The Incident

Chapter 1-3

Angel’s house was on a dead-end street that led to nowhere, much the way Michael felt about his life. It was the last house on the left, with only woods behind it and enough space on either side so that Angel’s privacy was never compromised. Lucky for the neighbors, Michael thought. He carried the few items he’d bought at the store along with his belt up the walkway that led to Angel’s home. Michael heard the incessant throb of trance music before he’d made it halfway up the walk. He shook his head in disbelief every time he heard Angel’s favorite music blaring from the windows of his car or his house. How anyone could stand that type of music was beyond him.

Michael and Angel had met while working security at a rave in a nearby college town. Michael guessed it was while they worked the security-rave circuit that Angel had developed his love of trance. Michael remembered a night when they’d busted a car full of underage rave kids and he’d noticed Angel tapping his foot the whole time.

“Helps me clear my head,” Angel had said when Michael asked what was up with his fascination with trance.

“Hey!” Michael shouted as he opened the front door to Angel’s house. “Hey, party monster, where are you?”

The music suddenly died, then he heard Angel’s lumbering gait. “Yeah, Mike, that you?”

“Yeah, you crazy bastard,” Michael said as his partner ushered him inside.

“Aww yeah, you brought those chips I like?” Angel grabbed the bags from Michael’s hands and opened them up with a loud pop. “Why did you bring your belt in? You could’ve just locked it in your glove compartment, you paranoid fucker,” he asked as he cracked open a bottle of beer then handed it over the kitchen counter. Michael took it gratefully.

“Long week, partner?” Angel asked. He came from behind the counter and leaned against it. Michael noticed Angel had changed into his sweat shorts. Slowly his eyes traveled up his partner’s legs, taking in the muscular curve of his calves and the golden-brown hair that covered them. He also noticed Angel’s ample bulge and found himself having to force his eyes to move away and focus on something else.

“Every week is a long week, partner,” he answered, but not before finding a seat in hopes of hiding his suddenly growing erection. “Don’t forget we got that overtime next week. Kinter finally gave us a bone,” he added, trying to pry his eyes from Angel’s body. It had been a recent thing, his attraction to Angel, and it made him nervous to be around him when they weren’t at work. At least at work they had the job, the constant need for vigilance to occupy their minds.

“Well, we’re off for the weekend, bro. Let’s not go there, okay?” he said seriously. Then he smiled and said, “You gonna hit Reggie’s stag at all?”

Michael caught himself staring at Angel’s bulge again when Angel reached down and scratched his nuts. “Huh?”

“Reggie’s stag party over at The Club. Earth to Carmac, you gonna hit it or what?”

When Michael looked up at Angel’s face, he was smiling; Michael felt a sudden heat rise in his cheeks.

“You mind if we sit outside?”

Angel shrugged. “Sure, why not? Lemme grab the beers and I’ll meet you in the backyard.”

Michael felt his heartbeat slow a little once he got outside and felt the cool night air. Sometimes he wondered if he really wasn’t losing his mind. Why else would he stare at Angel’s junk so blatantly? Am I crazy? All he needed was for more rumors to start and it would really be all over. The incident, the shooting, the kid getting mowed down…It kept Michael at the forefront of many peoples’ brains, and the last thing he needed was to have a s****l scandal erupt around him. He had to pull his s**t together

“You all right?”

He didn’t hear Angel until the man tapped him with a cold bottle of beer.

“Huh? Yeah, I guess I was just thinking.” He took the beer then handed Angel the empty one he’d been holding.

“I can only guess about what,” Angel said, dropping his and Michael’s empties in the plastic trash barrel Angel had set up next to the deck.

“It isn’t ever gonna go away,” Michael said, and for a second he wasn’t entirely sure he had spoken until he heard Angel’s voice.

“It will, though. It will go away if you let it. It wasn’t your fault, Mike. The investigation proved it.” Angel took a seat in an old Adirondack chair opposite Michael and looked him in the eyes.

“The investigation proved it.” Michael repeated Angel’s comment, his voice low and bitter.

“Can’t that be enough?” Angel asked.

Michael felt Angel reach over like he was going to put his hand on him. Michael instinctively pulled away.

“Geez, Mike.” Angel looked from his hands to Michael as he spoke. “You really can’t go on like this; I don’t want you to go on like this. You were proved—”

“It proved that I didn’t kill the kid on purpose, proved that I did my job, and killed the asshole who grabbed him and used him as a human shield. The investigation, the incident, the interrogations…What about my life? My sanity? My brain can’t take the weight anymore, man. I can’t take the pressure. It won’t go away.” Michael’s voice sounded strangled, as if someone had his hands around his throat. “Why won’t it go the f**k away?”

“Mikey…” Angel started to say, then stopped.

Michael could see concern in Angel’s eyes and it was more than he could stand.

“Don’t, Angel. Don’t look at me. I can’t take it,” Michael said as he quickly stood then went to the end of the deck, needing to put distance between his mouth and Angel’s ears. Taking a deep drink solved the urge to keep talking.

“What’s up with you?” Angel asked, the drunken slur Michael had heard on the phone now strangely absent. “You afraid of what I might see? Man, I’ve already seen it all. Michael, I was there. I saw what happened. I saw that there was a split second or less between the time you shot and when that asshole grabbed Georgie.”

“God, don’t say his name, Angel, I can’t f*****g stand it!” It felt as if by saying the name, Angel would invoke the ghost of the dead child. It sent razor-like chills down Michael’s back. He gripped the railing of the deck until he felt his hands go numb. He breathed deeply but could already feel the cold sweat of panic begin to roll down his back. He could hear the gunshot. A bird called out and made Michael jump. Michael looked up at the sky. “You see any bats yet? They usually come out around dusk, right?” He was shaking and his voice was low and sounded far away.

Angel didn’t respond but Michael heard him slam the screen door.

“Angel?” Michael called out, but his tongue felt thick and heavy.

No response. Nothing. It was the nothing that Michael feared, because behind the nothings were the sounds, smells, memories of that night. He went and sat down quickly in the Adirondack where Angel had been and began taking some quick breaths to quiet the panic he felt rising in the back of his head.

There had been so much light, cop car lights—bright, so bright—sirens blaring, voices calling out…Angel could make the noise in his head go away. That was what he wanted. He was about to call out again, but it was then he realized his eyes were closed. Don’t open your eyes. Don’t, don’t, don’t…