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Book
II
Things
That Go Bump in the Night
Chapter
1 – Deputy Mayfield
III
He came out of his paralyses and
tried to pick up the mic on his CB but he couldn’t because he still held the
folded over girly magazine in his right hand.
He looked at it and it said Kendra pushed upwards… Kendra? He thought?
Wasn’t it Lana? Or had his mind just wondered back to the little tramp
from the gas station. He knew the little slut wanted him. He could tell by how she acted. He flipped the magazine into the passenger
seat right next to his Mounty hat, he chuckled, or was that Mount-Me hat. Isn’t that what Cain’s son had said in that
football movie, nice Mount-Me hat. He
always got a kick out of that.
KSSHHHHSSSSSHHH KSSHHHHSSSSSHHH KSSHHHHSSSSSHHH
“Deputy Mayfield, Deputy Mayfield,
do you copy?”
Now with his hand free of
perversion he could reach down and grab the mic and return the call.
“This is Mayfield. Over?”
“I have a Code 2 and need you to
respond.”
“I was getting ready to take a Code
7, can you get another cover?” This was
a lie, he had already taken his lunch break, but what this asshole at
dispatched didn’t know, wouldn’t kill him.
“Negative Mayfield, this Code 2
needs to be looked into right away, your Code 7 has to wait, Big Joe’s orders. There
has been a nose complaint out at Hull and with the activity out there we need
the Code 2, over.”
He put his head back and let out a
long breath. His reading would have to
be put on hold for now. Fucking Hull
Cemetery and those creepy grave robbing kids.
It was Ransom and big Joe’s gig, but the boss was the boss after all and
with his alimony and the future call of his pension he didn’t want to fuck this
job up anymore. He made one last ditch
effort to through the green dicked kid at dispatch off. It wasn’t professional but if he could get
out of a run to the cemetery who cared about a little professionalism on the
mic.
“Isn’t that part of Ransom’s
case? Why don’t you call him he lives
for this type of shit!” It was true Kody
Ransom that paranoid uppity fuck lived for this type of shit. Mr. Big Time FBI law man coming home to
police the cornfields. He was an odd
duck. Never drank with the boys. He would hang out with LJ and that scrawny
corner but he acted like he was to good for the rest of force. Plus he was always talking to the Boss. Always, fucking kiss ass.
“Negative Mayfield, he was on for
48 plus, Big Joe said not to disturb him, over.”
Fuck that, I am not going to get
involved in the pretty fucks case, he thought to himself. That is the last
thing in the world Kyle Mayfield wants is to have anything to do with the crown
prince of the department. “Call him, he
is probably at home waiting for the call anyway. We know the pretty fucker doesn’t have
life. Other than going to dinner at the
bosses house, or hanging out with his buddy from the morgue.”
“Deputy Mayfield, do I have to file
a 1222 or are you going to answer this Code to at Hull?” And there it was. The little green dicked prick at dispatch,
playing the only card he could.
Threatening a write-up. Arrogant
little prick had already written him up twice.
He wasn’t afraid to do it and Mayfield knew it. He definitely didn’t want that, not over a
little stop over and finding some kids fucking with some bones. He can’t afford
that. He isn’t rich like the Ransom
fuck. He doesn’t have Daddy’s money to
fall back on, if being a cop doesn’t work out.
Plus, he likes his job. Sure he
gets the late shift four nights a week, but he always has three days off to
fish and drink beer with the boys. Plus
there are perks to being a Sheriff in this fucking town. The free magazine next to him is a testament
to that. Not to mention some other perks
he gets. This town seems to love its
Sheriff department and… even fear it?
“Code 33, on the move.”
“Report when Code 11.” Fuck you green dick her thinks to this, you
are a fucking amateur! The snot nose
little punk would have filled out the 1222.
He knew it. The kid didn’t
appreciate the good life he had working only four days a week. The kid wanted to get on the day shift, even wanted
to get out from behind the desk and start doing real police work as he called
it.
Mayfield laughed, what a fucking
idiot he thought to himself. What he was
doing out here was police work in Wander, In.
You bided your time. You tried to
find good places to sleep on the road.
You pulled over your quota of speeders, no more no less. Occasionally, you had to a domestic
disturbance, but those were usually fun.
This greened dicked fucker had spent too much time listening to Ransom
war stories probably. Did Ransom tell
war stories? Who fuck knew, uppity prick
probably didn’t.
He pulled his car back onto the
road still pissed off he’d wasted his hard-on.
He would have to take care of that later. Looking at his watch and seeing that it was
3:45 a.m. and knowing he would be off soon, he would take care of it not much
later.
He took dead man’s curve
slowly. He had pulled to many piles of
mangled meat off this road not to respect the awesomeness of the blind
corner. When he pulled through on the
other side heading for Hull he found himself muttering “Green Dick fucking kiss
ass punk!” He shook his head and stared
into the black.
Had he ever been as eager as that
Greenie? Was he like that at the
start? Before he figured out that it
really didn’t matter what the law was?
Was he? He couldn’t
remember. It has been some twenty years
ago.
The Greenie would learn what he had
learned. That the law itself and rules
don’t mean shit all that mattered was who you knew and what you could do for
them. He had the fortune of seeing that
very early on. It was his during the
first year of his time of paroling the back roads of Wander.
Hadn’t he been the first responder
to the Gas and Go that Halloween? Yes,
yes he had been. What he saw was a show
of brutality and force that he had rarely seen except in the cases of the
meth-heads and people strung out on PCP.
At least, the people he caught going nuts on angle dust or meth paid for
their sins. However, when the person you
stop from slamming a football players head into a door, is a Ransom, they may
or may not have gotten grounded because they sure, as shit didn’t get a trip to
the lock up, prosecuted, or even cuffed.
