Ravenport: Luna's Awakening

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Ravenport: Luna's Awakening Page 4

by Alistair Jones


  “ We gotta go faster! Or get off the ground! M-m-maybe it can’t climb. You have any ideas?” Luna yells, her legs already feeling the burn from the burst of activity and her voice growing raspy and tired. She starts to slow down considerably, Percy already gaining even footing with her. The two hit the hill they had climbed earlier and start sliding down it, both of them keeping their footing and accelerating to dangerous speeds. The bear hits the apex of the hill and continues to give chase, but skating along the snow had put a considerable amount of distance between the two parties.

  The two hit the bottom of the hill and turn back to look at their pursuer gaining ground on them, shuffling through the heavy snow that the two managed to glide over. Percy looks down towards his gun and flicks the safety off on it and looks back towards the oncoming bear...and then towards Luna, his eyes wavering for a moment before turning cold. He slowly holsters up the gun and brings it up to firing position, lining up the sights. Seeing an easily climbable tree in the upcoming clearing, Luna turns to Percy and points towards it with a hopeful grin but the expression fades as Percy lines the gun up, not at the bear, but directly at Luna’s stomach.

  Wordlessly, Percy fires his gun, the slug burrowing its way into Luna’s belly and thanks to the close range, exiting through the other side. Her heart stops as she mentally processes what just happened and why all the warmth suddenly drained from her body, both emotionally and physically. Blood billows from her midsection as her hands move to cover her fresh wound. She looks up towards Percy with questioning, glistening eyes.

  “I don’t need to go faster than the bear. I just need to be faster than you.”

  Luna’s body quivers as she struggles to stand, her ability to maintain balance over her lower half rapidly leaving her. Percy doesn’t take too much time to look over his handiwork before bolting himself, bypassing the tree Luna suggested. She struggles to breathe as the pain throbs into her; Luna holding one blood-soaked mitten reaching out towards stepbrother. The bear comes along immediately after Percy clears the area and uses one of it’s massive claws to swat Luna aside, a sickening crunch confirming the presence of broken bones. She spirals through the air almost perfectly, throwing her over Percy’s sprinting form and several dozen feet past that and into a clearing. She lands hard on her back and impacts the snow, the whole while holding her not-broken arm against her midsection to ease whatever pain she could. Her glasses fly off in the commotion, and her vision blurs, though she couldn’t tell how much the forming tears were helping.

  Percy, surprised by the direction that Luna’s body was thrown, quickly sidesteps it and realizing his plan of letting the bear have Luna wasn’t going to work as well as he thought. He pulls up his gun and starts firing at the bear wholesale, racking the gun as each slug is buried into it. He leads the beast away, the racket of gunfire and feral snarling giving way to the serenity of the snow.

  Luna tries to command her legs to move so she could stand or even just roll onto her side, but her body felt as if it was made out of lead. She lowers her head back into the snow, letting the cold cradle her as life drains out of her limbs and spills onto the snow. A heavy lump forms in her throat as she tries to call out for help, a wordless whisper the best she can muster. As her peripheral vision starts to fade, she gazes up towards the moon, content with it being the last thing she can before her consciousness slips away.

  Chapter 3

  Between Old Friends

  Concurrently...

  As Christmas Eve begins to pass into Christmas Day, the snowfall only amplifies, further encouraging the inhabitants of Ravenport to stay indoors. The environment turned into a dream-like landscape, with visibility being low thanks to the heavy precipitation and the street lamps producing light halos that seemed to cultivate in a citywide haze. There were few cars in the street and even fewer people on the sidewalks, neither wanting to make an effort to venture out into such a quiet night.

