Sergeant MacMillion held his hand to his brow, trying to stymie the flow of blood into his eye which was playing havoc on his depth perception, and therefore, his ability to aim. He finally gave up, and swearing, holstered his weapon. The punk was going to get away.
The young lass whose assault he had interrupted was still trying to settle her clothes back into place, her face still somewhat ashen. “Did he...?” MacMillon asked, hovering near the girl, but not wanting to crowd her in her current state.
She shook her head, her lower lip wobbling. “Thank you!” she bursts out with relief, and moves to throw her arms around the burly Scottish officer. “Oh!” She pulls up short at the sight of the blood still pouring over his now glued closed eye. “You’re hurt!”
She digs into her large handbag and comes up with a kerchief, dabbing it gingerly to the wound. MacMillon submits to her ministrations, noting that nursing him has put some of the steel back in her spine. Her lips are no longer quivering, and even her colour was improving. “I’ll be a’right, Lass,” he assures her. “‘Tis naught but a flesh wound. Scalp wounds always bleed like a stuck pig, if you’ll pardon the pun,” he teases goodnaturedly, and is rewarded with a small smile. He’s sure it is only a shadow of what would normally light her face, but he’ll take his small victories.
“I don’t suppose ye have yer licence?” he asks, hopefully.
“Oh, of course, Officer,” she moves to dig in the bag again to produce it.
“Nay, Lass, I’m not askin’ ta see yer ID. I’d best be gettin’ meself to a doctor, but I can’t rightly drive meself with this here injury. Iffin’ it would na’ be too much of an imposition-”
She interrupts his charming, lilting brogue, “Oh certainly! No problem at all!” She hooks her arm in his, handing him the kerchief to stanch the blood flow himself as she conducts him back to his cruiser, the key’s still conveniently in the ignition.
Thankfully, the girl was too shaken up to consider that he ought to have a partner with him, whose job it would be to see him safely to the hospital in just such an event.
Said partner watched from a nearby fire escape as they exited the alley way and pulled into the flow of traffic.
Taffy was the name of MacMillon’s partner, Angus Taffy. Seeing that both the girl and his partner were seen to, Taffy turned to the task at hand; tracking down the creep who had assaulted them both. His nostrils flared as he scented the night wind, catching the perps scent over the other, turrid scents of a typical Toronto night.
Beyond the smells of urine, defecation, trash, and exhaust fumes, was the smell of blood and leather and cocaine. The perp wasn’t going to be difficult to trace.
It took Taffy all of five blocks to find the guy. He wasn’t even running anymore. He’d stopped to wipe the blood off of the knife and to catch his breath. Taffy could see the glint of the streetlights on a myriad of metallic piercings in the man’s face, though his nose told him that the guy’s shaggy hair was at least clean.
“A tough guy, huh?” Taffy thought to himself, dropping to the street behind his quarry.
“What the-?” he spun to face his assailant, bringing the knife up instinctually. Taffy caught the tweaker’s hand with ease and torqued his wrist, sending the blade skittering into the expectant stillness of the night.
The pierced faced villain’s cry of pain was cut short as Taffy leapt into the air, dragging the unsuspecting thug with him. And they just kept going, higher and higher and higher.
The guy’s struggles to free himself soon because struggles to get a better hold on Taffy as he became his only lifeline on their steep ascent into the heavens.
Taffy’s nose could smell the ozone as they grew closer to the roiling thunderheads. His captive screamed as a bolt of lightning zapped past them. The extraordinary officer could see the guy’s mind scrambling; which was worse? Plummeting from a height of 34, 000 feet, or getting turned into a crispy critter by lightning at 34, 000 feet? By the way the guys grip tightened on his legs, Taffy was guessing he was going to take his chances with the lightening.
No comments:
Post a Comment