500 Word Short Story
“They say a picture is worth a thousand words.”
Biggs continued to admire the photo of his German Shepherd. “Sandy would have been twelve today. Just look at that face. I tell you what, that dog could talk without saying a word. Look at those eyes. What an expression...”
“Enough!, enough already! I'm so damn tired of hearing about that dog I could puke.” Johnny Martin was Larry Biggs' partner. They'd been patrolling the South district together for the past two months. They worked the night patrol.
The South District at night was a hell hole. Hookers, junkies, dealers and gang bangers all jostling for a piece of concrete turf. It was smack dab in the middle of a mid-August heat wave. Hot and sticky even at one in the morning. The heat brought out the worst in people. Tempers flared. Guns and knives were drawn at the slightest provocation. People died for nothing more than a terse word or a dirty look.
Tonight was no different.
Biggs closed the visor where Sandy's photo hung. “Sorry Johnny, Sandy patrolled with me for close to ten years.”
“You never did tell me what happened to her,” quizzed Martin.
“Sure you want to hear?”
“Ya ya, go ahead. I'll be good.”
“Sandy was my patrol partner. Like I said, we were together for close to ten years. She saved my butt and I saved hers as well. We were a damn good team. One night we got a call. A shooting on Flanders Ave., not too far from here. When we arrived there was still trouble lurking. I called for backup. Sandy and I got out to question a couple of hoods still hangin' around. One of them pulled a gun and Sandy went for him. He shot her and took off running. I let him go and took care of Sandy. She died in my arms.”
“Wow, sorry to hear that, Biggs. Did you catch the guy?”
“Not yet. I know who he is and where he hangs out. We drive through the area every night. He'll show up. When he does, he'll wish he hadn't.”
Several weeks went by. Biggs and Martin were driving through the area where Sandy was shot. Suddenly, Biggs hit the brakes. “Well I'll be damned. There he is. The kid in the red hoodie. The Sandy killer.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Biggs hit the gas and screeched to a halt right next to him. Both men jumped out and the kid took off. Biggs was hot on his trail. Martin jumped behind the wheel and gave chase. The two ran down an alley and Martin pulled in. It was a dead end. Biggs had the kid trapped. His baton was drawn. Martin jumped out and Biggs ordered him back into the car.
“Don't do anything stupid, Biggs.” Martin shouted.
“He murdered my partner, paybacks are hell,” replied Biggs. “Don't worry, he'll live.”
© Copyright 2018 by Scott A. Gese All Rights Reserved.