“They can't honestly expect you kids to get a good education if you can't even eat breakfast in the mornings!”
“I'm in college now, daddy. They don't expect us to run on anything except caffeine and desperation.
She heard her father chuckle.
I suppose you're right. Be home early?” he asked.
“Late,” replied Harmony. “I'm working two shifts tonight.”
Harmony crossed over to the sink and picked up her father's meal. Taking a sip of his coffee, she sat the plate in front of him gently.
“You never slow down, do you?” he said, chuckling to himself.
“Gotta stay ahead to survive,” she answered, kissing him lightly on the cheek.
As her mother took a seat across from her father, Harmony walked over to the counter to grab her things.
“Wear a coat!” called Mrs. Wallace. “It's still chilly from the rain last night.”
Harmony quickly grabbed her coat from the closet and threw it on. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she made for the door.
“I'll be home tonight! Love you! Bye!”
With the slam of the screen door, Harmony left.
“Good morning, Munich! This is KMWZ 102.1 with today's weather. Expect to get off to a slow start this morning after last night's sudden thunderstorm. A few powerlines were downed, but electric crews are working to get things restored as soon as possible. Expect a partly cloudy day with a slight chance of rain. High 65, Low 44. And now for today's top stories...”
Harmony listened intently through her earbuds to the radio. The morning sun was beginning to peek out across the horizon line of Munich, casting a cool light upon the city streets. The atmosphere was still muggy from the thunderstorm the night previous, yet life still went on. Cars hustled and bustled through the traffic lights, farmers were opening up their barns, and people were just waking up, ready to go about their daily lives.
Life in Munich was quiet. Harmony had lived in the town her entire life, and almost the entire population knew her by name. It was a very small lifestyle, living in a town like Munich, and Harmony yearned for something more. She would jump at the chance to leave her life in the small town behind, and start over some place bigger…some place better. She needed to move to a city full of opportunity
– and that was something that Munich didn’t provide.
She was smart, though, and knew she wouldn't last long if she wasn't properly prepared, so she waited. She was going to finish school before venturing out into the world, and she needed to make sure that she had enough money to afford living expenses in the big city. She had been preparing for a long time, and she still had quite a few things to take care of before she would be ready.
Harmony passed by the gas station and waved at the owner through the window. He waved back and nodded to her politely. Pedaling a bit faster in time to make the traffic light, she slowly slid across the street and around the town’s only 'no biking' zone. She checked her watch: given her current speed, she would probably be around 15 minutes late. She pressed down further on the pedals, knowing that it would ultimately be fruitless. She would have to deal with another lecture from her professor.
What would it be… the fifth one this month?
Harmony crossed in front of a stopped bus, waved to the driver, and hung a sharp left, trying to pick up speed.
Wade exited the bus behind two others. He stuffed the small state map into his pocket and looked around.
So this was Munich.
He liked it. It was small: a real-life blink-and-you'll-miss-it cow town. He couldn't help but stand in awe at the vast differences between New York and his new home. Where the big apple was pure noise, this place was quiet. He could hear birds chirping. Few cars were in the street. The buildings were small. There wasn't a crowd in sight.
It was perfect: just the place to go out at.
Wade scanned the street, and caught sight of a gas station a few yards down. He pulled his hair behind his face and walked towards it.
It felt good to clean up.
Wade finished clipping his hair and set the pair of scissors on the sink. It was a horribly uneven haircut, but at least it wasn't in his face anymore.
Turning on the hot water, he cupped his hands and splashed some on his face, taking care to not agitate the spot on his chin where he had cut himself shaving. It had been the first real time he had seen himself like this since his incarceration, and as he stood in the middle of the gas station's locked men's room, he couldn't help but wonder about his friends.
Why hadn't they come to visit him?
He already knew the answer. But deep in his heart, he wondered why they hadn't even attempted to see him. He wondered if they still cared. If she still cared.
Should he call her? It would be good to hear her voice one last time. To know that she was okay. To see if she still thought about him.
Wade stepped outside the men's room and walked up to the front counter. He would put it on his to-do list. But first he needed to take care of life's essentials.
“Can I help you?” asked the clerk.
Wade peered over to the tobacco products.
“Could I – uh, could I get a pack of smokes?”
The clerk eyed him over suspiciously.
“You got any I.D.?”
Wade opened his mouth to speak, but finding no words, promptly shut it. The clerk made a disappointed snort, and shook her head.
He should have kept the goatee.
CHAPTER 4
“What would happen in such a situation, Ms. Wallace?”
Harmony looked up from her hospital internship form and stared blankly at her professor. Whoops. She probably should have been paying attention.
Around her, students who had either been sleeping or taking notes looked over to stare at her.
“I – I'm sorry, sir?”
The professor cranked his head to the side and folded his arms.
“Have you managed to find something more beneficial than my lecture to spend your class time on, Ms. Wallace?”
“N – No, sir.”
She saw the professor grin, clearly soaking up the opportunity to harass her.
