“It’s over. You lost.” Diana distracted him with the shotgun as she fished for her backup gun behind her back. “Take your Pretty Ponies or whatever and go home.”
The leader spat and shook his head. “Nobody disses the Stallions and lives.” Diana tossed the shotgun to him and dove to her right. His first shot struck the front of the cruiser. The second landed in a thug’s chest as he rose to his feet. Diana shot the leader in his right shoulder before he could fire a third time.
He clutched his shoulder and kept a tight grip on his gun. He staggered backward, and fury flashed in his eyes as he glared at Diana. He forced his arm to raise and growled as he pulled the trigger. Diana spun to her left and shot the other thug in the chest. He grabbed the cruiser for support, and his arm caught fire as he slumped beside it.
The leader fired another shot, striking the driver’s side window. The glass shattered and landed in a cascading sheet on the driver’s seat.
One more shot would finish him, she thought, but she deliberately placed it in his left shoulder. He dropped to his knees, and more importantly, to her, he dropped his gun.
“I’m gonna haunt your ass,” he said, and spat for emphasis.
Diana holstered her gun. “Fine by me. I like knowing I’m never alone.”
He spat again. “Come on, pig bitch. Take me out.”
Diana kicked his gun away and scooped up her stray weapons. She stood over him as he clutched his bloody shoulders and curled her lips into a sneer.
“You’re not worth any more of my bullets.” She stepped around him and began to walk toward her fellow officers.
The leader struggled to get to his feet, and once he was upright, the butt of Diana’s rifle sent him lurching forward. He fell to his knees, inches away from his fallen comrade, whose lifeless body was becoming consumed in flames. The leader kept clear of the flames and rolled onto his right side. His eyes widened as the trickle of gasoline seeped toward them.
“Holy shi—”
Diana walked coolly toward the flaming barricade as the cruiser burst into a fireball behind her. She rested her shotgun on her shoulder and cracked a smile.
The academy was all but assured now.
CHAPTER 20
Officer Patterson was nearly unrecognizable after being struck repeatedly in the face. Officer Milton had freed himself from the thug who threatened to bash his head in with a bat and knelt beside his fallen partner. He looked up at Diana and shook his head.
“He's beaten up pretty badly. I’ve got to call in an ambulance.”
Diana nodded. “What can I do to help?”
Milton’s eyes widened. “Do? Good grief, you just took down an entire street gang. Take a break. I’ve got to figure out how to explain this to the chief.”
“What’s there to explain? They attacked, I defended us. Simple as that.”
Milton shook his head and squeezed Patterson’s hand. “Not so simple. They’re dead now. All of them, or damn near. Where was their due process? Contrary to popular belief, we aren’t death squads. We have handcuffs and jail cells for a reason.”
Diana gestured to Patterson. “Did handcuffs and jail cells prevent him from getting beat up?”
Milton rose to his feet, angrily. “We wear the goddamned badge, kid, not you. That’s our asses on the line, not yours.”
Diana glared at him. “Seemed like it was, a minute ago. I defended myself. And you. And him. If you’re going to be that way about it, I’ll remember my place next time, when someone wants to bash your head in. You sound just like Preston.”
Milton’s eyes bulged, then he held up his hands in a calming gesture. “Hey, okay, I’m sorry. Seeing my partner all bloody has me a little emotional.”
“Did you call in the ambulance?” Diana put her hand on her hip.
“No,” he said, lowering his eyes. “Let me get right on that.”
Diana walked beside him and patted his back. “I’m on your side, Milton.”
He nodded and signaled for Diana to give him her radio. His was left inside the flaming remains of the cruiser. “Thank God for that,” he muttered under his breath, as he surveyed the intersection, littered with dead bodies.
Diana reloaded the sidearm with one of her spare magazines while Milton called in the ambulance, then tossed the spent shotgun shell and slid another one into the barrel before snapping the shotgun closed. Her spare gun was all but worthless, but she couldn’t bring herself to part with it.
