The Nothing (2 page)

It was unclear to
Lacy how long she had been laying on the floor as her senses returned. Lacy slowly rose to her feet ready for battle. She was still unsteady when she saw Beth step toward her to punch her again. But this time, it was a very soft punch to the chest, which surprised Lacy.
That was a disappointing sissy punch. Thought the girl was strong
! Lacy watched as Beth backed away with a lost look in her eyes as if she was high. Lacy felt victory.
Oh yeah! Beth is just so damned amazed at how weak of a blow she had dealt, but not sure if she wanted to give another punch a try. She better not try because this one is the only one I will let slide. Hell I had it coming though
.
But I’m feeling back to normal. I will give her one chance to get her ass straight. If she doesn’t, then the hit I give her won’t be no sissy punch.

Several people still in the restaurant saw the knife in Beth’s hand and hurried to a far wall to get out of the way. “Yeah bitch that’s what happens. I trusted you, and then you messed with my man. Now you have paid for it bitch!” Lacy was lost as to why Beth had any feelings of victory since it was such a light punch. It couldn’t have been that simple. All she could do was stand there and see if Beth comes out of her stupid rant.
Come on, it was more of a tap than a fighting punch.
Lacy almost felt sorry for her not knowing she had just been stabbed in the chest with a steak knife.

A
stinging sensation started on the left side of Lacy’s chest followed by a feeling of warm water being poured down her shirt. Her thoughts slowly drifted to incoherence. As if in a dream state, she thought wet t-shirt contests were sleazy and looked around the room for the bastard who threw water on her. She then reached toward the table to grab a napkin. But suddenly, much like hitting the button on a TV remote and switching the channel, the napkin she was reaching for turned into the blades of a ceiling fan
. Funny, how did that fan get there? Where are the napkins?
Am I on the floor again?

An
overwhelming need to close her eyes filled her as her body felt heavy on the floor.
But only for a few seconds!
Lacy was comfortable, as if she was lying in her own bed; yet cold without her sheets. The desire to fall asleep grew with the seconds. It was an urge like hunger or thirst. She was lying on her back while facing the ceiling fan that had cooled her burger faster than she would have liked. Lacy shut her eyes still unaware that Beth had stabbed her, and that her heart was bleeding out through a hole in her chest.
I just need a few seconds to get my strength back and then I will kick that ass proper!

Lacy
died four minutes later.

One c
op

The silence on the r
adio today didn’t strike him as odd.
Seems like all the turds decided to take a lunch break
.
Eat your heart out motherfuckers!
Yet Bentley couldn’t help but to notice that people were driving more aggressively than usual. Back when he used to patrol the graveyard shift, he always saw aggressive driving, especially on Friday or Saturday nights. Stupid stunts fueled by competitive testosterone, or some kid trying to impress friends in his Dad’s truck. During dayshift, it was a different. No use of a turn signal to switch lanes or signaling a turn so that the driver behind them doesn’t ram into their rear end. Another was the impatient drivers running red lights while rushing to or from work. Or it was the crazy lunch.

Pure irresponsibility. Everyday someone gets a steering wheel planted in their face or a gets a sissy neck. Just because you think it was your turn and you wouldn’t let that other car get in front? Who do you think you are? Are you royalty, the Pope, or Santa Clause? Let it go if the mall Santa hugged you too much as a kid! Too many people willing to loose a couple of grand, or their life, in order to shave off a few seconds of drive time. YOU GET THERE WHEN YOU GET THERE, BE PATIENT AND ENJOY YOUR LIVES BITCHES!!! I bet Almeda’s is going to be packed today. That restaurant is a diamond ring in a sewer of shit. I really hate the area. Too much crime yet the potbellies from downtown come here day after day for Almeda’s famous greasy burgers. Hell, Maybe it’s just one of those days. I’ll keep my eyes open and alert in case tensions get worse. It’s funny though; usually people would be mindful of when a cop pulls next to them
.
But today, all these bastards happen to be making phone calls and texting. Not even looking up to see a cop driving next to them. Idiots are multiplying in large numbers today!

Like most cops, Bentley thinks that a law against cell phone use while driving is way ov
erdue. He has worked scenes covered in blood and charred metal due to someone on a cell phone while driving. But it seems that no one cares unless it happens to them.
Senseless death; was that text really that important? Was that text a life or death situation? Can’t you wait until you get where you are going before facefucking or facebooking or twatting? Oops, tweeting. You act like you might miss Jesus when he comes back!
Before there were cell phones, people had survived just fine. People had lives and made livings without any of this wireless crap. Life went smoothly.
It was better and quieter.

