Quick Buck

Quick Buck

February 10, 2019

It was a winter afternoon in Wolf Creek. A small neighborhood in Dallas when Dan walked into the police station dressed in his uniform. He is a grown man with years of work in the field. He was known around the town as a tough officer but age had taken over him. Although he still holds his self esteem high but he's just not as good as he used to be. Everyone in the office knows that.

He crashed on his chair and placed his coffee mug over the table, nearly about spilling it. He picked up the newspaper as the telephone started ringing. It was a female voice narrating a robbery. Dan had his eyes gazed on the wall clock while his fingers grazed on the rim of the mug while he kept listening to the distressed voice on the other side.

The lady described a location which he scribbled in his handbook. He took a last sip from the mug and started preparing to leave.

He braced himself with a vest and a Glock 19 with no safety on it. He has been reckoned as a gunslinger all his life. As far back as he remembers he always kept his weapon fully loaded. No one across the  office wished to find themselves in a close combat duel with Dan.

He filled the paperwork as he started to walk towards the parking lot when he looked at his rugged shoes. He was due retirement in a matter of months. He reached out for his wallet as he sat in his car.

He gazed at a small photograph and for a moment he felt like smiling. He kept the wallet aside, started his motor engine and left for the location.

He couldn't stop thinking about the Christmas holidays he once spent with his daughters in the mountains, as he drove through the town. Something about those memories helped him getting past the routine but then he felt that happiness turning into a silent rage.

He stepped on the gas as he approached the location and started walking towards the building.

It was the local pharmacy store. The chimes on the door rang as he walked into the store.

A young lady approached him and introduced herself as Carolina, the caller. Dan looked at her while she spoke. She was 17 and carried instills from the incident. Her eye liner was smeared across her white skin as Dan inhaled the cold air from the ducts mixed with the iodoform smell of the store.

Carolina was still shivering as she quenched her fists while portraying a young black boy, in his 20s entering the store. He was dressed in all black and had a crown tattooed across most part of his face. Dan kept jotting the details as he tilted his eyes between Carolina's face and his handbook.

She described the boy dashed towards the counter pointing a pistol at her as he handed her a prescription of medicines and asked to get all the supplies she had in the store.

Carolina was dumbstruck, still trying to grasp the situation while the boy handed her a bag to fill with the supplies. Her mind reflected on the situation as she figured it'd be best to comply. She ran across the store and filled the bag with as many boxes as she could as her brain felt like shifting shapes. She relived the moments from the incident while she narrated them.

She could think of nothing else but her father while the robber shouted at him from the distance.

She almost stumbled while handing the bag to the robber. He then asked her to hand him the cash from the counter which she did, as he fled the store. 

 

Dan looked across the building with hawkish eyes trying to recreate the scenario in his head. 

He asked Carolina about the medicines he managed to escape with. 

"He fled with 10 boxes of insulin and about $3000 in cash."

 

Insulin? Dan was caught off guard.

"Why would someone risk his money heist on a pack of medicines?" He said raising his brows.

"I don't know. Maybe the idea was selling them illegally on the streets, an incentive over the cash." Carolina suggested.

"As if cocaine isn't enough already." said Dan gazed in the distance.

He asked if there were any other casualties. to which she replied there were none. Luckily there were no shots fired, She insisted on turning down the ambulance as she had finally started to attain her calm and figured she has to leave for her home.

Nodding his head Indifferently, Dan walked out of the store.

A high headed punk. A lost cause from a troubled childhood and abusive parents. Possibly, the boy just wanted to make a quick buck and move forward. Dan thought to himself while sitting in the car. 

He picked up the radio and relayed the description to the headquarters.

 It's been a while he was out in the field chasing bad guys. The job which once felt like a challenge had started to wear him out and the chase felt more like a chore now. He once had plans for his retirement. He wanted to reside in peace with his family in Australia, somewhere in the mountains where his family doesn't have to live under his uniform's shadow. Somewhere he doesn't have to live his life looking over his shoulder for a thug from the past, looking to settle scores.

As far as he tries to hate saying it, the bloodshed from the past still sends down shivers in his spine. For all these years, he is trying to identify the pattern for the violence he has experienced while doing his job. During his prime years, he was a fearless policeman. The layers of time has taken his toll on him.

He has learnt to identify himself over the past years. He's not a hero as much as he'd like to think himself as. The tangled web of the system and the situations have spiraled him down to the rock bottom, a place where he is not so strong, and a cavity of fear grasps his certainty.

A static from the radio pulled him back. It was Zen from the headquarters. The description returned with a positive identification. The robber was identified as Jackson, a resident of the far part of the town.

 

Dan puts on his aviators and the car sped towards the location with the sirens hurling.

 

 

 

 

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