Note: This is part 3 of my story entitled “Alone”. Parts 1 and 2 are below. I suggest reading those first so you aren’t completely in the dark, but you do whatever makes you happy…
He turned and yelled at the driver “What the FUCK is going on?” but before he could get a response he saw the roadblock up ahead. Five police cars blocking both directions of the road. He quickly counted in his head nine or maybe ten uniforms scattered along the road. A few directly behind the cars and a few more on the edge of the streets where the pavement met the grass. All of them had their guns drawn pointing directly at the rusty Toyota Tacoma. The driver turned his head a second slower than Lee and pivoted his weapon forward and starting shooting wildly in the direction of the cars. The officers returned fire when the truck was maybe 30 yards from the roadblock.
Lee jumped into the backseat and crotched behind the drivers side as low as he could go. He remembered a saying he had heard once about how in an accident “the driver always lived”. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but he figured that the police would have to shoot thru the engine, then the driver and then the seat before it reaching him. He knew they were well past the point of him staying in the passenger seat and yelling “I’m innocent, don’t shoot”.
Bullets were hitting the Tacoma at furious pace. The sound was something similar to hitting a golf ball with an aluminum bat, or maybe like a hailstorm hitting the metal of a tin roof. Ping, Ping, Ping. The sound was exactly like in the movies. For a split second he daydreamed about his favorite movie, Tombstone, and he saw Val Kilmer twirl his gun in his hand, but was quickly brought back to his reality when he heard a bullet pierce the windshield and lodge into the headrest of the passenger seat.
The Tacoma swerved, and now he could hear the tires speeding on the grass. The driver had the gas pedal pinned to the floor but was now firing directly over Lee’s head in the backseat. Had they passed the roadblock? Why weren’t they dead? Lee moved back to the passenger seat but turned to see what was happening now. He could see a woman officer lying on the pavement with what looked like red food coloring all around her body. He could see an officer running to her and then he saw what looked like a million more bullets flying at their truck. The Driver laughed loudly and yelled “WOO HOO. We beat those SONS OF BITCHES, HELL YE….” and his head exploded, smashing into the steering wheel. His hands jerked the wheel and the car was air born. Lee felt completely weightless, a feeling he had never felt before. His parents never took him to the local amusement park to ride the roller coasters and certainly not on an airplane so this feeling was completely new. He let out a small smile, but that would quickly change when the front left tire hit the ground and the truck became to roll. Lee was thrown into the bed of the truck on one roll and on the next one he was thrown to the grass below. He still had his eyes open when his shoulder hit the ground hard. He watched the truck erupt into flames and then his face was the next thing to hit the ground and the lights went out…
The hospital was the busiest it had ever been. There were news vans parked outside from every local news outlet along with the major national ones as well. Some reporters were talking with their cameramen while others were freshening their makeup or practicing their lines for the news broadcast. Angie Martinez, a 6 year veteran of the Samitia County police force was gunned down during a police chase by two men traveling West on Rt 2 in the small town of Stenoville. She was a loving wife and mother of two young boys, ages 7 and 4. The police forces in the United States have been subject to lots of national attention recently related to police brutality and prejudice so this story would be used to show what police risks everyday when they leave their homes. The politicians would be using this story to spin whatever narrative they thought would give them a few extra points in the polls.
The Driver was identified as Jimmy Conway, 51, of Erie Pennsylvania. He was identified by the media as a career criminal. With 3 stints in jail, the longest being his most recent stint of 7 years for armed robbery of Third Street Bank in Topeka, Kansas. There was no mention of his children or his grandchild. No attempt to make him human. He was a monster who murdered a beautiful mother of two, decorated police officer and army veteran. Her life was about sacrifice and duty and she was murdered by a low life criminal.
The Republicans and Democrats would use this event to discuss jail reform, and would question the sentencing guidelines for criminals. Jimmy and Angie were not people to them, they were pons in their political games. This would be hours and hours of content for the news organizations. They would be able to put four talking heads on TV to argue about guns, jails, police activity and whatever else they could spin this tragedy into. It was a gold mine for the 24 hour news cycle.
Lee opened his left eye just slightly and could see dim lights on the ceiling in a dark room. He saw a whiteboard with a small calendar on it. He could see the date August 20th was circled. Under that small calendar in large box letters it said “Your Nurse’s Name is:” and just below that in pretty pink marker handwriting it said “Susan”. Lee could see things but his brain wasn’t fully awake at this point. He wiggled his toes and was relived to see all ten toes moving as his blanket was covering all but his big giant feet that were almost dangling completely off the end of the hospital bed. A faint beeping sound started to hit his ears and he could see next to him was the machine that measured his oxygen levels and other vitals. Lee knew nothing about Heaven or Hell but this didn’t feel like either one. Was he actually alive? He started to move his hands to rub his eyes but only his left hand reached his eye. His right only moved an inch and then he heard the clang of the metal handcuffs scraping against the handle of the hospital bed…
TO BE CONTINUED