Midnight Darkened Road

It was supposed to be a routine stop on this dark, quiet night. The vehicle was pulled over for a minor traffic violation but the driver had much more in store for this young officer.

"501 to dispatch." I call from my radio.

"Go ahead 501." The dispatcher returns.

"I'll be out at route 27 a few miles east of the old abandoned warehouse, I got a black Chevy pickup truck Mass plate numbers 7-0-3 E-C-D, that's 7-0-3 Echo-Charlie-Delta."

"10-4, 501."

As I step out of my cruiser the driver of the truck stomps on his gas. Dirt and rocks kick up from his tires and fly around everywhere. Adrenaline rushes through my body and I quickly jump in my cruiser and start off chasing this punk.

I alert dispatch, "501 to dispatch, the driver has taken off in his truck, in pursuit now heading west on 27!"

"10-4 501, in pursuit of a black Chevy pickup truck Mass. plates 7-0-3-Echo-Charlie-Delta heading west on route 27, sending backup to you now."

The blue and white lights from my vehicle are bouncing ferociously off the leaves as I pursue this pickup down a midnight darkened back road. I flick on my sirens as if in a quaint way they were communicating with the obstinate truck, informing him to discontinue his rebellious act of attempting to elude me. I don't think this guy is going to stop and the thrill seeker in me wishes that he never does. I've been chasing this truck for a good five minutes now, twirling and swaying with the flow of the road as if I were recklessly dancing with it. To my disappointment the truck slows down and stops. I look up in the rear-view mirror, the bright red from his brake lights mixed with the blue from my lights illuminates my face. Reality punches me as I hear the crackle of gunfire screaming through the midnight air. Quickly I bend forward, ducking underneath my dash for cover in fear of my life. I hastily radio,

"501 to dispatch, shots fired! Shots fired! Suspect has stopped we are still east on 27, a few hundred feet after the warehouse! Taking fire!"

"Hang in there 501 we have 4 units headed your way, as well as an ambulance."

"10-4 dispatch, returning fire!"

Unhooking the latch that secures my Glock .45 inside of my holster I grasp the pistol grip and yank it out. A round is already chambered, the gun is ready to fire at my command. Five more pops of gunfire from the murderous man's truck cabin come flying my way, penetrating the windshield just above me. With each shot I flinch, knowing that any moment it's possible one of those bullets could connect with me. My first thought is my family, of the last time I had contact with them and if anything was said or not said that I would regret. Were any grudges held? The thought of possibly having any un-forgiveness or unresolved conflicts haunts me. I couldn't immediately think of any in this life or death situation but I felt that if there were, I had let them all go.

Just then I reach my hand over to my door handle and open it. I crawl out keeping a low center of gravity, to reduce my size as a target. I lean to my left just barely peeking my head and hands out by the side of my driver's door, taking aim at the cabin of this psycho's truck.

Adrenaline pumping like never before, I slightly pull my right finger that's resting on the trigger of my Glock towards the inside of my hand. The gun fires its first shot and the bullet lands in the exact spot I was intending, the back of the driver's side area. 9 more times I do this, emptying all 10 rounds in a small grouping area behind the driver's seat, knowing there was no chance in hell this dirt-bag survived the barrage of .45 caliber bullets I just sent his way.
I eject my empty magazine and it drops to the hot summer ground. I load in another full mag that's sitting in my magazine pocket and pull back the slide on top of my gun to chamber the next round. The whole time I maintain aim at the cabin of the truck. In case by some weird miracle this violent man's heart was still beating, pumping his venomous blood through his body. I stand in silence for a minute, while a bit of smoke wafts up towards the warm night-time air from the barrel of my pistol. I was waiting for any movement from the pickup, giving suggestion that this guy was still alive. After observing no hint of life I realize that he is most likely dead.

A deafening silence overtakes this dirt road while smoke rises from the pickup. The smell of gunpowder lingers in the stuffy, humid air as sweat falls from my face and is welcomed into the parched, dirt ground below. I could hear the wails of sirens in the distance as I gradually approach the truck from the rear in a cautious manner.

