by Mike Monahan
What seemed like hours may have only been seconds, like a dream. Micko gazed into the blackness and drifted back to the fateful day when he was shot. The vision no longer haunted him and the flashback manifested itself with such clarity.
***
It was a cold, rainy night, and Micko’s partner, Gus, had taken the night off to attend a christening. Micko was assigned to help a neighboring precinct detective squad that was low on manpower. The night was boring, and Micko was able to catch up on a lot of his backed-up paperwork.
He was interrupted by Detective Thomas Gomez. “Hey, Micko, I just got a call, and one of my perps is at a known location. I need a collar and the overtime that goes with it.” He was holding the phone and covering the mouthpiece when he spoke.
“Yeah, why not?” Micko answered lazily. “I’m caught up with my work.”
“We’ll be there in five minutes, but you have to come to court and sign the ADA’s affidavit after we arrest him.” Gomez spoke into the phone.
The two detectives put their suit jackets on, and Micko asked, “What do we have here?”
“Simple assault. A tenant slugged his landlord, and the landlord swore out a complaint. Since the guy’s nose was broken, it’s an assault second degree, so I have a collar. The landlord called to say that he just saw the perp enter his apartment, so I get a number for the month and some much-needed overtime.”
“Anything more I should know about the perp?” Micko asked as he grabbed the car keys and a radio.
“Nah, he’s a sixty-year-old guy who just had a beef with the landlord over a lack of heat in his apartment.”
The pair drove straight to an apartment building in a rough section of University Avenue in the South Bronx. When they got to the apartment, Micko stepped back to let Gomez take charge since this was his case and collar. Gomez banged loudly on the door and announced, “Open the door, Mr. Colavito. It’s the police.”
A moment later, a short, balding, older man answered the door and appeared to be in shock.
“What’s wrong, Officers?” he asked.
“Mr. Santiago swore out an assault complaint against you, Mr. Colavito, so we have to bring you before a judge to answer the charge,” Gomez answered respectfully.
“That guy is such a jerk. Can I put my coat on, Officer?” the perp asked.
“Sure,” Gomez said with a grin.
The perp walked to a closet to get his coat, and Micko and Gomez watched him like a hawk. After he put on his coat, Gomez pulled out his handcuffs.
“Hey, man, can you please front cuff me?” Colavito begged. “These charges are so bogus. I don’t need the other tenants to see me being dragged out of my home in handcuffs over this nonsense.”
Gomez hesitated for a moment and then said, “Okay, but if you fuck with us, I’ll jack you so freaking hard that your head will split like a god damn watermelon.”
Micko didn’t like this. He always rear cuffed suspects, not only for safety reasons but because it was regulation. But he didn’t want to get into a pissing match with Gomez in front of the suspect, and it was his case, so he let it go.
“Hey, man, can I throw these old newspapers into the incinerator?” Colavito pleaded. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, man, and I don’t want no stinkin’ roaches.”
“Yeah, fine,” Gomez returned, “but you have to carry them.”
Mr. Colavito grabbed a stack of newspapers and gave his house keys to Micko to lock up. While Micko was trying to figure out which key fit which lock, Gomez escorted his prisoner down the hall to the trash room. The suspect leaned down to place the papers on the floor and suddenly swung around with a nine-millimeter pistol.
His first shot got Gomez right in the heart. Gomez was dead before he hit the floor. The next shot flew past a shocked Micko’s left ear. When the smoke settled, Micko was bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound to his upper thigh, and the prisoner lay dead from Micko’s gunshot wound to his right eye.
The investigation revealed that Gomez had neglected to inform Micko that Mr. Colavito was also being charged with a lesser crime of menacing/harassment, but that the harassment was with a gun. According to Mr. Santiago’s complaint, Colavito menaced him with the firearm, so he made out a second complaint against the man. Gomez must have misfiled the second complaint and been unaware that the perp had a weapon.
