A Reckless Chase to Regret

The sirens grew closer. Even now, amidst the chaos, Luke was calm. A police car had stopped in front of the building with the officer inside calling to him.

“Sergeant Myers!” Luke shouted, a smile on his face. The officer was a childhood friend of his. They had gone to high school together, best friends, two troublemakers in the back of Mr Schultz’s international studies class.

“What’s happened, Luke?”

“It was them again.”

Fear fell over Myers’ face. The people Luke was talking about had been terrorising the city for months, leaving the police dumbfounded by their elusiveness.

“Get your men to search for a grey SUV, license plate beginning with 12-KO… I couldn’t get the last two digits.” Myers informed his men over the radio, his voice echoing through their cars. “Tell them that the men are armed,” warned Luke. Just as he spoke, the very car he described flew past the parade of police. Myers changed into first gear and put his hands on the wheel. “Wait,” Luke said, placing his on the window frame. “Be careful. I can’t be losing you today.”

“Don’t worry about me, Luke. This is the job I signed up for. Anyways, you’re the more reckless one.” Myers pulled out of the curb, beginning his pursuit, his sirens blaring as he lunged forward down the road. Luke ran behind the car and saw an idle taxi, the driver stunned by what had unfolded. He slipped into the passenger seat, pulling his seatbelt around in a single swing. “Follow that car,” he shouted, pointing to Myers’ police vehicle. The taxi driver looked at him in confusion. “I’m a government agent and I am commandeering this vehicle, but I need you to drive.” The car lunged forward, following the deafening sirens. Luke picked up his radio. “All units, this is Agent Daniels, Sergeant Myers is in pursuit. I am requesting all available units to block the downtown exits of sections 27 to 34. I repeat, Sergeant Myers is in pursuit, high-speed. Block all exits for sections 27 to 34.” For the next minute, all he heard were acknowledgements from each dispatch vehicle available, officer after officer calling in to offer their help.

Luke had earnt his reputation over the years. When people heard ‘Agent Daniels’, they thought of his detective agency. First joining the police force, he was later given his own department. An honour he did not take for granted. One wrong move could bring it all down. A single irreparable mistake mid-case could destroy his department’s integrity. It was the most disciplined and loyal branch in the state law enforcement agency.

Myers couldn’t let the grey car go; he was right at its rear. It swerved between lanes, diving in and out of oncoming traffic, dodging left and right, taking out trash cans and fruit stands that sat too close to the gutter. Myers pressed harder on the accelerator, ramming the target from behind. Its back wheels gave way and the grey SUV span around uncontrollably and stopped as it hit the sidewalk.

A man in a full-body black tracksuit exited the back door. He was armed with a rifle and pointed it towards Myers. Then he unleashed a barrage of bullets that penetrated the thick windscreen of the police car like a bull charging down a wooden fence. Luke heard this and urged the driver to hurry. He could see in the man’s face that he was holding down a great fear. “Thank you for doing this, for helping me.” The driver only nodded and put on a small smile as he turned to look Luke in the eyes for a second.

As the gunshots seemed like they were inside their ears, Luke told the driver to stop before the corner, keeping him out of the way. He jumped out and ran for Myers. There was a lull after the second group of shots. That was Luke’s chance to sneak around and into the car to check on Myers.

The streets turned quiet. Luke crept along the right side of the car, keeping out of sight of the gunman. There he slipped into the backseat seeing Myers huddled behind the steering wheel.

“Myers! I’m here.”

“Luke! What are you doing? I told you to stay where you were.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t miss out on the fun, could I?”

“You’re such an idiot,” Myers said with a smile and a laugh.

“Now you stay down while I try and deal with this. But keep the car running.” Luke stepped out the other back door, his gun raised. The shooter had started to run back to his own car. “Step away from the vehicle!” Luke knew he wouldn’t listen, but he couldn’t break protocol. The gunman turned and pointed the gun towards Luke whose only protection was a small, agile flak jacket he wore on the job, pretty hopeless in these circumstances.

He heard the first bang as it whizzed right past his head. The second bang was a little less coherent. Then he lunged back behind the door, cowering from the bullets as they flew like flies to a carcass. Luke’s ears had begun to pulsate as if something was pushing its way out. He fell to the ground, grabbing the side of his head in pain. That was when he realised his hands were covered in blood. The first bullet had hit him in the ear. Myers opened the driver door and pulled his gun out, firing it at the gunman who flew into the backseat. The grey SUV skidded away, its tires screeching as it marked the sidewalk.