"Throw your weapon from the vehicle and show me your hands!" I strictly order, while advancing towards the pickup. "I said throw your weapon from the vehicle and show me your hands! I'm not going to say it again!"

As if I were expecting him to still be alive, because a certain part of my subconscious wouldn't allow me to cope with the fact that I had just taken a life. Although he wasn't innocent and he was trying to kill me, it's a life none the less. I reach the rear of the cabin, my pistol not relenting its continual aim.

Noticing the lights from the responding emergency vehicles in the distance charging towards us, I felt relieved knowing I wouldn't be alone for much longer in this ominous scene. The driver's side door of the truck was open this whole time. As I was coming upon it the other officers were just arriving. I could see blood trickling out and gathering in a small pool below the threshold of the drivers side door. On the brink of turning that horrifying, life changing corner and seeing what the consequences of 10, .45 caliber rounds had done to another human being, everything faded.

Part 2

I come back to reality. I'm sitting in my cruiser, just having pulled over a black pickup truck when my radio calls out,

"Dispatch to 501, that plate comes back to a black Chevy pickup with the R.O. of Sorento,Wilson. Valid operator's. 5/27 of '53. Corrective lenses. Grey hair."

"Received." I respond.

I had pulled over this truck for swerving over the yellow line. I grab my flashlight and step out of the cruiser. The blue and white lights illuminate this midnight darkened back road. I cautiously approach the driver's side door. My left hand shining my flashlight through the back of his rear window, and my right, resting on the grip of my pistol, (just in case he decided to try and shoot at me like I had imagined when I first pulled over)

I reach his door. The window is rolled 3/4 of the way down. Immediately I can smell the scent of cigarettes and old aftershave. I shine my flashlight in the cabin of his truck but not directly on him as not to blind the man. He's an older man of 63 years, wearing tan, khaki pants with an old, blue colored shirt. He appears to have not shaved in a week or so considering the some what lengthy facial hair growth. That is curious remembering the fragrance of antique aftershave that was wafting my way. A freshly stubbed out cigarette lays smoking in the pull out ashtray below the radio console and a bunch of old papers are strewn about his dashboard and passenger seat.

"Evening officer." He warmly greets me, handing me his license and the registration to his vehicle. Removing my right hand from it's comfortable resting place on my pistol grip, I accept his papers into it. Shining my flashlight on his license and registration, I briefly examine them to make sure everything is proper.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" I ask, glancing back at him.

"I think so."

He briefly pauses in thought, scratching the side of his chin while his thick eyebrows crinkle downwards towards his nose. After a few seconds I can tell something clicked as his eyebrows quickly rise again, higher than before he paused.

"I was swerving a little bit back there because I don't see well at night and I'm waiting for my new glasses to come in the mail. I only live a few miles up the road, just past the old warehouse."

"Yeah you were. I just wanted to be sure everything okay. Be safe tonight, it's darker than normal. Would you like to follow me the rest of the way?" I ask.

"No, no. I'll be alright. It's only a little ways to go then I'll be home."

"Okay, well have a good night Mr. Sorento."

I hand his license and registration back to him. As I turn around and walk towards my cruiser he shifts his truck into drive, gasses it, a little too much, and some rocks and dirt come kicking up underneath his tires. Then he takes off, winding down the road heading towards his home. I calmly stroll back to my cruiser and open the door, but before getting in I gaze up to examine the moon, which was only a little sliver in the almost starless expanse above. I close my eyes and inhale the hot humid air one last time as I ponder in my mind, 'If only life were as real as my imagination.' Then I step into my air conditioned cruiser and close the door behind me.

Author's Note

As always, let me know what you think. Criticism welcomed.

Reviews

[MightyMouse]

Really enjoyed this. I like how it started with all the action and then you come to realize it was just a daydream. I do this a lot, so I can relate.