Portals

by Johnson, Dustin

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Cool, it's the cops!” C.J.'s voice carried outside from the back seat of the car. Chris looked in the rear window and saw C.J. pointing out the approaching car to Angie. He looked at the field, where Tammy was shading her eyes with one hand and using the other to point the vehicle out to Sarah. The women began to make their way back to the car.

  “Must be a state trooper,” Chris said. “Not that they can help us much, but it is nice to see that they're still out and about.”

  “Maybe they can give us a police escort to the park and get us through this traffic,” Brent said. Chris looked at him, and the seriousness in Brent's face amused him. Finally, a smile broke across his face. “Ha, I can barely say that without laughing!” Chris laughed in return, and they relaxed a little. Chris figured that it was better a cop car appearing than a random person, or a pack of teenagers, or who knows who else that could be out roaming the interstate.

  The cruiser pulled over onto the shoulder, and the brakes squealed as pressure was applied. The cruiser came to a full stop about ten feet from their immobilized vehicle. The sound of the engine petered out, and the doors on both sides opened. That guy has to be at least six-five, Chris thought, when the driver stepped out. He wasn't a lanky six-five either. He looked as if he could have gone straight from making the game winning shot in basketball, to catching the game winning touchdown pass. When his partner stepped out, Chris couldn't help but wonder if the state trooper academy was genetically engineering troopers. What were the odds of two genetic freaks like that becoming partners?

  “Hey there,” the driver said. “Having some car trouble?” He closed the car door, hooked his thumbs in his belt, and made his way over to where Chris and Brent stood. Chris looked at the aviator sunglasses he was wearing, and immediately hated the distorted, fun-house mirror reflection of himself and Brent that met him. I bet they wear sunglasses like that just to make you feel like an idiot, staring at yourself, Chris thought.

  “We have a flat tire,” Brent said, nodding. The trooper's partner remained behind his door on the passenger side of the car and didn't say a word. He looked as if he were scoping the situation for threats, as if the kids could begin firing at them from the rear seat of the car at any moment.

  The women reached the group, and both officers watched intently as they passed. “I'm going to need to ask all of you to put your hands on the roof of the car, please,” the trooper said. His face remained stoic, entirely devoid of emotion.

  “Are you serious?” Brent asked. “You must be joking.”

  Chris looked at the chest of each trooper's uniform, but didn't see a name tag on either. Chris envisioned a stereotypical mustached veteran police chief holding a coffee cup and introducing the two rookie troopers to each other. The police chief would say something along the lines of, “Officer Aviator, please meet your partner, Officer Serious.” A light chuckle escaped Chris's mouth, and the newly dubbed Officer Aviator returned his gaze to him.

  “No, I'm not joking. Please comply gentlemen; put your hands on your vehicle and spread your legs. You too ladies.” The trooper pulled out the wooden baton swinging from his hip, and his partner did the same.

  The tension in the air was palpable. Chris relented, “Come on guys. Let's just get this done so they realize that we have nothing to hide.” He turned and leaned his head through the rear car window, “You kids stay here and be good. The police are going to check some things to make sure everything is okay. If they ask you to do something, just do what they say, and don't argue.”

  “Okay,” the kids replied.

  Chris placed his hands on the roof of the car and spread his legs. Brent followed suit next to him, his hands resting on the roof just above the driver's seat window. “He said, 'you too', ladies,” Officer Serious called from his position behind the door. “Walk to the front of the car and place your hands on the hood.” Sarah looked questioningly toward Chris, who met her gaze and shrugged, signaling that he didn't know what else they could do.

  “This is ridiculous, we've done nothing wrong,” Tammy said, but resigned herself to the position. Sarah took her place beside, a frown growing on her face. Officer Serious finally closed his door and walked around the car to join his partner.

  “Do you have any weapons or items that can cut, stab, or poke us, like knives or needles, that we should know about?” Officer Aviator asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Chris said.

  “Are there any drugs in the vehicle, or upon your person?”