Her father kept a human molar on a thin chain that he wore around his neck. When she asked about it once, he fished it out of his shirt and gave her a toothy grin. “It’s called a token. When you defeat an adversary, you take something of his to remember him by.” She remembered him pronouncing “adversary” like it was the fanciest word he knew.
“Why did you take a tooth from him, Daddy?”
“Well, I didn’t mean to do it, but my fist kinda did it for me. The bastard said I’d…” he caught himself, as she was much younger at the time, “…been with, uh, somebody I shouldn’t have. He tried to cold-cock me, but I saw it coming, and gave him a beauty right to the chops.” He pantomimed the punch as he spoke.
Diana puzzled over this strange explanation but accepted it as stated. “You knocked his tooth out?”
Her father grinned. “Teeth. I ain’t greedy. I took one as a souvenir.”
In the present day, Diana reached behind her back and fingered the grip to the handgun wedged into her waistband. She pulled her hand away and stepped toward the center of the intersection. She paused and looked at the chrome pistol lying near the fiery corpse of the second in command. She resumed her steady gait toward their leader. He laid face-down on the pavement with a sizable hole in the back of his head. Blood had pooled all around it, but she wasn’t interested in his teeth. She crouched down and rolled him onto his back. She looked him over, trying to find something to take from him. Something worth the effort.
A silver chain glinted beside his bloody neck. She carefully pulled it away from his skin and smiled as a silver horse’s head shone under the street light. She gave it a stiff yank and held it over his bloody face.
“This works,” she said.
Diana and Officer Milton had to clear the intersection of bodies so the ambulance and other emergency vehicles could get through. A fire crew stopped by and hosed down the cruiser and barricades before heading off to another more pressing fire. Milton doffed his hat to the firemen. After Officer Patterson was loaded into the ambulance, Milton and Diana jogged over to see him off. Milton removed his hat and grinned to one of the paramedics. “Hey, don’t let them make him better-looking than me. Remember this face.”
The paramedic chuckled, and the driver urged them to say a few words before they had to leave for the hospital. The driver told Diana that people were waiting hours for minor injuries, but Patterson would be moved toward the front of the line since he was a cop. Diana nodded and wondered if Gabe had even been seen by a doctor yet, or if he was stuck waiting like the others.
Milton clutched Patterson’s hand. “Don’t worry, Tone. I’ll tell your boy you did a number on the other guy’s knuckles, the way you bashed your face against them.” He sniffled and looked up at the driver. “Get him there quick, huh? He’s got enough trouble with a teenage son to put up with.”
“Waiting on you,” snapped the driver. Milton rolled his eyes and gave his partner’s hand an extra squeeze.
“I’m serious, you come back looking like Kent Brantley, I’m gonna be pissed.”
Diana waved over his shoulder. “Who’s Kent Brantley?”
Milton stepped down from the ambulance and waved them off. “Who’s Kent Brantley? You never saw The Eyes of Summertime? Or Hollywood Bomb Squad? Or, sheesh, he’s only on trashy tabloid show in the country these days. My wife says he’s her free pass.”
Diana scrunched up her face, then smacked his arm playfully. “She’s into that? Wow, so not my type.” She remembered hearing women at the office gossiping
about their secret crushes and borrowed a phrase. “I had forgotten all about him, honestly.”
Milton was taken aback. “Really? The guy is ripped. I mean, as a red-blooded heterosexual American middle-aged male, I have to say, that is one good-looking guy. I thought all the girls were crazy about him.”
Diana shook her head. “No way. Not even if you paid me.” She remembered the men talking about the women around the office.
Officer Milton got quiet for a moment as they walked back to the barricades, which stood in a puddle of water and were burnt black. “You’re not, you know,” he tilted his hand back and forth, “um, that way, are you?”
Diana shook her head. “Nope, I just don’t like Kent Brantley. He’s fugly.” She remembered one man using that word a lot, and figured it was a good choice, the way the other men reacted to it.
