Racist

Racist

1 Shooter

Paul had planned this attack for several months.  His friends on the force had shared stories about the new black female detective.  It pissed him off that she had earned the name “Cincinnati’s Black Annie Oakley.”  The fact that she had also earned the respect of his longtime friend on the force made him even madder.

He learned that she had now shot and killed more “bad guys” then all the police department.

She was thought of as a phenom!

He wanted to think of her as dead.

He had no idea why he had decided to take her out, he had put a good deal of thought on how to do it and how to not get caught.

He spent a good amount of time in learning her movements.

The fact that she rode her bike into work and back to her apartment each day led to his plan of shooting her as she rode into work.

From the group of acquaintances and friends, he recruited a driver and a shooter.

He then sat with them in the getaway car and watched their target ride by them for several weeks.

He would have loved to do the shooting, but he wanted to make sure that he would be able to deny any association with the shooting.

The shooter and the driver would use a sanitized old pickup truck that he had painted a bright solid blue for the shooting.

Sanitized meant all serial numbers on every part on the truck had been ground off.  He had personally dismantled, ground off any serial numbers and rebuilt the truck.  He figured no one would ever be able to link the truck or any part on the truck to any manufacturer and certainly not to him.

His buddies would abandon the truck a few blocks from the shooting and transfer into the car they were currently sitting in.

The shooters were passionate racists and voiced their gratitude for having been selected to take her out.  The driver was pleased to have been selected.  Neither cared that she had not done anything to them or their friends.

She was black and in a position of authority.

That was enough.

Paul set up a camera on the top of the truck cab to take in the shooting.  This would give him a shooters view of the encounter, and he figured it would be highlighted by the bullet riddled body of his target.

He was looking forward to watching the shooting happen.

He planned to park nearby and personally watch the event.  He would be on foot and appear to be a pedestrian.  After the shooting, he would have breakfast at a nearby diner and then leave the downtown later in the morning.

It was a perfect setup.

He had invited his two accomplices to a late celebratory lunch after the shooting.

He figured that they would have a few beers and celebrate their accomplishment.

He parked his car in a parking area a few blocks from the shooting site.  He walked slowly along and then stood at the intersection a block away from where the action would take place.

He was enjoying the early morning sunrise.  He hoped he looked like an early morning riser on the way to breakfast.  He could see the pickup, but Jeff and John were not visible.

He hoped they were as ready as he was.

In her apartment, the morning light played on her eyelids pulling Alex forcefully from her dream.  She had been running through the woods trying to avoid the thugs chasing her and Matt through the woods.

Every time she thought she had succeeded a red laser bead would appear somewhere on her body and she zigged in a new direction.

This she knew was a nightmare.  It was a nightmare because she had no control and could not manipulate its outcome.

Her abrupt awakening had her breathing hard, and she was sweaty.  She walked into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the shower.  She threw her damp night clothes into the hamper and stepped into the steamy shower and let the water flow through her hair as she stood and absorbed the heat.

She hated to wake up in this manner.

Her senses were on edge.

She recalled the most recent action that she had experienced and tried to get the premonition of trouble out of her mind.

She told herself to take it easy.  She had just recently been reinstated and had not yet picked up a new assignment.

She had been doing routine work for the last several weeks.  The Chief had intentionally been keeping her workload light.

She and Trey had gone through a tough experience in their last case and were happy to take it easy.

Trey had nearly been beaten to death, and she had faced a battle with two helicopter gunships sent by a key Drug Lord.

They were both celebrating their survival.

She appreciated the lull in the work assignment but both she and Trey were ready for regular duty.

It seemed that regular duty for them was never regular but hyperactive.

She wondered what the next assignment would entail.

She turned off the shower and dried off, got dressed into her cycling clothes and walked into the kitchen.

As always, she would ride her bike to work.  She had several routes that she randomly chose to ride on the way to and from work.  She took her bike down from the rack that she had hung it up on and quickly checked it out before pushing it to the elevator.

Once out on the sidewalk she decided on the route she would ride to work.  Her cautious approach was because she did not want to give any adversaries the advantage by being too routine in her actions.

She put her backpack on her back and her water bottle in its holder.  Her black heavy-duty helmet matched her bike in its sleek appearance.  It was a special helmet recommended by her bicycle shop owner for its durability and its high impact protection.

