If you want to increase your success rate, double your failure rate.

Friday, December 21, 2012

The Illegal Protector (the end)

The Illegal Protector

Chapter 6
The chairs were lined up like soldiers in rank, all positioned in front of a large white dry erase board. 
The board was littered with various bubble diagrams and pictures taped to its edges. 
The room began to fill.  Men and women chatted idly while waiting for the briefing to begin.
Soon the room was full and a large barrel chested man stepped up to the board.
"All right lets get going", he began.  His voice was gravelly, a two pack a day of Viceroys had seen to that, yet it commanded the attention of every one seated in the room.  He was their leader and looking at all the faces, rapt with attention, they were clearly the followers.

"Our suspect struck again last night.  We faked the victims death and rolled her out of the house under sheets.  We have a strong belief that the suspect has been watching the crime scene after the fact and we didn't want a follow up attack.  This morning our detectives found a set prints set deep in mud like someone had sat through the rain watching us.  They were found within a short distance of the residence.".  He coughed long and hard and spat into a handkerchief, a cursory glance at the cloth and back into the pocket it went.

He looked over the room.  So many new officers young and eager.  He was confident they would catch the guy soon.  He grabbed his pointer and walked to the dry board.
"We have a photo of the perp recently found in a surveillance video from the last crime we believe he committed.  It is from the neighbors back yard camera.  He apparently scaled the wall surrounding their yard and from the pic you can tell it is a male, about 6'2" weighing around 220 -230.  He is wearing a black mask.  It's all we got but it's a start".  He paused for effect and continued on, "An unofficial count puts us at 37 crime scenes across the country that fit this guys MO."  A few wows murmured through the room.

"Today we have procured some very damning evidence and with any luck we should be able to bring this guy down."  "It seems as though he is leaving notes in children's toys that he suspects are being abused by their parents, the tiny little note has a phone number telling the kid to call if he is being hit by his folks.  The kid calls the number for help unaware that this guy is going to show up and beat the living hell out of his parent or parents."

"We have a lead and in the next few days if our surveillance is correct we will be setting up a sting."
"In the file, you picked up at the door, is everything we have on this guy.  Read it and read it good", his voice was stern and he knew they would all read it, many times over.
"And before you get any ideas about whether this guy is doing good or bad remember one thing, you can't break into someones house and beat them half to death.  There are other ways to deal with these matters." 
The man stepped away from the board and the briefing was officially over.
They had done their homework.  Soon, he hoped, it would be over.

Chapter 7

The man was unsure what to do next.  He hadn't meant to kill her.  Only teach her a lesson.
Maybe it was time to hang it up, go find his ex wife and son.  He hadn't seen the little boy in years.
He didn't even know where she was living.  He had been so wrapped up in his business he never stopped to care for his own child.  It wasn't too late to be a father.  He sat on a bench, deep in the park under the shade of a large walnut tree pondering his next move when his phone began to vibrate.

His heart jumped a beat.  It was his business phone.  He pulled the phone from his pocket, pressed the tiny green phone symbol and held it to his ear.  
A tiny voice squeaked on the other end, "Hello, is anyone there ?"
"Yes", he answered.
"Can you help me", the voice responded.
It was a pleading, heartbreaking, sound and the man felt tears well into his eyes.  He wanted to say no to the little boy but instead like a ghost hovering over his own body he watched and heard himself say, " yes, yes I can".

"Did you get it ?", he asked the man sitting at the mocked up switchboard.  Wires, speakers and recording devices cluttered the techs desk.  He looked up at the detective, "Barely, but I got it".
"Nice work, I'll inform the chief", the detective said as he exited the room in a flurry of papers and trench coat tails.

