Night Patrolman

        What a great night! Andre a 16-year-old skinny kid with a nicely faded low haircut had just left his best friend Kevin’s house in South Philly.

       Now, he was headed to his row home on 26^th street. It was a little late, but it was Friday night. Besides, there was no one there to put him in check for being out late. It would be just him and his Aunt Pearl, who mostly stayed in her room and made only scarce appearances around the house.

        His mom was still at work, putting in her late hours as a barmaid at some dive bar in Southwest Philly. His sister Marie had just got busted for brandishing a weapon, attempted assault of a police officer, resisting arrest, and being drunk and disorderly. Since she’d violated her parole, she was locked up again, so she wouldn’t be home for another couple years.

         Speaking of police, Andre turned the corner and saw a cluster of squad cars in the middle of the street. Philly’s Finest had their lights flashing but there was no emergency. This was normal behavior here in Philly. The police would hang out in small bands and casually converse.    

     Was this their way of putting potential wrongdoers on notice, a show of force? Or were they just discussing pot-roast recipes, or which bar were they planning on hanging out in after their shift? Maybe it was all of the above.

      Andre has had his run-ins with them. He and his friends, Kevin, and Byrd got pinched once for vandalizing an old school building. The police officer had roughed him up, pistol whipping him to force his friends come out of hiding. His body was bruised for a whole week. The cop did a catch and release; he lectured them and let them go. Andre was bitter about it; he didn’t think he deserved the beating. He thinks it would have been better to have just gotten arrested instead. Property damage doesn’t usually end up with jail time, plus they were minors…boys being boys.

        He is contemplating these things as he passes by the cluster of cops. One particular officer, a big Irishman, with a boisterous laugh is the loudest of them all and Andre glances over at him. The laughing cop stops chuckling and locks eyes with Andre. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to stare at this guy, something was, for sure, not right about him. They grit hard at each other. Andre drops his gaze and turns the corner. But it was too-little too-late, because he hears someone yell,

                   “Hey! You! Stop right there! You, kid, you hold your black ass up right now!”

                   Andre, you are so fucking stupid! He chastises himself for the misstep. He knew better than to fricking provoke those cocksuckers, they don’t need a reason to bust your ass as it is.                  

“I know you heard me motherfucker,” the laughing man said as he and another cop turn the corner.

Andre stops and turns around to face them.

                “Where the fuck are you going? Huh? It’s 12:30 at night, what are you doing out here?”

                 “I’m just headed home officer; I live a couple blocks up the street.”

                  “Bullshit, face the fucking wall, he says as he shoves Andre into the side of the row home .

                 “Put your fucking hands out, assume the fucking position.”

  He frisks him roughly, looking for weapons or drugs, or God knows what else.  

                “What’s going on in theses pockets huh, you little shit-stain.”

He grips the back of Andre’s neck and rifles through his pockets,

                 “You holding? What you got on you, Huh?”

  The police officer’s grip was like steel; his hands seemed unusually cold.

He scoffed and addressed the other officer.

                  “You believe this fucking porch monkey was giving me the fucking stink-eye?”

                   “Really?” The other officer chuckled, “he’s got a lot of fuckin balls, all the trash you take out of this fricking garbage pail he calls home, that’s not too smart. What you gonna do with him Connor?”

                     “I may just take him for a ride and give him a really long walk home.”

                  “We could take him somewhere and kick his fucking ass, too.” The other cop teased and made a punching gesture with his hands.

                     “Yeah, but I had my fill of that earlier. I busted up a Black buck earlier today. I got enough “moulinyan” on my hands.” Connor said.

          There is something about this guy, Andre thought, he smells kinda off, he can’t get it out of his head. He tries to reason with him, even beg a little.

                   “Look, I didn’t do anything. I’m just walking home, officer. I just want to get home.”

                  “You should’ve thought about that before you went and fucking disrespected me, Sambo. Now you’re going to pay the price.” He said with a sneer as he spun him around and cuffed Andre’s hands in front of him.

                   “You should drop him off in Chester, PA.”

                   “Nah, not that far. Now Jersey… there’s a thought. He’d just have to hoof it across the Walt Whitman bridge.” Connor said laughingly.   

                      Fucking pigs. Andre thought to himself. Either way, he’s gonna have a long ass walk home. He can’t even ask anybody for a ride. There’s no phone and no car at home and Philly’s public transport, SEPTA, stopped running at 11pm. Shit I aint got no money anyway.

          Connor threw him in the backseat.

                      “Have fun!” The other officer yelled out.

                    “I’m gonna have fun, but I don’t know about this fucker!” he yelled back as he settled into the driver’s seat jamming on the gas and squealing tires as he peeled out.

