Interrogation
795 Words
Second floor room.
Julian had no time to waste words with Uncle Stephen—two gun-butt strikes to the head, and Caleb Frost slapped cuffs on him.
“Move, move—fast.”
Julian yanked Uncle Stephen, rushed downstairs shouting. “No chase small fry—grab caught, take now. No waste time.”
Shouting, Julian and Caleb dragged Uncle Stephen out the storefront. Outside—pinned Alexander Cross bit Sebastian’s palm like beast, insane roar. “f**k your mother—weapons! Department dogs back!”
Street stirred—nearby dealers instant weapons rushed out.
But Julian planned ahead. Saw Alexander mouth open—arms swung gun butt, thud on mouth.
“Ah!”
Alexander pain rolled ground, turned spat two front teeth, lips blood hole.
“Side exit.” Julian crossed storefront back door road, waved urge. “No dawdle—five kilos dirty enough full sentence. Why carry boxes—idiots?”
Zabby heard—dropped box, grabbed two bags antivirals, fast into opposite alley.
Street—heads surged, dozens big stride rushed.
Bang-bang-bang!
Julian fired three into crowd—but they no scatter, insane forward charge, returned fire.
“f**k—these dealers no life.” Julian stuck alley mouth—shots no suppress, instant turned run.
Ten-plus seconds—crowd crossed narrow alley—heard screech-screech harsh brakes.
“Board.” Zabby and Tyler Ramirez two cars, pushed doors shout.
Julian etc no pause—shoved Alexander, Uncle Stephen, two accomplices into patrol car, flipped into rear bed.
Ashmire patrol cars two types—seven-seat off-road, five-seat pickup bed. Pure sedans only Elliot Vaughn etc senior brass qualify—normal patrol rare. Era practical—no resource vanity. Good too—bed for ride, else no fit all.
Vroom!
Boarded—Zabby floored, fastest out Slag Row perimeter.
Two cars speed—gunfire near nonstop. Vehicles riddled holes. Team Three two Thai-Chinese brothers outer side—all varying gunshot wounds.
“f**k—no hug—who front block—drive ram.” Julian crouched bed shout.
Zabby no normal head up look—head below wheel, continuous steer ram several—opposite rush crowd slow scatter.
Cars full throttle Slag Row area minute-plus—finally broke free.
Julian turned look street hundred-plus still chase crowd, wiped face sweat sigh. “This place no manage good—Salt Lake pattern unknown.”
Slap!
Words done—Julian heard head crisp sound, then pain.
“Badass, brother!” Caleb slapped Julian shout. “Guts big—this return gun beautiful.”
Julian frowned glance him—no word.
…
Past ten p.m.—department building.
Julian stitched wounded palm medical room, stepped interrogation.
Alexander lounged ground, side-eye Julian. “You trouble—not three hours…”
Thud!
Julian lifted foot—simple brutal kick Alexander head.
“f**k!”
Alexander head wall bump—stars.
“Five hundred no good, right?”
Thud!
“Slag Row—you biggest badass right?”
Thud!
“f**k mother—big boss huh?”
Thud-thud-thud!
Julian cursed, exploded eight kicks Alexander head—man ground unconscious, nose blood stream, body convulse.
“Come—cold water. Quick cool Mr. Cross hot blood.” Julian turned shout Zabby.
Zabby no polite—bathroom bucket ice-dreg dirty water, splash Alexander head.
Less half minute—Alexander eyes focus.
Julian stepped Alexander calf, bent roar. “Want frog jump?”
Alexander now fear eyes Julian—mouth no hard words.
“Kneel!” Julian sudden roar.
Alexander startled—instant back dodge.
“I said kneel.” Julian pointed ground, sharp eyes roar.
Alexander stunned, stutter. “No… no too ugly—okay?”
Julian heard instant lifted right leg.
Thud!
Foot no reach Alexander head—he instant kneel floor.
“Kneel frog jump. I no satisfied—you no stop. Stop once—I kick once.” Julian grabbed Alexander hair, word word. “Understand?”
Two minutes later—Alexander gritted teeth, knees ground frog jump room. “Good man no eat immediate loss… f**k—I accept.”
…
Outside.
“Tonight overtime interrogate?” Sebastian asked.
“No need—sleep sleep.” Julian shook head. “Cool overnight—tomorrow morning first small two evidence. Else Alexander and Uncle Stephen—no spit. These two no one two days this trade.”
“Understand.” Sebastian nodded ask. “Back new rent house? I drive.”
“No—tonight here.” Julian shook head. “Make do one night—tomorrow morning work.”
“Good.”
Talk brief—Julian turned washroom.
…
Ashmire entertainment venue.
Marcus answered phone, eyes slight shocked. “Real fake? Julian led raid Slag Row—succeeded? …Heh—this kid real give surprise.”
- Writer