  A maroon colored SUV makes its way down one of the thankfully plowed streets, driving carefully and with slow, deliberate turns. It soon pulls into the mostly empty and snow-filled parking lot of the Ravenport Police Department, taking a spot close to the building before shutting off its engine. The door opens, revealing a tall, leanly built man with black shoulder length hair and a metallic silver hand poking out of his left sleeve. Heavy stubble covers the underside of his face as he pulls a spent cigarette from his mouth and deposits it into his car’s ashtray. He fastens up his leather jacket to protect from the cold and slides both of his hands into his beige slacks, before trudging through the snow towards the entrance of the building. Once at the door he stops for a moment to take a deep breath and pushes his way inside, the heavy wooden door creaking with movement.

  The inside of the RPD is unsurprisingly quiet at this time of night. The foyer is overshadowed by an old-fashioned wooden desk, gating foot traffic both to and from the entrance. Many of these workstations are empty, likely accounting for the holiday. Only a few officers were gathered, some holding conversations over coffee and others packing up to head home. On the ceiling hangs a few glass panel TV screens on pedestals, displaying weather information, current time and traffic congestion in the city.

  A petite, dark-skinned woman with short black hair sits in the wooden desk, currently reading a local news article on wildlife distemper on her computer. A brass name tag reading ‘Holly Belle’ dangles off of the shirt pocket of her perfectly pressed navy blue uniform. Her expression is neutral as she looks towards the corner of the room, expecting yet another citizen of the city with another problem that she may or may not be able to fix. Her demeanor perks up ecstatically when she notices the familiar face, rising out of her seat as he steps into full view.

  “Oh my god Miguel, is that you?”

  Scraping off the last of the snow from his black shoes, he opens his arms and smiles, leaning his head back and pointing towards himself with a thumb nonchalantly.

  “Yeah, it’s me. In the flesh for the most part.”

  She steps out from the desk and moves a bit closer while raising a brow towards his statement. Miguel accentuates his previous words by pointing towards his artificial left hand. It was an excellent approximation of a human hand and seemed to be able to mimic finger and hand motions. He rhythmically splays his fingers before crushing them into a fist and then letting the arm hang loosely at his side again. Holly’s expression softens, nodding a few times in understanding.

  “You went and got yourself some Cybernetics? I know the initiation for it is hard. I know you were really messed up after all of that. It’s been like what, how many years now?”

  “A solid five...and yeah...It wasn’t my idea of a vacation. It’s not just the hand. This whole arm…”

  He reaches down to tap on both of his thighs. A dull metallic *tunk* could be heard from each of them.

  “...And both of my legs.”

  Holly gasps slightly, looking down at his legs and then back up towards his face.

  “Oh...I wouldn’t have known it if you didn’t mention it. Is it hard to get around?

  Miguel’s smile starts to fade, and he shrugs.

  “Eh...once you get used to it, it’s not so bad. I can do everything I could do before. Attaching the nerve endings was a huge pain in the ass, but with it, I’ve got the reaction speeds I had back when I first joined the military, so that’s a bonus I guess.”

  “Wow...that’s pretty awesome. So what brings you in tonight?”

  Miguel tilts his head quickly over towards a set of elevator doors on the far side of the room.

  “I came in to see my fri-...the commissioner. Is he in tonight?”

  Holly cranes her head up to look at a nearby television for the time. 11:30 PM.

  “Yeah, I think so. He mentioned doing some work tonight when he came in so you should be able to just walk on up.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Well...I should get back to work, but it’s great seeing you again. Are you going to come bac
k and see me sometime? Maybe grab some coffee?”

  Miguel smirks towards her taps two metal fingers against his chest.

  “Sure. Next time though, alright?”

  Holly nods and offers him a small wave before returning to her desk, clearing off the screen saver that had popped up with a wave of a hand. Giving her one last look, Miguel turns towards the elevator and heads towards it, pressing the call button. It takes a moment or two patience, but the car slides down into position, and it’s doors open to reveal that it is occupied by a man and his dog. The man’s hair was brown and youthfully short, and the rest of his face was free of any extra hair. He had a relatively average build to him and a peach-colored complexion. The dog looks to be a somewhat passive german shepherd with a collar around his throat and a leash leading back to the man’s hands.