Mr. Colavito had previously hidden the gun under the stack of newspapers. No one knew if it was for protection or a premeditated attack against the landlord or the arresting detectives. Many mistakes had been made by the detectives, and many high-ranking officials played “Monday Morning Quarterback” for months after the tragedy.
Thinking about Gomez and his family, Mico suffered through bouts of depression, leading to his mental melt down. That was then, but now he was at the top of his game again and must save his own life.
***
Micko snapped out of this memory and back to the present, where he was struggling for life. He fought to locate his second-stage regulator, and with a swinging motion of his right arm, touched the hose floating just behind his head. With a swift motion, he had the regulator in place and sucked sweet air into his deprived lungs.
He breathed heavily until he was aware of the professor’s computer alarm beeping. He had to begin making his slow, controlled ascent right away. He was still in a pitch-dark world and couldn’t waste time searching for the mooring line to guide him up. He had no idea how far he had been pushed from the sub after the explosion, and even worse, he had no idea which direction to go. Without a light and a mask, he was blind.
Micko had to do a controlled free ascent from the spot he was currently in. He looked straight up and exhaled out of the side of the re-breather mouthpiece to purposely blow bubbles. The bubbles were translucent and he knew that if he rose to the surface slower than his bubbles did, he would be all right. He watched as his bubbles flowed upward and maintained enough buoyancy to follow well behind his exhausted balloons of mixed gases.
The ascent was slow and painful. The torpedo blast had injured his eardrums, and trying to fight off vertigo, upon ascent, was difficult and distressing. When he finally reached the surface, he yawned and moved his jaw in odd angles until his ears equalized and the ache diminished.
Micko slowly turned in a three hundred and sixty-degree angle until he saw a light in the distance. The light was very low to the water, so he immediately assumed that the Hummingbird’s crew had launched the life raft. He reached for the water whistle that was attached to the professor’s dive gear and blew with as much gusto as he could muster. The light began swinging back and forth in his direction, so they must have heard him. Micko kept blowing the whistle as he swam toward them.
As he swam toward the raft, Micko heard the scientists arguing over the paddling strokes they were doing. He was just about to let out a laugh when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. It was a life jacket floating a few feet to his right. Maybe I better grab this, he thought. Who knows how long we’ll be out here? The chop was steady with the wind still blowing strong. An extra life jacket certainly couldn’t hurt, so he diverged from his swim to the raft to gather the errant jacket. When he reached it, he was out of the beam of the flashlight, immersed in darkness again.
Micko reached out for the life jacket and pulled it to him to clip it to one of his BC vest D rings and then continue swimming toward the raft. He pulled the jacket closer, but there was some drag that he couldn’t understand. In the dim light, he saw an apparition barely sticking out of the vest. When he pulled it closer and the vest popped upright, revealing the repulsive remains of his friend Celestial.
Micko opened his mouth to scream in both horror and agony over the loss of a friend, but a wave washed over his head and down his throat. A volley of violent coughs and spitting followed. He regained his composure after he resumed his normal breathing. Micko fondly rubbed the head of the gentle giant and whispered, “I will miss you, my friend, but I will never forget you.�
�
Just then a cell phone began to ring. Micko saw that Celestial had the presence of mind to place his cell phone in a waterproof case and stick it in the life vest pocket. The phone was on its fourth ring before Micko was able to answer.
“Hello, this is Micko,” he spoke.
“Hi, Micko. This is Shorty, the captain of the Thor. We brought the survivors to the Bikini resort and they will be okay. I don’t see your boat’s lights. Where did you guys go?”
Micko gave him a brief synopsis of all that had happened, and Shorty assured him that he would head out immediately to rescue them. Micko hung up the phone and looked up to see the bright red life raft pull up.
“Micko, are you all right?” the professor asked as they helped him into the raft.
