Last Day On The Job

By Mike Longo

 

The stench of rancid urine hit my nose; I tried not to lose my lunch. Breathing slowly now through my mouth I continued my descent down the dark stairwell that seemed to go on forever. The walls had a strange film on them, mold maybe, or just ancient dust that collected over the years.     I had been on the force three years now, but this was my first time venturing into the abandoned tunnels deep beneath New York City. Why did I get this case? Well, it’s because I work on kidnappings, and a little girl was seen being dragged into a subway tunnel by a filthy man in greasy, tattered clothing.

"Hey!" a raspy voice yelled from behind me, "Wait up!"

I turned to see my partner assigned to this case with me. Ash Reily, a seasoned rouster, experienced with the underground tunnels, and the dangers of the homeless population that lives in dark seclusion from the hectic New York life above.

"Slow down kid! I only got five more years ‘till retirement, I don’t feel like dying today."

"Sorry Ash," I said, "I just want to find this little girl and get the hell out of this place."

"I’m for finding the little girl, but you must be very careful down here, the moles are everywhere, you could walk right by one and you’d never know it. Some come down here because life above ground is too confusing for them; some come down here to escape the law, lay low for a while; most all of em’ are some form of drug abuser; but one thing is for sure, they hate Cops… with a passion. Our kind is not welcome down here. If we encounter any hostiles, just fire a shot in the air. If they continue to pursue, shoot to kill. If a large population encounters us, run."

"Anything else?" I replied, sounding less manly than I prefer.

"Yeah, watch your back."

We continued our descent. At the bottom we switched on our flashlights.

"One more thing, kid, we’re at a constant disadvantage down here because their eyes have adapted to the darkness."

I knodded at him, slightly amused at constantly being referred to as kid. With a grunt of exertion, I opened a large iron door; a rush of stale air met us like a breeze off the ocean. I smelled smoke. "Are they burning fires down here?"

"Yes," Ash replied.

I stepped into a large tunnel and started walking south toward the tunnel into which the child had been taken. The smell had gotten worse now - a rotten stink had joined forces with the urine.

Illuminating the walls with my flashlight, I caught a glimpse of a kind of cubby- hole cut out of the tunnel wall. An old mattress, covered with un-identifiable stains, encrusted with filth, was surrounded by torn newspaper, with what looked like fecal matter on some of the articles. My stomach churned, I turned away in disgust. I unintentionally kicked something and it hit the wall. I shined my flashlight on what appeared to be a rusty syringe, probably owned by the occupant of the filthy cubbyhole. Looking at the needle, I thought to myself, how anyone could live a life like that?

Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. I drew my piece and whirled around to sight no one. I glanced at my partner.

"Down here you see things," Ash shrugged. "Your eyes play tricks on you."

"I really saw something!" I replied.

"Calm down kid. If you saw something, just stay cool and keep a lookout. Chances are we just passed by one of the moles." A scary thought, but at the same time relieving. I like to think that I’m not insane.

I felt something whiz by my head and shatter on the floor ahead.

"Heads up kid, we got company!"

Guns drawn, we rotated back north. I switched the safety off my gun as Ash fired blindly into the dark. As I searched frantically with my flashlight, a shining object came out of the blackness and smashed Ash on the forehead. He turned to me with a look of shock, blood starting to run down his face, and fell sideways to the ground. I turned north once again, sporadically sweeping the area with my light. I wish I had a bigger one I thought to myself, making light of the situation.

Then, running toward me like a bat out of hell was a short, ragged looking man, in some old sweatpants and a grungy denim coat. He was waving a large pipe, blabbering something incoherently at me. I didn’t even have to think. Pulling the trigger, I looked into his eyes, his pupils expanding rapidly as the bullet hit him in the chest. In an instant the yelling stopped.

I started looking around, trying to get control of the situation. The man I had just shot lay motionless on the ground like a heap of discarded laundry. I walked over to Ash who was still on the dirty ground. I checked his pulse; he was alive but knocked out cold. Next to him was a dented can of Alpo.

Barely coming down from an adrenaline load, I heard a child’s scream farther down the tunnel. I got to my feet and started to run south. The adrenaline was back in full force and it felt great. I haven’t had a rush like this since I was seventeen.

I was determined to find this girl. The tunnel started to bend westward slightly. There was more trash here. I went past crushed beer cans, a boot, and a cheap case of ripple wine. I was careful not to trip on any of the assorted debris that passed by rapidly. I shined my light to the right wall of the tunnel up ahead and saw a passage. I slowed down to a quiet walk. Investigating the side tunnel I saw a small, fairly clean shoe that had Pokemon printed on the side. The child had to be taken down this way. The sound of my heart pounding in my chest seemed to reverberate off the walls. Other than that, silence was all around me.

The off-branch was small, only wide enough to fit maybe 2 people. Turning the corner I heard some voices in the distance. I was getting closer. I took notice of the tight cluster of pipes running along the upper corners of the passage just before I switched off my light. I’ll just feel my way along, I thought. The kidnapper shouldn’t know I’m tailing him.

The thick darkness brought with it a heightened fear of my location. The paranoia seemed similar to my childhood, when all I could think of was what unseen creature could be waiting for me, ready to hurt me when I least expected.

Trying to ignore my fears, I continued on, shuffling slowly with one hand on the wall and the other gripping my firearm. I felt wetness hit my forehead, probably just some water from the pipes above, but what if…? I wiped my forehead, and smelled the back of my hand, and instantly I was reminded of my 21^st birthday: cheap whiskey. Before I could gather myself, behind me I heard a loud thud. I faced back and switched on my light just in time to see a large framed man, with grimy, shoulder length salt and pepper hair falling around his face. While grinning wildly he displayed rotten orange teeth and some bad gum sores. I saw him raising up a wrench and my heart sank, for I knew it was too late; then a flash. Darkness enveloped me.

