was still after us on foot. We vaulted a small gate and ran past a converted garage into a backyard with lots of bushes and cactus plants. We picked up speed as we ran downhill past a large tree. The cinderblock wall was high along the back of the yard, and we both jumped up and pulled our bodies over at the same time. I landed hard on the concrete around a swimming pool. I saw Michael land on his feet, off balance, and stumble in with a splash. The pool took up most of the yard and the house was close. I sensed movement in there and a dog started barking. Michael was pulling himself out of the pool while I ran around it and down a path, past a tool shed to a gate. I was fumbling with the latch when I heard a woman’s voice screaming that she was calling the police. I got it open as a black dog came running toward me, barking. I shut the gate in the dog’s face and ran into the street which was a cul-de-sac. I went by a house that was walled-in like fort Knox, to the next one which had gravel in the small yard and a large enclosed porch. I stumbled on my way to the backyard, and when I regained my balance I found myself on a lawn next to an inflatable kiddie pool and a swing set. I didn’t think anyone saw me run back there, so I looked for a place to hide. There was a brick wall at the back of the yard and I immediately knew what to do.
I pulled myself onto the wall and walked along the top to a large tree branch hanging over from the next yard. I climbed on, holding a branch above for support, and made my way past where the trunk split. I moved carefully along another thick branch until I was over the roof of a garage in the adjacent property. I let myself down on the roof as quietly as possible. It was slanted, and the tree was providing cover behind me, so I was well hidden. The darkness added to my feeling of safety. I got down on my stomach and rested my head on my arm trying to ignore the stinging pain in my shins.
A noise startled me out of this position. It sounded like something slamming against wood. I crawled up to the peak of the roof and looked down on the yard below. Michael was coming over the fence loudly. He landed with a stumble and ran in front of the garage. He was wet and moving strangely, I think he’d hurt his leg. There was another noise, like the first, and I saw someone else coming over the fence. It was one of the cops. I ducked for a second, thinking he might notice me. I put my head back over the roof in time to see the other cop entering from a side gate across the yard. I moved higher to see if Michael would get away. He was on the other side of the yard, looking for a way to get over the high wall. The cops came together as Michael turned to face them. “GET DOWN ON YOUR STOMACH NOW.” One of the cops barked. They had their guns out.
Michael couldn’t get over the wall. He was going to try to run past them. I knew because I’d seen this before. I was afraid, and I was hiding in a high place and looking down from above. I could see Michael was trapped in a corner and he looked desperate. The cops moved toward him. I remembered this perfectly. He was about to be shot to death -that’s what came next. I had to do something. I stood up and shouted as loud as I could- “HEY FUCKFACE!” was what came out of my mouth.
When the two cops looked up I waved my arms to keep their attention. Michael made his move and ran past them. For a moment they didn’t know where to look. “On the roof, on the roof!” One of them said. I climbed back onto the tree and heard a gate slam, which I thought must’ve been Michael getting away. I was almost back over the brick wall when someone grabbed my ankle. I tried to jerk it free, but the grip was tight. With two hands, the cop ripped me from the tree. My head slammed against the branch I’d been standing on. I don’t remember hitting the ground.
I couldn’t breathe and it seemed as if every part of my body was in pain. Unable to inhale, I felt the panic of suffocation building. The cop was digging his knee into my back. His full weight was on top of me, preventing my lungs from expanding. I’d landed on top of my arm, and the cop on my back was struggling to get it free. His own weight was preventing him from dislodging it. My other arm was held in place by the second cop. My body needed air and I started thrashing around involuntarily. This freed my lungs long enough for a quick breath before the weight of both cops came down on me, much harder than before. They were yelling, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying, it just sounded like noise. In my panicked spasms my arm had come free and I felt the handcuffs go on. Finally the weight was off of me and I was pulled roughly to my feet.
