Bystanders

by Phillip Murrell

  Bystanders

  Phillip Murrell

  © 2017 Phillip Murrell

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1546949534

  ISBN 13: 9781546949534

  This book is dedicated to the people that agreed to read my manuscript and give support, Jen, Dale, Mary Lee, and Tim. They’re also known as Wife, Dad, Mom, and Little Brother.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  A Note from the Author

  Chapter 1

  It’s early evening in Colberton, a medium-sized city with approximately 200,000 residents. It’s the smaller sister city to Yama, a sprawling metropolis fifty miles west on the interstate. Sirens blare in the distance as police respond to multiple crime scenes.

  Votary perches on the ledge of a tall building as he searches for crime in his city. He has spent the past several weeks focusing on the common street crime that is often neglected by politicians and police officers to reduce. His armor is cloaked from the casual observer’s view. This allows him the ability to use the enhanced monitoring equipment integrated into his helmet and armor. It does not take long for the screams of a woman to reach him. Votary stealthily moves to intercept the perpetrator.

  The streets are dark and ominous as another unfortunate pedestrian is accosted by one of society’s delinquents. A young woman desperately tries to scamper away from her approaching demise. The woman frantically searches the abandoned streets for a good Samaritan to assist in her escape.

  “Help me!” she screams, but nobody comes to her rescue. Either the residents of the nearby apartments cannot hear her, or they simply don’t care about her plight. She turns her attention back to her aggressor. “Please don’t!”

  The mugger is a dirty man with a long knife held in his right hand. The blade catches the moonlight and almost winks at his victim.

  “C’mon, honey,” he says. “Hand over the purse and you can go home to a loving family.”

  He cackles, a menacing sound that produces more tears from the terrified woman. Her eyes go wide. She falls on her butt, desperately trying to inch away. Votary frowns beneath his helmet. She is more frightened of him as he sneaks behind her actual attacker. She crawls away in an unnecessary attempt to avoid Votary.

  The mugger evidently isn’t aware of what approaches from behind. He seems confused by the woman’s fear. “Calm down, lady. I--”

  Votary punches the mugger on the right side of his head, forcing him to ricochet off the wall to his left. His body crumples to the ground, and he lies there unconscious.

  One more down, Votary thinks.

  The woman screams and runs the other way down the alley, leaving her purse in the process. Votary suspects that he’ll have another busy night in the city, but it will no longer include her.

  The last train of the evening approaches the station. The sole occupants in one car are a blue-collar worker, riding home, and three hoodlums. The vigilante, Votary, observes the man attempting to ignore their crude comments and juvenile attempts to intimidate him.

  The leader of the punks continues to hound the worker. “All I’m saying is that you look like the caring sort who could help out three men who have fallen on hard times.”

  His associates giggle in clear anticipation of an easy payday. The second punk adds to the conversation, “Yeah, we’re like vets and stuff. You support the troops, don’t you?”

  The lights flicker and screams are heard. The lead punk and his silent accomplice are both slammed to the floor. A sickening crack echoes as their arms are bent in an unfortunate direction. Their screams are piercing as both the blue-collar worker and final punk try to escape into another train car.

  The two men elbow each other, both attempting to reach the door first. The punk, being significantly younger and stronger, easily gains the upper hand and throws the worker to the ground.

  “Not so fast! Vets first,” he announces as he grasps for the handle.

  The blue-collar worker rolls into the fetal position and attempts to scurry under a nearby seat. A pair of armored and dark gray legs step over him and continue toward the unfortunate criminal.

  The punk looks over his shoulder at Votary. “C’mon, man. Leave me alone. I ain’t done nothin’ to ya.”

  Votary doesn’t respond and is unable to be swayed from his selected course of action. He curls his armored fingers. The punk screams as Votary repeatedly punches his face. It doesn’t take an abundance of blows before the third and final hooligan enters dreamland.

  An old warehouse fills the night with the sounds of hip hop. This building serves as the hangout for a street thug named Dominic “Power” Weiner. He’s a street dealer of recreational drugs, and the leader of a small crew with approximately one dozen runners.

  Power is a healthy man in his late twenties. He stands taller than his peers but only by a little. His piercings indicate his level of financial success, preferring colored stones to colorless diamonds. It’s clear that he works out, but he doesn’t let it prioritize his life.

  There are three other men who are armed. They all play cards with Power. The remaining personnel sort drugs and count money, the night’s take.

  Power grimaces as he looks at another poor hand. He throws down his cards, defeated. “I’ll catch y’all later. I gotta go see a bitch about some pussy.”

  His resignation from the game is met with numerous insults, but Power knows when to walk away from a bad situation. He exits the building and drives away.

  Votary watches Power leave. He has extensive knowledge on many criminals. Dominic “Power” Wiener is especially efficient. Votary allows Power to leave. Hopefully the pathetic man will eventually draw out the leaders of the organized crime he consistently battles. Votary prepares his attack on the remaining criminals.