“I’m fine, and the Thor is on the way.” Micko looked about for the remains of his friend, but Celestial had drifted back into the eternal darkness. “I just said goodbye to a great friend,” he mourned. “He’s at peace now. Celestial is drifting to the final resting place of his ancestors. He is one with the sea forever.”
The men in the raft bowed their heads in honor of a dearly departed pal. James explained the attack on the Hummingbird by the mutant barracuda. Before the narration ended, the Thor was sighted, and the four men were rescued.
13
Micko and the others were shivering on the ride to the Bikini resort. The Thor’s crew had given all the blankets and warm refreshments to the rescued VIPs. Regis retold the story of Celestial’s bravery and demise as they suffered through the windy ride. “You look terrible,” he said to Micko.
“Why?” Micko asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Look at your eyes. They’re all bloodshot, and there is blood tricking from your ears and nose. Maybe you have a brain aneurysm.”
“I don’t have a brain aneurysm, Regis” Micko mocked. “The shockwaves probably just burst some blood vessels in my nose, and I think damaged my ear drums. I lost my mask, so the salt water screwed up my eyes.”
The two scientists laughed nervously, each hoping that the damage was not worse.
“My good man, I’ll give you a thorough examination later,” Dr. Collins offered.
Just then, the Thor pulled up to the Bikini resort dock, and the deck hands secured the boat. Jaynnie, the hostess for the Bikini resort, was at the pier to greet them, and after exchanging introductions said, “We placed your VIPs on cots in the cafeteria, and they are eating a hot meal right now. I can put you guys in an empty room at the lodge. It seems that two Australian brothers’ room is unoccupied at the moment. I placed cots in the living room area, and you should all rest comfortably,” she said with a warm smile.
Jaynnie wore cut-off shorts and colorful shirts, where Tanya had preferred business attire. In fact, Jaynnie was the exact opposite of Tanya in every way. She was a shorter, athletic young woman with long blonde hair and sky blue eyes. A native of Denmark, she had first arrived at the Bikini resort as a scuba instructor. The owners knew that her million-dollar smile would work great as the resort hostess, so she was promoted to her current position with no regrets.
“Never mind me,” Regis announced. “I’m going home.”
“But you’re already here,” the professor stated. “How will you get back? The Thor is tied up, and the crew and staff are busy caring for the survivors.”
“I’ll get my buddy Pete the Prairie Dog to sail me back home to the fishing village,” Regis explained.
“Have a hot meal in the room first, and I’ll send someone to get Pete,” Jaynnie offered.
“I’ll go back with you, Regis,” Dr. Collins added. “I need my work journal. Then I’ll come back here with your friend Peter.”
Jaynnie led the men to room twelve in the lodge. The accommodations didn’t look nearly as opulent as the Majestic Hotel suites, but they were surprisingly cozy.
“You’re all banged up, Micko,” Dr. Collins stated. “You should take a nice hot shower while we await the food.”
“Good idea,” James piped in.
“I guess I’m outnumbered,” Micko said with a laugh.
“The Barrett brothers’ suitcases are on the beds. I’m sure you’ll find something to fit each of you,” Jaynnie said with a smile as she left. Micko admired her shapely tanned legs and firm butt as she walked out the door.
He jumped right in and took a short hot shower, knowing that the others were also cold and wet and would require showers as well. He walked into the den, wrapped in a towel, and saw the men laughing and eating hot tacos.
“I’m next,” Regis yelled as he ran into the steamy bathroom and closed the door.
“I’ve laid out the Aussies’ clothes on the bed, Micko,” James said. “Pick out something you like.”
“These are magnificent,” the professor commented as he handed Micko a fist-sized taco. “Have one.”
Micko took a bite. It was hot and made of chicken. He chewed while he perused the clothes. The scientists were laughing from the other room.
“I can’t wear this stuff,” Micko lamented. “It looks like retarded biker threads.”
