Move Back 3 Spaces

Your Dream, My nightmare

Gunshots popped through the streets, as a child it was the sounds of fireworks cracking through the Fourth of July sky. Now it’s the sound of 9 millimeters and automatic rifles whipping through the same air I breathe, penetrating through doors and bodies. It was 9:30 p.m., the warehouse we were surrounding was expected to have a delivery of 200 lbs of cocaine, and our police force assembled 5 teams of 10. Many swat associates from different precincts, our information was that there were 30 men inside, 4 outside guarding the perimeter; the air began to have a dwindling smell of fear and anxiety. The men began to sweat, their mouths were either shut tight or hanging slightly opened. The similarities were that we all breathed as heavy as the wind blowing around us, we all felt it we couldn’t confuse it; it was the feeling of death taking its cold hand and caressing it down our warm backs and our throats tighten as if the air were wrapping its hands around our fragile neck.

The closer we got the thicker the air became; it was the feeling you received when you tried to breathe into a pillow as if you tried to commit suicide. The feeling that the air was being pulled from our very lungs dragged out like kids from under the bed. My eyes began to wonder the streets as we slowly approached the warehouse, its exterior was dark maroon a crimson red when the street lights array upon them. Faint dripping of white down the corner of the building; the wind howled between the cracks of the window while the slight smug of industrial air whimpered across the base of our feet and building.

A homeless man began to cross the entrance and our path, his slow movements stall us. One officer rushes to the assumed inebriated man and tries to move him from the scene, but I began to question our stealth and knowledge of incognitos. He approaches the man slowly. The homeless man begins to build from silence to a low raspy voice, it reminded me of a dragging roar of a 1975 mustang as it slowly build to climax; his voice arose filling the streets with unmanageable yelling. It came to my attention, although delayed, that we were netted into an ambush and the moment we realized it, is when it was all too late.

We panicked as gunshots went off into the cold winter night. Officer Anthony Michaels was struck with a sub machine gun, as the homeless man removed it from under his squealing carriage. Anthony shot off his assault rifle, the sound of the M16 cracked into the air echoing into our ears, bouncing off the nearby windows so that we may be reminded of what is to come. His body fell like a pushed cabinet heavily hitting the ground, slightly bouncing like the end of a tossed ball. His eyes began to fade. I began to focus. Shots veer down from the rooftop. With hardly any cover many of us ran backwards toward nearby vehicles, I couldn’t; the nearest vehicle was on my right, a rusty Chevrolet truck with no wheels placed on its side. I glanced back as I took cover men dropped as they met their demise, I could slowly watch their lives diminish from their eyes.

Anthony laid there with life gushing from his stomach wound. His lips began to dry and in his last bit of air asked for my help. I quickly closed my eyes. His voice was clear, over the ruling gunshots from the assault rifles, I heard again. Help me. I began to shoot my gun toward the men on the rooftops. As many men ran off for the sake of their lives they left a father of 3 to perish, for the sake of their lives. For the sake of all of ours I began to shoot. It wasn’t until we had focused on what we were here for did they began to shoot back. Men began to exit from the warehouse shooting off rounds many missing; I shot again toward the roof. My bullets pierced through the blood red bricks placing themselves into body’s of the enemy. They dropped like targets at the local fair. No emotion just acceptance. The car I took cover behind was riddled with bullet holes. Many of the drug smugglers were on the floor, but so were many of our men.

In a sudden, a car began to approach us. The tires scratched at the air toward us, men exited the car armed with Ak 47’s, I began to fire back. My bullets charged out of the rifle piercing the skulls of the men that appeared. The bullets rotated into their cranium dragging everything with it, their brains were spewed upon the ground. Shots were fired from my left, one bullet whizzed by my head the other injured me. It entered my arm and exited as it shredded skin and clothing from my left shoulder. The burning sensation sizzled, but it was the adrenaline that pumped through my fear filled heart, in which molded that fear and pain together.

Surrounding me were the cries of injured officers. Men frightened, yelling for their lives. The whipping sound of a helicopter hovered above us. A beaming light surrounded the perimeter. The sound of sirens slightly soothed us; it was our shinning knights to save us from despair. The cries overcame the sound of gun fire; combined sound seemed as if there was a marching army. The gun shots represented the beat of the drum as the cries represented the roaring sounds of warriors. The streets were poisoned with lead and blood; I was left with 20 officers. I laid there holding back my cries and tears. But the pain overwhelmed me and it slowly seeped out as grunts and moans.

Men began to approach me, amongst them was Rico Manuel; He was the second largest drug cartel next to his father. In his right hand was a machete, in the setting around me gunshots began to end the screaming of the officers. You could hear the crack of their skulls as the bullets entered their heads and blood spewed onto the ground like spilled soup, the sound of chunks mixed with liquids. Staring back at one of the officers their face toward me, the flow of blood trickled from their head like a leak in a damn; his last expression was the look of expected death. The expression of an expected punishment. Staring back up, the 3 men who stood over me staring down with such disgust. I began to wince as the pain was overcome with curiosity.

Rico kneeled over and leaned into my right ear as he whispered.

“Chu know officer, I never seen someone take out my men like chu did. But I bet Chu don’t see what I see. To make it easy ima skin chur face off so you can see the expression. What chu think?”

He leaned his head backwards toward his right as he spoke something in spanish and handed the machete to the man behind him.

“eliminar sus brazos y piernas.”

One of his men stab into my leg, the pain was excruciating. A burning strain of pain overcame me, I cried with such anger, my veins were pumped with revenge and my fear filled heart roared in such pain that I could think of nothing else, but to kill Rico where he kneeled. He began to rise above me, slowly with a demonic grin, a devilish laugh built as the sirens came closer. The cold January wind broke through my wounds and my blood boiled with such vengeance. My teeth grinded and clinched. I could not lay here and accept this punishment, my anxiousness for any type of retribution clouded my conscious mind. As the man twisted the machete I gripped Rico’s shirt pulling him toward me. His grin faded like the eyes of many officers that lay there now. I yelled with unimaginable anger.

“Rico! You know I’ve seen someone kill men like you did, but I bet you never looked death in the face!”

I pulled the gun with the last bit of strength above my hip, the weight felt like it would never come past my waist; but my determination to kill would not allow me to fail. The rifle pointed to his face reflecting off his eyes. His facial expression was priceless, the one you would receive from surprised children; the expression of being immovable and entrapped.

“So take a good look mother fucker!”

The trigger was pulled with intent of seizing his life. The bullets exited from the rifle entering the right side of his face, each bullet tearing it apart. His skin splitting from his face; whipping into the air like torn cloth. His body dropped like did Anthony. I faded as I watched his men aim their rifles at me. Flashes fired like cameras, with mixtures of red white and blue. Blinding my last view of the cold world I swore to protect and abide by.