Chapter 8
The man walked down the street observing.  He was going to play this one like all the others, except this time he would make zero mistakes.  Then he was done.  He was going to find his son and start his life over.  He made his way down the street, only casually glancing at the house that had the same number nailed to it's front door as the scrap of paper in his pocket.  He walked to the end of the street and out of sight.  Later on during the day he would walk by again but dressed in different clothes.  He wanted this one to be quicker than normal.  He just needed a little piece of evidence and then he would move.
The clanging of the school bell signaled the man to arise from the bench and begin his walk back down the targeted street.  Children began their journey home from the school down on the corner.  His slumped over walk along with the walker he had picked up at the goodwill store allowed him to keep a slower pace and the blue blocker sunglasses hid most of his face so he was able to ascertain the situation to a finite detail.
A little boy zipped past him, splashing through a puddle on the street nearly soaking the old man hunched over his walker.  he ran up the sidewalk, leaped up the three steps and slammed himself into the door of the house with the matching numbers.  He opened the door and ran inside.
A horrified scream came from inside. "Jimmy, I just washed those floors, God Damn it".
The old man slowed his pace even more.  He winced at the name.  Jimmy was his sons name. It touched him in  deeper way.
He could hear the sound of hard, cold hands contacting soft warm skin.  The thumps rolled out the open window on the porch.  The cries of the child, unnoticeable to most as the neighbors sprinkler system kicked in.  Cink, cink, cink, chukkah, chukkah,chukkah. 
The old man continued down the street.  The cries slowly fading in the distance.
He had what he needed.


Chapter 9

The darkness had settled throughout the neighborhood.  Lights from inside the homes began to shut off, one by one.  The hand on his watch moved slowly, deliberately.  Soon it reached 2 am and he emerged from his hiding spot.  His mask pulled down, his gloves on tight.  The moonlight shimmered off the toes of his boots.  He crept up on the front porch, quietly lifting the window that only hours ago had been a speaker for brutality.  Once inside the house he made his way down the hallway in the darkness.  The only light was from the smoke detector high on the wall.  His eyes had been adjusting to the darkness for a few hours now and he would hold the superior advantage.
Step by step he made his way.  He could tell which bedrooms were which by a simple smell. 
He entered the bedroom at the end of the hall, stepped to the bed and grabbed the covers.  Ripping them back he grabbed the woman by her hair, threw her to the floor and began to pummel her furiously.  She tried to scream but he covered her mouth quickly.  Only a small shriek escaped but it was enough to wake the small boy across the hall and as the man rose his fist to strike again the light flipped on.  A small boy clad in superman footie pajamas stared at him.  His lip had been fattened and his eye was slightly swollen.  He blinked several times.  Trying to shake the image that stood in front of him.  His voice cracked and wavered as his soul emptied itself,
"Jimmy?  Is that you? My son? Jimmy?"

The sound of glass breaking and furniture crashing broke his stare.  He kneeled there on the blue carpet dazed, his ex wife's hair in one hand, his other raised high in the air, ready at an instant to shatter her cheek bone while his son stared at him.  Police filed in from everywhere surrounding him with guns.

"Freeze you son of a bitch!"

It was his son who had made the call.  Tears poured from the man's eyes, soaking his black mask.  All this time he had been away fighting for the children when he should have been home saving his own.

The cop ripped the mask from his face.



-the end

I hope you enjoyed my story.  It was written spontaneously.  Nothing was done in advance.
I had no idea where it was going when I started it.   just had the idea of a guy fighting for all the abused children out there.  Of course it has some far fetched parts but being a short story, I mean a very short story, I couldn't fill it with back story to make things more believable but damn that's why we have an imagination right?
I see the story in my head as I write it.  It is a like a movie.  Right down to the towering oaks and the puff ball flowers on the hydrangeas, to the look of astonishment on the mans's face when he realizes his own child made the call.  All I have to do is turn it into words.  Let me tell you, I need typing lessons bad.  I can't peck fast enough to keep up with my head.
Good Day and Merry Christmas to all!


1 comment:

  1. I thoroughly enjoyed the story. Well written and interesting. Thanks!


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