SALVATION chapter 9

Salvation
Chapter 9
San Diego, California

Nick flipped closed the silver face plate of the tiny cell phone.
His emotions were mixed. Grateful he knew Michelle was alright.
Worried about her chances of getting free of the Los Angeles area..
Seventy five miles of bedlam lay between Long Beach and
Riverside.
Once there she could pick up the I-10 east leading her to what he
hoped would be safety.
Her bike worked in her favor. Although the 07' Dyna Glide Custom
didn't have the same advantage of Sportster agility.
The coil over rear suspension beat the hell out of Nicks 02'
Softail Heritage Classic which rolled fat like a buick in comparison.
Adding to the equation the additional power of the 96 cubic inch Evolution Big Twin, Michelle's bike gave her a better than average chance..
Buck had called him from the studio around 10am.Wondering where he was.
He apologized, saying he'd had a rough night..
They all had keys, they could start without him.
While speaking with Buck the residue of the dream still haunted him.
Leaving him shaken and washed out. Nagging. Refusing to leave.
He advised Buck he'd get up there by noon and apologized again.
After hanging up he decided to take some time..
He had showered before Buck's call but also wanted to shave.
The apartment felt quiet and sober..
He decided to turn on the tv set and add some ambient noise..
That was approximately 10:30 am..

Now It was almost noon.
Police and fire engine sirens wailed consistently out side the apartment.
Helicopers thumped overhead accompanied by loud speaker warnings.
"This is the San Diego County Sheriff Department.
Police action in progress...Stay in your homes."
The skyline was muddy and filled with the stench of fire.
Pillars of thick black smoke appeared in every direction Nick could see from
the balcony of the apartment.
Standing in the center of the apartment..Dressed, helmet in hand, ready to roll.
Checking the tv for any last minute updates..Shrewish thoughts surfaced.
What other choices did Michelle have?..L.A.X and a flight out? Not possible.
The FAA had already temporarily grounded flights in and out of the entire Southern California region.
Even if they hadn't. How safe could she possibily be mixed within the masses
of a busy airport?
Stay home?
The official request of the Los Angeles police Department was exactly
that.
"If your at work stay at work. If your at home stay at home."

Had his own advice added a fuel of panic tipping Michelle's decision to flee the
area? Had his concern for her safety inadvertently put her in more jeopardy?
His own decision to leave the San Diego area was based on the logic that
in any given population the ratio of police officer to citizen was approximately
1 in 300...
Under normal conditions that ratio was sufficient to maintain society's expectation of law and order.
What Nick saw taking place here in San Diego. A hundred and fifty miles from
the center of Los Angeles. Was a huge shift against authority's response time
if an individual was in peril.
How much greater the lag in response time would Michelle suffer at her Long Beach location less than fifty miles from the epicenter?
Nick's decision to advise Michelle as he had done was based on gut feeling and the little known facts he had available to him at the time.
In his heart and mind he firmly believed there was no safety for her to be found in the L.A. region.
But what if he was wrong?

After speaking with Michelle he had called the studio back.
He spoke with Toby, then Mac, and Buck..
Passing them the information he'd learned from the news casts.
The general consensus was the three men would stay hold up
there at the studio..
It seemed the safest alternative apposed to venturing back
into San Diego..Nick agreed..
He saved mentioning Michelle and his plans to meet her
until he spoke with Buck..
He knew the idea was risky, and his life was in danger.
He knew the boys would try to talk him down.
Advise him to join them and wait things out.
Buck didn't try. He asked if Nick was bringing her back
with him to the studio.
Nick had no answers. His only concern was she get out
of the L.A. region..After that she would be deciding her own
course of action..

Once he was certain the men understood the danger
of listening to any music at this time he hung up..
He placed little foam ear plugs in both ears..
They were lying around the apartment and at the studio.
Used as a tool when recording vocals..
It was necessary to plug one ear when singing into pre recorded
playback.. A means to hear both the music and the vocalists
pitch at the same time.
He strapped on the helmet then opened the front door
scanning the immediate area..
It looked clear.
He locked the apartment and sprinted to the Softail.
Firing it up and rolling out cold.

Ashlee's death had been an accident..
They had been in love and she was ripped from him in a moment.
Suddenly. No early warning. Gone.
She simply was in the act of driving a car..
Her make up bag had slipped off the the passenger seat..
Lying on the floor board.
It would only take a second..to retrieve it..
And she wanted to look nice for Nick when she met him.
Unbuckling the seat belt. Steering with her left.
Reaching with her right and down...
Pulling her head an instant below the dashboard.
When she looked up, clutching the make up bag, her
life was over.
Two years and one month had passed. Seven hundred and sixty days..
Until last night, when he first lay eyes on Michelle,
Nick had felt exactly the same as day one.

