by Patten, Sean
It was a risky move and I knew it. I could’ve been right that he was just some psycho with a gun playing a sick game before doing whatever he had in mind. But if he was a cop, he had to work with me a little. Or so I hoped.
“Look up at me,” he said.
I did, raising my eyes slowly.
The man behind the gun was slim, wiry even, with dusky skin, dark, shaved hair, and deep brown eyes—definitely of Hispanic origin. He wasn’t handsome, but wasn’t ugly, his nose narrow and his lips thin. He was dressed in a simple outfit of dark blue jeans and a gray T-shirt, a pair of cheap, white sneakers completing the look. I guessed that the intent was to fit in, but even in those circumstances there was something stiff about him that would’ve made him stick out from the crowds of carefree festivalgoers.
His gun still on me, he reached into his back pocket and withdrew a black leather wallet. With a flick of his wrist, he opened it up and revealed a gleaming gold badge, the letters “LAPD” emblazoned on the thing.
“There you go,” he said. “Now do what I fucking say.”
“What’s your name?” I asked. “Officer what?”
“Paco Ramirez,” he said. In spite of his authoritative tone, his shaking hands and wide eyes made it clear that he was in over his head. Maybe a rookie, even.
“Listen,” I said. “Officer Ramirez. There’s no need for any of this. Please, lower your gun and we can talk.”
“Talk about what?” he asked. “You’re breaking the law.”
If there was any question about whether or not this guy was a rookie, that sealed the deal. No officer who had any experience with a situation like this would give two shits about making sure some junkies didn’t make off with pain pills—even if that was what we were doing.
“Lots of people breaking the law out there,” I said. “You gonna arrest all of them?”
“Please,” said Amy. “We’re just trying to get out of here. We’re not junkies or anything like that.”
“Spoken like true junkies,” he said.
I was equal parts nervous and frustrated.
“Listen,” I said. “What are you going to do? Arrest us? Then what? Take us to jail?”
He said nothing, his gun still trained on us.
“How about this—you lower your gun, and we talk about this like adults. Because I’ve got a good feeling that you and us want the same thing right now.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked. “And what’s that?”
“To get out of here alive,” I said.
“Maybe we can work together,” said Amy. “Figure something out.”
“I don’t negotiate with criminals,” he said.
“Officer,” I said, trying to stay respectful. “We just want to make it out of here in one piece. Both of us have been through some serious shit over the last few hours, and I’m sure you have, too. So please, there’s no reason to make any of this any worse. Just put down the gun and we can talk about this.”
Silence. For a moment, I worried that he might just decide to pull the trigger and take care of the issue right then and there.
“Either of you makes any sudden movements,” he said. “Either of you does anything that makes me think for even a split second that my life is in danger, and I won’t hesitate to use this thing.”
“Do what you gotta do,” I said.
He kept the gun trained on us for a few more seconds. Then, to my immense relief, he slowly lowered the pistol.
I let out a sigh of relief, Amy doing the same.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Let’s hear it,” he said. “Tell me your names, then tell me what the hell the both of you are doing.”
“Name’s Ed,” I said. “Ed Mack.”
“And I’m Amy Hendricks.”
“And what we’re doing here,” I said. “I just told you. We’re looking for supplies and getting out of here.”
“Getting out of here how?” he asked. “You armed? You got a car?”
“No,” I said. “Just sort of…starting out the process.”
“What about you?” asked Amy. “Are you here with any other police?”
“Didn’t even know there were cops here,” I said. “First I’m hearing about it.”
Ramirez’s eyes flicked down at my shirt, and he apparently realized at that moment I was part of the festival crew.
“What are you,” he asked. “A roadie?”
“General maintenance,” I said.
He nodded. “You didn’t know anything about the cops on site because you weren’t supposed to,” he said.
He tucked the gun into his waistband as he spoke, and I realized that without the drawn weapon he looked infinitely less threatening, more like the kid he was. I couldn’t quite make out his age, but he appeared fresh out of the academy—younger than Amy, even.
“Cops were here in secret?” I asked. “Why? And why didn’t they tell anyone about it?”
“Because then it wouldn’t have been a secret,” he said.
“Cute,” I said right back.
Amy moved slowly away from the two of us, picking up a bottle of water and slowly handing it to Ramirez. He regarded it with skepticism, as if she might be pulling some trick, before taking it from her with a quick motion, twisting the cap, and drinking. He drained the entire bottle in a few hurried swallows.
“Why was the LAPD here?” I asked. “Did they think something was going to happen?”
Ramirez cocked his head to the side. “There a reason why you think I should be telling you anything about official police business?”
“Because we’re on the same team,” I said.
“That right?” he asked.
“It is,” said Amy. “Those guys, those Black Mountain assholes, they’re killing innocent people.”
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s us against them,” I said. “Because they’d kill all three of us right here and now if they thought we were even the slightest bit of a threat.”
