Bystanders

by Phillip Murrell

  Karen listens to his rant. “I’m here. Mendez and Pecos are en route.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Carlos asks. “Does it mean five minutes or twenty?”

  “I don’t know. Mendez said he went to pick up Maria, and she wasn’t where she said she’d be.”

  Carlos simply shakes his head. “That seems to happen a lot in this department. Maybe if the captain would actually punish people for being unprofessional. Speaking of ‘always late,’ where’s Smith?”

  “I don’t know,” Karen admits. “I don’t hang out with that guy. He’s too broody.”

  “Sounds like you’re still upset that he beat you in the ring.”

  “No. I gave up forty pounds in that fight. He should have won. I just think he’s a jerk.”

  Carlos looks in the bleachers to see if he has any suitable substitutes. The pickings are slim. Toby is in the bleachers and gives a thumbs up.

  Carlos gives up the search. “God. It’s a sad day when a beast of a man like Smith is absent, but Toby is actually present.”

  “Tell me about it,” Karen says.

  The fire chief walks over. “Towers, where’s your boss?”

  Carlos answers, “The captain is at the station. Crime doesn’t take a day off, not even this one.”

  The fire chief nods. “Fine, are you in charge then?”

  “I guess.”

  “Are we going to play? Fires don’t take a day off either.”

  “I know. Give me fifteen minutes?” Carlos asks.

  “Relax, guy, it’s just for charity. There aren’t any rings or bonuses handed out afterwards. I can wait fifteen minutes to embarrass you.”

  Carlos is happy that the chief is agreeable. “Alright, but I think I remember winning last year.”

  “Yeah, pretty convenient how that three-alarm sprung up in the fourth inning.”

  “Maybe it was just God taking sides,” Carlos counters.

  “Fifteen minutes, Towers, then we have to start.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The fire chief walks off just as Mendez and Maria run up.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Mendez says. “The princess here gave me the wrong address.”

  Maria immediately counters this claim. “No, I didn’t. You went to apartment B instead of A. I clearly said A.”

  Carlos is just relieved that they’re present. “I don’t have time to care. Just start warming up.”

  Mendez and Maria join Benji and a few other police officers who toss the ball around and practice batting drills.

  Carlos feels better. His team’s chances are now improved. “That’s better. Now if we could just find Smith, we’d have a team.”

  Karen points at Officer Smith approaching. “Speak of the devil and he might appear.”

  Smith runs up. “Sorry, everyone. It was for an important reason.”

  Karen scoffs at Smith. “It’s always an important reason. Do you care to at least share it with us this time?”

  Smith fixes her with a hateful glare. “Not particularly. I was speaking with a CI, among other things. He’s been giving me some good details on drug deals lately, and some bad people are going away.”

  Carlos comes to his partner’s defense. “Which people? You don’t make that many arrests.”

  This clearly annoys Smith, and spurns his confrontational side. “My lack of arrests are a result of that damn vigilante, not my police skills.”

  Karen smiles. Carlos knows she’ll brag about pushing his buttons later, but now they can play the game. “Calm down, super cop. He’s just poking the bear.”

  Carlos grins from the support.

  “Maybe he shouldn’t poke this one,” Smith states. “Someone give me a damn bat.”

  Smith storms off to warm up. Karen and Carlos shake their heads at his attitude.

  “You’re right, that guy’s a jerk, but damn it if he isn’t our ringer,” Carlos says.

  Karen looks at her partner. “I’m standing right here.”

  Carlos hears her objection. “Correction, our second ringer.”

  “Thank you.”

  Carlos and Karen run off to join the rest of the team. The game soon begins.

  The cops are up first. Their first player pops it up and is caught out.

  Carlos groans, then claps his hands. “Not bad, Reid, not bad. We’ll get them next time.”

  Reid runs back laughing. Karen is now up to bat. She misses the first pitch and lets the second go for a ball. On the third pitch, she drills it. A line drive that goes into center field.