“Luke!” Myers slid across the hood of the car, cradling Luke’s head in his arms. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Just bring me to the taxi. I’ll make my own way there.”

“Taxi? What taxi?” Myers looked up and saw the driver running over. He turned back to Luke and said, “oh, that taxi.” He chuckled to himself at how ridiculous it was. The most respected agent in the city arrived at a shootout in a taxi, and all because he wouldn’t waste department funding on personalised vehicles for his team. Luke was hired for detective work, not high-speed chases, so he believed such vehicles were entirely unnecessary.

The driver helped Myers carry Luke to the taxi. They threw his tired body across the backseat, his blood staining the polyester seats. “Stay here and don’t try to move,” Luke told him. “Don’t come following me this time.” He turned to the driver. “Take him quickly to the hospital. It may have lessened but he’s still losing blood.”

Myers went back to his own car. Luke could faintly hear the sirens blaring again. He sat up and leaned into the front. “Have you got any bandages?” he asked. The driver opened the glovebox, a first-aid kit fell out and onto the ground, its contents rattling out of order. Luke took out the three rolls of bandages that sat at the top, wrapping them around his head tightly enough to stop the blood from running down his cheek. “Now follow that car. I’m not losing this fight.” As he spoke, he felt dizzy, and his head began to spin. The blood loss was affecting his concentration.

“But sir, you’re not well. The other officer told me to take you to the hospital.”

“I’m fine, and I commandeered this vehicle, not him. Get the engine going and follow him.” He gestured towards Myers’ car that had already made its way down the street.

They had driven for what seemed to Luke as several hours of headaches but was only a few minutes. Both him and the driver were feeding off their own adrenaline which pumped rage and excitement through their veins. “Keep going!”

They lost sight of Myers as he rushed across an intersection. Luke was stuck at a red light. A crowd of different grey SUVs came shooting down the street, flying across in front of him. Police were close behind them, speeding down the road, lights flashing, screaming through their speakers. ‘Pull over to the side of the road damnit,’ he heard one officer say. Luke looked at the license plates. 14-KO-LE, 17-KO-LE, 16-KO-LE. That was the moment he realised this was more than just a few clever stints by some lucky idiots.

He turned to the driver and gave him an address. He knew where he needed to go. Shortly after, they arrived at what seemed like a bar. He paid the driver three one-hundred-dollar notes for his efforts. The driver was very appreciative. It was Christmas for him. On a regular day, he’d make a maximum of eighty in total let alone three hundred in one trip. There was no way he was forgetting this trip.

Luke stepped out of the car, thanked the driver and waved him off. He turned back to the bar entrance and prepared himself, patting his shirt and pants down, fixing up his bandage ensuring he hadn’t started bleeding again. When the doors opened, he noticed only six people. Two women sitting by the front window chatting away, minding their own business. One of them looked over to Luke confusedly, thinking to herself how dirty he looked. The other four were men sat around one table near the middle of the room. As Luke walked over, what looked like the oldest one told the other three to move, so they did. They stood up and shuffled to a different table, a booth by the back corner.

“Mr Daniels, what a pleasure it is to see you.” The old man held out his hand for Luke to shake. Luke hit it away. This man was nicknamed Mr K. His actual name was Mr Kolesky, a man known for his questionable business ventures. He owned several real estate businesses in the area which were under investigation by Luke’s very department. “What’s the matter with you today? You not feeling well? Got a bit of a headache?”

Luke looked at him with disgust. “Tell your men to stop this havoc. I know it’s you, K.”

“What do you mean havoc? My men aren’t doing anything. They’re sitting over there drinking scotch like respectable gentlemen, like me.”

“You know exactly what your men are doing. The jewellery store on Edward Street, the sandwich shop on Flanders, the club by Lennie’s, do these names sound familiar? I’m sure they’re written down on a planning sheet out back.”

“These are some very bold accusations you bring here, Mr Daniels.” Mr K spoke with a smile that spanned his face.