Ramirez said nothing, and I could tell that the gears were turning in that head of his. He was just a kid, but he had to know there was some sense in what I was saying.
“I’m with the festival crew,” I said. “And she’s with one of the bands.”
“That right?” Ramirez asked, turning his attention to Amy. “Where are they, then?”
The color drained out of Amy’s face.
“Didn’t make it,” I said.
Amy nodded and looked away.
“Oh,” said Ramirez. “Sorry.”
“I lost a friend, too. It’s rough as hell out there,” I said. “And it’s only going to get worse out there if no one can trust anyone.”
Ramirez gave us both another long stare.
“Neither of us wants any trouble,” I said.
Another few beats of silence passed.
“What do you know about the Black Mountain Mob?” he asked.
“Her? Nothing,” I said. “But me…just what anyone around here knows—that they’re vicious and ruthless and don’t think twice about killing anyone in their way.”
“What about the people in charge of this festival?” Ramirez asked. “You know anything about them?”
“Screw The System?” I asked. “Even less, actually. Just that that they’ve been cutting corners left and right with this concert. Been wanting to have a few words with those pricks over the last couple of days.”
“LAPD got word that a while back about these guys, that Dead Air was going to have new management. Didn’t think much of it, but this year we starting hearing about how they’d cut the order for the on-site security staff down to nothing. I get wanting to help out the bottom line, but that just seemed reckless.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Fewer guys from the usual crew.”
Ramirez nodded. “And it was supposed to be the biggest turnout yet. These guys were new to the game, but any idiot would get that cutting back on security would just mean a higher risk of shit going wrong, someone getting hurt. Even if you didn�
��t give a damn about the wellbeing of people buying tickets, just a single lawsuit would be enough to make it not worth it.”
“Right,” I said.
“We figured something was up. So, the boys up top decided to do some investigating—especially with the Black Mountain Mob so active in this area.”
“But this isn’t LA,” said Amy. “You can still come here like that?”
“It’s out of our jurisdiction,” said Ramirez. “And that’s why the brass wanted to keep it secret—shit wouldn’t go over well with the local authorities if they knew we were overstepping our bounds. Simple mission—just get inside the concert and see if there was anything to see. Any of us spots anything suspicious, we high-tail it back to LA and report, then we can start building a case.”
“But then the power went out,” I said.
Ramirez nodded. “Then the power went out,” he said. “Like everyone else, I figured it was just an outage. But the lights never came back on. And shit just got crazier and crazier.”
“You said there were other officers?” Amy asked.
“Yeah,” said Ramirez. “Two of them. Three of us in total.”
“Three officers for a concert of tens of thousands of people,” I said.
That was fucking weird. But Amy cut in before I could follow up.
“Where are they?” she asked.
“Don’t know,” Ramirez said. “I’m in the same boat as you—no power, no idea what’s going on…”
He went on, but my mind started to drift to other places. I stepped away from the two of them, making my way to the open back flap of the tent. Once there, I lifted it just enough to poke my head out and listen to the faint sounds of the crowd off in the distance. Just like before, a few pops sounded out here and there as the Black Mountain Mob fired off what I hoped were warning shots.
“What’s the story?” asked Ramirez in a voice that was both sharp and tinged with anxiety, as if he were expecting me to pull some shit.
“Just thinking about our situation,” I said.
I turned to see both him and Amy giving me their full attention, as if I was going to lay out the perfect plan to get us all out of here safe.
“Yeah?” Ramirez said. “And? You’re crew here—you should have a good idea of what’s going on.”
“Black Mountain’s here, no doubt about that,” I said. “They’re here, they’re armed, and they’re not fucking around with anyone who’s messing with their operation.”
“Operation?” asked Ramirez. “What are you talking about? What do you know?”
I gave him the rundown, telling him about the warehouses that had been off-limits, and how the crowds had broken into them, revealing that they were actually being used as a network of drug production and distribution centers.
Ramirez listened carefully as I spoke. Just like before, he had on a tough-guy face at my words, but his eyes let me know the truth of what he was thinking.
The kid was scared, no doubt about that. With each word he seemed to realize more and more that he was in the middle of something serious, something that he might not make it through to the other side of, let alone with his buddies.
Finally, when he’d heard enough, he cleared his throat and spoke up. As he did, he stiffened his back and crossed his arms over his slim but stout chest.
“Then tell me your take on what’s going on out there right now,” he said. “What’s the scene?”
“People have been trying to get the fuck out of this place since this happened,” I said. “Parking lots were madhouses.”
The color drained out of Amy’s again face at this, and I got the impression that whatever horrible shit she’d witnessed last night, it had gone down in one of those lots.
“So most people are gone?” Ramirez asked.
“Thinking yeah,” I said. “Some clear-headed people did the smart thing, got in whatever cars were working, and high-tailed it someplace safe.”
I thought about the punks that had stolen my ride, taking it along with my bag of life-saving pills. Anger boiled up in me, but I put it out of my mind. No sense in getting pissed off about it. Best I could do was see what there was left in the ransacked tent around me.
