Ch. 5

The scene consisted of several scattered officers, medics, equipment, boxes of assorted goods, and gangsters. The ones who could move had to go through a maze to get from one side to the next. The walls and debris looked like Swiss cheese, not to mention the bodies. The floor had pools and spots of blood, either oozing from wounds or a couple sources, plus the shattered pieces of once whole things.

Delgato, Wolfort, Eric, and another officer were conversing near the doorway they had entered. Of all the attention he brought to himself, Eric possessed not one bullet hole, scrape, or bruise. “The leader and a few goons got away. Cowards, but some backup is keeping tabs on them,” reported Delgato. Wolfort, suffering several scrapes from debris and bullets, looked at Eric. “Nice shooting,” he complemented. “Where’d you learn to do that?” Eric smiled and replied, “Basic training, plus a great reaction time. Mix it with some skill and, well, you got your recipe.”

“What about the cub, Eric?” asked the other officer. The group turned to Connor, who sat next to Eric, staring at the mess. Not one motion he made since he sat down. Eric fixed his gaze on the cub, telling the others, “I’ll take him home. Be back asap.” He turned his talk to Connor. “Let’s get you home.” He held out his paw. Connor slowly gazed up at the officer. He took the paw and arose.

Connor sat shotgun and stared out the window. His silence and distant look told Eric all he needed to know. “I’m sorry that you saw what you did. No one your age should’ve seen that. I’m glad that you’re ok. I wish for a better future for you.” Connor was still quiet, but he turned his head towards the officer.

“How did you find me?,” he finally questioned. Eric pulled out the cub’s diary as a traffic light turned red. “Left a few clues in this book of yours. Also, Maxwell left the biggest clue, which you were fixing up.” Eric gave the diary back. He fished the breast pocket of the uniform and pulled out the finished green car. “For you.” Connor snatched them. He glanced at the diary, but was distracted by the finished car. He played with it for a bit. “How did you. . .” the cub began. “I tinkered at your age,“ responded Eric.

Connor, baffled for a bit, inquired, “Can you teach me?” The light turned green. “Teach you what? You know all you need to. Just persist in your efforts, and you’ll figure it out. Besides, you did all of the real work. I just finished it up.” Eric fished for something in his dark purple satchel. He reeled in the small screwdriver. “Have this. You’ll need it more than me. Also, there’s napkins in the glovebox.” Connor took the screwdriver and a napkin from the glovebox. He also tried to sneak a fat can of nuts. “No, no, no Connor,” stated Eric in a motherly tone. Connor looked up and asked, “May I have some nuts, please?” Eric replied, “Since you asked, yes. A pawful though. Will you please give me a pawful?”

Connor passed Eric a pawful of peanuts, which he ate in one bite. Eric turned on the radio as Connor put some nuts in his napkin. Bad Pups began to play. One by one, they slowly began to sing along. They took turns with the lyrics and the chorus, laughing at each other’s poor imitation of the singer. Connor looked up at Eric, a twinkle in his eye, and said, “Thank you officer. I owe ya one.” Eric glanced at the cub and replied, “Friends call me Lumbar. And you’re welcome.”

The sun was almost gone; just a slight orange glow over the horizon marked it’s fading presence. Eric pulled in the driveway of the Stole’s house. He told Connor, “Go ahead; I’ll catch up with you. Don’t forget about the falling trap in your closet.” Connor gleefully unbuckled, tucked his taken apart car within the napkin (which he had put in his pocket), and got out. His parents were on the porch, beckoning him. He charged at his parents, who accepted his rough hugs. Eric got out, putting a phone-like device in his satchel, and stood between the street and the porch. Stacey’s eyes welled. She noticed the officer and stated, “Thank you for bringing him back.” Eric gave an affirmative nod. He got back into the car and went back to the scene, the family waving as he departed.

Upon arrival, the officers were relieved. They managed to move some boxes and debris to form a short path through the maze. Eric got out and reunited with the others. “Cub’s home?,” asked Delgato. Eric nodded. “Now that you’re done babysitting, help us get these guys to jail.” Eric took a gangster, cuffing and storing him in the backseat. The gangster smugly stated, “You won’t make me talk.” Eric glanced at the gangster and off-pawedly responded, “Why would I need to waste my time with a locked-wrist?” The stupefied gangster made no further noises, other than an occasional groan in pain as the car made some sharp turns.

When Eric arrived, the media were all over the cops. They clamored about the shooting, some wanting all the gory details. Of course, they had to be asking the only officers who had to handle other responsibilities. Eric lowered his cap and got the criminal out of the car. He went behind the officers who were questioned stubbornly by the media. Some took pictures of the place. Only a few ever had Eric in it: In the background with a covered face and name tag.

Eric got in the somewhat dead lobby. A few officers and civilians roamed the place, likely due to the media frenzy outside. He tossed the criminal into a cell on the second floor, leaving him cuffed, and locked the cell door. The officer got a burning glare from the gangster. He met it with a cold stare. Only a few seconds passed before the criminal shivered and fell down. He then got to Chief Bogo’s office to turn his report in, and left the ZPD, off the clock.