Bentley
didn’t want to get himself all pissy due to something that only politicians control, but he did anyway. He had a tendency to disappear into his head.
They’ll only write the bill when it’s one of their precious darlings mowed down by a someone driving while barking on a phone.

All in all, t
he daytime hustle and bustle of downtown Houston didn’t appeal to him. Yet it was part of his patrol area so he had to pass through occasionally. There was rarely a call for police from that area during his shift. Mostly it was a mix of white-collar types walking to get coffee, a sandwich, or having a smoke outside their office building. The 45 freeway elevated above, stretched from downtown to the booming midtown area. Though still littered with pockets of bad crime, midtown had a few nice developments popping up.
Hell, before we know it, this whole area will look like Beverly Hills!

“Son of a Bitch!”

The
tires screeched then rammed hard over the curb on the side of the street. Bentley immediately jumped out of his squad car and yelled, “I almost hit you! What the hell are you doing running out into the street like that?” The man with the dirty brown jumpsuit and a face hardened by life was breathing heavily. While raising an arm that seemed too heavy and pointing without aim, the old man managed to push out his words. “I ain’t never seen anything like that, and my phone ain’t working. Was trying to find someone to call 911.” The man was breathing so hard that Bentley though he was going to have to call an ambulance. Luckily the old man managed to continue. “There’s a girl killed over there; In Almeda’s.” He then bent towards the ground as if to puke, took another two deep breaths, coughed, and then spit a huge mound of creamy mucus on the ground. “I had to stop yer ass somehow. You wasn’t seein' me waving. Ain't no phone service. I had to get your attention.”

Bentley
turned his gaze in the direction of Almeda’s and saw an uneasy and growing crowd. He had been at scenes like this before. But it was usually a call from dispatch that sent him.
Bum dispatchers. Usually we get to the scene way before the crowds get this big.
Yet today, Bentley happened to be at the right place at the right time. Or so he hoped. The scene was like that of a rock concert. More and more people were joining the crowd. One lady walked around dressed in pajamas. Another held infants in each arms. Bentley estimated that there were around fifty people and growing. The old man stood steadily and said, “Must be the cell tower.” Bentley noticed some agitation in the crowed while others had their faces in the direction of the restaurant. Some were laughing and looked like they were having a good time.

A
ction in the neighborhood is always fun until it’s your kid bleeding on the ground
. Bentley sat back in his car to radio dispatch, give his location and request assistance. Then he would inquire as to whatever that man he almost hit with the car had been crying about.

“
GF44”

(Silence)

“GF44 to dispatch”

(Silence)

“This is GF44, reporting a possible 10-34, requesting additional units on scene”

(Silence)

“GF44, anyone there?”

(Silence)

At that moment it hit to him that there was no squelch or signal on the radio.
Dammit! Couldn’t be a
worst time for the radios to go down.
The city built that new multi-million dollar emergency facility with a dispatch center the size of a football field; not once had there ever been a malfunction and there was always a dispatcher that responded on the radio
.
Must be this stupid piece of shit radio!

Bentley
decided to take a closer look at what was going on inside. But the crowd wasn’t generous with their space in letting him through. Everyone seemed distracted; more than anything by their phones. They’d look at the restaurant and then say something to the next guy while holding out their phone. People commented that the S.O.S function on their phones should be working even it the phone wasn’t activated. It was a nice little safety feature required by law that allows calls to 911 in the event of an emergency.
Could we be in a dead zone? Can’t people survive for one minute without a damn cell phone?

Bentley
had a cell phone, but prefers the old days of stretching out on the back porch listening for the phone to ring through the screen door. It was easier to relax and be unreachable when you needed to distress. You could go for a walk and get away for a little bit. You weren’t faulted if you missed a call. People would naturally go on about their business or patiently wait for you to return their call.
Now that everyone has a cell phone, there is no excuse for a missed call. You can’t exactly claim to have been away from home or outside working in the yard. Everyone assumes you have your phone on your belt or purse at all times. In the old days when you weren’t at home, you didn’t worry about missing a call. It was life. If it were important, they would leave message on the answering machine. Or they would stop by and surprise you. People even drove better. Now days if you don’t answer a call, text, tweet, or Facebook post, you get a tongue-lashing. Or even worse, you would be un-friended!

A
tense vibe around Almeda’s was troubling. Bentley couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Almost a sixth sense where something in your gut tells you to have your eyes and ears more open than usual. When he finally made it to the front window, he saw an attractive young woman inside walking erratically in circles. Her eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular. She would pace around a few tables, look around, and then walk back. Bentley assumed she was involved in the incident but wasn’t sure.