“Are you sure?” he said in a mocking voice. “Because if it's any more important than passing my class, feel free to tell us all about it.”
She looked around. Students were peering over at her and laughing to each other. Embarrassed, Harmony looked down at her desk.
“It...It isn't. I'm sorry.”
“Yes, well then...can you please tell me what would happen if the tape were to come in contact with an acid instead of a base?”
She didn't even have to look at her notes.
“It would turn a lighter color.”
“That would be correct,” the professor replied.
The bell sounded marking a new hour. The professor looked to the class.
“...that would be where we end our lecture for today. Your assignment is on page 436. It's due Thursday, ladies and gentleman! Harmony, I'd like to see you up here, please.”
Great.
As the rest of the class piled out of the room, Harmony reluctantly walked to the front where her professor was waiting.
Here we go again, she thought.
As the last student exited the classroom, her professor turned to look at her.
“Harmony, look: if you have any intention at all of passing my class this semester, you're going to have to put forth a little more...'work ethic' than you've been doing,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Is there anything going on that you need help with?” he questioned.
“No sir, I've just been having to juggle between jobs right now, and I'm trying to make ends meet around the house ”
“Look, contrary to popular belief, I don't get any joy out of beguiling you or the rest of the students,” he said while sitting himself down on top of his desk leisurely. “I just want you to succeed.”
Harmony didn't have
time for this. She was on a schedule, and a lecture about being late was going to end up making her even more late.
“I understand sir,” she said quickly. “And, thank you.”
Harmony turned around and took a step toward the door to leave.
“Harmony…” her professor called.
“Yes, sir?” she said, turning to look at him.
He stared back at her with tight eye contact.
“Don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it.”
She nodded. “I won't! And, I'm fine. Thank you.”
Harmony stepped outside the classroom and took a few soft steps until out of the earshot of the classroom, then broke into a run.
Harmony flew by on her bike, pedaling as fast as possible. She couldn't be late twice in the same day. It was getting ridiculous. She passed by several people on her way to work. There were kids playing on the park's swing set, some hoodlum was stumbling around smoking a cigarette, and a strange looking man was standing in an alley.
Why was it that she was the only one who ever seemed to be in a hurry?
“You're late, pops. It'll cost you extra.” “Not my fault. Traffic.” Two men approached one another in a small alleyway. One was carrying a large duffel bag, dressed in dark clothes and a gray beanie, sporting a beard. The other, a taller man in his forties, walked up nervously.
“Man, you and I both know this podunk town ain't got traffic,” said the man with the bag.
“Look, I told you, it's not my fault! You got what I want?”
“As long as you've got my money.”
“Hey, look bud, I've got your money, don't you worry about that...”
Just outside the alley, a few yards down, an unmarked black van was waiting patiently. Inside sat two men listening to the conversation taking place in the alley over headphones.
“Yeah, yeah... whatever you say. Just make sure it's worth my time,” they heard the man with the bag say over the airwaves.
In the driver's seat, dressed in full police uniform, Officer Morgan of the Munich Police Department turned up the volume on his headset. It was a routine drug sting. They had received several reports of a man selling cocaine in this area, and they had sent an undercover officer to purchase drugs from him.
“ You're wasting both of our times with all of this smack, now let's hurry this up so I can get back to work,” came the voice of the undercover detective, Dan Palmer.
Morgan turned to the man in the van's passenger seat.
“There's that work line. He's got a visual,” Morgan said.
Sitting next to him and lazily scribbling on a pad of paper was Deputy Commissioner Franks.
“Wonderful,” Franks spoke nonchalantly. “You think this department can actually muster up the ability to catch the guy this time?”
Classic Franks, Morgan thought. Always trying to talk down to everyone around him.
“Look Franks, you and I both know Detective Palmer is an expert at these kinds of things. He could have transferred to some place bigger, and done some real good. New York, Los Angeles even, but he stayed here in Kentucky for his family, and he still pulls in the most work out of the entire department. Believe me, this'll be the last day this dealer walks the streets.”
Franks chuckled. “I'm not here to trust anyone, Officer Morgan. I'm just here to evaluate your and Detective Palmer's performance during this operation. Just get this guy in cuffs, and you can be sure to keep your ridiculously low government salary for another year.”
Morgan let out an aggravated sigh as he turned the van on.
“Yes, sir.”
The dealer unzipped his bag while he looked around slowly, carefully separating two of the front flaps to reveal its contents: several bags of cocaine.
Palmer looked into the bag and nodded. Looks like this guy is for real, he thought.
He just hoped Morgan was ready to close the deal.
“How much for a bag?” Palmer asked.
“...Eighty.”
“Eighty?” Palmer replied in mock- shock, trying his best to keep the act up.
“I told you it was gonna cost you extra for makin' me wait,” the dealer replied. “You'd best be here early next time.”
“...I don't know,” Palmer speculated.
“It's pure.”
Palmer looked around and slowly nodded.
