer James Woodrow of the DPD, I am here to help you,
please what can we do for you to end this situation?"

"Help me? Do you take me for a fool Officer Woodrow? Why don't I just come
out there and blast those fucking Gomer Pyle officers to hell?"

James muted his phone briefly and grunted to himself, and quickly un-muted the
phone again, "Steven's you know as well as I that within 30 minutes this whole place will be surrounded by SWAT teams, from the State there is nothing I can do to prevent that, but what I can do is help guarantee your safety by ending this situation now before things escalate further. I know you Stevens you are not that bad of a man, you do not want to be shot and I do not want you to be. What can I do to get the women and children out of that house?"

James could hear Stevens working his mouth, over the phone but no words were
being spoken just the soft clicking noise one makes from opening and closing of the mouth when it is really dry, then softly he heard, "Ok Officer Woodrow how about this. You come in and take their place and I will let the woman and these two kids go, after you get inside the house."

"One second Stevens" James muted the phone again and turned to the Sergeant and spoke "He wants me to come in and he will let the woman and children go"

"I do not like it James" Streghand huffed out as he considered, "But whatever
happens our primary concern is the welfare of those people."

James turned the mute button off and said, "Ok, but first you have to let the
children out and then the woman once I enter the home"

"No deals! My way or no way Mr. Pyle! Understand I will kill them now!"
Stevens screamed into the phone.

"Of course! There is no need to become upset, I will head up toward the house now unarmed, I am laying my gun holster on top of the hood of the car now as we speak."

"Once you get in here and I let them go we are going to walk to your car and you will drive me to whatever destination I say."

"Of course Steven's I am heading toward the house now" James motioned for the others to stay down as he headed up the steps of the old frame house, that was set up on large cement bricks above the ground, as he stepped onto the floor of the patio it creaked while the wind whirled louder than before. Suddenly the door opened and a figure beckoned him in with the barrel of a colt 357. Sitting on the couch were two children and a woman. It was hard to discern them in the dark of the house.

Stevens shut the door and James and they faced one another and it seemed as if the room somehow became darker.

"You have already killed them." James whispered in a strangled voice.

"Yes. Except the girl, she wasn’t here!" he scowled and made a strange gurgling noise in his throat then with a nod Stevens walked up and placed his arm around James neck and edged toward the door.

"When I open the door I want you to walk outside quickly with me toward your car and tell the other men that the woman and children are in the back of the house locked up or I promise this gun that I have pointed at the back of your head will blow the back of your head out of your mouth" With that he flung open the door pushing James out down the steps.

Streghand stood up and James shouted, "The woman and children are…"

Stevens pointed the gun at Streghand and fired, the bullet tore away most of Streghand's left shoulder and he fell back with scarcely a moan. Ralph's partner gave a strangled cry and began to move his rifle toward Stevens and another shot was fired and Ralph's partners face dissolved into a fine mist of blood. Maureen the other DPD officer there stayed down back behind the Taurus futilely pounding on Streghand's chest and calling out over the radio.

Steven's dragged James toward his car, and calmly opened the door as Maureen wept over Streghand's body. Steven's pointed the gun and emptied another round into her, she fell back and convulsed on the street.

James moaned softly to himself, as suddenly lights appeared on the street and a beaten up old workman's truck barreled toward them. Steven's looked up and a look of pure terror settled into his face contorting it into a grimace of pain and fear.

A moment later the truck slammed into both of them, crushing Steven's body between the Police car and the heavy 1970's metal work truck grill. James was thrown over the hood of the car and landed in the grass of the yard dazed for a minute or two. When he stood up he noticed that Steven's was laying backward on the hood of the squad car and the ringing he thought he heard in his ears was the sound of the horn of the truck that had hit them blaring into the night as the driver laid slumped over the wheel. He waddled slowly over to the door of the truck and pulled open the door. A man clothed in coverall's was slumped over the wheel and a half full can of beer slipped out of the door onto the ground gushing its contents to the ground.

Steven’s opened his eyes and groaned. James turned to look at him and a dark
shadow flew from his open mouth and eyes. James raised his hands over face but the shadow squirmed between his fingers and into his eyes and opened mouth.

James blinked a few times, then stretched his neck and turned back to the man in the coveralls laid over the wheel of the trunk.

The man opened his eyes and James and the coverall man locked eyes, a look of pure malice contorted James' voice and a strangled voice emerged, "You are too late…"

The door to the house opened in the background with a loud creak and slammed, a child walked outside. As the young girl walked down the porch the sun suddenly shone a bright yellow and the red disappeared from the landscape, quickly forgotten as a mid-afternoon dream.

James turned toward the child with a look of fear stamped on his face contorting it into a horrid grimace of pain. He began to move toward her when a calloused hand reached out and grabbed him on the shoulder holding him in place, his eyes shot wide open and his mouth was opened on a large O, he shuddered briefly and his face went slack. The wind blew in again with a sudden building darkness. James skin seemed to move out of sync with the rest of his body for a moment. The wind howled out loud and the young girl on the grass smiled sadly at James for a moment and then the wind died down and left. A shadow flitted down toward the man in coverall's and stood before him.

The air between the shadow and the man in the coverall's took on a wavy look like how the air dances over the road on a hot summer day. The man in the coverall's spoke, his voice clear and loud without the slightest tinge of drunkenness, "I am never to late to stop you."

Suddenly it was gone, the haze, the wind, everything, the mans head slumped back down, and James blinked several times and began to check over him for injuries and called out for help on his radio, then rushed to a beautiful young girl weeping on the porch steps.

Sirens could be heard in the distance as the state police headed towards the scene.

“What happened here?” James asked the young and very beautiful girl.

“Darkness came, but the light was to strong for it.” She said and hugged him.