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It was a police car with its red and blue lights spinning.
Gabriel pulled over and the police car shined a spotlight through our back window, flooding thecar with light. Gabriel muttered obscenities and started digging for his wallet and insurance information before the cop could get to the window. His hands were shaking. We both had legal Texas driver’s licenses, but you never knew what kind of trouble you could get into if you were pulled over and got caught being brown.
“Wasn’t even speeding or driving crazy or nothing,” Gabriel said to himself.
His window was rolled down and outside crickets and frogs and other nighttime noises filled the air. There was no sound of other vehicles. We seemed really alone out here. I couldn’t even see any lights in the distance. Footsteps crunched on the gravel road towards us.
“Evening, ya’ll. Can I see some license and registration, please?” the policeman said.
I could only see the bottom half of him through Gabriel’s window, and not very well at that. He had his flashlight beaming into the car, blinding us. I thought of the time I went catching bullfrogs with my cousins one summer in East Texas and how the frogs would just stare dumbly into the spotlight they used to catch them, helpless and hypnotized by the great shining light. Waiting to be plucked up and butchered and not a damn thing they could do about it.
“Just a sec. Got it right here,” Gabriel said, handing it over as he squinted into the light.
The officer wore a dark button up shirt, and it was tucked into a pair of jeans. He wore a belt and I could see a holstered black gun and even more strange than his wearing jeans as part of his uniform was the large belt buckle. It was a large skull, that one you see everywhere on trucks and stuff. Punisher, I think it’s called. My anxiety about the situation ramped to about a thousand when I saw that. Why didn’t he have a normal uniform? Was he like a special deputy or a sheriff or something?
“Sir, do you mind telling me what I’m being pulled over for? I don’t think I was speeding.”
This was just how it was. You had to be all polite when dealing with the cops, all “yes sir” and “no ma’m” and “thank you officer” and make sure you dotted all your “i’s” and crossed you “t’s”. I’d heard friends and classmates talk about how they would cop an attitude with the police and talk back and stuff, but I never had it in me to do anything like that.
“I’m getting to that,” the cop said. “Just looking at your stuff here for a second. Gabriel Torres. You two’s are a couple of Tejanos, eh? Texicans? What are ya’ll doing up here? Looking for jobs?”
“Just a little trip.”
“A trip, huh?”
“Yeah, we’re going to Turner Falls,” I said from the passenger seat, leaning over. I thought the more we said, the better. No need to hide anything. Didn’t want him to think the worst.
“Well how we doing over there, señorita?” the cop said with a sneer. He leaned down a little as he said this, looking in at me and I could see his tacky black mustache that went past his mouth and down the sides of his chin like a horseshoe. A tattoo peeked out from the collar on his neck. He turned back to Gabriel. “So does she love it when you call her señorita? Hehe. Does she have a nice little taco?”
Gabriel gripped the steering wheel tighter, didn’t say anything. Just stared straight ahead.
“I asked you a question, señor,” the cop said and squatted down so he could stare in at us with his beady eyes. “Ya’ll best comply. I got my partner back at the car and ya’ll do any funny business, he’s been dying to shoot out some windows with his new Mossberg. Be even more thrilled if it was a coupla Mexicans.”
“Sir. We are just trying to get to our destination. We are complying and you are being rude and disrespectful to both me and my girlfriend.”
I noticed something about the officer. He had no badge or name tag. Things weren’t sitting right with me and I knew that this wasn’t going to end well. His hand had crept onto the gun in the holster.
“Excuse me,” I said. “What is your badge number? Don’t we have the right to ask you for that?”
“Badges? I don’t have to show you no stinking badges,” he said in a thick mocking accent and laughed. He turned to Gabriel. “Maybe I might have to give your girlfriend a little strip search. Make sure she isn’t smuggling anything from across the border.”
I looked down at my phone discreetly. I heard you could call 911 in these instances when you had concerns for your own safety when interacting with a police officer. I think they could send another officer or escort you to the station or something. It was supposed to be one of your rights. I slid my phone to the side of my outer thigh and edged out the screen so I could see.
The fucking lock screen!
“So the reason I pulled you two over on this fine summer night was you looked...suspicious. That’s right, suspicious. What are ya’ll even doing way out here?”
I entered the code.
“We got lost,” said Gabriel.
The dialer was pulled up. The number entered from before. There was a loud BANG! that startled me and I jumped.
“Just what do you think you’re doing over there?” the policeman said and I looked up. He had smacked his hand on the roof of the car.
