United States Of Apocalypse (3 page)

“
Y
ou all right
?” Tynes had propped Mike up against a wall, clapping one hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling over.

“You fucking tased me, man.” Mike looked accusingly at the cop.

“Would you rather I shot you?”

“Would have been able to escape; no way your sausage fingers fit through that trigger guard.”

“Give me your hands so I can cuff you.” Tynes said nothing as he looked at the scarred hands Mike thrust out in front of him. When he was done, he yanked on Mike, who was unable to stand.

“Give me a minute, man.”

“Fine, let’s do this your way.” Tynes wrapped a meaty hand under Mike’s shoulder and pulled him up effortlessly. Mike’s legs dragged uselessly behind him. He was, as of yet, unable to control them with any great degree of success.

“Come on, you’re going to drag me all the way back to your cruiser like this? Just put me down and get the car. I promise I’ll wait.”

“Yeah, like I believe you.”

“I’m cuffed, and my legs feel like they’re asleep. How far do you think I’m going to get?”

“I leave you alone in this condition, how long do you think it’ll take the jackals, especially in this neighborhood, to roll you?”

“Who’s being racist now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Mike. I had to chase your ass all over the damn city. Now I have to drag your ass back. I am not a happy man.”

“Is it because you can’t pump the blood high enough to oxygenate that giant melon of yours?”

Tynes shook Mike a couple of times just for effect.

“I had a pretty decent beat until your honky ass showed up. Sure, I had my troublemakers, but I don’t know, I guess they just weren’t as resilient as you. No matter how many times I try to uproot you, you keep coming back. Like a fucking weed on my prized lawn.”

“You’re a cop; you don’t have a lawn. Not in the city. Not unless you take a little on the side. Is that what this is all about? I’m not giving you your little piece of pie?”

“Yeah, I can’t even begin to decide what I would do with ten percent of your take. Shit, two dollars and twenty cents. I could get a half-cup of coffee.”

“Who said anything about ten percent? More like three. That’s the going rate for corrupt cops.”

Tynes smacked Mike in the back of the head hard enough that his teeth clacked together.

“Hey, someone pull out their fucking phone and film this shit, will you! A cop is beating me in broad daylight!”

People streamed by on their own way. Off to work, some to home, others to illicit affairs and wrongdoings. And like most New Yorkers, none made more than a cursory glance at the policeman and his prisoner.

“You’ve been here long enough to know that no one gives a shit, Mike.”

A street vendor was just opening up his stall on the corner of Forty-Second and Broadway. Lights blazed from forty-foot displays hawking everything from video games to soda.

“Hey man, want a drink? I’m dying of thirst. I’ll buy, it’s the least I can do. The money is in my front left pocket.”

Tynes hadn’t realized it until Mike said something, but right this very moment, his mouth felt like the Sahara desert during a sandstorm.

“This a trick?”

“Yeah, I have a mousetrap in my pocket. What the hell, man?”

“Any needles?”

“Weren’t you supposed to frisk me when you cheated and shot me?”

“I did while your teeth were still chattering and you were doing the worm, but I want to make sure.”

“No hard drugs here, man. I like the occasional joint and beer, but that’s it. Come on, grab the money and get us some drinks. I’ve got that taste in my mouth like I licked the prongs of a nine-volt battery and left it there.”

“Done that often?”

Mike shrugged.

Tynes grabbed the money. “This is a loan. I left my wallet in my car.”

“Sure, sure. I’ve said that on dates before. Works like a charm.”

“This isn’t a date.”

“Then why is your hand in my pants?”

Tynes quickly withdrew with a wadded up twenty. “I don’t like you very much.”

Mike looked down the street wondering if he could beat feet. The judge had told him if he graced the floor of his courtroom again, he would be spending some time as a guest of the city.

“I see what you see, so don’t even bother.” Tynes roughly grabbed Mike’s shoulder and drove him into the front of the cart.

“Hey man, is this how you treat all your dates?”