They trotted me past a nervous looking short guy in a bathrobe who must’ve been the owner of the house. The police cruiser was parked crooked in the street and it’s lights spun silently. They pushed me over the rear of the car and one of them began patting me down and going through my pockets. I started to understand some of what the cop was saying. “…running for?”
“What?” I asked, barely able to hear myself.
“What are you running for?” He repeated.
“For the fun of it.” I said. The other one took my wallet and some change from my pocket. He put it beside me on the car and kept patting, taking extra care in the crotch area.
“People don’t run for the fun of it.” The cop said. “You’re going to have to be straight with me or you’ll be in even more trouble. If you have any drugs or paraphernalia or anything, we’ll find it.”
“Why’d you chase me? I didn’t do anything.” I said.
“We got dogs going over all the yards you ran through, so if you threw down some dope somewhere, they’ll recover it.” He said. “You’re better off telling us where you threw it. The smart thing to do right now is cooperate with us.”
“There’s no dope. We just ran to see if you’d chase us.” I said.
“Yeah right.” The cop said, pulling me up off the back of the car. He walked me around and shoved me in the back seat by the head. When I was in, he left the door open and crouched down beside me. “Right now you’re under arrest.” He said. “For failure to respond to a police officer, resisting arrest, and trespassing. When we find the drugs we’ll also be charging you with that too. You have the right to remain silent,” blah, blah, blah. When he was finished he shut the door. I had a headache and I couldn’t focus my eyes.
The cops were looking through my wallet and talking. The second one came around and opened my door again. He shined a flashlight in my eyes and looked at them for a second. “You hit you head pretty good there.” He said. “Do you need medical attention?”
“No.”
He shut the door.
They put me in a beige room with a metal bench and a metal toilet that had no seat. The only window was a small rectangular piece of Plexiglas in the door with wire crisscrossing through it. I sat there for a long time. Maybe an hour, or three or four, I couldn’t tell. I was having a hard time focusing. When I touched my forehead I felt a lump where I’d smashed it against the tree. I tried to stretch out on the metal bench, but it was too short to be comfortable. I decided to lie down on the floor.
I woke up in a bed. There was a fluorescent light above me and I could hear the hum of electricity all around. There was tape on my arm that was uncomfortable and I wanted to rip it off. When I reached down, I felt something strange and I saw that it was an IV tube. I realized I was in a hospital. I had bandages wrapped tightly around my head. There was a curtain blocking the bed next to me, and I wondered if there was someone in there. The door to the room was open and I could see a sliver of hallway. Every now and then someone would walk past and I wanted them to come in and tell me what was wrong with me. I wanted to know if I was about to die.
There was a button on the side of the bed with a silhouette of a nurse on it, so I pushed it and it lit up. About ten minutes later a guy in a green shirt and matching pants came into the room. He was skinny, and his hair was slicked back. He wore a small cross on a silver chain around his neck and spoke with a South American accent.
“So, our young criminal-concussion is awake.” He said in sing song.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You got a nasty bump on your head, that’s what happened.” He said. “You were talking a lot of nonsense
when the police brought you in.”
“Are they waiting to take me back to jail?” I asked.
He laughed. “No.” He said. “They told us it was just a misdemeanor offense and that you’d receive a summons to court after you were released.”
“Oh, good.” I said. “What day is it?”
“It’s Thursday night.” He answered.
“Oh. Can I go home now?”
“Sorry, but no. We have to keep you here for a while longer. Head injuries can be unpredictable and anyway you need to rest.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“James.”
“I’m Nick.” I said
“I know. I have some work to do now, so is there anything else I can do for you Nick? Would you like me to turn on the TV?”
“No, I’m not really in the mood,” I said, “but could you slide that phone over here?” He moved the phone on the nightstand over to me. “And is there a phone book around?”
“Sure.” He said. He reached under the nightstand and pulled one out. He handed it to me and smiled. “You have to dial nine to get an outside line.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Just hit the button if you need anything else.” He said. There were about fifty Bennetts in the phone book, but only two
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