S. Cedric - Of Fever and Blood

The power lines were also running in another direction, toward the darkness. Vauvert looked for some sort of path, but all he could make out were bushes, tall chestnut trees, and more bushes.

“Dammit,” he said. “I can’t see anything.”

“We might see better if we used the SUV headlights,” Leroy suggested.

“Good idea.”

They began walking toward the SUV. Then they stopped in their tracks.

In the distance, headlights were piercing the night, coming their way.

“What’s that?” Vauvert growled.

He quickly killed his flashlight and drew his Smith amp; Wesson. Leroy did the same. They did not have time to take cover.

The headlights became more intense, until they were blinding suns, pinning the two men like insects.

The vehicle stopped in front of them.

Leroy and Vauvert squinted and shaded their eyes with their hands.

They heard a door open and someone step out.

“Drop your weapons! Police!”

Vauvert lowered the hand that was shading his eyes.

“Oh, shit.”

“Drop your weapons, or we shoot!” the officer repeated. “Do you hear me?”

“It’s okay! We’re police too!” Leroy shouted back. “Homicide officers. Everything’s all right!”

Two more men leaped out of the car. The first man, obviously the officer in charge, pointed his service weapon at them with his both hands, his knees bent.

“I know exactly who you are. We followed your GPS position. There’s a warrant out for both of you. And you’re going to come with us without any trouble.”

Vauvert knew they were in deep shit.

Every precinct has its one idiotic, gung-ho cowboy. Vauvert was beginning to think he had some sort of radar that attracted this kind of moron.

“Come on, hands behind your heads! Right now!” the guy kept barking.

Still squinting in the glare of the headlights, Vauvert slowly lifted his arms, hands in evidence, so as to avoid being misunderstood.

“I’ll explain. We’re all colleagues here.”

“You’re just gonna shut up!” the officer shouted, still pointing his gun at him. “I want to see your hands behind your heads, both of you!”

This was exactly what he had been afraid of.

He could not afford to waste any time at all, not anymore.

“Just listen to us,” Leroy pleaded, spreading his arms.

“I think you’re wasting your breath,” Vauvert sighed.

“We need your help,” Leroy continued nonetheless. “We are on the trail of…”

“Shut the fuck up!” the officer snapped. “We know what you did, so don’t even think of fucking with us, got it? Pierre, Arnaud, cuff the bastards now!”

The two officers, dressed in fatigues, walked toward them. They looked very young and very uncomfortable. Rookies, no doubt about it.

“Do you know Judith Saint-Clair, the woman living here?” Leroy insisted. “We think she abducted someone. We don’t have much time.”

“The boss said to put your hands behind your head!” one of the young officers yelled. He went around Leroy and slapped a pair of cuffs on his wrists. “Now get moving!”

“Guys, please! It’s not like we’re going to attack you or something!” Vauvert said. “All we’re asking…”

The butt of a gun connected with the back of his head, making him stagger.

“Quiet!” the officer behind him shrieked.

Judging by his shrill voice and nervousness, Vauvert intuited that this was a very young officer, in his twenties probably, and fresh out of the academy. If that idiot was clumsy with his gun or just panicked, he really would get shot.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” Vauvert said between clenched teeth, his skull throbbing.

“Your hands!” the officer ordered as he lowered his handgun and reached for the cuffs dangling from his belt. “Move it!”

“You’re making a monumental mistake, guys,”

He turned to the young man, putting his hands behind his back for the cuffs. Then he froze.

The way he was standing now, with his back to the cruiser’s headlights, he could make out the small opening in the bushes. Beyond it, the flood of light illuminated a field of tall grass. There was a path. It looked neglected, but it was actually a path. And the power line was going in that direction.

“Wait,” Vauvert said. “Is there another house in the field over there?”

“Your hands!” the officer repeated, taking a step forward.

Vauvert had to restrain himself from reacting instinctively. He could have grabbed the kid’s arm easily and fractured his wrist, which would have been a very stupid move, of course.

And so he did nothing. It was not the kid’s fault his superior officer was a moron.

“Wait,” he asked again. “Please.”

In reply, the butt of the gun came down on his head again.

“You fucking idiot.”

“And he’s insulting us, on top of everything else,” the superior officer sniggered. “You and I are not going to be buddies, you know that?”

“You’re right,” Vauvert muttered. “I don’t think you’re going to like me very much.”

“Is that a threat?”

Vauvert did not say anything.

“All right, let me do it,” the superior officer said as he walked toward him. He reached for the handcuffs on his belt. “I’m going to cuff him myself. Pierre, if this psycho makes a move, you pull the trigger, is that understood?”

Vauvert felt the barrel of the young man’s gun against his neck.

The weapon was shaking slightly.

He let the superior officer come to him without making a move.

“Your hands, dickhead,” the officer ordered.

Vauvert took a deep breath and then drew back. He thrust his foot and kicked the officer in the shin.

The man gave a yelp of surprise and pain. Everything happened too fast for him to defend himself. Before he knew it, Vauvert was behind him, twisting his arm forcefully, nearly dislocating it.

“No! Shit!” the man bellowed. “Shit! Shit!”

Now Vauvert was facing the younger officer, who was still pointing his weapon at him. The young officer’s face was as pale as a ghost.

The man bellowed again, “Lower your gun, you dick! Holy shit! Pierre, lower your fucking gun right now!”

The officer did what he was told.

“Don’t hurt me,” the man begged in a broken voice.

Vauvert’s only reply was to take his handgun and lock his other arm around the man’s throat. His larynx compressed, he stopped whining.

“Let him go! It’s an order!” the third cop shouted.

He pressed his gun against Leroy’s neck.

“Right now!”

2:20 a.m.

“You hear me? Let him go!” the third cop repeated.

His voice panicky. He’d never been trained to face this kind of situation.

Vauvert, for his part, was trying to assess the situation as best he could.

He decided to up the ante.

He leaned back a little, and his hostage was lifted onto his toes, gasping for air.

He held him this way and pointed his weapon at the two stunned officers.

“Let go of me,” the officer kept pleading. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”

Vauvert brought his lips to the man’s ear and said, “Listen very carefully. We don’t want any fuck-ups, do we? We’re all on the same team. The reason we came here is to try to save a colleagues’ life. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

His hostage nodded as best he could.

“All I’m asking of you is to let me see if there’s another house over there. We’re all going to go over there and look together. If we don’t find anything, I swear that we will let you take us. Is it a deal?”

“Let him go!” shouted the officer holding Leroy at gunpoint.