Per Chance - TBH Short Story 1

Per Chance

Jessie

      The cold Autumn air hit me as soon as I opened the door to the squad car. It was early October, and in the dull orange light of sunset, I could already see my breath. I parked the car in a crumbling and unkempt parking lot, and swung the door open. I paused to check myself in the visor mirror before stepping outside. Striking blue eyes stared back at me, evident against my dark skin. I flipped a bouncy strand of hair out of my face to survey the two-year-old scar running down my left eye.

      "Scammers..." I mumbled to myself, noticing my scar hadn't lightened even a bit since I began treatments. "That cream cost me a hundred dollars." I gave an irritated sigh. What a way to start my shift. Cold, angry, and all alone.

      "I always get the shit jobs." I really was in a mood, wasn't I? I tilted the mirror down a bit to straighten my uniform collar and take a look down at my badge. The title 'Officer Williams' made me feel important, I supposed, but it held little more weight than that. This was a job. Even though it was the highest paying I'd ever had, that didn't mean I was happy.

      I slipped on my mask before standing up and shutting the door quietly. I was supposed to wear it while driving, but I didn't. I didn't tend to follow most of the annoying procedures the Whiteville PD forced upon me. At least not when I was alone. Perks of being the step-son of the county sheriff. I regularly listened to music on my phone while doing my rounds, sent girlfriends and boyfriends dirty pictures during shifts, and other small rule-bending that I saw as mostly harmless. After all, I worked hard. I knew I deserved the miserable bit of fun I could get my hands on.

      However, today I was set out on a task that rarely yielded any playtime for me. Columbus Park was a cemetery, not a gathering spot, but it was no surprise that I got a call to show up. Local kids frequented this place for all sorts of delinquent activity, and the thick treeline looming overhead, paired with the tall, untreated grass provided a shroud from the outside eye. More often than not, I only found a group of teenagers drinking cheap liquor or messing around with candles and an ouija board. Still, I could never be too careful. I'd had seemingly-innocent grunt work go awry before. That knowledge made me continuously on edge, and I could feel my heart beat just a bit faster as I stepped out of the parking lot.

      I made my way across the highway, past the small ornamental pond, and into the thick brush on the other side. Trudging through the woods was calming to me, even though I could still feel my nerves tingling from lingering anxiety. I found it nice to be somewhere peaceful for once. My apartment building tended to be a quiet respite as well, but work was a different story. Many of the neighborhoods I was appointed to were calamitous and horrendously loud, even if there was no real crime being committed. I had been in my current position for nearly six years, but most of the reports I was assigned to were noise complaints or small domestic disagreements. That and keeping unruly teens at home after curfew. It seemed to be the latter tonight, as I approached a short figure in the distance.

      I saw them in the clearing up ahead. They wore a simple gray hoodie and black, torn skinny jeans. The spot they stood in was small and neglected, only consisting of a tan stone circle that led off in three different dirt paths winding back off into the woods. A few black benches, rusty with chipped paint, sat around a statue of Columbus, hence the name of the park. The stone statue stood stoically tall over a bed of decaying roses. He was pointing purposefully to the west, unaware that he was currently being tagged with red spray paint. I didn't mind personally. In fact, I thought it was a great idea to have it taken down. On the other hand, the Mayor seemed to think it a "landmark". If I were five years younger, I would have joined them in their efforts to deface this thing, but unfortunately, I had a job to do.

      "Police!" I announced myself sharply.

      They froze.

      "Drop it. Turn around with your hands up."

      I didn't have my gun out, of course, but I was wary. I may have broken some of the unfair rules the PD thrust upon me, but I couldn't bring myself to threaten a poor teen with a gun just because of a little vandalism. I knew something like that could scar them for life, and I liked to think of myself as one of the good guys, albeit in a sea of corruption. So far, there was no reason to assume this person was any more than a rebellious child eager for something entertaining to do in a boring, dead town. Still, I had to admit, my heart raced every time I was forced into a confrontation.