Los Angeles, California
1:pm
The sky rained black ash. The atmosphere thick and settling like hot fog.
Close and stifling as oil fires and smog collaborated changing oxygen to
oxalic acid.
North Stanley Street in South Central Los Angeles looked much as it did on any given day.
Tan colored mock adobe homes with black rusting security bars.
Traditional wood sided structures, asphalt rolled or shingle roofed.
Intermixed with twelve unit apartments stuccoed in steel blue.
Laundry hung on back yard clothes lines, or drying over balcony
balustrades of rod iron fencing.
Scorched brown Bermuda braced another day of drought.
The littered curbs and vacant lots played host to blowing debris in the mild Santa Anna wind.
As if a overloaded sanitation truck had barreled past throwing it's candy in a parade.
A mail man appeared out of the haze making his way down the block.
Clad in blue short sleeves and shorts. The kind with wide pinstripes on the sides.

Detective Hal Pigg rolled to a stop finding an open spot against a low curb of faded red paint..
A yellow fire hydrant mounted to the weed infested sidewalk framed itself in the
cruiser's passenger side window..
The location was acceptable.
Far enough south of the suspect's address to remain unnoticed.
He removed an L.A. Dodgers cap adjusting the tight fitting wireless radio headset.
Reminding him of the first time his parents forced him to wear a tie.
The right side speaker on the headset was all but useless.
Along with the wireless issued to all field officers as of 11:am this morning was a package of wax ear plugs for the right ear as an added precaution.
He slipped a flat black SWAT issue combat helmet off the passenger seat and strapped it on.
Pressing a tiny button embedded at the base of the stemmed microphone he checked in.
...."83...(officer I.D.#).....10-97... (arrived at scene).....10-4?" (copy)
Dispatch confirmed the officer's I.D. by the last two digits of his badge number.
"83,..10-4."

Officer Hal Pigg..The surname was not the mistaken type 'O' of a less than meticulous fiction writer.
Nor the delusional trappings of a self inflated mistaken sense of humor
conceived in the dark passages of a cynical mind.
Hal Pigg was simply, Hal Pigg..He had been Hal Pigg since the day be was born..
There was nothing to be done..
He had no control over the derivatives of linguistics as they pertain to the English Language.
No say so in the philology of alphabetical concepts that were long ago pieced together forming ideas and values handed down from generation to generation by the ancient tradition of Grandfather to Father,..Father to Son.

He had been Hal Pigg since the pungent mixture of dirt playgrounds, bloody noses, skinned knees, and swollen knuckles became a daily conditioning of his young life.
And he had remained true to his Father and his Father's Father through out the years of puberty and adulthood despite the giggling groups of high school girls and embarrassed college professors caught snickering behind his back.

He turned his attention to the fire hydrant.
Seeing through the drip dried dog piss stains that coated it.
Beneath the human territorial markings expressed through 'gangster red' graffiti lingo.
Hal pulled a little back notebook from the glove box noting the street location of the hydrant.
South Central had been his beat..Back a few years when he had still been a patrol officer.
It had been his commitment for over a year now.
During his time off duty.
Repainting defaced fire hydrants through out his old patrol area.
What he saw behind the ugliness of disrespect.
Below the chipped and tattered fading yellow paint.
Was something worth honoring.
Standing strong and at ready.
Created by man to help make the world a better place.

The mail carrier was infected. Hal punched the transmit button again watching
the habits of the grinner.
As he did another cruiser pulled over shimmering 's like a mirage at the far north end of the street.
It was lieutenant Harrington's unmarked car.
" 83..Advise 10-66 (suspicious person)..One..White..Male..Postal carrier...2229 North Stanley Street..10-4"
Dispatch paused them came back.." 83,..surveillance is in progress, 10-4?"
"10-4."
Headquarters was aware of it..The post office was officially closed.
Surveillance choppers had been especially active overhead in this area.
A prelude to the code 11 (SWAT call up) about to be carried out.
They didn't want to move on Mister short pants and blow the SWAT's cover.
Hal gave lieutenant Harrington time to advise dispatch his position.
Then switch the radio channel to number 2..synchronizing the lieutenant's
radio with his own..