  Karen takes off running and makes it to first base.

  “That’s my girl!” Carlos exclaims.

  She grins from first base. “It’s what I do! Embarrass the fire department!”

  “They need heroes, too!” Carlos adds.

  Smith is now up to bat. The first pitch is slaughtered and instantly becomes an evident home run. Smith and Karen round the bases and score runs for the police. The next two batters, including Benji, strike out.

  The fire chief attempts to rally his team after this change in fortune. “There we go. That’s what we need, some momentum. The game is still ours.”

  The game continues pretty much at a stalemate until Smith returns to bat. Every time he swings, he connects with a solid home run. He also pitches extremely well and strikes out many firefighters. Smith is clearly the star of the game, much to Karen’s second place chagrin.

  The game finally comes to an end with the police winning six to one. An announcer and Yuri go to the pitcher’s mound with a trophy to meet the fire chief and Carlos.

  The announcer addresses the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the winner’s trophy is Colberton’s very own Yuri Osaka!”

  Yuri waves at the crowd to extremely loud cheers. He takes the trophy from the announcer.

  It’s now Yuri’s turn to say something. “Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of the annual Independence Day Police versus Firefighter Softball Charity game, for the second year in a row, is the Colberton Police Department!”

  Enthusiastic cheers go up from the police department section of fans while polite clapping comes from the fire department section.

  Yuri hands the trophy to Carlos, who gratefully takes the trophy and waves it over his head while the rest of the team rushes him.

  Benji hands out high fives when he notices Claire in the bleachers. She waves at him and offers an apologetic smile.

  Benji talks to himself. “I’m a masochist.”

  He walks over to Claire.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Hi,” he responds. “What are you doing here?”

  “Cheering for an awesome team,” Claire responds.

  “Thanks. I’d like to think that my personal effort was the reason we won, but it was definitely the Smith Show.”

  “Was he your slugger?”

  “Yeah. How’d you guess?”

  “I’m a reporter. Sometimes I dabble into the investigative side.”

  Benji just looks at her. He’s unsure what to do next.

  Claire takes the initiative. “I’m here to apologize for the other night. I was a bitch. I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”

  Benji sighs and smiles. “I’m sorry, too. I could have been a bit more sympathetic, I really appreciate your apology. I thought I had ruined my chance.”

  Claire lets out a breath that she must have been holding for some time. “Whew. Good. I’m glad to hear that, because I thought I was the one who ruined her chance.”

  “So, do you want to try again?”

  “Absolutely. We could watch the fireworks together tonight.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Who knows, maybe we can even make a few of our own.”

  Benji blushes. “I forgot how forward you are.”

  He then changes the tone of the conversation. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m not as good as I’d like to be,” Claire says. “My boss thinks I need to see a therapi
st.”

  “Really?” Benji searches the crowd until he locates his target. “Toby! Would you please come over here for a moment?”

  Benji waves him over.

  Toby makes his way, careful to avoid human contact. This is not an easy task, but he eventually reaches Benji and Claire.

  Benji introduces the pair. “Claire Kennedy, meet Toby Miller.”

  Toby waves before Claire can offer a hand to shake.

  Benji explains the reason for calling Toby over. “Toby, Claire is looking for a good therapist. Do you know anyone?”

  Claire adds some details. “My boss thinks I need to speak with a psychiatrist after my co-worker’s death.”

  Toby quickly offers his opinion. “A psychologist. Not a psychiatrist. The two are often confused, but if you want a medical hack, then go see a psychiatrist. I prefer to have someone who studied a specific problem.”

  “Okay,” Claire states. Benji can tell she doesn’t really care. She just wants to feel better.

  Benji explains why Toby can help. “Toby seeks counseling for his contact aversion.”

  “It’s called haphephobia,” Toby informs.

  “That’s a mouthful,” Claire acknowledges.