  Upon getting a good look at Miguel, the man’s brows raise energetically as he seems to be in mild awe.

  “Oh...oh wow! You...you’re Miguel Morales! Famous...ah...Famous police detective! Do you remember me?”

  Miguel’s lowers an eye as he looks over the younger man before shrugging his shoulders.

  “...Should I?”

  The young man stammers. “Y-y-y-yeah! I was the guy who used to get you coffee every morning way back when? And had gotten demoted to the mailroom like...twice?”

  Miguel eventually had realization dawn upon his features.

  “Ahhhh...the rookie? What...was your name again? It’s been awhile.”

  The man straightens his stance, raising his shoulders and giving a proper salute. He stiffens his voice to speak loudly and a little more clearly.“Officer Chip Pilgrim of the K-9 unit sir!” Chip returns to his normal volume of voice and gestures a hand towards his fuzzy friend. “...And this little guy is Dale.”

  Dale looks up towards Chip when he overhears his name being called and pants happily, sinking his back end towards the ground to sit while his handler talks. Chip’s hand reaches down for a supportive head rub, which Dale happily accepts, tail wagging slowly.

  Miguel crosses his arms pleasantly as he passes a glance down towards the canine companion.

  “Moving up the ranks? Good on you rookie...guess I’m going to need to stop calling you that now though. Who woulda known you’d sign up for the K-9 unit? Didn’t think you had the teeth for it if you’ll pardon the pun.”

  “W-w-w-well yeah. I think you remember when I was first starting out and how I wasn’t the best at like...anything? I wasn’t that great at dealing with people, but I’ve always liked dogs. So when an opportunity new trainer for police dog popped up, I jumped at it. I’ve had a lot of time with Dale here it all kind of clicked together for us. We’ve been around for like, three years, doing real good work you know? Kinda like what you used to do. People still talk about you around here every now and again you know...about what happened. It was in the paper for a little while.”

  Miguel nods appreciatively. “That makes sense. And...yeah...it was a rough time Pilgrim. I appreciate all the stuff you guys sent me while I was in the hospital. Made it easier to cope.”

  Chip blushes, awkwardly rubbing a hand behind his neck before looking down at Miguel’s metal hand.

  “Did you have enough work compensation for it? I mean...you were gone for like...years. Do you even still work here?”

  The older man slides his hands into his pockets.

  “I think I put in more than enough time here with my record to get all the help I needed. And the second part...well, that’s kind of why I’m here.”

  “Y-y-yeah...That’s pretty good...the first part. But..I mean...all those cases you solved. L-l-like the Blue Angels right? You remember that one? You found out about the fixed games?”

  Miguel smiles warmly. “Yeah...funny the things you find on a computer sometimes.”

  Chip continues gushing. “Oh-oh-oh, how about the Cold Fish case, when all those fishing boats got busted with the smuggling ring? And the way you found that one key piece of evidence that brought down the Carbon brothers?”

  Miguel pats Chip on the shoulder as he makes his way into the elevator, Chip giving Dale the signal for them to move aside. They both take a step out of the car and turn back towards the veteran officer.

  “I swear kid, you have a better memory for this stuff than I do. But it’s great seeing you grown up Pilgrim. You’ll make a fine cop.”

  Chip blushes in embarrassment, stifling a small laugh. “Awwww...you don’t have to say stuff like that. People still talk about the great Winston and Morales. You guys put away alotta bad people. Where are you going anyway?”

  “To see good ol’ Commissioner Winston right now actually.”

  “Oh...ah…” Chip’s facial features contort into uncertainty. “Ah..he’s got a do not disturb sign up on his door up there so...maybe you should come back-”

  Miguel’s jovial voice turns stern and unforgiving.

  “This won’t take long. It’s about time we’ve had a little...catching up.”

  He reaches up towards the control panel of the elevator and starts to press into the top floor of the building before stopping.

  “Pilgrim?”