“Um nothing,” I replied
“Hand it over.”
“No,” I said.
My hands were shaking. I couldn’t focus enough to delete the number and enter 911. I hit the green dial button. Maybe they could trace the cell tower to my cell number for whenever we went missing. Maybe the person on the other end of the phone would hear what was going on, testify at this fucker’s trial for whatever sick shit he planned on doing to us.
“Hand. It. Over,” the cop ordered, slapping his hand on the roof of the car again for emphasis.
“Look, sir. She doesn’t have to. Why don’t you just let us go? Ok?” Gabriel said.
The cop reached for his gun. We both ducked and Gabriel jerked the car into drive and there was the loud noise of the acceleration, the redlining, the tires peeling out in the gravel, the small stones spitting through the air and raining on the cab and everywhere else like hail. It was all capped off by a large explosion that filled the car and deafened me and spiderwebbed the windshield into broken glass and I couldn’t stop screaming.
This was how I was going to die. I couldn’t believe it.
And still there were more gunshots and breaking glass and the grinding noise of the car skidding out of control, the headlights pointed straight for the ditch. The front end of the car dove down low and I was thrown against my seatbelt and I could see Gabriel hit the steering wheel and bounce off.
I think we were lucky that the airbag didn’t deploy. We ended up really needing those extra seconds we would’ve used fighting past the airbag to get out.
We shook ourselves off from the collision and got our bearings. Gabriel opened his door and looked back down the road.
“Yuvi. Yuvi. Yuvi! Get out. C’mon, let’s go. Let’s go,” he said, his voice rising to a panicked register I had never heard him use before.
I opened my car door and stepped out into the ditch, leaving the door ajar as the little “door open” alert chimed: ding, ding. ding.
“This way, babe. Over the fence,” Gabriel said as he scrambled up the ditch’s incline towards barbed wire, reaching his hand out for me.
I looked back and I could see headlights coming for us and hear the engine revving and tires peeling out on the gravel road. Fear coursed through me and led the way. Gabriel stomped on a section of the barbed wire and pulled another up with his hands and I ducked under, unable to do it cautiously as a metal barb cut through my back and tore my jeans and leg.
The black car slammed on its brakes and fishtailed towards us. Gabriel hopped the fence and tumbled to the ground and as I helped him up I heard the policeman open his door and shout at us.
There was more gunfire and we ran.
Oh, how we ran.
The grass was tall and there was about a half a moon floating in the sky. Off in the distance of the open field, I could see large circular shapes scattered about. Hay bales. We sprinted towards one of them that sat in the middle of the field and ducked behind it and lied on our stomachs in the grass.
For a moment, everything was quiet. There was only our panting breaths and through that I could hear the night sounds once again, the crickets and frogs.
“Do you think he—,” I started in a whisper, before Gabriel shushed me.
“Shh. I can see him. He’s coming this way.”
I hugged the ground and inched my face just past the bale of hay. I could see the figure of the policeman carrying his flashlight, sweeping the beam across the field. I didn’t think he could see me peeking. Our hay bale was in the middle of several others and set back aways. He was coming though and bound to find us.
My heart revved back up again. Somehow this was worse than all of the fast paced terror before when everything happened so fast that my mind couldn’t process it. I almost pissed myself right there in the grass.
“Yuvi. Duck down low and we can crawl to the next hay bale. Keep going until we hit the trees and can lose him.”
Behind me there was another round bale of hay about 50 yards away. Going from our current safe place to the next would leave us exposed and as I started crawling, it didn’t seem like such a good idea to have my back to the gunman and moving so slowly. That flashlight would hit us before we knew it and we would be stuck without any cover.
“Gabe, I think we should go for it,” I rasped.
“Ok, ok. Go.”
I shot to my feet and ran in a crouched position, going for the next bale and then the next, Gabriel hot on my heels.
I yelped as a beam of light crossed my path. It was too late. Gunfire erupted from behind me and I could hear actual bullets whizzing past my head.
And in the chaos from there, we ran and ran. We ducked behind bales as we came to them, but only used them for brief cover, running and running, all along Gabriel telling me “go, go, go.”
How many bullets did he have? Would he ever give up?
In a panic, I made a hard left. There were more hay bales stretched in that direction and I had once heard that running in a straight line from a gunman was never a great idea. It made you too easy to hit.
Heels pounding in a sprint for a good distance we slid behind yet another bale, putting some space between us and the gunman, his flashlight revealing his position.
He shut it off.
We stayed low.