“I’m not playing this game with you. Tell them to stop. I have enough dirt to bring your whole operation down. I know about your guys in Cuba. Don’t make me go public with it.”

Mr K leant back in his seat and sipped his double shot of scotch. “There are things you say Mr Daniels that make a lot of sense, and then there are things you say that can get your tongue ripped from your throat. But I’m not quite sure which one relates to what you’ve just said.”

Luke slammed the table, his voice getting louder. “You have one more chance to stop this or else you and your entire family are losing everything you love. That’s what you call a threat. If you want to make one, don’t cuddle it in subtlety and nuance, be direct!”

“I didn’t take you for someone who is easily angered, Mr Daniels. Would you care for a drink? Something to cool you off?”

“If you think I’d sit and have a drink with you, you are mistaken. I don’t drink with criminals.”

“Criminals? I’m no criminal. You know that. I just sit around telling people what to do, telling them what areas to scout out for good housing, what the cost is for them to get rid of a house. I’m a consultant at heart, Luke, may I call you Luke? Anyway, you say you don’t drink with crooks like me and yet you go out of a night with your department friends. How do you explain that?” Mr K could see the distress in Luke’s face. It gave him great joy. “You know what, let that be a thought for another time. Have a scotch, and some ice too, that’ll bring down your temper.” He turned to the man behind the bar and called for a double 22-scotch on the rocks.

A waiter came from around the corner with Luke’s scotch on a tray. The ice rattled as it was walked to the table. “That’s a beautiful scotch there, twenty-two years old.” Mr K stood up, taking the glass and handing it over. Luke declined without losing any fury in his face. “So be it. Care to watch some TV?” K asked. He picked up the remote and turned it on, flicking through until he found the news channel.

The reporter was stood by a ball of flames, talking behind the cover of double-layered glass sheets. “What you can see here is a police vehicle in flames by the exit of downtown section 31. By the end of the pursuit, Police were able to stop the escaping assailants before they reached the gate by use of a spike strip, taking out both front tires and causing the car to flip onto its roof. Three gunmen were pulled from the wreckage and taken into custody. Here is the police transport van leaving with them right now.” A police van flew past the reporter, nearly taking her out with its side-view mirror. Mr K turned up the volume. The cameraman moved to the reporter’s left and got a clean shot of the burning car. Luke recognised the license plate.

“Reports say that there was only one officer in the car at the time of the crash. A Sergeant Myers. He is currently in critical condition and on his way to the hospital in one of three ambulances that were on the scene. We will be updating you on any new developments. I’m Tracy Sterling, back to you Mark.”

Luke had never felt a pain so acute in his life. His chest was caving in like a sinkhole consuming a city. The only thing he could think about was whether Myers would survive his wounds, then he remembered where he was.

He reached into his jacket and, turning towards Mr K, pulled out his handgun and shot bullet after bullet into him. The old man fell back in his chair, its wooden legs crumpling under his weight. The three men in the booth jumped out of their seats and returned fire at Luke. All he could remember was the room going red as both magazines he packed were emptied into Mr K and his henchmen, then his mind turned blank like peering down a black abyss, unable to see the bottom.

Four hours later he awoke to a sharp stabbing pain in his abdomen. He sat his head up and looked around. He was lying in a bed with bandages around his waist, four patches of dark red blood covered his body, contrasting with the pale white gauze tape. Beeping and buzzing rang in his ears, multi-coloured lights blinked like strobe lights in a night club. He couldn’t move his legs and his right arm was numb with needles stuck in the inside of his elbow.

Nurses were running around the emergency room with complete calmness as people screamed in agony and jostled uncontrollably in their beds. Luke turned to his left to see a man lying with his eyes closed, face badly burned. A nurse came over and asked if Luke could feel any sensation in his legs. She tapped his toes, but there was nothing.

Once she was done, he called her over. “Who’s that over there?”, pointing to the bed across. “I think I know him.”

She stopped for a second and held his hand. “That’s Sergeant Myers. He just went into a coma a few minutes ago.”

“Will he come out of it?” His voice beginning to quiver as he held back his tears.

“The doctors are unsure; however, we’re all hoping he will.”

In that moment Luke thought to himself, if he had woken just five minutes earlier, he could’ve apologised to Myers for getting him into this mess. Then he closed his eyes to let regret consume him.