Death of a Memory

Death of a Memory

By Stephen Donnelly

“You need to slow the hell down. He isn’t going to go anywhere,” my co-pilot, Denny, said to me. His knuckles white on whatever parts of the car he can get a grip on as I round a corner. My siren blaring and my cherry topper flashing the red warning to everyone else that there is danger nearby. That danger was me.

“I know he isn’t going anywhere. I just want to be the one to make the arrest.” I could see in the mirror behind me there was another siren rushing up behind trying to close the distance. It was probably Richie. He is a trust fund kid that wanted to prove to the world that things weren’t handed to him. He has some skill but he was reckless with other people’s lives. And I wasn’t going to be out done by him.

Still having full concentration on the road weaving through the few neglectful drivers on this double-lane highway I continued, “Besides I am not going to let some punk kid make the arrest for my hard work. I mean the guy is a double rape and triple homicide. In the past month. Let alone whatever else I can stick to him to put monsters like him away forever. Just have to make sure the evidence matches up.”

“Damn, Frank, I never understood why you had such a hard-on against everyone else.” I couldn’t tell if he was turning green or white in the flashing street lights through the window. He was definitely not a color people should be.

I slid the car around the corner of Spring Garden St. so I could cut across to Ridge Ave. That’ll take me right to the target with lighter traffic. “Do you not have a sense of justice?” I replied as the wheels of my nineteen seventy-two Pontiac Grand Prix screamed the banshee’s orchestra that I loved to hear.

“But framing a man for other crimes to put him away longer and clear your desk is hardly justice.” Normally he would try to look sly but I liked to torture him with his motion sickness.

“It isn’t double jeopardy when I find the guy who really committed the crime.” Making that final turn rushing toward the suspect. The following lights kept going through the intersection. There was construction down the other way which would slow him down. I started to let off the gas.

“Finally you slow down. But don’t think this conversation is over.” He said as he pulled out his Smith and Wesson Model Ten. Snubbed to make it easier to conceal. I preferred my Colt 1911. Common and reliable with great stopping power.

I had the gun in hand while I pulled the parking brake, sliding into multiple parking spots. Kicking the door of the car open, I got out and started rushing the door. I pulled a pair of cuffs from my belt in my off-hand while running up to the door, propping myself against the side of it. Denny hit the other side of the door.

I knocked on the top of the door near the hinges to get the most noise out of it. I wanted to give him a chance. The thrill of the hunt is why I took this job. “Police! We have a warrant for your arrest.”

I didn’t wait before kicking the outside knob off the door, splintering most of the wood around the frame. Almost before my foot hit the ground there was a loud crack from inside that sent a shower of hot lead through, compromising the rest of the door.

“You ain’t takin’ me alive!” He exclaimed from inside. Why do they always say that?

“That wasn’t part of the plan, scumbag.” Pushing the door in, I blindly fired three rounds into the darkness while Denny fired two more from his side. I could hear the whimper of a small man inside through the ringing in my ears. I’m starting to get too old for this and these guns are going to take my hearing. If they don’t take my life first. The old live-by, die-by adage.

I put a hand up to make sure my partner wouldn’t move in right after me while I went in to make sure it was clear for everyone else to move in. Gun at the ready, but missing three of the seven rounds. Glancing over the room it looked like it had been robbed. Or that it was part of a meth den or two that I used to bust in Vice. There was a table with a few holes through it tipped over. I approached it slowly, gun at the ready.

“I want to see some empty hands, buddy.” The off-hand was holding the colt steady and the rings of the cuffs at the ready.

He responded with only whimpers and a spurtle of blood. I rolled him over and slapped some cuffs on him. I yelled out to Denny. “Clear! I am going to check the up-stairs!” Denny came in with a couple of Blues as I started up the stairs.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I could see an unusually bright light in one of the rooms down the hall. Gun still ready, I nuzzled the door open to reveal an oddly white tiled area and bright lighting that made the ends of the room just disappear. The blinding light made me close my eyes. I can only smell cleaning chemicals and the sterile smell of an operating table.

I tried to cover my eyes but my hands were by my side in leather cuffs. My clothes. When did I put on faded green scrubs? I couldn’t move. My breathing became labored and I didn’t realize there was so much cotton and a strap over my mouth. I couldn’t move. A doctor standing over me - with an ice pick, pulling it away from my eye. Where did my drive go? What’s going on?

Another nurse walked up to the side of me. It shocked me to realize I was just laying down. She leaned in and said, “Now that your lobotomy is done would you like chocolate cake? Or would you prefer the banana pudding?”

The doctor that was taking off his glove snortled and said to her, “He is nothing more than a dumb child now. He doesn’t need a choice in the matter. Just give him something. We took away all his passions. Even his violent ones.”

“I still like to treat them like people.” She said back with a little sadness in her tone. You could tell she cared.

“They aren’t people.” He was short with her. If I could stand I would have knocked him down a few pegs. I couldn’t even wiggle my arms. “It should be safe to take the braces off.” I could hear the doctor walking out of the room.

The nurse mumbled to herself. It sounded like she was talking to me. “I’ll feed you the cake. It is my favorite.” I didn’t know what was going on. I needed to play along until I got more clues as to what was going on.