“Fugly.” Milton gave her a half smile, incredulous.
“Totally.” She put on a disaffected air.
“If that’s your idea of fugly, I’m concerned that you’re in for a lifetime of disappointment, unless you adjust your standards. No offense.”
Diana crossed her arms and kicked a small rock aside. The two stood in silence for a while, then Milton broke the ice.
“You’re something else, Diana. I can honestly say, I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“I’m the only woman who doesn’t like Kent Brantley?”
“Yeah. No. I mean, I was just looking across the street, and I can’t believe you took down nearly an entire street gang by yourself, and unless you’re really good at hiding it, without so much as a scratch.” He patted her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re on our side. I’m thinking things are going to get hairy over the coming days.”
“You think so?”
“Big time. Whoever did this, they wanted to hit us hard, and they didn’t want us to see it coming. Buildings blow up, power plants shut down, and planes fall out of the sky. I have no clue who has the stones to do that, let alone the capability. Maybe China, but… damn. After the crash of 2030, I figure they’ve got enough of their own problems without pissing us off.”
Diana rubbed her chin, blissfully unaware of global politics. “Yeah, whoa. China… that’s… wow.”
“Might as well have just traded nukes and gotten it over with, you know? This death by a thousand cuts crap… I mean, they outnumber us something like a million to one, but I dunno, we clone ten of you, and I think we break even.” He patted her shoulder again, and she nudged him back.
“Hey, Milton, can I ask you something?”
“Pfft. Call me Carl. Anything, shoot.”
“Okay, Carl, I feel really stupid asking this, but, do you really think I’ve got a shot at the academy? It’s just… I’ve been told things before and I’m not sure who to trust anymore.”
Milton took a step back, dumbfounded. “Did you miss the part about how we’ve got to clone ten of you? The academy? You think there’s a bunch of tests and background checks you’ve got to pass? Well… there are! But do you think any of that applies to you? Hell no! If they want to know what’s what, tell them the Stallions will put in a good word for you.” He patted her shoulder again. “In hell.”
“So… when do you think I’d start?”
Milton rubbed his eyes. “Soon, I bet. The thing is, we lost most of our guys to a plane crash, and five more to some street punks. And Preston… well, you said he lost to some carjacking asshats, so I’m thinking they’re going to have to ramp up some replacements real quick.”
Diana nodded, then looked up at Milton. “You don’t seem very upset about your fellow cops dying.”
Milton looked at her sadly. “Rule number one, when you’re sporting a badge, kid: grieve on your own time. I’m on the clock, and if you’re serious about being part of this, then so are you. I’ll shed every tear I’ve got when I get home.”
Diana took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m part of this.”
Milton patted her back and gestured for her to direct a utility vehicle away from their barricades. “Yeah, you are.” He smiled as she stepped away to wave her flashlight intently at the driver, and he stamped his foot on the pavement. “You hear that down there? Better make more room in hell.”
CHAPTER 21
Four weeks later, Diana zipped her suitcase shut and looked up at Veronica. “Guess this is goodbye, then.”
Veronica nodded and adjusted her arm in its sling. She had been at work when a bomb exploded next door, and her left arm was collateral damage. Pieces of brick tore through one of the walls and cut deep gashes into her forearm. She didn’t break any bones but did require surgery to remove the debris and several modern techniques for mitigating the damage. She put her faith in the doctors who assured her she’d end up looking like the incident never happened.
As for the psychological effects of the damage, she had to find assistance elsewhere. Dr. Andreesen met with her three days a week.
She stood and angled her body to give Diana a goodbye hug. She looked away as she did, then returned to her chair.
“I can’t believe you’re going to be a cop. Especially after… well, you know.”
“I know, and I can’t believe it either. Daddy never cared much for cops.”
Veronica stared at her feet. “Mabel would have been proud of you.”
Diana stepped forward and dropped to her knees. She took Veronica’s hand and gave it a squeeze as she began to sob. “Hey… hey… she had only nice things to say about you before she sent me here. She’s in a better place now.”