This morning, she noted one early morning person standing on the corner as she rode toward the library.  She was moving smoothly along when something hit her and knocked her of her bike.

She heard the shot immediately afterwards.

She hit the ground and let her elbow pad absorb the impact as she rolled over and behind the car parked in the street in from of the library entrance.

She immediately move up on the sidewalk and to the rear wheel of the vehicle.

The sound of a second shot put her into her defense mode.

She leaned tightly against the car.

The shooting now took on what seemed to be a continuous, machine gun like firing.

She managed to get her revolver out of her backpack.

She was hugging the side of the car, at its back wheel.  She reached down and adjusted the spinning hub cap so that it closed the area around her thighs.  She could feel where the bullets were bending the metal of the car out towards her.

She hoped the car would continue to provide her the protection she needed.  She lost count of the number of dents that she could feel up and down her body.  She wondered how many shots had been fired.  The rear tire had taken several hits and the tire was flat.

The shooting seemed to go on forever.  She wondered how many were doing the shooting.  She moved her gun to her left hand.  It would be the hand that would be the most versatile to shoot with at those doing the shooting as they drove by.

She waited until the truck went slowly by.

The shooting continued.

She glanced through the car and saw that the truck was about to turn the corner, and the single shooter was off balance.

She stood up and took two shots at the shooter.

As he fell, she put two more shots through the back window of the pickup.

She then ran out from behind the car toward the blue pickup.

The pickup swerved as it turned the corner, hit a parked car, and rolled over.

She took the time to reload her gun and then cautiously walked toward the pickup.

As she was walking toward the pickup police cars, sirens blasting and lights flashing seemed to come in from all sides.

She held up her badge and walked to where the shooter was down on the street.  She kicked the rifle a few more feet away and then walked to the pickup to check on the driver.

She then put her gun on the ground and put her hands up in the air but held her shield up so that the approaching officers could see it.

She almost gave a chuckle when one of the officers shouted out “It’s our Annie Oakley.”  She would have to tell Matt who had given her that moniker that it had come full circle and was now how she was recognized.

She followed one of the policemen to the emergency vehicle.  It turned out that Matt was one of the EMT members.  He asked if she was hit.

When he took off her helmet, he let out a whistle and pointed to the hole that went in just above the forehead and then at exit point that had blown off most of the back of the helmet.

She took the helmet in her hand and walked to where her bike was still in the street.  The pickup had run over the front wheel.  She pulled the bike up on the sidewalk.  She set the helmet and backpack behind the bike.

The condition of her bike and helmet made her mad.

Then she returned to the street to take in all the bullet holes in the side of the car.

She put her hand on the car and thanked it for giving up its life to save her.

The Chief and Trey arrived together in the Chief’s car.  The Chief had a brief discussion with the senior policeman in charge and then walked to where she was sitting on the library wall along the hedge that was at the entrance.

When he asked if she was alright, Alex handed him her helmet and responded that it was her lucky day, and she planned to buy a lottery ticket.

The Chief handed the helmet to Trey who looked at it and handed it back to her.  He asked her to buy him a lottery ticket as well.

She smiled.  She and Trey had been through so much together that she could sense his uneasiness at the three of them being in the open.

She stood up and led the way back into the street to look at the side of the car.  It looked as if there was a bullet hole in every square inch of the side.  She then walked back around to the sidewalk side of the car and counted the number of bumps that would have been bullets that would have hit her had they made it through.

She took in the fact that the rotating hub cap would never rotate again because several of the fins were bent outward.  They had stopped several bullets.  She would forever think about rotating hub caps as friends.

She looked at Trey and commented that she thought they should outfit their assigned vehicle with rotating hub caps and that she planned to buy a half dozen lottery tickets.

The Chief came back and told them that they were going to go back to the office.  Her bike would be brought to the station, and she would be debriefed there.

She nodded and picked up her backpack.  She then pointed to a hole that had gone into and ripped out a huge hole as it exited.  She opened her backpack and groaned.

Her new laptop had a crease along its length.

She placed her helmet behind her bike and her backpack next to her helmet.  They would all need to be processed before she could get any of them back.

Paul had watched in stunned silence as the shooting scene unfolded in slow motion.  The first two shots hit their target, but he watched as she rolled, reached into her backpack, and crouched hugging the side of the car.  Jeff was shooting in an almost continuous manner as the bump stock turned his AR-15 into a machine gun.

The pickup slowly approached the car, and the shooting was continuous.