  The rest of the crew resume their business. While packaging various narcotics into even smaller portions, the lights in the building suddenly go out. The unexpected darkness forces many to gasp or mutter confused protests, but soon a fight begins. Votary must appear to be a shadow to them. He systematically beats each thug unconscious. A few shots from various caliber weapons are fired, but most miss any target whatsoever. The few that were aimed at the shadowy wraith bounce harmlessly off his armor, often producing an intimidating spark when the bullets hit.

  A thug screams as a poorly aimed shot hits him. The shooter apparently doesn’t realize he targeted his friend. The shotgun he holds is forcefully yanked from his hands. Votary twirls the shotgun in his hands so that he now holds the barrel. He hits the previous owner of the shotgun in the head with the butt after executing a baseball bat technique. Votary drops one of his non-lethal grenades in the middle of the room. It’s a small sphere, about the size of an orange. Votary leaps out of the window seconds before a white, foamy adhesive erupts from the device. The warehouse is quickly engulfed in this foamy glue that easily ruins the narcotics, but it doesn’t seem to further injure the unconscious and badly beaten thugs.

  An obviously drunk woman beats on a door in the hallway of an apartment building. She sways after each strike and must support herself by leaning against the wall outside of the room she demands entry into.

  “Let me in, you bastard!” She keeps hitting the door. “You can’t leave me! You’re nothing without me! Nobody else will love you.”

  The drunk woman strikes the door a few more times. The cheap paint peels away with each blow.

  On the other side of the door a frightened woman cries as she uses her full weight to keep the door shut. The lock starts
to turn, and she immediately turns it back. She cries behind her covered hands. The muffled voice of the drunk woman is barely discernible through the door.

  “Just open up, you stupid bi--”

  The sounds of a violent disturbance penetrate the apartment. The door, actually the entire wall, shudders, then everything, except for the frightened woman’s breathing, goes silent.

  The woman inside the apartment cautiously places her ear to the door.

  “Sara . . . Sara, what was that?”

  There’s no response. The frightened woman waits a few more agonizing heartbeats to speak again. “I’m not opening this door, so just go away . . . okay? Go to a hotel and sleep it off. We can talk about it in the morning.”

  There still is no response. The frightened woman is too terrified to open the door, but not knowing what that sound was is even worse. Her courage rises enough for her to open the door, revealing the unconscious woman, with her body smashed halfway through the wall to the right of the door.

  The woman falls back into her own apartment as she screams.

  It’s a beautiful summer day in Colberton. Rookie police officer Maria Pecos prepares for her first official day as a cop.

  Maria is in her mid-twenties and extremely attractive. Her pristine uniform flatters her. She’s wide eyed and a bit naive but confident in her chosen career. She stares at the doors of the main entrance to the Colberton Police Department and gives herself her trademarked pep talk.

  “Time to prove you’re more than a pretty face,” Maria says to herself. She opens the door and walks into the building.

  The chaos that Maria imagined isn’t present. There are criminals being booked and citizens filing reports, but it seems like the machine is well oiled and running smoothly.

  “Well, so much for what the movies prepared me for,” she says.

  Most people, officers and civilians alike, simply ignore Maria and walk around her. Despite being petite, she’s still standing obnoxiously in the way. Eventually Maria realizes this and apologetically walks toward the desk sergeant.

  She holds out her hand as she approaches and states, “Hello, I’m--”

  The desk sergeant quickly interrupts her and addresses another officer. “Mendez!”

  “Yo,” comes the reply from another police officer.

  “Get this rookie out of my personal space and show her around.”

  Mendez approaches Maria and the desk sergeant. He’s an average built man with a rough face in his mid-twenties. His eyes are kind, but Mother Nature didn’t bless him with handsomeness.

  “But, the fight already started. I’m already late for it,” Mendez protests.

  “Take her with,” is the obvious reply from the desk sergeant.

  “Got it.” Mendez turns his attention to Maria. “Follow me, Rookie.”

  Maria becomes increasingly annoyed with her new peers talking about her without ever speaking with her. She begins to address this.

  “Actually, it’s Maria.”

  A perplexed look crosses Mendez’s face.

  “Yeah?” He chuckles. “Let’s see how well that works out for you.”

  Mendez looks at the desk sergeant. They both shrug.

  “Like I said, follow me.”

  Maria follows Mendez as he leads her on a tour of the police station, starting with the gym.

  Maria continues to speak to herself. “At least the movies were right about this part.”

  A few rushed moments later, Mendez successfully delivers Maria to the gym. Several police officers and support staff are emotionally involved in a boxing match between a man and a woman. Mendez eagerly stops to watch as well. He forces his way close to the woman’s corner. Maria feels forgotten, but she trails Mendez as closely as she can.

  Maria taps Mendez on the shoulder. This action startles him.

  “Who’s that?” Maria asks while pointing at the woman.

  “You’re in luck, Rookie,” Mendez says. “You get to watch Karen put another big mouth in his place.”

  Karen is the female boxer. She’s a beast of a woman in her late thirties. She has a solid body builder figure and clearly knows her way around a boxing ring. She’s easily one hundred and sixty pounds of muscle.