  Chip kept his eyes on Miguel as he spoke, a hand raised in the expectation to end the conversation, but he seems stunned by the sudden shift in vocal tone.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are the records still downstairs in the basement?”

  “Well..yeah. Same room and everything. Looking for something?”

  Miguel shifts his finger down to the bottom of the list of buttons, pressing it.

  “...Evidence.”

  The doors close slowly after that as he descends, Chip shrugs his shoulders in confusion. He pats Dale on the shoulder to get his attention, the german shepherd perking up to his trainer and standing on all fours, ready to move.

  ∆∆∆

  After a quick trip to the evidence room in the basement, Miguel arrives at the top floor of the two-story building with a manilla folder in hand. Compared to the open environment of the first floor. The second floor is far more closed off, with hallways tailored explicitly for offices. The fluorescent lamps in the ceiling provide an even, well-lit area and the tiled floors were cleaned to an almost reflective degree.

  Recalling where the offices of the commissioner were, Miguel steps out of the elevator and makes quiet strides towards it, passing through the mostly unfamiliar offices of unknown coworkers. They all seemed to be empty, with no light shining through the frosted, opaque glass. Every now and again, a specific door would cause him to stop to inspect the name embroidered upon it. Miguel sighs at nearly everyone he pauses at before shaking his head and continuing on.

  Turning down the last hallway from the elevator is the Commissioner’s office, by far the largest room on the floor. Unlike most of the others, it both had a light on and a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging on the door’s brass knob. Furrowing his brows, Miguel presses on, raising a hand to knock on it several times with average strength. The heavy door rattles and a masculine voice rings out from behind it.

  “Can you read? I am very busy; I will field all issues tomorrow morning, but I MUST get this work done!”

  Miguel presses open the door and take a step into the office, straightening his face to be more emotionally presentable. The room itself is rectangular in shape, with several large windows drawing the eye to them on the back wall, complete with equally impressive blinds covering them for privacy. Several filing cabinets rest in the corners, along with a personal copy machine and a vending machine for snacks and drinks.The center of the room is filled with a large rectangular resolute desk, the top of which is covered with multiple forms and documents in various forms of completion. A large, glass panel computer sits on the desk as well, though it looks worn with age.

  The source of the voice is a middle-aged dark-skinned man who appears to be typing on his computer. He’s overweight, but his professionally maintained suit hides it well. His peaked cap sits on the desk, his receding
hairline easily visible without it. He starts to speak again before his eyes go wide with shock upon seeing the Hispanic man sitting in his doorway.

  “I figured you can take a little bit of a break for an old friend Carl.” Miguel speaks warmly, closing the door behind himself in the process. He takes a moment to look around the lush office space, walking over towards the windows and pulls down a single blade of the blinds to observe the hypnotic display of heavy snowfall. “It’s still coming down pretty heavy out there. Road Crews are going to have hell tomorrow.”

  “M-M-Morales! You aren’t due out for another three years!” Carl sputters in disbelief. “The calibration process takes at least eight years to complete, and it’s only been-”

  “Five. I know.” Miguel turns the blind loose and walks back around to the front of the desk, pulling up a chair and spinning it so that the back of it could be used as an armrest. Which it immediately was. “I was a good kid in school, so they let me out early. I’ve always been a fast learner I guess. So tell me, how are the wife and kids?.”

  Carl manages to shake off the initial shock and composes himself with a cough. He places both of his hands down, cradling them together pleasantly.

  “It’s merely...they...they are fine. Donald’s in college now and doing pretty well. Going for a bachelor’s in engineering. Lara’s in high school and...uhm...she’s staying out of trouble. Danielle’s still has her job at the bakery so...there’s that.”

  “Wow. Engineering huh? I always knew he was a smart kid. He’ll go pretty far if he keeps his head in the game.” Miguel reaches down to grab the name plate resting on the desk, looking gold plated wooden slab over from multiple directions. “Commissioner Carl Winston. That’s quite the title you’ve got there. Quite a step up from Senior Detective. And only in five years?”

 

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