Chapter 26

word count 995

Buzz reached for the car door, glad to be going to work since he couldn't sleep. The precinct house was the best place to be, not this stinkin' so-called "happy" home environment. Let Jeannie play at that. But before he could grasp the handle, he saw a blinding light, a blow to the back of his head sending him reeling. He staggered, but undaunted turned on his heel to come face to face with a stranger wearing a black ski mask. All he could see were two coal black eyes glaring at him.

Adrenalin pumped, filling his limbs with super powers. He grabbed the guy's arm with his left hand and pounded into him with the right. The blows blasted on impact followed by yelps of agony from the fellow. The guy fell into a heap, but sprung back up, wide-kicking Buzz before the cop knew what happened. Knocked off balance, Buzz fell with all his 200 lbs. landing full force. He hit the pavement on his knees which snapped and crackled with pain. The other guy pounced like an animal beating him until Buzz was face down on the sidewalk. As his cheek brushed against cold concrete, Buzz felt his eyes swelling, one last glimpse revealed the ankle of his oppressor. Rosy pink skin with a silver chain bracelet wrapped around...his attacker was a woman! Then the masked vandal kicked. The heavy shoes delivered blows like boulders cascading in an avalanche. Finally, three sounds kick to Buzz's head rendered him unconscious.

The woman ninja rolled over Buzz's limp body and fished in his pockets, coming up with a wallet. Next, grabbing up the cop's car keys off the sidewalk, she jumped in Buzz's Hummer and revved the motor, taking off down the road.

When he awoke, Buzz couldn't figure out why he couldn't move, or why he couldn't turn his head without screeching pain, or where he was, for that matter. The last thing he remembered was leaving the house. But now he was somewhere else.

"Well, looks like someone did a hell of a job on you, buddy!" It was the unmistakable lilt of Gil Bettencourt, a hint of Latino added music and rhythm to the intonation.

Next, Hank Bower chimed in. "Ya got that right, Gil! The boss there is a mess! Did a truck roll over you, sir?"

He emphasized the "sir" for effect. The guys never called him that, even though he was their superior. Buzz believed in treating his boys like friends.

"I'm not sure what happened...why the fuck can't I move?" He struggled for some kind of movement. He felt pinned down, trapped.

"Easy, boss! You're wearing casts. Here, let me roll up the bed so you can see." Gil threw in a chuckle as he turned the handle.

No longer flat on his back, Buzz looked to see two long casts on his legs. He felt his neck and found a brace there, too. He reached higher and felt bandages wrapped around his skull.

"Broken knee bones, a concussion, a neck sprain! The doc said you'd be laid up for 4-6 weeks and lots of therapy so you can walk again." Hank shot him a toothy smile.

"I can't do that! I'm gettin' outta here, FUCK!" Buzz tried to move his legs, but the casts were heavy and immobile. "What the fuck!" he murmured.

"Ah, don't feel bad, boss! They sending you home with PT follow up. You won't be here long."

Buzz felt his face warming, soon to be blood red with anger. The other two saw and prepared to get out of there.

"Well, boss! I gotta get back to a stake out! I've got that asshole Jake under surveillance. I left O'Donnell watching him. Kid's an incompetent!"

"Yeah...I think I'll go, too!" Bowers chimed in.

They hurried out, obviously fearful of the coming explosion.

Left alone, he saw no point in yelling. Who would hear? Buzz tried to sort out his memories. An image flashed in his mind...an ankle bracelet, and the rest of the story poured down like a waterfall, filling in the blanks. He remembered the woman dressed in black, her ferocity, her skill. But still, a dame! He was beat to a pulp by a woman!
***

The call woke Jeannie from a sound sleep. She rolled over and picked up the phone, murmuring a hello without realizing she'd done so. She was a lost in a dream, a dream about being lost, searching for something...

"Mrs. Miller? This is county hospital calling..."

She listened and her jaw dropped. Buzz was accosted right out front getting in the car, and she never heard a thing. She picked up a pill bottle from the night table and rolled it around in her palm. The damned Ambien. She'd slept through the whole thing. A stranger had seen his body on the street and called for help. His wallet was stolen, and the paramedics didn't know where he lived. They rushed him to the hospital, and someone recognized him there from seeing him on the news. Eventually, the hospital found their way to call her.

He could have been killed! How could this happen! She had cancer and now her husband would be laid up sick at home for weeks. How could she ever tell him of her own problems now? There was enough on his plate. She shuddered recalling what a cranky patient he could be. Last time he was laid up, with the flu, the demands never quit as he bellowed instructions from bed. She couldn't do anything right, the soup wasn't hot enough, the pillows not fluffed enough. It was her fault; he deserved better.

***
Trudy heard about Buzz's beating while listening to the news the next morning. Her original anger was still raw and tearing at her heart.

"Humph!" she said. "What do you know about that?" She gulped her coffee and headed for work.