Let’s just be 100% clear he said as he watched the cornfields pass on
his left. They didn’t even get written
up.
He had forty pounds and 2 inches on
Kody Ransom. However, that night, the
night he won’t forget not because he lost his delusion they he could make a
difference. No he would never forget
that night because he had never seen so much hate or anger in anyone. When he had grabbed the kid and tried to make
him stop slamming his fist into the others head, he was thrown away, and he
fell forcefully to the ground.
As he started to get up he saw Big
Joe running passed him and yelling orders to him “Get the Rose boy, get the
Rose by, I have Kody. That is what he
called him Kody, not Ransom. Was that
when he realized how incestuous the relationships were? Maybe?
Big Joe had his billy club out and
he did she him wrap it around Ransom’s chest and use all his strengthen to pull
the kid back. He was up now though and
was running to Rose.
He reached out and placed a hand on
Rose’s shoulder. Rose looked up and
grinned at him. “Problem Officer?” He
said. Then he stood up and faced him and
held his hands out to be cuffed. He
grabbed his right arm and turned it behind his back and then reached around and
grabbed his left and pulled it back.
He turned and faced where Big Joe
was sub-doing the Ransom kid. As he was
pulling up Ransom, Mayfield got a glimpse into Ransom’s eyes and his blood
instantly froze. He kept thinking to
himself cuff him Big Joe, cuff that crazy fucker. If he gets loose that thing will kill me. It
could have happened too because what burned into those eyes was not the
embodiment of fear and anger that he had seen on a few perps facing when they
figured out they were getting arrested.
Oh, no it was not. It wasn’t
because those were not human eyes but the eyes of some feral beast that was backed
into a corner and would fight out of it or die trying.
He shook his head and watched more
corn pass. He would be at Hull soon
enough. However, when you were in the
middle of cornfields there really weren’t many things to mark the way.
The night was darker than
black. It was always darkest before dawn. As someone who rode out most nights he knew
that better than most. Had it been 20
years since that night? He couldn’t
really remember. Time has a funny way of passing, especially in Wander.
He knew two things. First, that was the first time he saw
insanity in the face of a man. Two, that
there was no justice in the world.
Ransom and Rose had broken jaws,
noses, and knocked out teeth. One boy was
kept in a coma for a week, after swelling went down he went on to have a
decorated career but still, what if he hadn’t? However, there were not
cuffs. There was no trial. There was no write up about the fight in the
paper. The girl behind the counter must
have turned off the cameras even though she swore she didn’t because there was
not tape.
He had started to cuff the Rose
boy. He remembered because he was
telling the quarterback punk that he could kiss his next start good bye because
he would be in juvy.
“Nah, no cuffs.” Big Joe told him.
“Set him down over here next to Kody. We
don’t know what happened here.”
Kyle knew what happened here. These two boys beat the shit out of those
three boys and it didn’t matter what happened.
You pulled up on an assault and battery; you cuffed the people doing the
beating and took them in for questioning.
If you got the wrong people you fixed that later.
He looked again to Big Joe and he
saw there was not arguing. His eyes said
it all. Do as you are told Dickweed and
don’t give me any shit.
He couldn’t remember when he saw
the prosecutor’s son and Big Joe’s son.
When he did things started to make a little bit more sense. He was going to cover for his kid’s pals and
do the prosecutor a solid as well. Somehow this would all end up being the guys
who were assaulted faults. They would take the fall.
He was both right and wrong on that
account. It is not like there were
rumors about payouts or anything like that.
No one showed up with new cars or new homes. New jobs were received for the kids and for
the parents over the next several months.
Records seemed to be cleaned up.
All three boys that had received a beating of a lifetime ended up
leaving Wander within a year of that Halloween and the immediate families as
well all with big hoopla made of there going because they were all living the American
Dream and moving on up. That is when he
knew that the prosecutor and Big Joe were on the take and that is when he
started his little taking.
He remembered one time asking Arnie
Dagget, a hardnosed long time Sheriff who had been his trainer when he started.
They had spent six months on the job together every day almost. They had become what Mayfield would have liked
to call friends.
Then there was the time that they
had gotten the call about the fire out on 59 and the two had raced there. Dagget told Mayfield to wait out side he was
going to go in and make sure there was no one stuck in there. Mayfield told him to wait for back up, but
Dagget said “No time son, no time.”
Mayfield waited for what seemed to
be an eternity and until he heard something come crashing down and then
followed his hardnosed partner into the burning house. A cross beam had fallen and landed on Dagget
and if he hadn’t gone in after him the only death in that fire.
With that he thought he could have
a little Palaver with Arnie and ask him about Big Joe and just what was Doc
Ransom into. When he did, he found out
just how strong is old partner was. He
was thrown into a locker and Arnie’s fist slammed into the one next to it.
“Listen to me you fucking
cocksucker. Big Joe is a goddamned
saint. If you ever suggest he is on the take again, I will take my revolver out
and shot you in your fucking face. You
got that. As for Doc Ransom, don’t worry
about it. That aint for dumb fucks like
you, he has helped this town more than you will ever know. Big Joe on the take, you dumb, dumb fuck. You know how many times he has saved my
ass. Don’t worry about what happened
with them kids. Those college kids
shouldn’t have tried to pick on some high school kids you dumb fuck.”
Mayfield was stunned and
speechless. He thought but I saved your life.
I was there for you, but didn’t say it.
He didn’t know what to say. The only thing he knew was he never spoke to
Dagget or was even acknowledged him again.
Continued from:
The Guardian at the Gate
Book I
Wander IN
&
Book
II
Things
That Go Bump in the Night
Chapter
1 – Deputy Mayfield
I
