Taylor holds the walkie-talkie up to his mouth and speaks, “Attention all captains: we will have a meeting at 10:00 AM tomorrow in the lower level conference room. The topic for discussion will be productivity.”
“Attention Team Captain Allen, go to channel 3.”
“Yes sir.”
“Let’s get together this evening for dinner. I want to create a blueprint for increased productivity. I want to base it on your team’s achievements. I want to use the same strategies that you’ve used for implementation with the Red and Yellow Teams. I want all of us on the same page. I’ll swing by and pick you up, be ready by 8:00.”
The procession of canisters reaches the shelter’s incinerator vault. Taylor, bringing up the rear of the procession, enters the vault. A worker in the vault opens the first canister. When the lid is removed, Taylor peers inside.
His face displays an expression of satisfaction. He sees plastic bags of crack cocaine lining the canister. “White Gold.”
Caleb emerges from the alley at the street entrance. A woman carrying a puppy exits the shelter.
Inside the shelter at the waiting room, sit two customers. On one side of the room sits a female customer with her hands folded in her lap. Across from her sits a man with sun shades, a cane, and a huge German Sheppard lying on the floor. The woman looks up from her lap at the man with the dog. He nods his head and parts his lips, “All is clear.” In unison the man and woman jump up and pull out concealed guns. They race over to the lobby counter and leap over it. They shout at the shelter personnel, “Everyone get down now!”
Outside the shelter police officers in unmarked cars jump out with guns drawn, sprinting to the shelter entrance. Down the narrow alley next to the shelter race police cars. At the rear of the shelter, police with guns drawn rush toward the gated entrance. A police places a piece of putty on the gate lock. Within seconds, there is an explosion. The blast pushes the sliding gate open.
Police enter the gate quickly and blanket the loading dock.
On a surveillance monitor at the security control center, security personnel spot the police inside the shelter. “Taylor we’ve got intruders, Five-o.”
“Initiate level one line of defense. Let the dogs out!”
“Yes sir.”
“Kwame! Come in! They’ve got my limousine driver!”
“Mason, fire up the primary and secondary chambers of the incinerator to 2700 degrees Fahrenheit for type 6 waste for 10,000 to 12,000 BTU per pound.”
Teams of police advance down the vacant and silent corridors of the shelter. The leader of a team signals one of his officers to enter the mouth of the adjacent corridor. Without hesitation, one of the officers makes his move with his gun drawn. In the adjacent corridor, the officer observes three pit bulls with their heads lowered sniffing the corridor floor. In unison, the dogs all lift their heads. The dogs dash down the corridor toward the police officer. The other police officers, with guns drawn turn the corner and join the first officer. “What do we do, sir? Shoot?” The police officers stand their ground as the dogs get closer.
The Team Leader signals his Captain: “Sir, this is Alpha Team. There are attack dogs in the corridor, sir. What do we do?” The dogs within attack distance leap onto the police officers and begin to gnaw at their flesh. Screams are heard over the police walkie-talkies as the police are under attack.
The police Captain raises the walkie-talkie up to his mouth, “Attention all officers: put your tear gas masks on. Employ tear gas when encountering attack dogs roaming the building. Beta Team: locate Alpha Team and move in for assistance.” The police Captain lowers the walkie-talkie from his mouth. “Williams, take your men and go in there as back up.” When the backup police reach the shelter and swing open the door, they are rocked back on their heels by a strong invisible force, like a mighty gust of wind that rushes past them.
Inside the shelter, thick clouds of tear gas fill the corridors. Caleb whips through the corridors as the tear gas peels away before him. Up ahead, the sound of growling dogs and human moans echo through the building.
As Caleb advances toward the haunting sounds, he catches sight of dogs standing over top of the police officers, whose efforts to fight back have almost come to a stop. Rifling through the gauntlet of dogs, Caleb delivers blow after blow as he makes several passes between the dogs and their prey. The bewildered dogs retreat. “Where’s Taylor?” questions Caleb within himself as the tear gas makes his eyes burn and water.