“Shut up. Two waters, please.” The cop had turned to the cart attendant. The man, like most of the vendors throughout the city, was of Middle Eastern descent. Nothing new there, but Tynes got an uneasy feeling from how many times the man looked at his watch as the transaction happened.

“Waiting for something, buddy?” Tynes asked, fishing for answers.

“Go now,” the man said brusquely.

“Wow, he doesn’t like you either. You ever think about working on your disposition?”

“Shut up, Mike,” Tynes said as he pulled him away.

“Um…how about some water?”

“Something’s wrong here. Did you see that man? He was nervous, and he kept looking at his watch.”

“Officer Tynes, I hate to tell you this, but you’re a pretty intimidating looking guy.”

“It’s more than that. The only people afraid of cops are the guilty.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. That’s just your jaded view of the world. You guys think everyone is guilty, and you give off that vibe. Can you stop dragging me around and give me a drink?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he said, though the majority of his attention was still on the cart vendor, who was now on a cell phone, still checking his watch.

Mike looked to see what the cop was looking at. “Tell you what, just let me go, and then you can harass him in peace.”

“Fat chance.”

“Come on, Officer, I’m going to get time for this.”

“About time, too. Your shifty lawyer has been getting your ass off the hook far too often.”

“He’s court appointed, and I don’t think Jerry Flendon is what you’d call a top-notch defense attorney. Tough to trust a man who can’t even remember your name. Do you know one time he advised me to start drooling so I could get a plea of insanity for my “murder” charge? Shit! I was actually in there for selling hot phones. How the hell did I know the phones were hot?”

“Maybe a little time will do you right. And don’t give me that crap. Benny the Loon hands you a crate of iPhones and tells you to sell them for fifty bucks a pop and you don’t see a problem?”

“I saw an opportunity.”

“Well, now you get to see bars.”

“Come on man, I’m too pretty for jail.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you did all the stupid shit you did.”

Mike got serious. “I’m just trying to survive, man. Place to stay, something to eat. That’s all I’m trying to do. I don’t hurt no one. I sold those phones to folks who probably couldn’t afford them normally, and I take small bets. Wow, it’s a good thing you got me off the streets; the world’s a safer place.”

“I don’t make the laws, Mike. Personally, I don’t give a shit about the phones or the betting. Hell, I’ve done some myself. The law is the law. You seem smarter than your average criminal. Use the time in lockup, get some education, read a little. It won’t be hard time; Rikers has some quality programs if you get involved. Maybe get back in touch with your family. They miss you.”

“How the hell do you know what my folks think?”

“You’re on my case load. I’ve been keeping in touch with them to see if you’ve checked in or not. They’re concerned.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Even my mother?”

There was a pregnant pause as Officer Tynes thought about it. “Well, perhaps most of the apprehension is on your father’s side, but she cares as well.”

“Weird. How much time am I looking at?”

“With your propensity for getting in trouble, I’m thinking eighteen months.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Eighteen months? I’ll be twenty-six when I get out.”

“It’s not like your life is going to be over.”

“Says the cop who will still be walking around, eating cheeseburgers and french fries while I’m eating gruel.”

“This isn’t the 1700s and you’re not a London orphan. Now stop talking and I’ll pour some water into your mouth.”

Mike’s mouth, which had already been arid, was now a barren wasteland as he thought of his impending incarceration. He took great swallows as the cool water cascaded down his throat. “Hey, what the hell?” Mike asked, as the fluid began to pour down his chin and onto his chest while Officer Tynes turned and inadvertently moved his hand.

“Where’d the cart go?” he asked.

“Getting soaked here.”

“Oh yeah, sorry.” He tipped the bottle back up. “Did you see where he went?”

“Who gives a shit? Maybe it’s prayer time or there’s a better corner to work. One without cops dragging prisoners around. I’m sure we don’t do any wonders for his business.”

“There was something about him I didn’t like.”

“Shocker. A cop not liking somebody.”

“Come on, wise ass. I’ve got a fantastic cell for you. Got a view to die for. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll make some new friends inside.”

“You have a sick sense of humor.”