Hmm,
rather attractive to say the least. Is she lost? Another drugged out college student? So many pretty ones go down the drain for the sake of impressing sorority sisters and guys by having that hit. The cute boy handing you the little white pill would reassure you, ‘Don’t worry, it will help you relax and not think about studying!’ This one looks a few years older than college age though, but hell I didn’t get my degree till I was 28! Uh oh, now I see the dead girl. I sure need this radio to work!

Several
streams of blood flowing from the dead girl’s chest made him nervous. Usually there was the comfort of backup units. Also, the crowd was beginning to notice Bentley was alone. When Bentley observed four other patrons through the window huddled against a far wall, he immediately figured them to be hostages. The pacing woman kept glancing towards them every few seconds which caused them to shudder and clutch each other closer. Bentley pulled out his cell phone. A red circle with a line through it sat where the five green bars should have been. It was an old fashioned flip phone, not the fancy touch screens that everyone else has. Since his phone only does calls and texts, Bentley had hoped that it would somehow still be working. That maybe some Wi-Fi, 4g, LTE or cellular something was malfunctioning on the fancy smartphones, but not the regular ones. Bentley’s hand held radio was still dead when he tried it again. And for a moment he was thinking how it really sucks that an operation, as big as the Houston Police Department, uses the lowest bidder route when it comes to equipment. “Piece of shit, fucking radio.” He felt like he had said that too loud, but apparently no one around him even noticed. Circumstances, such as this, were something that he did not like at all. It has never happened like this before. Always other cops around to have your back. If Bentley is going to help anyone, he would have to go inside alone.

This is
such a bad idea, but what am I suppose to do? They never taught us in the academy how to handle a situation when communications are severed. I can’t walk away from this, especially with a crazy woman hovering around four innocent civilians, and a dead body ten feet away. It would be all over the news:

‘Cop abandons innocent civilians to die at the hands of a killer!’

It went against his better judgment to go in alone. The radio was dead and the crowd was growing bigger by the minute. But Bentley didn’t want more carnage on his watch. Plus he noticed a few more people in the crowd that didn’t look like the types you would see in church or at your mother’s dinner party. Several members of a local gang called the Crown of Thorns were coming to see what was going on. It was now time to decide if he was going in or not. Bentley decided to not decide, to not think and just do it. And as he walked inside the front door to Almeda’s, he faintly heard someone back in the crowd yell, “Pig better not go crazy and started shooting motherfuckers.” Bentley hated being called a pig. Sparse laughter followed the comment.
Probably spent time in the backseat of a squad car and in jail as somebody’s bitch.

More negative comments
flowed from the crowd as he walked inside. He couldn’t make out much of what was being said over the noise. It still sent chills up Bentley’s spine.
This is getting too close to the line. A line that a cop should never cross.
Mary would kill me if she knew I was doing this.
When he closed the front door behind him, the tasty aroma of Almeda’s famous burgers and fries flooded his nostrils.

Right away
Beth saw Bentley and yelled, “What the fuck? Who called you? She attacked me, I was defending myself, and you don’t need to be here. You back away cop or I will use this knife to defend myself…again!” Bentley held his hands up in a gesture of peace, hoping it would help her relax. “Whoa Madam, take it easy now. Put the knife on the ground and calm yourself. Please, lets just sit down and talk.” Beth didn’t seem to hear him
.
It didn’t help his confidence, that when he had looked at his cell phone again, there still wasn’t a signal. Suddenly Beth stepped aggressively towards Bentley. He instinctively drew his gun and pointed it at her chest. Luckily she stopped in the small nick of time before he would have put a bullet in her. Bentley was actually proud that he was able to have that level of restraint. And also relieved because the Glock he carries on duty has a sensitive hair trigger. Beth stood steady like a statue, but quickly grew belligerent. “Hey asshole; you better get out of here. I didn’t do anything wrong. I need to go home. I didn’t nothing wrong so you better not come near me or touch me. I have my rights. I want to go home. There is no problem here, really. When I catch my breath, I will get in my car and go home. You don’t have to do anything.”

Bentley realized
this wasn’t going to be smooth. Having back up or a partner a few seconds away had always given him the ease to feel confident approaching any situation. Another push on his hand radio’s talk button revealed no improvement. Another look at his cell phone brought tightness to his chest. A glance out of the window revealed a larger crowd, but no back up or any cops in sight.
What to do, what to do? Think dammit think!