  Toby continues. “It’s the fear of human contact. I’ve been seeing a counselor for years. Through his help, I’ve improved to the point where I can be productive at work. He’s also got me going to one social event a month. Hence my appearance here today.”

  Claire says. “It sounds like he’s helping a lot. What’s his name?”

  “Dr. Samuel Cameron,” Toby answers. “I think I have his card.”

  Toby pulls out a card and holds the very corner of it, to offer up the most surface area for Claire to grab. She carefully grabs the opposite corner.

  “Thanks,” she says.

  “You’re welcome. If that’s all, I need to go home and take a shower.”

  Claire and Benji offer him sympathetic looks.

  Toby smiles. “Small steps.”

  Toby leaves. Claire and Benji walk off together toward the grill and cooler.

  “How’s work?” Benji asks her in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  “I’m trying to keep First Line looking like a hero. It seems like every day there’s a new person coming forward with a reason why he’s a criminal.”

  The two reach a cooler. Benji opens it and selects two bottles of beer. He hands one to Claire. She accepts it, opens it, and takes a long drink.

  “Ah, thanks,” she says.

  “No problem. I’ve always thought . . .” Benji pauses and thinks about his next words. He decides to commit to her vigilante code name for the sake of the relationship he wants with Claire. “That First Line is a military experiment. They’re the only ones who could provide the tech that he uses. I can’t bring myself to believe in aliens just yet.”

  “You don’t have any comments that could help me with First Line’s public image, do you?”

  Benji thinks about it and decides that he wants to win some points with Claire.

  “There were some kids interviewed a few nights back. They witnessed the other vigilante attacking sex slavers.”

  “I heard about that.”

  Benji continues. “There were two teens who saw the fight and were stupid enough to film it instead of running for safety. They could probably help you out. I know that they started a blog to hero worship. Just be warned that they call him Beatdown.”

  “That’s a good name, for a comic book. It’s too violent for the news.”

  Benji pats his softball uniform which is absent of any pockets. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

  “Sure,” Claire responds as she fishes a notepad and pen out of her purse. She hands them both to Benji.

  “Thanks,” Benji says as he writes an address and two names down. “I didn’t give this to you. Look at their blog and claim that you found them through that.”

  Claire reaches for the notepad, and Benji pulls it away.

  “I’m serious,” he states. “I could get in a lot of trouble if people find out that I gave you this.”

  “I promise that I protect my sources. It’s the only way to get repeat business.”

  Benji finally surrenders the pen and notepad.

  Claire anxiously receives them. “As much as I want to stay, if I don’t go know, I won’t be available for all of the fireworks tonight. I’m sure you would prefer me available then.”

  “I’d be scared to stop you anyway. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  Claire walks away. She seems a bit giddy. Benji hopes it’s because of the anticipation of seeing him again later and not because of the new story lead.

  Early that evening, Keith and Kyle play basketball in Keith’s front yard when Claire walks up.

  “Hello, boys, is one of you Keith Douglas-Sanders?”

  “Yeah, that’s me. This is my friend Kyle.”

  “Hello,” Kyle adds, then his eyes go wide with recognition. “Whoa! You’re that D2I news lady. The one who knows Beatdown!”

  Keith’s eyes open with recognition, too. “Awesome! What are you doing here?”

  Claire is flattered by the reaction. She motions for her cameraman, hiding in the van, to come forward and film.

  Claire goes into reporter mode. “As you know, First Line and I are friends. I monitor reports of him online and found your amazing blog. You have a lot of useful information on it.”

  Keith and Kyle seem oblivious to what Claire considers obvious manipulation.

  Keith speaks. “Thanks. We call him Beatdown. Has he personally told you that his name is First Line?”

  “Not exactly,” Claire admits. “He lets me know where to be sometimes, but he rarely talks. I started calling him First Line, and he didn’t stop me. I don’t know what he calls himself.”

  “Maybe it’s just Nick or something like that,” Kyle jokes.