                     There’s something about this fricking cop, though he couldn’t place it. But part of this guy seems too scripted, like he’s putting on an act, a show.

 He smells that strange odor again. It smells like something is stale, not quite rotten.

                      “Oh, yeah, you gonna like the way this night ends!” Connor says, taunting him.         “Well… I will, but you won’t, honestly.”

                      “What’s that supposed to mean officer?” Andre was getting scared. Something was not right here. Something was really wrong.

                       “I’m gonna take you to my spot, and then we gonna have some fun. Connor said.

 Have some fun? Andre’s heart began to race. Is this dude gonna try some sex shit or some kinda torture? His mind catalogued terrible scenarios that involved his pants down around his ankles or being tied to a pole and doused with gasoline.

          He suddenly remembered something; this fucking cop had never searched his socks and sneakers. He kept a small, folded paring knife on the left inside of his shoe. An emergency little shank in case one of the old-heads or druggies in the neighborhood got outta hand, It’s not a big blade but just big enough to get him free. If he times it right, the cop won’t see it coming.

         Andre feels a nervous sweat brewing. This is no small thing; if he attacks this police officer in defense of his life (or the integrity of his asshole) he’s going to be hunted like an animal. Does he injure the cop and get away? Can he leave him injured? Will he have to kill him? Andre’s mind is racing.

                  His distress is multiplying rapidly. He was only heading home after dark, not conducting any acts of mischief or anything illegal; he was just walking down the street! Now he’s in dire straits, forced to face an impossible choice.

              The squad car rumbles onto a side road on the outskirts of the city. Andre was so rattled he didn’t track the route they took. He had no idea where they were. If he ended up abandoned here, it would take a monumental effort to be found or to get back home. Whatever happens, I’m not just gonna lay down and give my life away. This is gonna be a fight. Hopefully, God is on my side tonight. He sat in silence as the strange odor was getting louder, more pungent. What is that smell? He had to know; “Do you smell that officer?”

                             “Of course I smell that, boy. That’s the smell of my satisfaction, my appetites satiated. The smell of the end of this ride.”

                            “What does all of that even mean sir, you’re talking in riddles. Look, please, I was just walking home sir, please just let me go. I’m just a harmless kid sir, I won’t say anything to anybody, ever.” He said desperately, a last-ditch effort to appeal to the cop’s humanity, even though he sensed something was really out of place.

   A part of him knew and a fight was looming, whether the cop knew it or not.

                        “Wrong place, wrong fucking time son! You done stepped in it now, Connor taunted him,  Shit, if I were you, I would be shitting my pants about right now. You take your life for granted boy, living the way you do. I can smell the pot, the alcohol. Now you struttin’ past me like you’re the cock-of-the-walk? Not on my watch, I’d rather rip you into tiny pieces and rip your pieces into pieces…. Don’t look for sympathy my way boy,” he said coldly.

     He drove deeper into the woods at a disturbing speed, considering that he’d turned off the fucking headlights. The car swerved and jerked, and Andre assumed he was skirting trees, ditches, and shit.

                            How the fuck can he see what’s out there? If this keeps up, the pending confrontation will be circumvented by a well-placed tree.

    The smell was becoming pronounced, Andre assumed they are getting close to their final destination. He doesn’t know why, but he thinks there is something afoul, something unusual in store.

        The squad car reached a clearing that’s dimly lit with several structures that look like small barns with a large tank in the center. It reeks of decay and an acidic chemical odor.

                              This has to be his killing field.

He breathed a very slightly misguided sigh of relief that death seemed more likely than his pants being shoved down around his ankles.

   Still, this wasn’t a reprieve. This fucking cop planned on doing something twisted and painful to his little black ass. He’d better make his escape attempt count. 

             The car came to a screeching halt. The cop turned and looked at Andre and said,

                            “Here we are, the end of the line.”

   Andre’s heart pounded in his chest; his fear is so intense his whole body shook like a frightened Chihuahua.

  Connor walked around the car and yanked Andre out. He kept the cuffs on, scooped him up and threw him over his shoulders as if he weighed little more than a sack of dirty laundry.

                                 Fuck, this guy is strong,

  Luckily the brute hadn’t cuffed his hands behind his back, but still, he’s got to wait for his moment.

Connor was humming and whistling now. Andre recognized the tune from those Warner Brother’s cartoon shorts. It was that Food Around the Corner tune,

                              Oh there’s food around the corner,

                              Food around the corner,

                              Food around the corner for me.

                             Why is this fucking guy humming this shit?

Before he could surmise an answer, Connor slung him down on a grassy field in front of one of the barns. It had a dim light over its doors, making for an eerie scene in a Stephen King movie.