  Her opponent is a man in his late twenties. He isn’t as graceful in the ring. Karen is clearly toying with him to prolong his embarrassment.

  Karen connects with two more jabs to her opponent’s face and follows it up with an uppercut to the jaw before backing off. The bell chimes to signal the end of the second to last round.

  “Carlos, what’s up?” Mendez asks.

  The man in Karen’s corner dismisses Mendez with a wave. He encourages Karen as she returns to her corner. Carlos quickly hands her a towel and a bottle of water.

  “Karen, stop toying with this guy,” he implores. “Just knock him out and end it.”

  Carlos is slightly younger than Karen, but he clearly respects her and knows her amazing capabilities. He’s relatively fit and has an immaculately manicured beard that compliments his dark skin.

  Karen gives Carlos a half-smile.

  “He pissed me off! I want his embarrassment to linger.”

  “The last time you played around for this long, the guy got a lucky hit in and broke your nose, not to mention your perfect winning streak,” Carlos says.

  “I underestimated Smith. I didn’t realize he was toying with me at the same time.”

  “Who’s to say this guy isn’t faking, too?”

  “I do!” Karen yells. “He can barely keep his hands up.”

  “Just promise me you’ll finish it with a knockout. You only have three minutes left,” Carlos pleads.

  As if on cue, the bell rings to start the final round. Karen gives Carlos a wink and jumps up. She immediately executes a vicious right cross and drops her opponent to the floor. A towel is promptly thrown in from his corner as the man lies on his back breathing heavily.

  “Fast enough for you?” Karen teases.

  Carlos, Mendez, Maria, and plenty of others quickly swarm Karen as she exits the ring, all offering congratulatory comments.

  As the chatter dies down, Mendez introduces Maria.

  “Karen, Carlos, I want you to meet the newest rookie . . . Mary Austin, or something like that.”

  “Maria Pecos,” Maria quickly says. She then looks at Mendez and rolls her eyes. “Real original.”

  Mendez obnoxiously slaps his head as if the obvious just became clear. “Pecos, yeah, that’s it.”

  Karen and Carlos just smile at the exchange.

  “These are two of the best cops we’ve got, Karen Whitmore and Carlos Towers,” Mendez says.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Carlos says.

  Karen adds, “I’d shake your hand, but I’m a bit nasty right now.” She opens her arms to emphasize how sweaty she is.

  Maria is unperturbed. “No worries. You were amazing in there. I thought I was a tough chick, but you put me to shame.”

  Carlos smiles. “Don’t worry, she puts everyone to shame. I guess it’s from honing her skill by beating the crap out of criminals at night, just like a superhero.”

  Karen groans. “Don’t tell the rookie that! She’s likely to believe it.”

  A bewildered look crosses Maria’s face.

  “Believe what?” she inquires.

  Now the rest of the gathered cops assume a perplexed expression.

  “You haven’t heard of our vigilante?” Mendez asks.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of him--” Maria sheepishly begins.

  “Her,” Karen quickly says.

  “What?” Maria asks, taken a bit back by Karen’s abruptness.

  “There’s no reason why the vigilante can’t be a woman,” Karen declares.

  Maria maintains her puzzled look. “I thought you just said that you weren’t the vigilante?”

  Karen simply shakes her head. “I’m not, but that doesn’t make me any less of a feminist.”

  Carlos addresses Karen specifi
cally. “Alright, get off your high horse. I’m going to follow you home one of these nights and watch you while you sleep. I’ve got a fifty-dollar bet on this.”

  “I don’t know if it’s sweet that you have so much confidence in me or disturbing that you admit wanting to watch me sleep while you breathe loudly through your mouth,” Karen jokes.

  A few more police officers congratulate Karen while Mendez grabs Maria and leads her to another part of the station.

  Maria and Mendez enter a room full of operators receiving phone calls from citizens ranging from panicked to annoying.

  Mendez waits for her to enter the room and continues his tour speech. “And, this is where all of our calls come in and go out from. They’re a good bunch of people in here, especially Toby Miller.”

  Mendez scans the room until he locates his apparent target.

  “Toby!”

  A middle-aged and thin man looks up and shakes his head.

  His name is Toby Miller, and he’s one of the senior dispatchers in the Colberton Police Department. He’s extremely clean and tidy. This is clearly indicated by his bare desk and perfectly shaved head.

  “Please keep it down,” Toby chides Mendez.

  Mendez looks slightly ashamed. “Sorry, man.” He quickly composes himself and continues, “I want you to meet my new kid, Maria Pecos.”

  Maria holds out her hand to shake Toby’s, but he politely declines.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Toby says, “but I don’t like to be touched. Too many germs are spread that way.”

  “Okay.” Maria stretches the two syllables. “I promise not to be offended.”

  “Thank you,” Toby says. “I know I’m weird.”

  Mendez breaks the awkwardness. “That’s why we love you.”

  Toby appears concerned due to being successfully distracted from his task at hand. “Please excuse me, I have to get back to these calls.”

  “Got it, bro,” Mendez says.

  Mendez and Maria leave, and Toby goes back to controlling the chaos.