Black Man with a Gun

Black Man with a Gun

“What’s the problem, officer?”

“License and proof of insurance.”

Jesse Campbell tried to calm his breathing as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. His eyes, however, remained riveted to his side view mirror. He could see the cop’s right hand resting on the butt of his holstered weapon. Jesse was nervous enough without thinking that he was about to become another statistic plaguing the African-American race. He held his breath, counted to ten to calm his nerves and then opened his wallet.

“Here you are, sir,” Jesse said, respectfully.

“Jesse Campbell,” the officer replied. “This your current address?”

“Yes, it is,” Jessie replied, noting that the officer had, thus far, not used any words of respect such as “please” and “sir” that the public expected from its public servants.

“You’re a far way from Fort Worth.”

Jesse caught himself breathing hard again as he watched in the rear view mirror as the cop walked back to his squad car. He checked his side view mirrors as well but saw only the same thing he’d seen since leaving Tarrant County – tree-lined roads, farm pastures and rolling hills. He was on Highway 281, passing by a slew of small Texas towns like Eastland, along with places like Gordon and Strawn, towns so small they barely had enough kids for six-man football.

He’d left 281 after another of those strange feelings he’d been getting since he’d left – no, fled was more like it – Texarkana. He thought he’d been careful with his speed but he’d still been pulled over by a county sheriff. He hoped the officer was just bored because the man looked like he could use a lot more physical activity than could be found in such a rural area. Then again, the officer’s sunburned face and neck said that maybe he needed to stay in his car a little more often.

“Step out of the car, sir.”

Jessie gasped. He hadn’t even heard the officer approach. Jeez, he scolded himself, if this is what you mean by paying more attention, they’re going to catch up with you in no time flat. Shaking his head as if to clear his mind, he returned to the present, undid his seatbelt, opened the door and stepped out into the intense July sun.

“You look a little nervous,” the cop commented, a rather smug look on his face. “You on any sort of medication?”

Jesse shook his head. Just his luck, he thought. I get the one racist cop in this whole county. He’d driven through this area many times before. His job had often required him to travel to and from Stephenville and Brownwood. Of course, that was before gas yo-yoed between two and almost four bucks a gallon. Now, all meetings with the company’s various branches were done by teleconference. He’d missed his road trips and the polite respectful people he’d met along the way. This cop, apparently, didn’t subscribe to that way of life.

“Okay, why don’t you tell me why you’re so nervous?” the cop suddenly asked, his face a mask of stone, his eyes hard and intense. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”

Jesse swallowed hard. He didn’t need this. Not now. They could be closing in on him and here he was, prostate before them at the hands of some stupid cop who thought the 60’s were alive and well. On the other hand, he needed to be completely in control if they did catch up with them and he couldn’t do that if he was in handcuffs.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on. And I ain’t going to ask a third time.”

“I-I'm just nervous, that’s all, officer,” Jesse replied, as meekly as he could manage with his mania trying to rise back up. “I-I just don’t know why you pulled me over.”

“Just my sixth sense for trouble,” the cop replied, again with a certain air of smugness. “You’re in the wrong area, son. I was going to say the wrong neighborhood, but, as you can see, we ain’t’ got any ‘hoods around here.”

Jesse glanced up quickly and then swallowed hard again. He’d just seen through the front windshield of the police car. The way the cop was standing, he was blocking out most of what the dashboard camera was filming. Jesse couldn’t do anything to help or protect himself that would be caught on camera. This cop obviously had pulled something like this before.

“What kind of drugs you on?” the cop asked. “Dope, crack, ecstasy?”

“N-nothing, sir,” Jessie replied, although he felt as if he could use something strong right now to settle the fear rising in his belly and creeping into his head.

“Son of a bitch!”

Jesse blanched with horror as the cop jumped back three steps and then drew his revolver. The barrel was pointed straight at his head. Right away, Jesse knew what he’d done wrong. A quick glance back inside his car showed the edge of his pistol peeking out from under a towel on the front passenger’s seat. He hadn’t had enough time to hide it under the seat.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” the cop said, rhetorically. “The proverbial black man with a gun. Coming down here to whack someone? Maybe you got a drug deal in with one of them college kids in Stephenville or Brownwood.”

That jig was up, Jesse thought. Time was wasting and he was facing arrest. They would surely get him now if he were stuck in jail. Iron bars meant nothing to them. They had almost unlimited power. They had the power and the reach to get him, but only if he let his guard down.

