AN ANGEL ON PCP -Free Short Story-
- Sep 14, 2018
- 5 min read
“Central to kilo 1” radioed the desk sergeant to Air Force Security Police patrols. “Go ahead central” responded sergeant Nelson. “Proceed off base, through the west gate to Fort Walton Beach residence main road. The flight chief and sergeant Hall are on their way. We received a 911 call from a ten-year-old girl by the name of Kitty. She claims her brother Timmy was attacking everybody with an axe in the neighborhood.” “Roger that, central.” as sergeant Nelson made a rough U turn in the middle of the highway.
“Duke! You see! Every time we’re one hour to get off, some crap happens. Get ready boy!” his K-9 friend continued barking, moving side by side excited and dropping saliva all over the rear seat. Sergeant Nelson drove code three by the west gate at a high rate of speed by 9:01 pm, the siren howling, and bright blue lights alerted everyone in his path.
The K-9 team turned right in the main entrance and followed the flight chief, sergeant Stevens. Beautiful Christmas lights filled the streets, the air was cold and crisp. They arrived and were the first cops there. Sergeant Stevens stopped in middle of the road, the K-9 team twenty feet behind. They disembarked their vehicles and heard screaming sounds from a house to their left.
Timmy, a five-foot, ninety-five-pound, red headed Caucasian skinny kid, was destroying some kitchen windows with an axe. He stopped for a second and noticed the flashing blue lights, with silence. “HAH!” Timmy yelled to the top of his lungs with a high pitch scream and ran towards sergeant Stevens swinging the axe in all directions. Sergeant Stevens crouched in a football players position awaiting Timmy, while placing his right hand on his service revolver.
Sergeant Hall pulled his weapon and aimed it at Timmy. Sergeant Nelson grabbed Duke’s leash extracting his partner from the vehicle. Timmy came within three feet from sergeant Stevens, swung the axe from above his head, to the frightened officer and missed. The axe pierced the hood of the car and stuck itself in the damaged slit.
Timmy slipped and landed beneath sergeant Stevens, who tried to wrestle him to the ground, when Timmy lifted the 230-pound, 6-foot, military trained police officer. Both fell to the ground and sergeant hall joined in, to subdue Timmy. Sergeant Nelson reopened the rear door of his police car and placed Duke back in, after seeing Timmy’s body slam Sergeant Stevens to the ground and worried Timmy could hurt Duke. Sergeant Nelson joined the officers to help. Timmy was abnormally strong, fighting off three police officers. Finally, handcuffs were placed on his wrists and legs. Timmy kept fighting and screaming, with them on.
Sergeant Stevens and sergeant Hall kept their body weight on that maniac, trying to avoid the child from further injury. Blood was protruding from Timmy’s wrists, he insisted on releasing himself from the cold metal bracelets. The on base ambulance had arrived with two med techs and an Air Force doctor. They joined and tried to subdue that demon. The doctor began preparing an injection of Thorazine, an anti-psychotic schizophrenia tranquilizer. Sergeant Nelson went to investigate for anyone injured at Timmy’s home, since five men were attending Timmy.
Timmy managed to kick sergeant Hall, throwing him against both med techs, three feet away on to the freezing pavement. He grabbed the flight chief’s hair clinching his fists and pulled backwards. Sergeant Stevens began yelling from the electrifying pain. “He’s loose, he’s loose” yelled sergeant Hall. Timmy broke off the chains to the handcuffs, transferring blood on everyone from the deep wounds on his wrists. The med techs and sergeant Hall tried to release the bear grips from sergeant Stevens hair and placed a new pair of handcuffs. Incredibly, Timmy was stronger than all four of them.
The doctor rushed to the group and injected the juice into Timmy’s arm, no time for alcohol swipes. Timmy slowly released his victim’s hair and tried to bite the doctor but missed. The juice began to take effect and the demon was no more. Everybody took a deep breath from an unbelievable ordeal, amazed that a small child dominated several men with over eight hundred pounds in weight. It was an event for the cape crusaders of mental health, with a straight jacket.
Joyce Singer, Timmy’s mom was awaiting an approaching policeman, sergeant Nelson. Her daughters, Kitty and Kim were trembling, crying, while hugging their mom from behind, terrified from a maniac that minutes before tried to kill them all. “Ma’am, are you OK? Is anyone hurt?” sergeant Nelson asked, while assessing their situation. “I don’t think so. Is my son alright? Is he dead?” as the terrified women shook and slurred her words. “No ma’am, the doctor gave him something to tranquilize him, he’s just fine, he’ll be OK.” trying to calm the three down. “Ma’am, it’s pretty chilly, you and the girls are shaking too much, let’s go inside to warm up, OK?” Sergeant Nelson put his arms around Joyce and the girls, helped them to the warmth inside their home.
While approaching the home, several holes were noticed on the entrance door, the inner side of the door. To the right, glass was shattered on the floor from the broken front windows. After entering the home, on the left wall were numerous amounts of holes, some were slits about eight inches long, a creepy hallway. On the right side was the living room. The furniture was tilted over, lamps on the floor, more and more slits scattered throughout all the walls, a terrifying picture.
“What happened Joyce?” asked by sergeant Nelson with a low and soft tone. “I don’t know. He went nuts and attacked the girls with an axe. Then, he went after me. We ran to the girl’s bedroom, locked the door and Timmy kept cracking the door. He just kept smashing the door. When I saw the wood break from our side, I tried to stop it from opening. I told Kitty to call the police.” The girls began crying uncontrollably, while Joyce explained the events. Sergeant Nelson told them to stay in the living room and went to find the doctor. Joyce and the girls needed medical attention.
The doctor and sergeant Nelson returned. “Joyce, do you mind if I look around? The doc’s going to evaluate you and the girls while I look, OK?” She accepted, and the investigation continued. Across from the living room was the hall entrance, to the bedrooms. To the right of the hall, the girl’s bedroom door showed extensive damaged, from the axe. It looked three times worse than the home entrance. The bedroom could be seen through the six-inch hole. The rest of the hallway and home were undamaged. No one was dead or severely injured, still a terrifying nightmare had occurred. Timmy destroyed his family’s home, many cars that were parked by the sidewalk, the front windows of four homes in his path and most important his family’s spirit for a lifetime.
Fort Walton Beach police arrived and took over the investigation, since it’s their jurisdiction. Air Force Security Police and the medical team were closest at the time, it was an emergency.
Two weeks had past and the investigation concluded. Timmy’s life went under a microscope and was a victim of “Angel Dust, PCP, Phencyclidine”. It was never discovered how he had it in is blood stream. He was a straight “A” student, a nerd boy, an angel, not a drug user of any kind. That tragic night, Timmy didn’t hear or feel, had no regard for life, property and police authority. His family, friends, neighbors, police and medical authorities were added to the victims of life’s, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. What a pity. You could never imagine an educated nice boy, like Timmy or a child of that age terrifying the community with an undeniable result, evidence as discovered two weeks ago. Illegal substances can create a monster from an angel. Like the saying says, Don’t Do Drugs. END
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