Something Wrong (Part II)

“Something’s here.”

“Can you see what it is, kid? Don’t be scared. We are locating you. We will reach there in no time. Now, tell me what it looks like.” Michelle followed her standard procedure, though she wanted to do something more. It was a little child on the other side, or at least she sounded like one. It could be one of those stupid nightmare calls, but something inside her refused to believe so. “I think it’s a lady, and she is, she is going to kill me.” The kid was breaking down now, and Michelle could not let that happen. No matter what, the child was not supposed to do anything that could turn out wrong-- grave wrong.

“Now, don’t cry. Just stay on the phone. Can the woman see you? Are you hiding? Just stay wherever you are. We are coming. I am coming.” Michelle heard the beep sound; the call was over. Now, it was up to her to spare that little child. At least this time, she got a more accurate location, 32nd Stratford Avenue, Collegeville, Pennsylvania; A 2 mile ride. At her maximum pace, she could get there within four or five minutes, and yet, it might not be enough.

Michelle shouldered her way through the doorway and sprinted down the stairs. She had to be quick. At the ground level, she halted to check if there was someone else neglected in the station other than her. The news of the rampageous Community Hall Strike had reached her a few hours ago, but she hoped at least one soul to be left-back in the station. The protest took a wild turn today; the campaign members had already crossed the farthest extremities of patience. They could not wait any longer in peace, they had to protest, they had to react, and that had left her all alone in the station the exact day when she desperately needed someone.

Her concern grew even higher to have found the parking lot void of any form of transportation. All the squad cars were gone; they did not even leave one out. Suddenly, she heard a booming voice from the direction of the protest ground; it was turning even more violent. She hoped everyone was alright up there. That’s when the thought struck her, where was Richard?

Richard Bowen was Michelle’s senior officer; he was always with her, right from the start. The previous week outrage in the campaign left Richard with a broken arm, and that implied he was somewhere in the station itself. All of a sudden, Richard emerged from the garage near the parking lot. He was a stout man in his mid-fifties, mostly bald, except for the silver hair on the sides, and now, he had a plastered arm. Michelle ran up to him. “Richard, we need a car, we need something, anything.”

Richard was stunned witnessing Michelle out of breath, panicking like never before. But still, he gave a decent explanation to her request, “They took all the cars. Red tried to kick newbie out of the mission, and the kid came to me. I felt pity for the boy. It was his first out. So, I let him take the new car.” He paused, “Where are you going now?”

Michelle had no time for an explanation, but it was her only way out. She described everything as prompt as she could, and Richard listened with patience, his demeanour stagnant throughout the description. “Wait, 32nd Stratford Ave?” Richard intervened for the first time. “Yes, the 32nd. Why? Is there a problem?” Michelle could not deduce what struck Richard about a specific address 2 miles distant from them.

“Mich, the 32nd Stratford Avenue is abandoned. No one’s in there."