Then he was amazed as the target stood up and fired four shots as the pickup took the corner.  She hit her mark on each shot.  Then the pickup rolled on its side.

Four shots and it seemed that both Jeff and John were either dead or incapacitated.  For his sake he hoped they were dead.

He could not believe that anyone could shoot like that.  He had not known she was left-handed.

He changed his plans and decided to get to the getaway car and drive it away.

He had under rated his opponent.  She was more capable than he had given her credit.

In fact, Paul didn’t know many critical things about the person that he singled out to kill.

To his own detriment he had erroneously selected the deadliest enemy possible.

He thought he would lay low for the near future, but he did not realize there was no place to go to and lay low.

2 Library

Johnnie was sipping on a cup of coffee, reading the morning paper.  He had his police monitor on.  He followed the dispatch calls but seldom had any reason to focus on the chatter that transpired between the dispatcher and the various units that were patrolling the city.

Thanks to Alex he was currently enjoying the best time in his life.  He had survived Vietnam only to become an outcast on his return.  The treatment he had received on his return had saddened and later made him somewhat bitter.

The younger population were derisive of his involvement, and the older population just followed their old habits of looking at his skin color and discriminating.

It was a lose-lose situation for him.

Alex had changed the downward trajectory of the path he had been traveling to an upward one.

He was now an official computer investigator for her and her department.

He also held a full-time position as the apartment manager in the apartment building he and Alex both occupied.

The apartment owners liked his work, and he was now on the first floor in a newly renovated single room apartment.

She was in a sixth floor two-bedroom corner unit.  It was one of the best units in the building.  Her fourth-floor unit had been literally blown up by the angry mother of the hoodlum that Alex had shot and killed.

That was the hoodlum that had tried to kill him.

When Trey had been incapacitated on the last case, he had stepped in to be her partner.

It had given him a firsthand look at the type of honest, forthright person that she was.

It had also opened his eyes to her unwavering belief in being fair but taking the action that was required.

She left a trail of bodies of those that had chosen wrong.

Her swift actions had saved both of their butts.

When the dispatchers’ voice changed and called out that shots had been fired, Johnnie put down his paper and leaned toward the radio as if it would improve his hearing.

The location and the time of day made Johnnie stand up.

He knew almost immediately that Alex was involved.

It was almost at the exact spot where he had first flagged her down on their first meeting.  He did not wait for any more information but grabbed his cap and his identification and headed out the door.

He jogged toward the library.

He saw all the flashing lights and the EMT vehicle parked in the street by the library.

His heart was racing as fast as his legs were moving.  He hoped any heart attack would wait.

He pulled out his badge as he approached the taped off perimeter.  The officer on the walk was about to turn him down when Matt called out that he was with him.

He walked over toward Matt.

He saw the bike on the sidewalk with the front wheel smashed.  Behind it was the damaged helmet.  Next to it was a badly damaged backpack.

He looked at Matt before asking about Alex.  Matt looked at him and said that Alex was fine and had been escorted by the Chief and Trey back to the station.

Johnnie sat down on the rear EMT vehicle bumper.  He was out of breath but now able to relax and take in the rest of scene.

After a moment he asked for some gloves and then walked over to the car that was being examined.  He looked on in amazement at the number of holes that covered the side.

He then walked over to where the blue truck still lay on its side.  The body was still on the street where the coroner and his team were examining it and getting ready to bag it.

The coroner looked up and greeted him.

He commented that Alex was a deadly shooter that seldom missed.  He speculated that she had wasted her second shot to the shooter.  The first shot had done its job.

He pointed to the pickup and commented that he was pulling the second body out in a moment.  He shared that he had overheard several of the police comment that it was a clean pickup with no identifying marks.

Johnnie walked over to an officer that was standing behind the pickup.  He introduced himself as Alex’s personal scene investigator.

He had no clue what his official title might be, but he smiled to himself when the officer seemed about to salute him.

He wanted to laugh at the immediate and helpful response he got.  He would have to let Alex know of her strong influence with the police force.

The policeman said he could not believe anyone could survive being shot off her bicycle, take over a hundred incoming rounds and then take out the shooter and the driver with only four shots.

“Superwoman,” is what he said everyone should call her.

Johnnie said that he agreed.

The he looked at Johnnie and waved him toward the truck.

Thank you for reading this far – Hope you enjoyed it.

Racist

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