“So what’re you thinking,” he asked. “Seventy percent of people are gone?”
“Sounds about right to me,” I said. “Twenty-something thousand left, and the Black Mountain crew have them in the main concert grounds.”
“Wait a minute,” asked Amy. “Not everyone was leaving in cars. Some people were leaving on foot. What about them?”
“They’d better hope they were supplied,” I said. “Long trip to the nearest town.”
“Bet more than a few of them were drunk or high or whatever,” said Ramirez. “Just ran off into the desert with nothing but the clothes on their backs.”
Silence fell over us, and I could sense that we were all had the same mental image in mind, that of hundreds, if not thousands, of concertgoers lying dead or dying in the hot sands around the desert. The name “Dead Air” was taking on a new meaning all around us.
“Can’t worry about any of them,” I said.
Ramirez stood up straighter.
“You’re right,” he said. “We can’t worry about them. But he can worry about the ones already here.”
I cocked my head to the side, wondering if he was going to say what I hoped he wasn’t.
“But right now, we need to move,” he said. “The Black Mountain Mob isn’t going to take out itself.”
9 Amy
“Yes!” I said, clasping my hands together.
Ramirez gave me a small smile and a nod, clearly happy that I was on his side.
Ed, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as excited.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “You want to run that by me again?”
Ramirez cleared his throat, as if the problem was that he’d just been mumbling and Ed hadn’t heard him.
“We need to take out the gang,” he said.
“Oh, I heard you,” said Ed. “But do me the favor of explaining your reasoning behind this. ‘Take them out?’ Are you fucking serious?”
He turned to me. “And you’re with him on this?”
I nodded, but before I could say anything, Ramirez spoke up.
“Shit’s gone crazy,” he said. “And this whole place is a madhouse. But that doesn’t mean I’m not an officer of the law. It’s my job to do whatever it might take to set things right.”
I was scared of Ramirez at first—the guy had introduced himself by pointing a gun right at Ed, after all. For all I knew, he was just another armed psycho, and I’d seen enough of those types in the past twelve hours to last me a lifetime. But the longer he spoke, the more I got the impression he was on the level. He was a cop, after all, and one who seemed to give a shit about doing the right thing.
Ed, still in a state of disbelief, pointed towards the wall in the general direction of the main concert grounds.
“Buddy,” he said. “I get that you want to do what’s right, but do you have any idea what’s going on out there?”
“Of course I do,” said Ramirez. “Lot of scared people in danger. ‘To protect and serve’ doesn’t go away just because the power’s out.”
“And are you absolutely sure?” asked Ed, glancing over in my direction.
I nodded. “I want to get to Sandy Vista more than anything,” I said. “But I don’t feel right about leaving those people behind.”
“‘Those people’?” he repeated. “You’re talking like it’s a couple of dozen of them. It’s not. It’s the population of a small city out there. And in case you haven’t noticed, there’s only three of us up against some of the hardest motherfuckers in the drug game.”
“Nope,” said Ramirez, taking his phone out of his pocket and holding it up like it was some kind of secret weapon. “Not three. Five.”
Ed let out a disbelieving snort.
“Are you serious?” he asked. “You’re talking about the rest of
your men, right?”
Ramirez nodded, still holding the phone up.
“That’s right,” he said. “The boys and I were supposed to reconvene here.”
“Yeah?” asked Ed. “And where are they?”
It was a good question. I said nothing, waiting for Ramirez’s answer.
“I…don’t know,” he said. “The three of us decided to take three different sections of the festival—three of us, three sections, you know? And we agreed that if any shit went wrong, this would be the meet-up spot, like I said.”
“So you say,” said Ed. “And where are they now? You heard a single thing from either of your men?”
“No…” said Ramirez, his voice softer for a brief moment. “But it’s only a matter of time before they show up here. Or maybe the power will come back on and I can get in touch with them via text, you know?”
My stomach sank. Ramirez had no idea just how bad this all was.
“Bud,” said Ed. “I don’t know how to break this to you, but the power’s not coming back on.”
Ramirez frowned, shaking his head.
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “Why wouldn’t the power come back on? They just need to send some technicians out to get the generators back up and running and—”
“And what about your phone?” asked Ed. “Need some technicians for that, too?”
“No,” said Ramirez. “I was just gonna ask if I could use one of your phones.”
Oh, boy.
“You can’t,” I said gently. “Because ours don’t work either.”
Another confused look from Ramirez.
“Where have you been all night, exactly?” asked Ed. “Who have you been talking to?”
“No one,” he said. “When the power went off I tried my best to keep people from getting totally out of control, but no one wanted to listen. And I was just one cop against thousands of people. Helped as many people as I could on my way to the meet-up point, and I’ve been here waiting for my men since.”
It was admirable—I had to give him that. And it was so strange to hear this guy, this kid who was barely an adult, talk like that, like he was ready to take the whole world on. It made me want to join right in at his side.