He clicked it back on, swept the beam around. He was closer. We could always consider that he could completely walk by us.
The light went off again, a pale darkness in the field. I thought I could still make him out, standing there. Waiting. Listening.
But there was something else out here. I heard a rustle from somewhere to our left and a tall shape emerged from behind one of the hay bales. There were long pale legs that shimmered in the moonlight, bending at awkward angles. A thick body that tapered into a long neck and skeletal head with glinting black eyes.
The thing made its way toward us, heavy footsteps thudding through the pasture. I curled into Gabriel and made myself as small as possible. He was breathing heavily and ragged and drenched with sweat. He held me tightly.
The footsteps passed. We poked our heads out to see as the tall thing ran down an aisle of hay bales, its body growing wider with each step.
The flashlight came on again out in the field, but soon its beam went tumbling and it clattered off in the grass. There was a scream and a giant beating sound and the sounds of a scuffle. The giant thing leaned over the cop and I could barely make out his arms and legs flailing and struggling against the creature as its long legs kicked. The silhouette of the body grew and contracted again and again, the beating of its giant wings.
I could hear the cop grunting and choking and the noises started to sound wet.
Soon, the cop moved no more.
There was a light in the distance, shining through the trees. A porchlight and the frame of a house.
“You’re all sweaty,” I said to Gabriel as I helped him up.
“It’s not all sweat.”
“It’s uh...nothing. I just think he...ah... got me somewhere back there.”
I touched his waist and felt a damp warmth, pulled my hand back. My palm was soaked in blood.
I had to help him and he was weak in the legs. His body was all clammy and he clutched his side. I could feel the weight of him tugging me down, but I stood strong and we made our way towards the house.
It was across a country road and down a short gravel driveway. No dogs barked as we approached the wooden porch. I didn’t see any cars parked outside and I hoped they were just out of view. I banged on the door and rang the doorbell and started yelling for help. There was no answer.
The door was unlocked.
“C’mon Gabe, let’s see if they have a phone.”
I found a light switch and saw that we were in the living room and there was a floral print couch and I helped him over to it to lie down. He looked bad and that was putting it lightly. His shirt was soaked with blood, so much that it was glistening under the light.
I grabbed a dish towel from a kitchen counter that overlooked the living room, pressed it to his wound.
“Hold this,” I said. “I’m gonna find a phone.” Gabriel gave a small groan.
There was a phone hanging on the wall in the kitchen, right next to the fridge. An old timey one with a cord and everything. There was a dial tone. I dialed 911.
I tried to remain calm as I talked to the dispatcher, but everything came out in a hysterical flood, how my boyfriend had been shot and was bleeding to death and we had run from a man with a gun and our car was wrecked and I didn’t know where we were exactly and oh God oh God could they please send someone quick.
“Remain calm, ma’m. We are going to dispatch emergency services to your location,” the dispatcher said flatly. “Can you stay on the line?”
But I had a bad feeling.
“I’ve just gotta check on my boyfriend. Hang on.”
His breath was shallow and his eyes were closed. I kneeled beside him, crying and whispering to him. He said my name softly, but his eyes stayed shut. I helped put pressure on the blood soaked dishtowel.
There was a knock at the door, hard and loud and urgent.
Was it the paramedics?
What if it was the cop somehow? He wouldn’t knock though, right?
I went to the door and cracked it open.
“Ms. Yuvisela Moreno? You called?” a deep voice said.
I opened the door further.
It was a man and he didn’t look like any kind of paramedic I’d ever seen. He wore a dark brown trench coat and was wider than he was tall, a fedora slung down over his stubbled face, and I swore for a moment there, his eyes were glowing red.
“Yes, I called 911. Are you the paramedics? Come quick, my boyfriend, he’s back there!” I said frantically looking behind him for any sort of ambulance. But there was only a big black Lincoln parked in the drive.
He held up a single finger, telling me to wait. “You called for a good time, did you not?”
A crushing feeling in the pit of my stomach, my mind unable to comprehend.
The number. My cell phone, right before we sped away from the cop. I had hit the dial button.
“Wha...what is all this? Who are you?”
“I’m here to give you a good time,” the man said. “Your boyfriend, too. Unless he’s predisposed at the moment.” He looked over my shoulder at Gabriel on the couch. “Looks like you two could use a good time. Or already had one.”
“I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I need you to get help. I need you to—”
His meaty hand clamped down on my shoulder, held it tight. I felt frozen in place. “You need to hush. Here you go,” he said and shoved a thick manila folder into my chest with so much force that I toppled backwards onto the floor.