The mail carrier's persevering determination was commendable.
Pulling the correct order of rubber banded materials from his large tan leather pouch.
Sorting and double checking the address numbers posted on the exterior of the homes.
He simply laid the mail on the front lawns of the appropriate residences.
"That's rich"..Hal murmured.."Close buddy but no cigar."
Harrington's voice cracked in Hal's left ear." 83, 74, 87, code 12..(swat in progress)..stand by."

SWAT was positioned somewhere behind the perk's apartment building
on the block directly east of Hal's right side.
Hal, Lieutenant Harrington, and two other officers of L.A.'s Special Operations Bureau were to converge at the front of the complex thwarting any frontal escape route.
Lieutenant Harrington was in command of platoon B. The platoon Hal and officers 74, and 87 were also teamed.
The Special Weapons And Tactics platoon D, currently storming the apartment complex, was commanded by Lieutenant Samatha De La Cruz.

The radio hissed again..
" 74, and 87.. 10-88 (assume post)..83 stand by 10-4?"...
"83,..10-4."
A moment later two silent black and whites sped passed Hal
with Christmas trees blazing..They wedged a Vee at the front of the
apartment building..
"83, 10-88, 10-4?"
"83, 10-4."
Hal hit the overhead light rack and floored it..
Harrington's car duplicated Hal's action..
They slid up taking outside positions of the first cars fatting the Vee formation.
The first two officers had already swung their doors and crouched behind them
leveling their Glock 17 sidearms at the front entry of the complex.

The familiar chop, chop, chop of an approaching police helicopter was faintly heard by Hal and the other officers.
It broke into view seconds later making uninterrupted circles over the area.
Hal saw it propel the sky like stirred soup grabbing his Remington M870 12 gauge shotgun while exiting the cruiser.
Wedging the stock end to the street and the barrel against the arm rest
mounted to the driver door.
He flip the holster strap guard pulling his side arm. Holding the
weapon with both hands he extended his arms between the slopping
window frame and side body of the car.

The risk of contamination brought with it a unique protocol.
Working in a state of deafness Hal and platoon B were not able to
hear what was taking place inside the building as the operation proceeded..
The SWAT team themselves couldn't hear what was going on inside
the building.
Losing the sense of sound put the police at a great disadvantage.
Making the operation considerably more dangerous than it would already
have been with all five senses working in their favor.

Hal kept track of the passage of time by noting the
approximate one minute lap cycle of the blue and white Jet Ranger
police chopper.
It was on it's sixth loop when Hal glimpsed three more police cars
arrive converging on the mail carrier down the block..

The SWAT operation was performed with a minimal of back up..
A indication of just how thin stretched the force had become amid
the pandemonium of the day.
As commander of platoon B, Harrington alone was instructed to flip
his radio receiver to channel 3..The channel the SWAT team was
using to communicate between themselves.
He needed to be kept informed in the event platoon D needed to
pass him quick updated information.

The copper looped around three more times before
Hal's headset buzzed and Harrington's voice punched through.
"83, 74, 87, Code.12...10-26..(clear)...10-4?"
Hal pushed the transmit.."83, 10-4."
There was a short pause..Then the voice returned.
"They found three cold bodies up there."
"Copy that Lieutenant", Hal acknowledged.
"Detective...I am going to need you in with me on this one."
"Yes sir."
"I am putting you on point..Your to report directly to me."
"Yes sir."
Harrington then addressed officers 74 (Larry Carson), and 87 (Gilbert Silversmith) both ranking Police Officers lll.
"Carson, Siversmith, good job guys..I'd like you both to assist across the street
if needed."
Harrington indicated the two officers who now had the mock mail man
spread eagle on his stomach with his hands cuffed behind his back..
They worked carefully duck taping the man's headphone set like a silver sweat band around his head, securing it.
Harrington continued, "Make sure that music player keeps working. They're manageable as long as that shit keeps pumping through their system."
Officer Silversmith tapped his transmitter..
"I think that's Robertson and Wagner sir..
Out of Hollenbeck Division..Their radio's aren't going to sync up
with Metro's sir.."
Harrington frowned, then nodded in agreement.."Use sign language..Light a
fire and try smoke signals Silversmith..Do what you need to do..It's just one of
those days."
"Yes sir."
Harrington added, "When your finished there, Carson...Silversmith? I want you back over here assisting Detective Pigg..
The Detective will be assuming command of the investigation..
Keep residents clear of apartment 12, and civilians clear out front..Forensics, Coroner's office, meat wagon...Keep everyone out of their face."