  Keith nudges the other teen with his elbow.

  Claire laughs. “Yeah, maybe. I looked at the footage that you shot yourselves. It was amazing. Weren’t you scared?”

  “Of course,” Keith admits.

  Kyle clarifies. “Mostly because that wasn’t Beatdown.”

  “Who was it?” Claire asks.

  “We don’t know,” Keith answers. “He was smaller. We think Beatdown has an arch-nemesis, and that guy has been killing and blowing up legal businesses.”

  “Why do you think this? Because of the footage of First Line fighting another?”

  Kyle half nods. “It’s just a theory, but that’s what our blog is all about.”

  “Would you like to plug your blog?”

  Keith jumps at the opportunity. “Absolutely. It’s K Squared Beatdown dot org.”

  “Yup,” Kyle adds.

  “I think a lot of my viewers would like to view it.” Claire turns to address her camera. “It has all known footage of First Line, and I’ve even made a comment with my personal experience. They’ve recently begun a name competition and an origin one. I still prefer First Line, which is winning, I might add.”

  Claire notices someone looking out the window of the house. She knows it’s time to pack it up. She motions for her cameraman to stop filming and go back to the van.

  “Thanks, boys. You’ve been a lot of help. I’m sure your blog will have a lot more followers after this airs.”

  Keith appears excited by the revelation. “Thanks. It’s been slow going, but it’s our passion right now.”

  The front door violently opens, and an extremely irate Tina Sanders, Keith’s mother, storms out the door.

  She stomps up to Claire. “Who the hell do you think you are, lady? Where do you get off talking to my boys, on my property, without permission?”

  Keith and Kyle look guilty, but they attempt to defend Claire.

  “Mom, she just asked us about Beatdown and what we saw the other night.”

  Tina doesn’t seem willing to hear it. “Then, she should have spoken with the pol
ice. I’m going to talk to your boss. you better not air my son, or I’m going to sue!”

  Keith and Kyle slump. They are obviously devastated by this declaration.

  Kyle pleads with Tina. “Dr. Sanders, please, no. We’ve spent hours on making that blog exciting. This report will get us exposure.”

  Tina still doesn’t seem convinced. “It’ll get you killed. This villain is a nuisance, and I don’t like how you’re worshiping him.”

  “Please, Mom, don’t do this. You never support me; you’re never even here. Please don’t take this away.”

  Keith tries to fight back tears. Her teenage son’s angst clearly pierces Tina.

  Tina sighs. “I’ll authorize this one interview. No more. You may play this, but if you ever contact my boys again, I won’t have to sue you because I’ll beat your ass. I’m a spinal surgeon, something this city needs a hell of a lot more than television whores! I doubt I’ll be punished.”

  Claire is internally jubilant, but she plays it cool. “I apologize for my actions. Thank you for not punishing the boys.”

  Tina glares. Claire looks at Keith and Kyle.

  “Well,” she starts, “I guess this is goodbye. I appreciate your comments and will continue to follow your blog.”

  “Goodbye,” Keith says.

  “And, thanks,” Kyle adds, “thanks a lot. You have no idea what this means to us.”

  Claire is happy the arrangement was mutually beneficial. “I’m glad that I could help. Goodbye.”

  Claire gets into her van and drives away. Tina glares at her the entire way. Keith and Kyle will probably receive a significant tongue lashing in the near future, but Claire got some fluff for D2I.

  Power sees to the final preparations for his Fourth of July party. He has an old warehouse filled with food and drinks. A DJ has set up his tables and has started playing club music.

  Power looks around. His party is set, but he hasn’t seen Sean for a while. He finally notices him walk through the front doors.

  “Damn. This place is looking tight, Power. Respect.”

  Power walks over and bumps Sean’s fist. “Where you been, Sean? I could have used you setting this place up. I had to rely on the goons.”

  Goon One and Goon Two are their usual intimidating selves.