                             “Time’s up Kunta, this is it.”

 Andre sat up and scooted back until his back was up against the shed.

                              “Good, nice job, I’ll let you stay there for a minute, I need to show you what you don’t know but started to suspect.” Connor said with his back to Andre. Andre noticed the smell became overwhelming now, a pungent and sour odor that coated his tongue.

        Suddenly Connor spun around, and the thing standing in front of Andre was no longer human. Its head was mostly bald, punctuated here and there with patches of stubby black hair forcing through the mottled grey skull. It’s ears were gnarled and pointy; shrunk into its head.

The eyes had turned beady, the jaw freakishly protruded, and a sinister grin revealed jagged teeth marching in two or three sharp rows. The upper and lower parts of its mouth accentuated by

fangs displayed in the front that looked like they belonged to every murderous, predatory thing that ever walked the earth. It was something nightmarishly hideous.

         Andre stood sharply and clamored the wall in a feeble attempt to scale the wall backwards like Spiderman. His breath had been taken away; scared stupid by this monstrosity before him. He squealed for his life like an unwilling victim in a low-budget horror movie, his fear slicing the air.

                                  “Please, man, whatever you are, PLEAAASEEEE! I don’t want to die…”

                                  “Yeeeessss,” the thing hissed through its stretched face. “I’m not what you expected, huh?”

It grabbed Andre’s legs, dragged him near, and squatted over Andre. Its jet black eyes radiated a mix of intelligence and bestiality as it loosed a low, rumbling, putrid growl that washed its foul breath over Andre’s ashen face.

                                 This is what death smells like,  Andre thought.

                                 “You are food for the Gods, for those of us that have walked the Earth for decades I can smell your fear. It makes you blood so sweet.”

                                 “Please, please, don’t kill…”

Andre’s plea was interrupted as the creature clamped down on his neck and his jugular with reckless abandon; ravaging all the surrounding flesh like a wild beast.

    It was as though his neck and shoulder had burst into flames; the pain radiated down his arm and back; severe, and white hot even as his extremities begin to numb.

This inhuman vacuum was sucking the blood out of him like strawberry shake at McDonald’s.

                                    It’s got to be now, Andre thought, as the world was starting to quickly fade and go dim. He was dying quickly.

  With his final thread of strength and conscious thought, he eased the knife out of his shoe and used his thumb to flick open the blade. He then jammed the knife with all he had left right under the jaw, twisted it, and ripped it back with the last ounce of strength he could muster, splitting the creature’s own jugular, and producing a geyser of its blood that sprayed Andre’s face, eyes and mouth.

   He was suddenly bathed in something that tasted like burnt motor oil and rotting meat. Creature Connor screeched and leapt up, staring at Andre with such ire and disgust, gripping his wound.

                                    “What have you done!” His voice was cracked but forceful. “You fucking idiot!” It yelled at him. The wound was gashed and ragged, but the flesh quickly shrank and folded back down.

         Andre watched in horror as the creature’s wound quickly sealed itself off, stopping the bleeding.

                                    “You did this to yourself. You have just cursed yourself and all you hold dear.” It warned.         

                                   “What? I got you didn’t I? I hurt you, right?” Andre managed to gurgle the words even as he was pulsing blood through his wounds.

                                  “A well-timed blow, asshole, but in the process, you have ruined your own life.”

 In this moment, Andre felt a severe cramp in his stomach, tightening like vice. He doubled over and folded to a fetal position, clutching his abdomen. His neck felt sticky with blood, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe, oxygen declining to flow into his lungs. He lay there gasping for air like a fish out of water as he felt the life fading from his body. The dirty coppery taste of its blood felt like acid in his throat all the way to his belly. It was a poison that was invading his frail human system; shutting it down.

      He heard Connor’s voice, barely perceptible, as his own heartbeat drummed in his ears, slower and then ever slower, thrump-thrump.

       “I was only going to drain you and send you to the grave,” the creature explained.

Thrump-thrump

      “But instead, you drank my blood and have henceforth doomed yourself.”

Thrump-thrump

      “You will now and forever, until your demise, be a creature of the night; cursed with the unquenchable thirst for human blood.”

Thrump

 Connor opened the barn door picked up his semi-lifeless body and tossed Andre inside.       

                                         “You’ve got to adjust now, it’s gonna be a rough few days. I’ll keep you sustained until then. Don’t come out into the light yet, you have to build up a tolerance.”

 Andre barely processed those words as he was one heartbeat from death.

Thrump

Conner closed the door and locked it with a padlock.         

            Andre never heard his heartbeat again. Everything faded out, and he couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. He heard nothing, felt nothing. He was gone.