End Game (Blogophilia 9.8)

This is it. I found it. I’m in Hell,  Herrington thought. The press briefing made him a man condemned. The armchair firing squad was waiting to begin the analysis in earnest. How did Allen get this far? Was this the only road to take or was there one less traveled?  Was it because of the full moon?  Questions with no answers, but they still will be asked. 

Allen was white, and this was good thing. The professional gadflies wouldn’t have anything to use and the furor over the outcome would be able to die quicker. In fact, most of the useful idiots would just say good riddance. That was a cold thought, though. This was certainly a troubled young man, probably irretrievably broken, but still a living, breathing person. 

With a whistle, he motioned everyone back behind the Bomb Squad truck. Alfred the Robot was still at the car, animatronic arm suspended mid grab. It was determined the device was a real pipe bomb, but for some reason unarmed. As such, it could stay inside the car while they took care of the suspect. 

Hudgins lit another cigarette and began to cough. 

“I’m getting too old for this.”

“I feel you.” Murray retorted, wishing for a drink and Carol’s soft body. “I wish I had never got out of bed.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Hudgins snorted. 

“A dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste.” Murray laughed. 

“Missus got you watching that movie again?” Hudgins smiled.

“For a chick flick, it’s got some great lines. Carol always says she loves me more than her luggage.” 

Laughter broke the tension until the sound of the Chief’s throat clearing silenced the group. 

“So, where are we at?” 

Murray pointed toward the building and handed Herrington the binoculars. “He’s in the apartment on the third floor to your left. Jackson and the K9’s just confirmed his scent.”

“No contact, yet? 

“Not yet.” Hudgins replied. “We’re assuming he is armed and waiting for us.”

“Like he might have another bomb?

“Possible. One of the witnesses to the hit and run said there was something in his hands when he ran from the car but he couldn’t identify it. Interesting thing, in Allen’s sheet there never has been evidence of guns, just gasoline, matches and baseball bats. This is out of character for him.”

“Next step?”

The SWAT Commander spoke up. “Perimeter is set up. Because of the location, we aren’t going to be able to shoot gas or use the robot for a visual. We are stuck with the front door entry, probably with a Flash-Bang to stun him if he’s in the living room. A sniper is positioned in the third floor breezeway behind us, but the line of fire isn’t all that good.  Worst case scenario would be a bomb and he is waiting at the door for us. We’ll start with calling up from the parking lot first and see if he responds. Maybe we can get a shot.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quiet, he thought. The Pigs have gotten too quiet.  Should he risk the window or not?  With a shrug, he carefully put the bomb on the pail. Crawling low, he came up to the right hand corner sill and looked out. Ooh, the Artillery came. With the limited view, he could see three of the armored SWAT drones along the side of the building. Yes, they are preparing. Dipping along the wall, he repeated the view out the other corner. Murray and several other suits were laughing next to a large black truck. The tall fat one on was on TV a couple of times, so this could be better than he planned. There were another smattering of SWAT going around the next building and some regular uniforms behind them. He crawled back to his post.

They know I’m here, of course.Would they use the bullhorn like on TV or just storm the place? It really didn’t matter now. The only thing left was to ride it out.

It wasn't very long.

“Jeremy Allen!  This is Captain Martin Hudgins of the Gwinnett County Police. We have the building surrounded. Come to the door and give yourself up!”

“Bishop to C4, check” A soft and feminine voice filled his mind. It was not unlike Sarah’s, but not hers. Was it God or Satan?  No matter, the only piece on the board was him. No Knight or Bishop to run interference. But he knew what the next move was.

“King to H7” He replied to the voice. It was the only one move he could make.

“Jeremy! Repeat, the building is surrounded. We promise not to hurt you if you surrender. This is your chance to redeem yourself and make it right for the lady that you hit.”

“Rook to F6”. The noose was tightening.

He looked around. 

“King to H8.” The corner would be his final home. He took a wedge shaped piece of wood and jammed it in the threshold of the door. Probably good for one hit with the ram.

“Jeremy! This is Lieutenant Murray. I’m the one you have been gunning for. It’s over. You have lost. Come out now.”

A frown came across the pale face. Big Pig was a chicken. But that was no surprise and this game is now over.

“Bishop to E5, Checkmate.”

Boots on the stairs followed by the howling of the dogs. Yes, it was time. 

The thumb pressed tighter on the button.

The ram clanged against the stair rail as the blitz squad made the second floor. Come on a little closer, I've got a surprise for you.

“Oh, Holy Father. Grant me peace as I go in to my hour of triumph. Amen.”

A little bit closer, now. 

The war yell was shouted as the top step was made. The lock on the door exploded with the first impact of the ram.

NOW!








Topic-Dave Coon-Nissmech

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