Platoon D was beginning to emerge through the front of the apartment building..
Lieutenant De La Cruz appeared like a shadow from the shaded front entry.
Black on black attire..She was deep in conversation with Metropolitan Division
Special Operations Bureau with step by step accounting of the operation and
its conclusions. Her MP5 submachine gun and fixed Surefire Flashlight strapped over her right shoulder..

Harrington held up three fingers and both he and Hal switched radio signals to
channel 3. SWAT officers were taking strategic perimeter points protecting the integrity of the crime scene.

The two men approached Lieutenant De La Cruz at the same time providing
her a respectful distance as she spat codes into her microphone.
Her complexion was that of milk chocolate. Hal had decided she was a
Milky Way bar in disguise..Long wavy raven colored hair was drawn up
in a tight swirl hidden under her combat helmet.
He felt self conscious standing there waiting..Partly because he wanted to
get inside the apartment and begin his investigation, and partly because he
felt uncomfortable by the fact he couldn't take his eyes off her.

He knew her of course and she him professionally.
They both worked in the Metropolitan Division and were both assigned
to the Bureau..
It was not unusual for them both to be in attendance at conferences
and department meetings. Sometimes with her sitting next to him.
He always when away from those meetings feeling the same way.
The way he felt right now.

Finished for the moment with headquarters she turned toward Harrington
and confirmed the channel with three fingers. Harrington nodded and she
switched over..
Harrington pushed his transmitter first. "Lieutenant De La Cruz I believe
you and Detective Pigg know each other, am I right?"
She smiled and touched her transmitter. "Yes, how are you Detective?"
Hal nodded, as Harrington spoke. "Detective Pigg is going to handle the
investigation Lieutenant.."
"Oh yes?" She nodded.
Harrington continued, "I am going to confirm it with the Bureau, but I wanted
to give you a heads up Lieutenant in case you noticed anything while you
were up there..Anything you'd like to pass on."
She nodded.."Well, it's a mess up there Lieutenant Harrington as I am
sure you will agree once you see it."
She paused shaking her head. Then continued speaking directly to Hal.
"I've been around you know? I've seen it all, but this..There are three
dead men up there that look like somebody used them to paint the walls."
Harrington punched in again. "Wow..Just what we need today..Crazy music
and now a mass murder..I am switching over to 1. I've got to touch base..
Lieutenant, good job today."
"You also Lieutenant..I am afraid this day is just beginning however."
Harrington nodded then turned his attention to Hal.
"Go ahead on up Hal..I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Yes sir." Hal returned.

Harrington descended the front entry way and made his way to his car.
Hal turned and watched him out of respect for the man.
The cruisers across the street were just pulling out with the grinning mail man.
Carson and Silversmith were stopping sparse traffic and sternly advising
occupants to go home.

Hal turned back and Lieutenant De La Cruz was looking directly at him.
For a moment he lost himself in her dark eyes.
When he blinked he noticed she held up five fingers..
He started to push his transmitter to tell her he didn't understand.
Before he could she motioned to her radio and then to his.
Slowly as if instructing she advanced her channel selection to 5.
He nodded and did the same.
"Are you ready for this?" she said indicating the apartments.
He nodded then realized the SWAT team wasn't hearing this conversation.
"That was a neat trick."
She smiled and the dark mysterious eyes smiled also.
"I have my moments...Some day huh?"
"Yeah", he said..."This crazy headphone set is making my head itch!"
She laughed, "Your too?..I thought it was only me!"
He wanted to tell her he'd be happy to massage her scalp for her later, but
almost choked on the thought amazed how quickly it popped into his mind.
Instead he said something else that made him red in the face.
Wishing he could suck it back like a breath.
"Your very brave,...Lieutenant."
"Yes I am Detective" She sounded professional..Matter of fact.
But Hal saw something hidden behind the tone of voice.
Something that softened in her eyes and a slight smile that produced a dimple
on the right corner of her mouth.
"Well Detective if your ready I'll show you the apartment."
"I don't want you to have to go back in there."..He felt like a teenager..
She looked at Hal thinking to herself that this man was different.
Despite the heat and horrific conditions of the world around him. Knowing
what lay wating for him in apartment 12. His first concern was for her
safety..
Not just from the possiblilty of a crazed apartment resident suddenly
snapping and lashing out in fear and rage.
Or of a certain suspect that may have evaded the teams inital passing..
A suspect hidden in the shadows with bulging eyes and
breathing fear. Waiting..
But it was more the concern he was showing her for the safety of her mind.
An attempt to spare her another trip into the all too hellish reality of a
human being gone horribly wrong.
"You will be there" she said..."You will be there if I need you."