Fuck that guy, whoever he is, I thought as he turned his back to me and descended down the porch’s front steps.
I scrambled to my feet. I had been away from Gabriel for too long.
Where were those goddamn paramedics?
His hand had fallen from the gunshot and lay relaxed on the ground, his whole body slumping in that direction actually, like he would slide off the couch at any minute. Blood was pooling wet and slick on his lower stomach.
And he didn’t respond as I screamed his name again and again, didn’t respond when I shook him and pounded on his chest and pleaded for him to please wake up.
And God didn’t respond as I begged and sobbed into Gabriel’s still chest for him to take all of this away and to please bring Gabriel back, but I guess something else did.
So yeah, I’m guessing you’re wondering what was in the manila envelope. This whole “good time” thing the mysterious man had promised us.
What could it be, right?
Do I got you on the edge of your seat?
Well it took a while for the chaos to die down and everything and I just carried that folder around with me for a day or two. To be honest, I was afraid of opening it up. The guy who had dropped it off and the circumstances with the broadcast and all we had been through, I just didn’t want to have anything else to do with it, you see?
But when I did finally open it, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Inside were stacks of documents and papers, official ones, with both of our names on them. There were certificates of naturalizations, passports, driver’s licenses, letters from the US Citizenship and Immigration Services. The crazy thing about all this was, was that they had our photos on them, our real actual photos. They looked real and everything too and they were real. They ended up actually working.
“Yuvi, are you almost done? It’s almost one o’clock and we’ve got a big day tomorrow. Gotta pick up the rental,” a man’s voice in the background says.
“Hold on, I’m almost done. I’m to the part where we got our papers,” Yuvi tells him.
“So wait. Is that Gabriel?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says with a laugh.
It was the strangest thing. I was just sobbing into his chest. I thought he was dead. He was as good as dead. Maybe there was a pulse somewhere in there. I mean that makes the most sense. I don’t think this was like a back-from-the-dead type situation.
So I was just crying there with my face buried and my eyes were closed and I was waiting on the ambulance to arrive, but it never did. I was going to get up to call 911 again and when I lifted my head up, we were no longer in the living room of that farm house.
We were in a freaking hotel room.
I looked down at Gabriel and his shirt was clean and dry and he was breathing, looking like he was just sleeping there. The manila folder was on a desk in the corner and I opened the door and it opened out into a parking lot in the middle of the day, a Motel 6 sign standing tall in the distance.
“So yeah, is there anything else you need to know? It is really late over here. Different time zones and all.”
“Where is over here?” I ask.
“Reykjavk,” she responds. “Just got here this afternoon. Gonna rent a vehicle and get started on the Ring Road tomorrow. We’ve got so much to see.”
A man was killed in the most unlikely of circumstances Wednesday evening and his death has even resulted in the answer to several unsolved mysteries that have plagued the area for years.
Randall Finkman was found deceased and disemboweled on a local rancher’s property. The cause of death? An ostrich by the name of Oscar.
Property owner Ted Shamley has kept ostriches on his property ever since the fad in the early 90s.
“I used to have me a bunch of them,” Shamley says. “You know, it was this big thing going on back then and everyone was getting them. But once all that died down, I liked keeping them around and have always made sure I’ve had a couple. They’re good guard dogs, keep the coyotes away. Even got me a zebra from that exotic animal park up the way that got shut down. They were just giving it away. I feel like I’m out on a safari when I drive around my property. I’ve always heard stories that they could kill a man. You know they’ve got these really sharp claws and they’ll rush up on you sometimes, but I never would’ve said they’re dangerous. I would’ve felt awful about what happened and all, but he was trespassing and you know there was that other stuff they found out later. I guess he had it coming. Sounds like Oscar was just doing his job, ha.”
The “other stuff” that Mr. Shamley is referring to is the revelation of Randall Finkman’s involvement in several missing person’s cases. He was found to have a repurposed Crown Victoria, painted black and with his own set of red and blue lights. It is believed that he was impersonating a police officer in the area, pulling over unsuspecting victims. There was a box of cellphones found in his trunk and several items of women’s clothing.
At his property, there were the driver’s licenses belonging to two long standing missing persons, Gina Bunch from Oklahoma and Sylvia Gardner from Texas. Evidence of human remains have been found on the property and forensic and DNA investigations have been started.
Another vehicle was found at the scene and it is believed that Randall Finkman had found a new set of victims, victims that possibly fled into the field where Mr. Finkman met his demise. Their names have not been released pending contact.
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