“It’s finished, it’s done, Amen, so be it” Caleb picks up these thoughts of Taylor’s and responds “What’s finished? What’s done, Taylor? Are you still in the incinerator vault?”
At the incinerator Vault, Taylor oversees the last plastic bags of crack cocaine thrown into the incinerator. The incinerator roars as it receives its last feeding. Its burners fire up igniting the last load. Chain barricades are positioned at the incinerator. The barricades have signs attached that read “Caution! High Temperatures.”
“Taylor! Do you read me?”
At the sound of the voice Taylor raises his walkie-talkie to his mouth, “Ten four… this is Taylor. I read you.”
“Taylor I’m on my way. I’ll be there shortly to rendezvous with you.”
“Ten four, I’ll be ready.”
Meantime, Caleb races through the corridors, trying locked door after locked door. “Come on Taylor, don’t go brain dead on me now. Where are you?”
“He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.”
“That’s it Taylor, keep those thoughts flowing.”
“I’d better go on up so that I can meet Kevin. He will be here shortly.”
“Alright, so you are going to meet someone named Kevin, but where? Ok, you said you better go on up. Up where?”
Suddenly Caleb’s eyes flash with comprehension. He takes off racing down the corridor. Caleb blasts through the front doors of the shelter, leaving police firing at the shelter entrance at the wake of his exit. Caleb zooms down the alley, past parked police cars. The cars rock from side to side as if a strong gust of wind has passed by. Vaulting to the fire escape of the adjacent building, Caleb ascends to the roof. Racing to the edge of the roof farthest from the shelter, Caleb takes off like a rocket at full speed, propelling himself across the roof toward the edge opposite the shelter. At the edge, he leaps forward with his arms and legs flailing through the air.
Caleb tumbles onto the roof of the animal shelter and startles a sky-gazing Taylor standing there with a pit bull. Caleb rises to his feet and approaches Taylor. Taylor signals the pit bull to attack.
Caleb races toward the pit bull and begins to circle the pit bull and Taylor at a blinding speed.
Each time he makes a pass, he slaps the pit bull causing it to back up closer toward Taylor. Caleb changes his circling orbit to just encompass Taylor. He continues to slap the pit bull all the while. The barking pit bull turns its attention to Taylor as the perpetrator of the punishing punches.
A helicopter overhead begins to hover over the shelter roof. “What’s going on down there, Kevin?” says the driver of the helicopter.
“Taylor’s down there besieged by one of his pit bulls.”
Caleb veers off from his circling containment of Taylor to another end of the roof. The pit bull leaps forward and attacks. Taylor falls to his knees.
“Oh my God, that dog is out of control! We’ve got to get down there!”
“Kevin, it’s too late!”
The view from the helicopter is that of a dog mauling a motionless body. The helicopter flies off.
After watching the departure of the helicopter, Caleb refocuses his attention on the pit bull barking, while standing over Taylor’s body. His lips part and he speaks, “Rest in peace, Clifford.”
Conclusion
From the alley’s street entrance comes a blast of wind that passes in front of the animal shelter, maneuvering its way between the police officers with guns drawn. The police officers’ hats are blown of
f by the apparent gust of wind. Some police officers feebly attempt to grab their hats. This prompts laughter from the crowd that’s gathered behind the police barricades.
A child seeing a police officer’s exposed head says, “Mommy look at the bald head!” The crowd erupts in laughter and the child smiles; so does Caleb as he races away.
Final Journal Entry
“The poet Nikki Giovanni once wrote, ‘One ounce of truth benefits like ripples on a pond. As things change, remember I smiled.’ When Truth comes, it always brings welcomed change, change that benefits all. Truth in action benefits everyone, not just one individual.
Truth is the destiny of the many, but the burden of its fulfillment is frequently born by one.’”
Journal Entry: 3/3/08
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