Sirens in the Night

by Bradley, Michael;

  “Brenda! It’s Deputy Albright. Show some professionalism over the radio.”

  “Ok, Billy. What’s going on?”

  Deciding to ignore it, the deputy replied, “I got myself a sleeper out on Ninety-six. Just going to check it out.”

  “Roger that, Billy,” came Brenda’s reply, with extra emphasis on his name.

  Pushing open the car door, William Albright stepped from his cruiser and slid his hat onto his head. Pushing the door closed with one hand, he casually undid the thumb snap on his holster with the other. There was no sense in not being cautious, he thought.

  The cool evening breeze blew hard across the Kansas plains, reminding him that he had left his jacket in the car. His broad shoulders shivered momentarily with the chill before he put the cold out of his mind. This will only take a few minutes, he thought. With the sun slowly setting in the distance, he walked with evenly spaced strides to the Honda. As he drew closer, he could see the full head of black hair leaning against the driver’s side window. It wasn’t too unusual for Deputy Albright to find someone, tired from driving through the miles and miles of monotonous farm fields, sleeping on the side of the road. It happened at least once a week, and Albright would nudge them along, pointing out the nearest motel.

  He reached the driver’s door, and, without paying much attention to the occupant, gently tapped on the glass of the window. “Wake up.”

  He glanced up and down the deserted road. When there was no response, he tapped on the window harder. “Wake up.”

  When he looked down at the unmoving figure in the car, his heart stopped. Stepping back into the deserted road, he stared wide-eyed at the Honda, and drew his gun from the holster on his hip. Slowly stepping toward the car again, he reached for the door handle. As the car door opened, the body in the car fell out onto the road with a soft thud. As the corpse rocked gently on the asphalt surface, the cracked leathery skin seemed to shine in the setting sun. The young deputy leaned forward for a moment, looking closely at the body. Then he swiftly rushed back toward his police cruiser. Flinging the car door open, Deputy Albright reached for his radio again.

  “Brenda!” he exclaimed.

  “Hey Billy, back so soon? Did you wake up your sleeper?” came the reply.

  The deputy responded, “Shut up and listen, Brenda. Call the sheriff, and get him out here right away! Tell him I’ve got some really weird shit to show him!”

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks to Christine Schulden, Alicia Downs, and Paul Popiel for their efforts and feedback as early readers of this little tale. Your feedback was invaluable.

  Thanks also to my editor, Cherrita, who was instrumental in helping to turn a disjointed, error-filled manuscript into a book. You rock!

  Finally, thanks to all students of Greek Mythology for allowing me to take some literary license with some of the great mythological creatures from ancient Greece. When it comes to creating fiction, sometimes one must stretch the myths a little for the sake of the story.

  About The Author

  Born and raised in southern New Jersey, Michael Bradley is an author and software consultant whose frequent travels have brought him in touch with a variety of people throughout the United States. In his day job, he has presented on a variety of subjects at several IT conferences, both in America and Europe. When he isn’t on the road, working, or writing, Michael hits the waterways in one of his three kayaks, paddling all over Delaware, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and New Jersey.

  Before working in information technology, Michael spent eight years in radio broadcasting, working for stations in New Jersey and West Virginia, including the Marconi Award winning WVAQ in Morgantown. He has been “up and down the dial” working as on air personality, promotions director, and even program director. This experience has provided a wealth of fond, enduring, and, sometimes, scandalous memories that he hopes to someday write about.

  Among the writers in which he finds inspiration, Michael favors P.D. James, Raymond Chandler, Leslie Charteris, Simon Brett, Terry Pratchett, and Ian Fleming. He lives in Delaware with his wife, Diane, and their three furry four-legged “kids”, Simon, Brandy, and Preaya.