First I heard rolling water. Taking a deep breath I smelled fresh, salty air. I opened my eyes and sat up. Directly in front of me a vast, shimmering turquoise mass came from the horizon and rolled gently towards me, wetting my toes. Standing up now I saw the white sand supporting my weight, it stretched up and down as far as I could see. Turning slowly now the sand seemed to sparkle like fresh snow under the warm sun, and gained in angle up to a high dune. At the top, green grass swayed back and forth in the gentle wind. I knew I was dreaming, then the onslaught of memory hit me: the girl, the towering man with his wrench and bad teeth. The urgency hit me I must wake up!

I was being dragged along the rough tunnel floor by my arms. The floor seemed to radiate coldness into my aching body. I could only see the now familiar blackness when my eyelids retreated. A warm liquid was traveling down my face, and my head was pounding with an excruciating pain. It all hit me so fast I felt sick, then, I lost consciousness once again.

"Stay away you scary man," a little voice whimpered.

"Shut up!" the man yelled, the sound scratching at his throat.

"Are you going to hurt the new person?" said the girl.

"I told you to shut up. You’re my kid now, so do what I say."

I opened my eyes to find myself in a pile of old trash. Ten or twenty feet in front of me I could see the back of a homeless man hunched over a small fire in the center of the room. The little girl cowered in the corner across from me; tiny tears fell from her eyes, twinkling in the yellow-orange glow of the firelight.

My hand went for my gun, but no gun was there. The bastard might have taken my sidearm, but my footlong steel maglight was still attached to my belt. I strained to sit up. The room began to spin as the blood rushed from my head. The little girl saw me moving. I could see a glimmer of hope develop in her eyes. I put my finger in front of my mouth. She understood and sat still.

"Dinner is almost done," he slurred, turning a charred rat over the fire with a small rod. "Fresh track rabbit for ya sweetie," he chuckled. I could only imagine the grotesque expression on his face as he said that horrible remark to the little girl.

Getting to my feet was very difficult. In my weakened state my muscles protested under the burden of my weight. I was disoriented. Everything slightly shifted side to side as I crept toward the large frame that dwarfed my own. So close now. I looked down at myself; the trash had discolored my uniform greatly. That really pissed me off. I raised the light above my head, ready to beat this sicko stupid, well… stupider. In my own stupor I scuffed the ground with my shoe, the sound seemed like a thunderclap, a great disturbance aggravating all in its presence. He jumped up, quickly turned, and lunged at me. I came down on him with all my might, my light collided with his shoulder and he kneeled to the ground like a hunchback. His giant fist shot up and hit me square in the nose. I felt the cartilage break under the blow, and my blood started flowing out of my face. I felt no pain though, only the carnal instinct to destroy my enemy. I smashed him on the side of the head, he stumbled, and I continued to bludgeon him. My flashlight hitting his skull made a retched sound but satisfied me greatly. It was not hard to subdue the drunkard, but rage consumed me. I continued to beat him even as he lay motionless, bleeding on the ground.

"Stop it!" screamed the girl. "Stop it! He’s done." Her voice registered in my mind. I let out a vengeful yell and bashed his head once more, then, somehow gained control of my emotions.

"Let’s get out of here," I uttered to the girl. She seemed to look back at me with fear, tears poring down her shaking cheeks. "Let’s go, I’m a police officer, and I’ll bring you home." I held my hand out to her. She stared back at me for a second more, stood up, and took my hand.

The flashlight didn’t work anymore. As we felt our way along the passage to the main tunnel the girl started crying. I was not surprised after what she had just witnessed. I wanted to talk to the girl, but I couldn’t, not after my bizarre, violent frenzy. The memory of the sound of my light impacting on his head made me shiver in the dark. My whole body felt cold, except for my hand holding the hand of the little girl; her short, skinny fingers were gripping my own with all a child’s might. I was just as afraid as she was.

Up ahead I heard footsteps. The girl was crying louder now. The sound of the footsteps was getting louder now. All of a sudden I heard a deafening gun shot, simultaneously feeling a sharp pain rip through my chest. Weakness overcame my body, and I collapsed to the ground. I kept my eyes open with my last ounce of strength, as I saw my partner, Ash Reily, holding his flashlight in my direction.

"Oh shit!" Ash mouthed in his harsh Queens accent. "I’m so sorry, kid! I’ll get you out of here, you’re not gonna die!"

I heard him, but I didn’t really care. I felt strangely comfortable, like I was in a warm bath. I closed my eyes, and gave into the peaceful darkness.

I heard Ash’s voice, "Hey, wake up." It sounded surreal, dreamlike. "Hey, come on, wake up!" now louder in my head. "Dammit, wake up kid!" now right beside me.

I opened my eyes. All I saw was white, then, slowly, other colors formed in. First I saw blues, then grays, yellows, greens, and browns. The colors started dull then gradually became more vibrant. I heard a steady beeping sound. The colors took form. I was under a sheet, metal bars were on my sides; a middle aged man in a white coat stood by the foot of my bed holding a clipboard. It felt very surreal.

Tilting my head to the side I saw Ash. "Did you shoot me?" I heard myself say.

"I thought you were the kidnapper," he pleaded to me. "It was a stupid mistake. I should have made sure it was him."

I looked up at him, smiled, "Don’t worry about it."

I closed my eyes, giving in to the large amount of drugs they had pumped into me; and I was off, lost in the floating comfort of a morphine-induced dreamworld.

 

Last Day On The Job 2000ÓMike Longo

 

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