“Alright, I gotcha.”
Palmer reached into his back pocket for his cuffs, and by the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.
As he reached into his pocket, he saw the wire from his one-way radio sticking out from his jacket. Any hope that perhaps the dealer hadn't seen it was instantly shattered when Palmer felt himself being kicked to the dirt.
The rocky surface of the ground tore against Palmer’s jacket as he made impact, and the handcuffs he had reached for fell limply to his side.
The dealer let out a curse as he shoved his foot into Palmer's side once more, and he took off.
Palmer grunted loudly in pain as he tucked his head in.
How could he have been so stupid? Why didn't he check to make sure the wire would stay in place beforehand?
He inhaled sharply, trying desperately to catch his breath as he pulled a headset from his jacket pocket.
“Runner! Going down the opposite side! Circle around to cut him off!”
Palmer heard the distant screeching of tires as he knew Morgan and Franks would take care of business. He lifted himself up, put his earpiece in properly, pulled out his sidearm and flipped the safety off.
“Be aware, suspect may be armed. Don't lose this guy! Looks like he's headed down West Street. I'm in pursuit on his six!” Palmer shouted, taking off toward the dealer.
Game time.
CHAPTER 5
Wade walked down the sidewalk at the local park, flicking his finished cigarette onto the street. He placed his hands in his pockets, and looked over the horizon.
Just get up the nerve to do it , he told himself. But he wasn't ready yet. He needed more time.
Wade crossed into the main area of the park and headed towards a small pond. He needed somewhere quiet to think. To get ready. This was the biggest decision he was going to make in his life. His last.
He stood overlooking the pond, closed his eyes and let the subtle breeze wash over him. A few drops of almost-rain hit his forehead. He bent over and picked up a small rock, looking it over. This place was quiet.
He turned the rock on its side and threw it with a sharp curve, sending it skipping lightly across the small pond once...twice...three times...and then a series of small skips that Wade had never really ever thought ‘counted’.
His mind went back to when he would go to his aunt's boat out on the dock. He would stand on the banks of the lake, all five years, 3 feet and two inches of him, skipping rocks and watching the boats float on the water. Sailing was his guilty pleasure that he rarely got to take part in, but he cherished any moment that it would present itself to him. He remembered when he was eight; he tried to swim in the lake for the first time without a life jacket. His aunt and uncle had always made him wear one, but he snuck out that afternoon to see if he could do without it. He swam out a bit too far from the boat, and the waves started to take him away from safety. He desperately kicked his legs as hard as his eight-year-old body allowed him to, but try as he might, he couldn’t fight against the tide. He had to yell for his aunt to come get him, and after the entire ordeal was over, he had tried to stay away from the water as much as possible. For Wade, the episode on the boat had been the first time he ever thought he was going to die.
He stared down at himself and wondered…how far had he managed to float out by now?
He skipped another rock and breathed heavily, trying to erase the thoughts from his mind. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out the last remaining cigarette he had managed to swipe from the front counter of the gas station. Placing it in his mouth, he took out his small, silver lighter he had received from lockup. He flicked the lighter
a few times to no avail. Holding it up to his ear, he shook it.
Empty.
Wade tossed the lighter into the pond, watching it hit the water a long distance away. He placed the smoke back into his jacket pocket.
“Don't suppose you could spare a cent or two?” a voice said behind him.
Wade spun around, startled. Slowly walking up to him was an elderly homeless man. He was wearing a very torn overcoat, a scarf, and he smelled terrible. His hair was long and knotted, and his face had patches of dirt all around it, paired with a small set of grey eyes that carried a look of defeat.
“Just a little bit of change?” he asked somberly.
Wade looked to the ground.
“Sorry, I've got nothing for you,” Wade finally replied.
The man stared at Wade for a moment, and then slowly began to walk away. As he turned around, Wade caught a glimpse of a bottle tucked haphazardly into the man's coat pocket. Wade thought for a moment.
“Actually...” Wade threw out, causing the man to turn back around to him.
“...I've got some spare change…if you wouldn't mind selling me something of yours.”
Wade nodded down towards the bottle in the man's pocket.
It wasn't the best stuff, but it worked, Wade thought as he took another drink.
He was now sitting quite comfortably on a park bench, his newly purchased bottle in hand. It had been 3 years since his last drink, and he honestly didn't miss it that much. He had never really been into hard liquor, and tasting from the bottle
he now had in his possession, he wasn't
quite sure he found it that enjoyable. Wade dug around in his jacket pocket
and pulled out the other item he managed
to take from the gas station undetected: a
small, pocket-sized leather book. Wade
opened it up and slowly flipped through
its blank pages.
He didn't know why he had taken it,
but nevertheless, it found its way into his
jacket. Ever since he had become a teenager and started high school, he had
gotten a thrill out of taking things…out of
evading capture…out of not being caught. But he had been caught. And getting
Fallen Angels - Book 1: Welcome To Munich Page 2
