Nothing But Thieves (English)

2. Chapter

"Hey, what kind of crap is this?" I asked, turning to my right to face the bully who had knocked my things out of my hands. But instead of looking into the face of a bad-tempered banker or a nasty Karen, I was looking into the barrel of an assault rifle. The person behind the gun was wearing a Halloween mask with some kind of monster grimace and a brown tracksuit. I instinctively looked next to me, there were two other people in the same attire. They had to be male, judging by their stature. My counterpart had the build of an Ikea Pax cabinet, three-door version. There was no time for further analysis because the person opposite pointed the gun at me and demanded my weapon in an aggressive tone. I just stared at him, perplexed. I had just been dragging on my cigarette and now this. The worst crimes in Morgantown had only been semi-professional meth kitchens on the outskirts of town and marital disputes that had ended with a frying pan to the face. What was going on? What crime had they committed before appearing here? There would have been several choices.

Suddenly a few hands came from behind and started to fiddle with my belt with the service weapon and all the other things. With a few grasps, the person held it in his hand. I slowly came out of my shock and tried to defend myself. These attempts were short-lived because the man held the barrel of his gun at me at eye level. "I can't miss you up close. Don't play the hero and this will be over quicker than you can see. Now get in!" he ordered emphatically. With a contrite expression on my face, I slowly opened the driver's door and got in. Inside the car, his accomplices had already made themselves comfortable on the passenger side and the back seat and were waving at me mockingly. The man with the assault rifle got in behind me. My new passenger had a gun in his hand, which he pointed at me. "

So, buckle up everything and then we'll drive off. One stupid thing and you were a police officer for the longest time of your life," my passenger explained. I carefully reached for my belt and buckled myself. Then I started the engine and drove out of the parking space. My thoughts were racing. What kind of colossal mess had I gotten myself into? What did I learn about this in training? All of my knowledge was suddenly wiped out. I sat in my patrol car, unable to think clearly.

"At the intersection we go straight ahead. Drive normally, unobtrusively. Not that we're going to alert your colleagues," said the man behind me, who had leaned briefly in the middle.

I did as I was told. We put up more distance and moved increasingly further away from the scene of the potential crime.

My passenger spoke up: "Who do we have the honor of meeting?"

I bit my bottom lip and stayed silent. My voice would have failed anyway, that much I could tell. He leaned forward a little, realizing he probably wouldn't get an answer.

"What does your name tag say, little policeman? Ashbury, it's nice to meet you," he chuckled with diabolical friendliness.

In a quiet voice I asked who I had the pleasure of seeing. In my head it sounded like a tough counterattack if my voice had translated it that way. But she didn't. I felt my hands shaking on the steering wheel and getting cold and sweaty, so I gripped it even tighter. My knuckles turned white from tension. I had to try somehow to turn the situation around. But how? There were three armed men in the car who could easily take me out. A scene from a movie played in my head. The hero drove into a tree and the villains were thrown out of the car. Flying in a high arc through the windshield. He emerged from the accident without a scratch because he was wearing a seatbelt. Something exploded while the hero dropped a loose one-liner. The only problem was that we were all wearing belts and things like that generally didn't work in real life.

"Hmm, let's think about it. I think you don't want to know our names Ashbury. Otherwise, we'll have to kill you," said the guy behind the passenger and everyone laughed as if they had cracked the joke of the century.

I snorted derisively. When they said my last name, something inside me jumped. Those idiots knew my name. Even if this ended, they could track me down and finish me off.

"How old are you, little one?" the man behind me asked while the passenger pointed to me to turn right.

I gave them the silent treatment as I turned right onto the street. In the rearview mirror I saw the guy nodding. "The fine police officer thinks it would help his situation if he doesn't cooperate. Well, we can just shoot you at the next rest stop outside of town, no problem. How long would it take for your body to be found in a dumpster?"

I didn't have a good practical knowledge to be able to assess how serious they were. So far, they had seemed more like morbid pranksters.

"Twenty," I relented. A loud laugh rang out around me. Were they making fun of me? Of course, they had found a rare, inexperienced specimen of a police officer here. They couldn't have chosen better for their escape. Like I was her damn Uber driver.

"Shit, our cop is younger than your son, dude," came the sound from behind. From the way he looked in the rearview mirror, I realized that this sentence was directed at the passenger. He joined in: "Yes, you're right." Then he pointed to the pack of cigarettes in my breast pocket. "You should stop smoking Ashbury. That's not healthy, it'll only give you lung cancer."

Was everyone out to analyze my vices today? "My lungs are none of your business," I blurted out. I was angry. To have to drive these guys around. But even more so on myself for sitting behind the wheel so helplessly and defenselessly in this situation. I swore to protect the people of Morgantown. How was I supposed to do that when I couldn't even protect myself?

"Uh, our guest is slowly regaining his courage, very good, very good. Just don't let it go to your head. As already said: Don't play the hero and things will come to a quick end for you. Then you can go back to your mommy and daddy. They can even change your diaper then," said the guy behind the passenger seat. And how they made fun of my age. Then it occurred to me: what would Caleb think if he stood in front of the empty parking lot with his bakery bags? That I played a nasty prank on him and just left him like that? No, he would definitely find my cell phone and the cigarette butt on the floor. He must have known by now that I wouldn't just leave my stubs on the asphalt. I always threw them in a trash can. He couldn't help but notice that I hadn't left voluntarily. Then it struck me right away. A look in the rearview mirror showed me that the men had a black sports bag between them. There had to be stolen goods in there. Near the parking lot had been a bank and a jewelry store. There wasn't much going on at that time as everyone was on their lunch break. A good time for a heist. I assumed they had robbed the bank. At the latest when my colleagues had been informed by the silent alarm or in some other way, they would realize that I was involved in the matter. Hopefully. Then they would launch wide-area roadblocks and searches and find me in the process. And the gangsters. I clung to that thought. Even if the guys hadn't been armed, three against one still greatly reduced my chances of winning a close-quarters fight.