Another Quiet Day

by Keith Shackleton © 2003

"Well, well, if it isn't Officer Barret."

Jersey Barret grinned at Ravonne as he stepped into her diner.

"Double-double?" asked Ravonne. She moved toward the coffee pot on the warmer.

"Too hot for coffee," said Jersey. "Just a tall glass of water, please." He sat down at one of the counter stools and looked at the glass of water in front of him.

"Surely is that," said Ravonne. "Hotter than I can remember." She leaned down on the counter and smiled at Jersey. "You busy today?"

Jersey shook his head. "Nah," he said. "Ain't no one out in this heat." Jersey scratched the stubble on his chin. "Two days now and not one speeder. Sergeant's gonna chew my ass off for sure."

"Maybe the mayor'll drop the speed limit to twenty," said Ravonne.

"Maybe," said Jersey. He shrugged and looked at the glass of water. "I heard he tried to get a piece of the highway, but the state troopers won't give it up. Town needs the revenue. Don't know what we're gonna do if things don't pick up."

"Sure is quiet," said Ravonne. "It was nice at first, after they moved the highway and all the strangers stopped coming, but this is too much."

Jersey nodded his head. "Sure enough," he said. Jersey looked again at the glass of water. "Heard the department may fold," he said. "Been a Barret on the police force in Tucker since the town was formed." He scratched his chin again.

"Tough times," said Ravonne.

"Bang!" said a young voice at Jersey's side. "Bang. You sleep now."

"Now Aaron," said Ravonne at the eight year old boy. "You leave Officer Barret alone."

"He's alright," said Barret. "How's your mom doing, Aaron?"

"She's asleep," said Aaron. "Shot her with my sleep gun." He held up his small fist with the index finger pointed out and the thumb pointed up in the classic shape of a pistol.

"Sleep gun, eh?" said Jersey. "Work good for you?"

"Yeah," said Aaron. "Until I shot you." He looked at his finger suspiciously, then pointed it at Jersey again. "Bang!"

"Run along home, scamp," said Barret. "And say hi to your mom for me."

"I told you, she's asleep," said Aaron as he dashed out the diner door.

"Cute kid," said Jersey.

"Uh huh," said Ravonne. "His mom's okay too."

Jesey smiled and blushed slightly. "Can't deny that," he said.

Jersey looked again at the glass of water.

"What's that?" asked Ravonne.

Jersey followed her stare and turned to look outside. A white panel van had pulled up and stopped in the middle of the street.

"They can't do that," said Barret. "What are they thinking?"

"Looks like you get to write your ticket," said Ravonne. "Maybe that'll keep your sergeant happy."

Jersey stood up and straightened his hat when someone jumped out of the passenger side of the van. "What the Hell?" said Jersey quietly.

"Look at him," said Ravonne. "Is he an astronaut?"

"Nah," said Jersey. "He looks like Dustin Hoffman in that movie." He turned to look at Ravonne. "You know the one? About the virus?"

"Outbreak?" asked Ravonne.

"That's it," said Jersey. "He's wearing one of them biological suits." He looked out at the van again. The driver had also stepped out and was talking to the passenger. Both were dressed in the same protective clothing.

"Best find out what's going on," said Jersey. He started toward the door.

"Be careful," said Ravonne. "This don't look right."

"They're the one's who should be careful," said Barret. "This is my town."

He stepped out of the diner into the heat. Jersey could hear Aaron shooting his 'sleeping gun' and glanced up the street at him. Aaron was jumping around, shooting empty patches of road. "Crazy kid," he muttered.

The two men from the van had not moved. They were looking up and down the street. One was taking notes.

"Excuse me," said Jersey, walking purposefully toward them. "You can't park your van there."

"Just bad luck to be downwind of the tracks when the wreck happened," said one of the men to the other. "If it were blowing the other way probably would have been Ashleighville that got hit and Tucker would be fine." He tapped his notepad with his pencil. "Oh well, no sense putting it off. Lets look for survivors."

"Excuse me!" said Jersey, more forcibly. "I'm talking to you."

"What do you think the chances are?" asked the second man.

The first man shook his head. "Zero. Still, we have to look."

Jersey stared at the two men and wondered what they were talking about? He reached out to grab the arm of the one with the notepad, but his hand went right through the man's arm.

"Which way you want to go?" asked the man with the notepad.

"Doesn't matter," said his partner. "I'll head toward downtown."

"Okay," said the first man. "And remember: don't take off your suit for any reason. The spill may be cleaned up but we don't know if any of the VX agent is left. It can stick around for a long time."

"I know, I know," said his partner. "O-ethyl S-diisopropylaminomethyl methylphosphonothiolate is some nasty shit."

"You finally got it right," said the first man. "'Bout time, too."

Jersey blinked, shook his head, and rubbed his eyes, and everything came into focus.

Corpses littered the street of his tidy little town. They were a couple days old and the heat had not been kind to them.

His own patrol car was still parked in his favorite spot; behind the bushes by Ravonne's diner. He was still in the driver's seat, but his head hung down strangely. His radar gun had fallen to the ground beside the driver's door.

"Bang!" Jersey heard Aaron again looked up the street. Aaron happily shot a dead, bloated body, then jumped over it and ran to the next one. He looked over at Jersey and waved happily, before running up to one of the men from the panel van and shooting him as well.

The man kept walking, unable to notice Aaron.

x x x




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