  “Also no,” Chris sighed. Officer Aviator stepped behind Chris, and his partner stepped behind Brent. Hands swept down Chris's arms, his sides, his legs, behind his ears, and in his armpits. The officer lifted his pant legs and checked in between his socks and shoes. Equally thorough, Officer Serious followed the same protocol on Brent.

  “This one is good,” Officer Serious claimed, after his search was complete.

  “We're going to detain you, just until we've finished our search,” Officer Aviator said. “If everything checks out, we'll remove these restraints and we'll all carry on like normal, is that clear?”

  “You're going to what?” Chris asked, turning from the car. He finished the turn in time to see the baton as it made its descent but not in time to prevent it from meeting his face. His vision exploded into red pain, and stars went supernova behind his eyes.

  Officer Aviator forced Chris back around and shoved his face down on the roof of the car. “Remain still, sir! This is a precautionary measure for our safety so that we can complete our search without risk of injury.” A zip tie looped around Chris's hands and bit into his wrists as it was cinched tight. “Please place your feet together,” Officer Aviator asked, but his tone and Chris's face both argued that it wasn't really a request. He placed his feet together and attempted to open his eyes. His brain tried to justify the double vision that had formed and the actions of the trooper, but neither made sense. He closed his eyes tightly and reopened them, attempting to force a single unified view of the world again.

  The next zip tie looped around his ankles and was also cinched tight. Chris wobbled for a second, and the trooper grabbed him under his armpits to steady him. He dragged Chris to the rear of the car and sat him down, leaning him against the bumper under the still open trunk.

  A minute later, Brent joined him. When the officers walked away, Brent turned to Chris, “Man, your nose is really bleeding. Are you all right? What the hell is going on?”

  “I'll be okay. I have no idea. Maybe they think we're part of the Loborians or something,” Chris guessed, spitting out blood that had flowed into his mouth. “Maybe this has become standard procedure. I'm sure they meet a bunch of crazies out here. Things will be fine when they realize we aren't hiding anything.”

  Chris bent and peered under the vehicle. The troopers were behind the women now, and he could see hands sweeping their legs. A second later, he heard the zip ties close around their wrists. He saw Sarah's shoes, spaced shoulder width apart on the pavement. A polished black dress shoe slid between her feet and kicked them wider apart. Chris heard the sound of compressing plastic as what he could only assume was Sarah's torso was forced against the hood. Tammy grunted as she was forced into the same position. Officer Aviator's baton lay against Sarah's right calf, and Chris watched as it climbed her leg. It passed her knee and pressed itself roughly against her thigh, contorting the skin. It pulled up hard into her crotch and she whined, rising to stand on her toes.

  “Hey,” Chris yelled. “What's going on up there? What do you think you're doing?”

  “Sir, I asked you to let us do our job. If you interfere with a police officer performing his duty again, I'm going to have to place you in the back of my cruiser,” Officer Aviator answered.

  The sound of light sobbing made its way to the rear of the car. “What do you want from us?” Tammy asked. “We're not criminals, and we don't have anything valuable.”

  The officers laughed. “Oh, you have
something valuable, all right,” Officer Serious said. Chris saw that the feet of the women were still not zip tied, and his stomach turned over. He didn't like this one bit, neither the undertone of Officer Serious's response, nor the fact that the women’s legs were still free, nor that the officers were still behind them.

  I have to get them to come back here, Chris thought. I have to get them away from the women. “Officers, can I please talk to you for a minute?” Chris called. At that, the officers grabbed the women by their arms and zip tied hands and led them to the rear of the vehicle. Sarah's terrified face haunted Chris from the moment she came around the vehicle. She didn't say anything, but her eyes were filled with tears, and her face was as red as he'd ever seen it.

  Officer Aviator flung his leg out, and caught Chris in the rib cage. “I was going to do you the favor of not making you watch this, but since you want to be such an aggravating shithead, that offer has expired.”