Officer Tynes used his chest-mounted radio to let his station know that he’d apprehended the perp, that they were currently on foot heading back to the patrol car, and
no,
he did
not
need additional backup as everything was under control.

The sidewalk, which had been bustling with morning commuters and tourists alike, was beginning to thin, and quickly. Horns began to beep incessantly as a large, gathering crowd was blocking auto traffic all around Times Square.

“What the hell is going on?” Tynes said as he shouldered Mike along. Throngs of people were congregating, looking up at the large displays and LED ticker ribbons, which were showing what looked like aerial scenes from the summer’s newest disaster blockbuster.

At first, there were protests as Tynes pushed his way through the crowd, but those quickly subsided when the people realized he was a cop and, more importantly, a huge cop. Subtitles ran across the bottom of the displays.

“…the State Department has confirmed that a thermonuclear warhead was detonated within Yellowstone National Park at approximately 8:52 a.m. Eastern Time. It is unclear at this time if the explosion was accidental or purposely set. What we do know is that the bomb was underground, greatly reducing the damage but not the yield. Although people, animals, and homes as far away as three miles from the epicenter have been destroyed in a firestorm of hellish radiation infused fire….”

“A fucking nuke on American soil?” Mike didn’t overly express his patriotism, and he had a serious case of distrust of authority figures, but that someone had the balls to seriously mess with his country affected him in ways he had never encountered.

“Shut up.” Tynes’ hand covered Mike’s face and nearly encased his head.

“Don’t need to hear to read, dumbass,” Mike mumbled.

“…it may be weeks until rescue operations can begin. Meanwhile, wildfires have sprung up all along the periphery of the blast zone….” The news reporter, who knew less about news and more about looking good in front of the camera, paused, placing her hand over her ear as off-camera instructions were apparently being read to her. Mike wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone blanch quite the way she had in those few seconds.

He couldn’t wrap his head around what could be worse than a nuclear device being set off other than a second one.

“Um…I’m sorry folks, we are now receiving reports from the USGS, United States Geological Service, that severe earthquakes are being reported along the Yellowstone caldera….”

A wave of panic began to overtake the crowd as they realized the implications of the events that were unfolding. Someone at the station had extraordinary fact-finding skills, as images of the graphic repercussions of a super volcano depicted on a PBS broadcast from earlier that year were put up next to the talking head.

“What’s going on?” someone asked.

“I have to get home.” Many others echoed the sentiment. Some cried outright . Others bustled off to stores.

“You have to let me go, man,” Mike said.

“No way.”

“Don’t you get it? Someone set off a nuke in the hopes to blow that volcano, and when that thing goes, so does half the U.S. This place is going to go to shit, and really fast. Half these people right now are heading to stores to buy everything out. How long do you think it’s going to be until the rioting and looting start?”

“That thing isn’t going to blow. The earthquakes are just the after effects of the blast.”

“Oh, is that all? Because people aren’t going to flip their shit over a little, itty-bitty nuke going off.”

For the first time that morning, Officer Tynes looked confused about what he should do.

“Listen man, you are going to have way bigger fish to fry than me. I promise, man. I’ll head back to Massachusetts, I’ll make nice with my family. You’ll never hear from me again.”

“Come on. You’re right, it is going to get bad soon, and I’ve got to get you into lockup before that happens.”

“You’re an asshole. Someday this decision will come back to haunt you.”

“It already has.”

Mike turned to glare at Tynes. Officer Tynes grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and began to escort him to his cruiser. He’d no sooner seized Mike when his radio came on.

“All units, all units, report back to your precincts ASAP.”

“I wonder what that’s all about.”

“You cannot be this thick. It’s about to be anarchy, and they’re rallying the troops.”

“I think you’ve watched too many movies. The world isn’t about to end. Shit gets too bad, they’ll have the National Guard in here for a while. That’s about it.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. That volcano blows, the whole Midwest pretty much bites the dust, and that means the majority of food crops goes with it. All of a sudden, fat Americans no longer get their six squares a day. Know what happens then? All those crazy prepper folks with enough guns to arm a third-world country form roving gangs that take everything for themselves.”