Mike snapped awake, his knuckles almost as white as the sheets he clutched, his whole body covered in a cold sweat. Falling. He’d reached out for the handkerchief, his foot had slipped, and this time, his training hadn’t helped him—he’d plummeted straight toward the concrete. He could swear he’d felt the beginning of the impact just before he woke. His gut felt twisted and gnarled.
The chopper shaped motorcycle alarm clock flashed three-thirty and the morning air was cold enough to form puffs in the air. Right, doors still open. Events of the day were becoming clearer to Mike as he sat there in the dark. Something happened to Doc, he had a stalker, and the police were in on it. He tried to swallow but a lump in his throat prevented it. I gotta do something, but what can I? He got out of bed and lumbered around his room back and forth, stepping on the myriad of clothes and tools strewn about. Should I call the cops? There is no way all of them could be in on this right? He remembered how one of the officers, the big one, had seemed nervous about the scenario. Doc was right about a conspiracy, maybe Doc’s research into the topic must have been what set things into motion. Or me chasing that guy pushed the envelope too far.
Thinking about Doc, Mike stepped on his bed and walked across to where the tweed coat was and started rifling through it. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and after trying to get the right amount of light on it by holding it up at odd angles, he determined it was the calendar from the office, with the date circled. They could have at least left a phone number. Alright let’s be real. There is no way they could all be involved. He patted himself down and pulled out his cellphone and dialed 911.
“911” the voice said.
“Yeah, I need to report a break in and kidnapping” Mike said.
“Are you in any danger?”
“Not immediately. The address is 5343 Paulina, basement unit.”
There was a pause on the phone as information was probably being entered. Mike took the pause to grab a glass of water.
“Mr. Auburn, we have already handled the situation there. Your landlord Frank O’Neil already met with officers earlier today. Is this a new scenario?” The voice said in a low, more matter of fact tone. Mike got the hint and hung up the phone. He had enough experience with dispatchers before and this wasn’t legit.
Shit. Okay, maybe they can have all the cops in on this. Rerouting perhaps? Bugged phone? There were not many options. He could perhaps hire a private detective, or maybe even make enough of a noise to bring attention to internal corruption in the Chicago police department. The mere thought of this caused Mike to crack himself up. He pounded the counter-top while holding his stomach, still aching from all the running and climbing earlier. Internal… corruption… Chicago. Well, there is only one option I can think of. Might as well go for it. He gave a quick kick to his fridge door making sure it was open all the way so more light could help him find a flashlight. It didn’t take him long to find it and he was off to his room.
Mike starting going through all the clothes on the floor. He would need gear and he might as well dress the part. He pulled out a green World War I army trench coat covered in patches, union buttons, and many burn marks. His protest coat. He held it up in triumph and threw it on. He started throwing more items on his bed that he would need. A gun case, his pool que kit, spray paint, a carton of smokes, and some motorcycle body armor. He looked at it and nodded, shining the light on them. The gun he decided to leave behind. Nobody would allow him in anywhere with it and it would probably cause more problems. The pool que kit however, Mike had won more than a few bar fights throwing a nine-ball at someones face. Everyone always underestimated how much those things hurt. The body armor would also stay here. If they wanted to kill him, it wouldn’t stop a bullet. Everything else and a few more random objects went into his worn backpack. He grabbed his phone once more and dialed 911 again. Time to make an ass out of both of us.
“This is Mike Auburn. I want to let you know that, I’m here at 5343 Paulina having hot sex with O’Neil’s mom.” Mike smiled as the operator hung up on him. They should be here soon enough.