  “Wait,” Sarah said, turning to face Officer Aviator. She swallowed hard. “Can you please spare my kids from having to see?”

  “What the hell do I care what your kids see?”

  “Please,” Sarah whined. “I'll do whatever you want. I won't fight.” The tears began to roll down her face, and clean streaks appeared, looking out of their element compared to the rest of her dirty skin. She forced a smile and cocked her head to the side seductively. “Please?”

  Officer Aviator took her roughly by the arm again and yanked her to the rear door of the troopers' car. He opened it, shoved her head down, and forced her face-down on her stomach across the rear seat. Tammy was forced into the same position on the other side of the car by the other trooper, and she lay face-down on top of Sarah.

  Chris pressed his back against the bumper of the car and slowly inched his feet underneath him. He pressed his tied hands against the vehicle to steady himself and tried to stand. Anger coursed through his body; he felt like he was going to explode. Sarah's legs were splayed from the rear of the police car, shaking uncontrollably, and Chris could see Officer Aviator's head bob above and below the door to the back seat. He couldn't see the other side of the vehicle, but Chris knew what he'd see if he could. He hopped forward a step, regained his balance, and then hopped again. I'm going to kill that son of a bitch, he thought. As soon as I get to him I'm going to head butt him in the mouth and shatter all of his fucking teeth. Then I'm going to make him swallow every broken tooth, right before I bite his throat out. I'm going to head butt him until his face caves in and there's nothing left that could even be remotely described as a face.

  Another bunny hop took him to the halfway point between the two cars, but he lost his balance. He crashed to the road, and pieces of gravel stuck to his cheek. He flopped for a second, trying to turn to his side in a panic, but lost the strength and rolled back to his stomach. He was rocking back and forth, trying to build momentum to get to his feet, when something pressed on his back. The hand forced him back down, gently but firmly.

  Chris nearly peed himself from surprise. He turned his head and saw Steve, who was not returning the look, but rather focusing forward on the cruiser. Chris stopped struggling, and tried to find where Steve had come from. Mike's car was parked about five hundred feet down the road; he hadn't even heard their approach. Chris turned his head toward Brent and noticed Mike cutting the zip ties that restrained Brent with a pocketknife.

  Steve continued calmly past Chris, reached behind his back as he walked, and pulled out the pistol he had taken from the gas station. He reached the rear of the police car, slowly raised the weapon, and a shot rang out. Tammy and Sarah screamed loudly from the rear of the cruiser. In one smooth motion, Steve raised the pistol a little higher, and a second shot punctured and overrode the sound of their screaming.

  They probably think the cops are trying to kill them, Chris thought. A pang of sadness washed through him.

  Steve dragged Officer Aviator out of the car by his shirt collar, and threw him on his back in the road. He still wore his ridiculous sunglasses, and he looked all the more ridiculous laying there with his khaki pants around his knees and his manhood lying against his leg. He was gasping for air, as if he had just been punched in the stomach and couldn't catch his breath. A dark red puddle seeped out from underneath him, and a single tributary splintered off filling a crack in the road.

  On the other side of the car, Tammy had shoved Officer Serious off of her, and his body had rolled over the small embankment and into the field running parallel to the interstate. He stared blankly at the heavens, half-naked and fully dead.

  Sarah stood hesitantly, sobbing uncontrollably, and she moved from the car with stuttered steps. She turned and saw her perpetrator on the ground, who was struggling to breathe. Her eyes turned feral, and she repeatedly kicked him in the ribs. His face didn't acknowledge the vicious blows, but his breath became all the more ragged and forced. Chris, newly freed from the zip ties, ran to his wife and attempted to console her. She shoved him away and stomped her sneaker into the trooper's face, bending his nose to a forty-five degree angle from the rest of his face. “You son of a bitch, piece of shit, asshole!” she cried. Sarah kicked him in the side of the head, and it swung violently back and forth in response.