Veronica laughed through a veil of tears. “Any place was better than Crocker, Nebraska.”
Diana looked around the room. “You’re telling me. She’s gone now, but she’s always going to be a part of you.” She pressed their clasped hands into Veronica’s chest. “She’s in here now. And she’s part of me, too. We’re never going to forget her.”
Veronica broke free of Diana’s hand and lunged forward to hug her tighter. Diana patted her back gently and squeezed her eyes shut. She saw Mabel wearing her waitress outfit, clutching an order pad in one hand, and a pot of coffee in the other. She remembered the first time she saw her at the Stickler’s, and how strange it was to live under her roof after being abandoned by her father.
Diana had only faint memories of her mother. Mabel served that role as best as she could, unfair as it was of Diana to need her to. Sending Diana to Newark was as maternal as it was self-serving. Mabel preferred to be left alone, but she also knew Diana needed to grow up quickly. Big city life was going to bring that about much faster than hanging around a dying small town ever would. Mabel told her that one day, Crocker would be erased from the map. Neither of them could have imagined that a 797 bound for Cleveland would have expedited that process in a fiery instant.
Diana patted Veronica’s back. “Gabe’s going to be here any minute. I have to get downstairs.”
Veronica sniffed and patted her back as well. “Okay. Let me know how it’s going when you can.”
Diana stood up and smoothed out her shirt. “I will. I figure it’s going to be intense in the beginning, but I’ll message you the first chance I get.”
A horn sounded from the street below. Diana grabbed her suitcase and nodded to Veronica. “That’s Gabe now. Want to come say hello?”
Veronica shook her head. “I’m pretty tired. I’m going to lay down for a while. Tell him I said hi, and to be careful.”
“I will. Well, this is it. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need any more luck.”
Diana’s lack of injuries, physical or mental in the wake of the terrorist attack was a sore subject with Veronica. She let the barb pass without comment and headed down the stairs to Gabe’s car. She heard the deadbolt snap shut behind her, followed by another, and another, and a chain lock for good measure.
Gabe got out of the car when Diana walked up. His sedan was replaced by a sporty two-door coupe, black with red racing stripes through the center. “Let me get that.
” He popped the trunk and grunted as he worked her suitcase in beside his lumpy duffel bag. He slammed the trunk shut and kissed her. “Ready?”
“Let’s do this,” she said eagerly.
Veronica stared at them through her side window, and let the curtains fall into place as she stepped away. Diana had said all the right things, but in her heart of hearts, she knew this was goodbye, permanently. Veronica didn’t want any reminders of her past life. Diana was succeeding as her own life was falling apart.
Diana sank into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed. Gabe fired up the ignition and took a deep breath.
“Here goes nothing.”
Due to the massive devastation brought about by the terrorist attacks, the law enforcement infrastructure had suffered several setbacks, the least of which being a dramatic reduction in uniformed officers. The 4th precinct was all but extinct, and the 6th and 7th were struggling to stay afloat. Deaths were the primary culprit, but there were other reasons as well: retirement, disabilities, and occasionally, abandonment. Cops walked away from their assignments without warning and didn’t turn in their guns or badges. Diana wondered what became of them, and whether they’d pose a future threat.
The terrorist attacks were given a name days later by the governor of New York. During his remarks given while thanking the police, fire departments, first responders, and volunteers that helped get the city through the crisis, he mentioned that the day was otherwise inauspicious. He looked at his desk calendar, he said, and mentioned to his secretary that it was Arbor Day. The press ran with it, and by sundown, the nation was united behind Arbor Day. The symbol of a flaming tree appeared on bumper stickers, window decals, t-shirts, posters, and anything else that could bear the image within days.
Gabe shook his head and snorted at the sight of a window decal containing the burning tree logo. Diana pressed him to explain his reaction, and he shrugged. “Before the attacks, the country didn’t actually have one Arbor Day.”
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