Officer Russ Gunam
*Ranked 4th place in the Short Story Competition*
Being to work early was important to Russ Gunam, especially on Monday. Today in any event was the annual celebration of the police station being opened only 20 years earlier to the day. It was Russ’ favorite work day of the year because everyone was smiling. They wouldn’t work, the other stations would take over for them as they celebrated. There was lots of food, extravagant for an annual party, with a fantastic barbecue. There were chili dogs, juicy burgers cooked just right, and some great barbecue pulled pork sandwiches. Russ maneuvered his way over to the sauerkraut before it was all gone, as it was made by his partner Dave, the best cook at the station. He was always the one to go overboard at an event like this.
Today was also a great day for food. If you like food, you wanted to be here, and that’s what was going through Russ’ head as he headed over to grab some more food, now grabbing a pulled pork sandwich in one hand, while in the other he grasped his cup of fruit punch. He pondered how in the world he was gonna carry all of the food. Thankfully there were some trays to help him out. For being 53, he could handle himself alright. At least he wasn’t calling minors “sonny” quite yet.
He sat at a table with a couple co-workers whom he had worked with for the last 20 years, ever since the station opened. Russ had applied for the job after he earned his master’s degree at a later age than planned after working the previous 10 years at Southwest, handling baggage and dumping them onto the moving platform to take them to load them on the planes where customers would be heading out to leave to. He thought it was an “okay” job for the first 2 years, and then on from there, he went searching, and searching, until he decided just to get his master’s degree and forget about getting a new job for a while.
Lucky for him, in the last 20 years since working for Metro-Suburban station here in Tampa, Florida, he had been able to pay off all the bills and student loans for college and was able to make a savings account and make it a more leisurely life.
He didn’t know where to start, at the left or the right. He had mashed potatoes, green beans, chili dogs, a burger, and sauerkraut, which he had no idea if he would ever finish it. His eyes usually begged him to eat more than his stomach could hold down, resulting in the potbelly he had.
As the night went on, Russ continued to hang out with his friends and chatter about the latest news stories which then shifted to politics, and Russ knew where this was going.
“Hillary’s a criminal, I say,” said Robert Gregory, one of Russ’ good friends piped up.
“Trump’s leading us to nuclear warfare, I say” said Brandon Verrett.
After the remark, Russ got up from the table and head outside on the warm and muggy August night. A perfect night to sit outside, enjoy the view from twenty stories above the world and just sit in the peaceful night. He could almost hear the crickets from even the elevation he was at, which he thought was crazy, and thought it might have just been in his head.
He heard shuffling around, though, at the roof from which he stood, and it startled him, mostly because he thought he was the only one.
“Hello,” he said, his voice shaking.
No one responded to his comment. Russ put his Budweiser down and took a step back, almost to the railing. He by instinct pulled his gun out of his holster on his right hip. After a couple minutes, he head back inside and sat back down at the table where he was sitting at before the encounter with mystery man.
“What’s wrong, Russ,” Robert asked, surprised at his friend's expression.
“I thought I heard someone scuffling around upstairs on the roof. I guess it sounds silly, but I’m a little spooked.”
“Oh, don’t worry Russ,” Brandon commented, obviously eavesdropping. “This place is so well guarded, I don’t think anyone could get through.”
“I guess you’re right, Brandon,” Russ said easily, a little bit calmer now.
His nerves calmed down and he was able to continue his conversation with his friends. After about another couple of hours, he was off in his car on his way home to his house five minutes outside of Tampa.
On his way home, though, he noticed something odd. It was dark, but that didn’t stop Russ from realizing that a Prius had been following him for the past ten minutes. He started to change lanes, when the Prius cut him off and swerved around him. Still stunned from the move, Russ started to reach for his phone.
A split second before he was able to dial the other station he heard a noise so loud it might as well have blown his ear drums out. It was a gunshot, and there was no mistaking it. It was as clear as day itself and Russ knew that the Prius had shot at him. He didn’t understand why, how, or when this man had followed him, when he got a quick look at the man with his window down before rolling up his heavily tinted windows, shocker, and started speeding away. Russ was in no mood for games, especially with the scenario. His bullet-proof windows could take the hit.
The man seemed tall, with his head seeming to scrape the top of his small automobile, and a face that was unmistakable for anyone else’s. He had a small round face, with thick jet black hair, that went down to his chin. He looked Asian, maybe Taiwanese if he was not mistaken. He called in the department as he started the chase. The man sped up more, and more, until they were at racing speed on the barren road. There was no way Russ was letting him get away with this. That man had failed to do the one mission that he had been assigned, and that was to eliminate Officer Gunam. Whatever the motive to kill him was unknown, but it wouldn’t be for long because Russ would make sure the man was hunted down and thrown in jail, just if he could keep him in the chase for as long as needed.
It wasn’t going to be easy though. The man kept changing lanes, stopping, slowing, speeding, and even going off road for a stretch. He had kept him in the chase though, but would he be able to maintain him? He knew in a second once there was some cop cars with Russ surrounding the attempted murderer.
“This won’t be the last of it,” the man called from the grasp of the two officers, “There are plenty of us, and that won’t be all,” he said with a tone that scared the daylights out of Russ. He might as well have been a terrorist. The man was probably a drunk and had drove after a party, and will probably be found for taking drugs and end up in jail for who knows how long. But for now, Russ, was unsure. He thanked his companions and continued his ride home, alone this time.
In bed that night, he wondered if he might have another problem with another man with a similar motive to the Asian man. His thoughts kept chirping at him, This won’t be the last of it, he recalled from the man who had threatened there would be more of them. Somehow, though a trial, he was able to settle himself and get some shut eye.