The Lines We Cross (452 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.55 on 16 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by r0fl (View user info) at 2007-02-08 00:25:13 EST
The cold air ripped at my cheeks, tearing away tiny layers of skin that I know'd be replaced within a week or two anyway - that's why I grow a beard in the winter. I clutched my hands into fists in my coat pockets, attempting to gain some semblance of warmth in this tundra of the Big City on this cold morn'.
I pass street lights plastered with "Moving! We'll help!" signs, whimpering in the cold, even though whatever paper's made of lost all sense of feeling long ago. The sun shone on my back at this early hour, barely imitating warmth, only stating 'I'm here, go about your day as usual.' Seems this time of year that's all you're good for, old buddy. My shadow shivered.
The feeling was welcome. That is, the unsanitary, (and if you really knew who I was, I probably wouldn't have even told you) crust in between my ocular lenses, signifying I did in fact not shower this morning. It's too cold, I'm too broke, and I just don't care anymore. All I care about is my future, and where I'm going isn't where I want to be.
I passed Benji at the large intersection, formally Benjamin something-or-other, who always has an empty Dunkin' Donuts cup in his hand, asking for change, no doubt with a stained outer ring of Hazelnut or French Vanilla from his last cup hours before. Howdy, I'd say to him, and he'd give me that nonchalant wave with his right hand, a hospital ID badge peeking out of his sleeve, not even knowing I was there unless he tried. The guy's been out of it awhile, and it's too damn cold to figure out why.
I wiped the deposits off the corner of my eyes from my surprising heavy sleep the night before, using my iPod and extra pillow to blot out the sounds of my roommates drinking, socializing, interacting with themselves and the most opposite of sexes.
The living room of my apartment and kitchen were littered with empty bottles of beer and whiskey, of pizza boxes, of marijuana pipes and the like; my room is littered with notebooks, perished blue-ink pens, and empty Starbuck's cups with various names on them: Danny, Larry, Kevin, Bill - I even told the cashier my name was Sly once. It's a game I play; I suppose because I'm so bored lately.
Oh, the dichotomy between them and me.
I thumbed through my iPod, and came across the lines:
Paranoid by the sound of the streets
Wood creaks like the march of machines
My blood lust consuming me
My hunger is matched by my greed.
I've heard these lines numerous times before, but a deep chill ran through my bones, up to my hair follicles and down through my tarsals. I shook it off, pulled off my winter hat and gloves and reached into my pocket.
I reached my school off a major avenue of Boston, flashed my ID, Peter Simmons, how may I help you, and scurried to class. Only one today... shouldn't be that much of a drain. Maybe then I can get some sleep. I held the door for an anonymous professor, and it slammed shut with a thud, locking the cold and the world outside.
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At the same time another door shut, one of State Trooper Michael Tallman, as he stenciled in part of his speeding ticket form before he even reached the Gray Honda Accord with "Whale's Tail" plates. There were barely past the Lee Town Line, when Mr. Mike Tallman gunned him for 78 in a 65. It was near the end of the month, you know, and quotas are quotas.
The wind nearly whipped his hat clear off, and he steadied while asking the pertinent, standard questions. Alan Lemanski sat in the driver's seat, handed the license and registration to Officer Mike Tallman - voted most likely to succeed by the class of 1992 - and continued to air-guitar the solo to Stairway To Heaven. He seemed unphased at getting caught speeding - usually everyone had a rebuttal or story to offer. It was courtesy, wasn't it?
Trooper Tallman went back into his Interceptor, followed necessary protocol logging plates and filling out all necessary forms. His left eyebrow erupted skyward, finding an alert that Mr. Whale's Tail was driving a hot car.
"Well Bob's Yo' Uncle," he exclaimed, and radioed in the call. When he got riled up, the foreigner in him came to the surface. The car was stolen in the town closest to them, off Helene St; while a Nurse was warming her car and waiting for her morning coffee to brew. How's that for a good morning, Trooper Tallman surmised.
He thumbed open the clip to his holster adjoined to his right hip, the black leather buckling, easing into a flowing motion. The wind suddenly slowed as he exited the Ford, walking up with conscious knowledge of his gun and handcuffs. He'd only fired it once on the job, and missed, awfully, but no one knew because his partner at the time had been a Marine and excellent shot.
He stepped up to the Honda, placing his right hand over the driver's side door where the paneling ended (the window was down, to the dismay of Alan Lemanski. Trooper Alan noted the suspect's hands were on the wheel, the radio now dead. He began by explaining the whole act of speeding, not letting on that the car was stolen and he god-damn-knew it.
What he didn't see was the loaded .38 under Al's right leg, warm to the touch, pulsating with his heartbeat.
