“Is that him?” the mother asked her son.
“Yeah,” the sidekick replied. “That’s the crazy asshole who assaulted me, right, Isaac?”
Isaac’s eyes were magnified by an even thicker, uglier pair of new glasses. That made it easy to tell that he couldn’t even bear to look at me. He just stared down at the street, right past his father’s dog tags.
“You piece of shit. How dare you strike a child!” The mom stormed forward. The officer stuck out a hand to hold her back, but she was like a freight train.
“Calm down, ma’am,” he said.
“I won’t calm down! I don’t care what he is, you don’t hit a child. The boys even said they smelled alcohol on his breath!”
“Is that what the punk told you?” I chortled. Then, for the second time in as many minutes, I groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The bully sidekick didn’t say a word, just wore a shit-eating grin.
“Oh, this is even better,” Chuck said. He flipped to one of the few dry pages in the back of his notepad and approached the kid. “Would you mind telling me exactly what this man did to you? I’m a freelance journalist after the truth.”
“Everyone, back,” the officer ordered. Then he turned to me, and I got a good look at his badge. Officer Dennard.
“Sir, I’m going to have to take you down to the precinct and ask you some questions,” he said. The way he addressed me made my skin itch. Like I was utterly useless. If I had my legs, I bet he would’ve arrested me right then and there, but who would believe me capable of doing anything to a healthy young man? They didn’t even bother sending two cops.
“What if I say no?” I replied.
“I’m afraid that isn’t an option. Now, please, let me help you down.”
“You’re going away for a long time, asshole!” the sidekick shouted at me.
If he was a legal adult and Isaac had told the truth, I would get a slap on the wrist. But I hadn’t taken the time to vet them like I would have when I was the Roach, listening from shadows. And Isaac continued avoiding eye-contact, silently kicking the sidewalk near the back of the car.
If the sidekick was actually a minor and I’d broken a bone… the cops would hear the two bullies’ stories, and they’d force Isaac to back them. Honest people didn’t avoid looking at others. Why would he protect a stranger and earn himself more beatdowns, anyway? When had saving lives been enough? By the time cops got to my story, it wouldn’t matter what I said.
Is this really what I’d turned away from death for? Is this the way the Roach goes down?
“You have some nerve, asshole,” the mom spat.
“I see where your son gets it from,” I replied. I looked to him. “By the way, anyone ever tell you what happens to rats in Iron City?”
A flicker of shame rippled across his features. His mother cursed something fierce.
Officer Dennard took my hand and guided my wheelchair down the narrow ramp tracks I’d had built onto half of my stoop. He did it slowly, like I was a delicate vase in an antique shop. He read me my Miranda rights. I have the right to remain silent, yada-yada, get an attorney. I eyed the holstered pistol on his hip the entire time. I could grab it and finally end things. Quicker than drowning. Probably less than what I deserved, but there wasn’t time to be picky.
“What’s going on, Officer?” Laura asked, interrupting the officer before he finished.
My hand was halfway toward stealing the gun when her voice made me freeze. I peered up at the doorway and saw her standing, arms around her daughter.
“What’s going on, Mommy?” Michelle asked, still clutching her SuperBall.
“Leave it alone, Laura,” I said. Of course, she ignored me.
“Someone is making a mistake.” Laura left her daughter and rushed down the stoop to stop the officer. “Where are you taking him?”
“I’m just doing my job,” the cop said.
“Well, I’m sure this is easily explainable. An accident. Let me make a call. I’m a lawyer. I can—”
“There they go,” Chuck interrupted. “Protecting this scumbag again. When are people finally going to let him answer for his crimes?”
“When are you going to leave us alone and get back to your sorry life, Chuck!” Laura countered, making me exceedingly proud.
Officer Dennard released my chair. “Look, ma’am. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I have to take him in. If those young men are lying, we’ll get to the bottom of it, but now, I have no choice. Assault of a minor is a serious accusation.”
“I’ll tell you what’s going on, Officer,” Chuck chimed in. “Do you know who she is? The Garritys have spent years protecting this man to hide the fact that he was the Roach.”
Officer Dennard stopped and looked back at him like he was an alien zapped down from a UFO. What did Chuck expect, throwing out ludicrous accusations like that?
“That’s what you think?” Laura scoffed. “That’s insane.”
I missed the rest of the argument. While everyone got riled up and the bully and his mother joined in with their foul mouths, Michelle had slipped away from her mother and chased after her SuperBall as it bounced into the street. Four years old, no sense of the world’s many dangers—I saw it all unfolding. A mail Jeep sped a bit too fast, and when Michelle stepped beyond the line of parked cars, it would barrel right over her.
I launched my chair forward. Officer Dennard blurted something and tried to catch me, but was far too slow and reacting to the wrong danger. Laura saw where I was going and screamed her daughter’s name.
Wind blew through my hair as I zipped off the sidewalk and onto the street. I felt like I was sprinting down tunnels and leaping across rooftops again. Michelle didn’t turn around upon hearing her mother. The truck couldn’t see her and, like I’d feared, wasn’t stopping.
How far is too far?
I'd been asking that question every second of every day for five years until I was drunk enough to forget it, and it was finally time to find out. I went just far enough, grabbed Michelle, and threw her forward onto the other sidewalk. The truck driver hit the brakes when he saw me and tried to turn, but it was too late.
In the second before it plowed into me, my whole life flashed. All the fights. All the devils slain. I was the Roach, the bane of Iron City’s criminal underworld, and I’d go out on my own terms…
CHAPTER
Sirens. The cathedral bells of the night in Iron City. Might as well have been its theme song.
I never ran to them. Sirens meant the police were already on their way. Sure, following them was tempting. That’s why they were named after those seductive, mythical creatures luring ancient ships to their doom in the Mediterranean. Did you know that? Nah, you didn’t.
Anyway, in the old stories, everyone knows the danger Sirens present, but they just can’t look away. It’s like rubbernecking on I-75 after a bad accident, or how people watch a fire from across the street or gather to ‘not’ cheer-on a suicide jumper. Or the god damn, twenty-four-hour news cycle.
So-and-so died today. Tear up. Feel sad. Rinse and repeat. Oh, and here’s a cute cat or the world’s biggest fucking cookie. That’s right. Forget the pain of the last forty-five minutes with this fluff piece. Tomorrow, we’ll start all over again.