“Okay, officer, there…there’s a reason why I have the gun,” Jessie blurted out, breathing deeply to keep from hyperventilating.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“There are…well, they’re after me.”

“Who’s after you?” the cop asked, his voice dripping with unbelief. “Gangbangers? Drug dealers? The Man?”

“I-I saw them in Fort Worth,” Jessie explained, closing his eyes as he remembered what he wished he’d never seen. “I saw them killing a girl in a parking lot. They’ve been hounding me ever since.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell the police in Fort Worth?” the cop queried, incredulously. “I’m sure her parents would love to know what happened to her. But, that’s not what happened, is it? She was white, wasn’t she? And you were messing with her. She probably didn’t have your money and you killed her. That’s all you guys are to white women. Pimps.”

Jeez, Jesse thought. This was going to hell in a hand basket. The cop was liable to shoot based on any one of the stereotypes floating around in his head.

“I didn’t kill her,” Jessie stressed. “They did. I tried to tell the cops but no one believed me. They tried to get me at my house and I had to run. I had to leave everything I ever owned, ever loved to get away from them and get them away from my family.”

“Tell you what,” the cop suggested. “Why don’t you put your hands up, turn around and put them on the car. We can talk about this at the station. If your story’s true, the state boys will be glad to help you. That okay with you? I said, is that okay with…”

Jesse wasn’t looking at the cop anymore. He was terrified and he was looking past the police officer. Only then did the cop realize what was happening. He’d assumed a split second earlier that the putrid smell assailing his nostrils was from one of the nearby farms. But, when he felt the hot putrid breath on the back on his neck – against the wind – and when he heard that low menacing growl, only then did he realize that Jesse Campbell might have been telling the truth.

The cop slowly looked over his shoulder and then screamed and ran. It said something for Jesse that he hadn't run, screaming out of his mind, at the sheer ugliness of the creatures. The cop saw the impossibly long fangs jutting down from the tops of the creatures' maws and saw the intense cruelty of their almost glowing jaundiced eyes. He saw the way their fur -- if it could be called fur -- bristled and stood up on end as they growled and advanced towards him, their powerful claws digging into the pavement hard enough to leave tiny holes.

The deputy never even put his finger on the trigger of his gun, his terror was that sheer. But, he didn’t get far. The...things reared back, baring fangs and rows of razor sharp teeth, and leaped like gazelles. They got him in front of the police car, literally ripped him to shreds, from throat to crotch. Then, they looked up, jaws dripping with blood, eyed Jesse and reared back to leap again, satisfied that their long search was now at an end.

By then, however, Jesse had already gotten his gun. With solid determination, he fired the .40-caliber semiautomatic pistol again and again and again. They squealed in pain and rage as the bullets struck home. Finally, they spread their wings and took flight, carrying their first prize with them and leaving his blood all over the ground and on the hood of his police car.

Jessie didn’t wait around. He jumped into his car, gunned the engine and shot off like a rocket. He spun around and headed for the highway as fast as possible. The cop had never radioed for backup, but Jesse knew someone had to hear the gunshots. But, that wasn’t important. He just had to get away, back to the highway he never should have left.

As he drove, he thought about how close he’d come to death back there. The only reason he was still alive, he believed, was that they hadn’t seen him with his gun. They’d seen the cop with the gun and had determined him to be the most immediate threat. He could only wonder what might have been if the cop had just fired his gun.

They’d fled from Jesse because he’d shot at them. He still didn't know what the creatures were, but he felt strongly that the cop might have been alive if he’d remembered how to be a cop and not a racist, low-level, power-hungry whatever, Jessie thought.

But, a ray of hope shone into Jesse’s mind. The dashboard camera. The camera mounted on the dashboard of the patrol car, it had to have caught them on tape killing the officer. It would show them taking wing and flying away. That was solid evidence no one could dispute – well, no one with half a brain. The locals might or might not have seen strange things flying away, carrying the cop, but the camera couldn’t lie. If it was working, Jesse thought sickeningly. Still, he shook the negativity from his mind and tried to stay positive.

Maybe they’d believe him now. Maybe he could stop running. Maybe he could go home again and see his mother and sister. Just maybe.

Until that time, however, he was who he was right now.

Jesse Campbell – a black man with a gun.