  Chris grabbed her in a bear hug from behind and held her in the air as she swung her arms and legs trying to free herself. “It's over,” he whispered to her. “It's over. I'm so sorry.” She remained tense but stopped fighting his embrace. Sobs began to tear through her body and she relaxed. She turned and buried her face in his chest.

  Mike and Tammy stood, in much the same fashion, on the other side of the car, though Tammy was stone-faced and more withdrawn than Sarah. Brent stood by the trunk of the car, fiddling awkwardly with his glasses, unsure of how to help.

  Steve put a foot on Officer Aviator's barrel chest and watched as it rose and fell in tune with the trooper's broken breathing. Officer Aviator coughed up blood; several drops arced and landed on the lenses of the sunglasses. Steve looked into them casually and examined his own reflection. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a long red vine of candy, “Licorice?” he asked. After a few seconds of silence, he answered himself, “No? Didn't think so, but thought I'd offer.” He shoved one end into his mouth and let the rest of it dangle. He aimed the gun, pulled the hammer back, and pulled the trigger. A small hole formed in the left eyepiece of the sunglasses. The chest heaved one last time and fell.

  Steve and Brent did most of the work of putting the new tires on while Mike and Chris dragged both of the officers' bodies into the field and out of sight. Not that they were worried about getting in trouble, but Chris didn't want the kids seeing them any more than they already had. He also didn't want any other vehicles, which probably wouldn't come anyway but you can't be too careful, asking questions. It took a bit of work, but they even managed to get the troopers' vehicle hidden in some high brush so it wasn't visible unless you were looking for it. They used the pants from both officers to wipe up the blood in the road. A dark red blotch still remained, but it would be assumed to have come from road kill. In any case, they didn't intend to be anywhere near the area when someone happened by.

  Tammy and Sarah sat with the kids, consoling them as best they could. The kids didn't know or understand everything that had happened, but they knew their mom was upset, hurt, and they had witnessed the death of Officer Aviator. Sarah consoled Angie, who was the more upset, while Tammy sat next to them rubbing C.J.'s back.

  “Hey kids,” Steve said, appearing just outside the window of the vehicle's rear door. They looked up in a mix of curiosity and trepidation. “Who likes candy?” Angie raised her hand, and C.J. said meekly that he did. “Well, I met a nice man at the gas station, and he said that I could have these.” He raised several boxes and bars of candy, and their eyes widened. “I'm getting candied out though, do you want them?” They nodded excitedly and grabbed the sugar-laden snacks from him.

  “Share with each other, so you both get to ha
ve some of each kind,” Sarah said. She turned to meet Steve's gaze, “Thank you for the candy. And for … the help.”

  “Sure,” Steve said, shrugging. He tapped the door, stood, and went to help finish making preparations. They had everything packed up and everyone back in their respective cars in the next few minutes. Brent flicked on the left turn signal, and the caravan pulled back onto the road.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Most of the remaining trip was spent in silence. Chris sneaked glances at Sarah in the rear-view mirror; each time she looked expressionless, staring out the window. He'd do anything to take back what she'd gone through, but he knew there was nothing he could do to take away the physical, let alone the emotional, trauma she'd endured. He rubbed away the pain of the deep red lines on his wrist, but the marks remained as a reminder of the ordeal all the same.

  Angie slept with her head on C.J.'s shoulder, who in turn slept with his head against Sarah's chest. She rubbed her hand slowly through his dark hair, continuing to look out the window. “You could try to get some rest, dear,” he said, catching her eye in the mirror.

  “No, I'm fine.” Chris didn't believe that for one second.

  The next sign they passed informed them that Glendo State Park was sixty miles away.

  “Less than an hour until we're there, if we don't have any more stops,” Brent said.

  Chris looked at the clock on the dashboard. “We're cutting it close, can we go any faster?” No more detours, he thought. Let's just get this done.

  “I would, but I think we're already pushing the limit of the remaining tread on the rear tires. I don't want to take the chance of another blowout.”

  “Good point. I wish they would have just brought back all four tires from the other vehicle, since they weren't even bringing a spare.”