Friday, August 21, 2015

Scattered Showers

[WP] Gold at the ends of natural rainbows is real.

June 14, 2015

“A 10-00 has been spotted,” Sally said, her voice sounding tinny over the radio. She gave the location and static hissed as she disconnected.

I swore under my breath as I hit the button to turn on the blues, I had to swing a one-eighty to head towards Everitt’s Peak where the rainbow had been seen. I was on a hill and I could already see the traffic surging up the mountain. I grabbed the hand-set.

“325 Hanover, is anyone in the vicinity of Everett?” I asked. Last I knew, Henries was trying to scoff a burrito at Nickky’s Diner and Dominic was tied up with a domestic across town.

“Negative, 325. You’re the closest unit.”

“Fuck,” I said to myself. Pressing the handset button I acknowledged. I floored it and activated the siren.

I passed three accidents, radioing them in to rescue, but not bothering to stop. Two of the cars were empty and I could see the former occupants running down the road with their eyes on the rainbow that was bent over Everitt’s Peak.

One or two cars yielded to the lights and siren, but I had to PITT more than one, watching them career into the bushes. It made the newspapers happy whenever we ditched someone – they loved to talk about how we drive people off the road, but I had yet to see a reporter actually at the point of contact, so until that happened – or until Sarge decided I needed to cool it, the ditch it was. But I wasn’t the only one ditching cars. One car was on its roof, with someone pulling themselves out of the smoking wreck and walking on crooked legs up the hill.
I didn’t look too long. Had to focus.

Five minutes and I was at ground zero. Not bad, all things considered. I hit the release on my shotgun and exited the cruiser. There was at least one person ahead of me. The rain pattered softly in the dirt, and the smell of wet tarmac was sweet in my nostrils. I used to love the smell of rain, now it just reminded me of death.

The colors that touched the ground seemed to saturate everything they touched. Trees touched by the red, became crimson – root, branch and leaf. I found myself bathed in indigo, and it smelled of fresh breezes and lavender. I saw a woman ahead of me, sinking her hands into the cauldron. Next to her was the body of a teenage boy. The wound at his throat was ragged and still pulsed with blood.

“Hands in the air!” I called, my voice cracking across the silence.

She looked at me, her eyes wild, like an animal, and her lips peeled back from her teeth. But her hands never moved from the cool gold, smearing it in red.

“It’s mine!” she snarled.

“Drop it,” I said, my finger moving to the trigger. She lunged at me, and as the shotgun kicked in my arms the rain let up.

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