"Now, officer, I've thought real hard..." he began to say.
Trooper Michael Tallman smiled. "...About what sir, about whether or not it was a good idea to steal a woman's car, in her driveway back in town? Shit, there's still a Baby-On-Board sticker on the back windsh—"
Windshield.
That's what State Trooper Michael Tallman's last word was. Big Al, as he had been known before, wondered if his tombstone would mention anything like that. Probably not, he supposed, because that information is privileged, to the one who made it his last, and that was he.
The bullet ripped through his sternum shattering the Xiphoid Process and deflected off into his heart and bounced around his rib cage more times than can be counted in the seconds it took for him to crumple to the ground.
"Now, you know why I had you pull me over, Officer Dipshit?" Big Al asked to the corpse, as he hurried to grabb him and toss him in the passenger seat.
"It's because you were following me, I knew you'd probably run the plates out of boredom, and besides the point, Nurse Lois won't need this car much lately. She's liable to be riding a golden chariot right now, if you know what I mean. Now, let's get you back in more comforting circumstances, I've got some business up in the city."
And with that, Big Al, with his red flannel button up and paint-stained boots waited. And waited.
They both waited, the dead and the living, until no cars approached this morning on I-90, the Massachusetts Turnpike East. When a sufficient window emerged, he tossed Michael Tallman in his driver's seat. He radioed in his best Trooper voice that he'd stay put at his present location to monitor speeds, and would check in later.
For good measure he even put a radar gun in his hand, and propped it up. Shit, he even buckled him in.
He hopped back into the accord, turned the ignition and put the .38 in the glove compartment. It was time to start going 65, he supposed. No more unwanted company, not with Big Business in the Big City. He passed a sign, noting the miles until Boston. He moved his right hand, checked his gas tank, and nodded.
He unmated the stereo, and hummed the first few notes to Misty Mountain Hop.
User Reviews
Submitted by r0fl (user info) at 2007-02-08 18:04:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-02-08 15:19:15 (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-02-08 09:33:12 (#)
Ranking: 1
Liked it a lot until we got to the bit with the Trooper. Liked the imagery in your first paragraphs.
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hmm, interesting...I was thinking the exact opposite.
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That's why they're both in there. You'll see. Shit, this is one of my worst rated stories ever.
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-02-08 16:28:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-02-08 15:19:15 (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-02-08 09:33:12 (#)
Ranking: 1
Liked it a lot until we got to the bit with the Trooper. Liked the imagery in your first paragraphs.
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hmm, interesting...I was thinking the exact opposite.
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That's because I'm "edgy" and "existential" and you're not.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-02-08 15:19:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-02-08 09:33:12 (#)
Ranking: 1
Liked it a lot until we got to the bit with the Trooper. Liked the imagery in your first paragraphs.
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hmm, interesting...I was thinking the exact opposite.
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2007-02-08 12:27:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I mentioned you
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-02-08 12:05:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-02-08 09:33:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Liked it a lot until we got to the bit with the Trooper. Liked the imagery in your first paragraphs.
Submitted by stardamage (user info) at 2007-02-08 09:21:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 western Massachusetts. :)
Submitted by DirtyHarry (user info) at 2007-02-08 08:58:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
liked it
Submitted by shandythedog (user info) at 2007-02-08 05:48:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
WILL YOU HAVE LUNCH WITH ME?
Submitted by r0fl (user info) at 2007-02-08 05:03:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-02-08 01:02:50 (#)
Ranking: 2
This...
I fought over that as well, but believe it or not, that was the best way I could put it. Thanks for the criticism.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-08 01:10:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
He seemed unphased
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unfazed
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-02-08 01:03:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
It's alright. Welcome back, though.
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-02-08 01:02:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This...
"At the same time another door shut, one of State Trooper Michael Tallman, as he stenciled in part of his speeding ticket form before he even reached the Gray Honda Accord with "Whale's Tail" plates"
...piece of broken English kicked me right out of your otherwise rich and well crafted imagery.
I got back into it and stumbled across another frag, further down.
I did like your use of vocabulary in your descriptions. You've accessed a solid range of words that one doesn't see every day, and your work is richer for it.
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-02-08 01:01:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I read it.
Submitted by r0fl (user info) at 2007-02-08 00:54:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-02-08 00:51:06 (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't know. I've got to get some work done and don't really have the time. I read the last line. +2 Zeppelin. I'm shallow.
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It's a start. I've been listening to Zep all night, and it showed up here. Indeed.
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-02-08 00:51:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't know. I've got to get some work done and don't really have the time. I read the last line. +2 Zeppelin. I'm shallow.