The scientists laughed louder. The selection of clothing that the deceased brothers had chosen to wear did not fit into the style of either a scientist or a conservative cop. Micko found an offensive black tank top that had a picture of a hand flashing the middle finger, and a pair of plain sweat pants.
“Not bad,” James applauded when he saw Micko’s new outfit.
“Wait until you see what’s left for you,” Micko laughed.
Micko helped himself to another taco as the professor kept flashing him the bird and laughing hysterically. Regis popped out of the shower dressed in the same damp clothes. No one made a comment. Everyone guessed that it was common for the natives to do this.
“Professor, you better go next,” Regis said. “Pete will be here soon.”
“Quite right, quite right,” Dr. Collins replied as he finished his last bite and went into the bathroom.
Regis greeted Micko with a double bird salute, which brought on another wave of juvenile laughter. Micko was feeling a bit mischievous, so he took it upon himself to pick out the professor’s new wardrobe. The three men enjoyed some lighthearted, amicable conversation while the professor took a leisurely shower. When he finally exited the bathroom, the three men quickly handed him clothes and urged him to dress. When the professor was dressed, he stood in front of the full-length mirror that was attached to the rear of the bathroom door.
“I wish I had a camera,” James laughed.
The professor gasped in shock as he looked at himself wearing a pair of oversized ghetto jeans and a T-shirt bearing the resemblance of Che Guevara. Micko tied a black Renegades bandanna around the professor’s unkempt white hair to complete the make over. The four men loved the levity of dressing in an uncharacteristic manner and laughed cordially. Each man felt deep sorrow for the loss of Celestial, but at the moment, they needed a bit of lighthearted amusement.
Jaynnie came back with another platter of tacos and a cooler of cold beer. She was accompanied by a native dwarf. No one had to be told that this must be Pete the Prairie Dog. Pete laid the cooler down in the middle of the den as Jaynnie placed the tacos on a table.
“Dig in, guys. You deserve it,” he bellowed.
Micko couldn’t take his eyes off the beautiful Jaynnie. Her teeth were perfect and her pretty face could brighten an entire room. She was the most wholesome woman he had ever met.
She noticed him staring and offered, “Beer, Mr. Detective?”
“Yes, please,” he stammered.
Micko’s interest in Jaynnie had been picked up by Pete, who added, “Hey, copper, she’s available. Her idiot boyfriend went back to Germany for good.”
Micko realized that his body language had given him away, so he smiled and said, “I’m sorry if I was staring, Jaynnie, but you look like a pretty cherub, who brought us all this fine food, just like an angel.”
“Is that the be
st you can do?” Pete cried out in mockery.
“Listen, Prairie Dog, I’ll hang you on a hook on the back of the bathroom door if you keep it up,” Micko jested to the delight of the others.
Jaynnie opened a bottle of beer and handed it to Micko. “Careful,” she warned. “He bites.”
This brought another round of laughter from the crowded room, especially Pete. It appeared that Pete not only had a great sense of humor, but he also liked being the center of attention.
Regis told Pete about the night’s terribly tragic events, while James and the professor huddled together. Jaynnie and Micko were left sitting next to each other.
“Do you know what happened to the Barrett brothers?” Micko asked her.
“Yes, Steve told me. He told me what happened to Denise as well. It’s all so horrible.”
“Where is the ferry that is normally at the dock?” Micko asked.
“It left for Eneu after the fireworks barge left there. I think some important people are arriving at the airport. Steve and Shorty notified Majuro of the diving accidents, and I’m sure some investigators will be coming soon. Maybe they will be on the ferryboat.”
“I hope my FBI friend is with them. Somebody has to clean up the mess on Shark Alley Island,” Micko replied.
“Are you ready, Professor?” Pete called out.
“Yes, yes,” he answered.
Regis and the professor stood up along with Pete. Micko gave a warning, “Tell the locals not to leave the village until after the authorities have arrived and investigate the awful scene. Warn them not to go to the wharf or the great lawn.”
“I will,” the professor answered.