[Original: Drabble] "On Patrol" [Zeke Jones, G]
Title: On Patrol
Prompt: writerverse challenge #29 weekly quick fic #10 (‘there are ghosts by the reservoir’ & ‘unknown’)
Word Count: 816
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke and Howell respond to a call at the Fairmount Water Works.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
On Patrol
About half-way through every shift, I need a snack. It has nothing to do with being a semi-undead vampire, and more to with a fast metabolism and having a job that keeps me on my toes. Howell says it’s good for uniformed officers to be seen at places with statistically high risk of crime, but I think he really just needs his two AM Tastykake fix.
One night, I came out of Wawa with our usual haul (three hot dogs, a box of Kandy Kakes, and a black coffee for Howell; a meatball hoagie, a jumbo-sized Crunch bar and a mocha-mint latte for me) to find my partner leaning against the hood of our patrol car.
“We got a call,” he said, grabbing one of the hot dogs and scarfing it in three big bites. “A disturbance at the Water Works.”
I handed him another hot dog as he got into the driver’s seat. “What kind of disturbance?”
The second hot dog vanished as quickly as the first, and I passed over a third. “Don’t know,” said Howell. “But dispatch called us specifically.”
“Ah.”
I was the only vampire at Philly PD- law enforcement was not a regular career choice for my kind, who generally prefer to be historians, museum curators, or if they could manage it, wealthy socialites- but there were several other cops in the other precincts with varying levels of magical ability.
Whatever this disturbance was, it could be that it needed our particular abilities- or just that we were the nearest available patrol car.
The ride to the Fairmount Water Works gave me enough time to eat my hoagie and half of my chocolate bar. I put the rest in the glove compartment for later as we pulled to a stop along the bank of the Schuylkill River.
We both got out, flashlights in hand. Despite the name, the Water Works hasn’t actively worked any water for decades. Part of it had been turned, most recently, into an upscale restaurant, but it was mostly a historical center.
Howell stepped out onto the porch-like portico overlooking the river, lined with marble columns.
“Police!” he yelled. “Show yourself!”
There was no answer.
“They’re not really disturbing the peace anymore, now, are they, sir?” I asked.
Howell gave me his ‘my partner talks too much’ scowl, but I just grinned at him, and followed him farther down the portico.
We reached the end of one section and made to turn back when there was a sudden noise. A man appeared from nowhere and started running.
“Police!” Howell yelled again, as we raced after the man. “Freeze!
The man reached a dead-end and skidded to a stop.
“Hands up!” said Howell, drawing his gun. “Or I shoot.”
I frowned at the man, then snorted. “Won’t do any good, sir,” I said.
The beam from my flashlight didn’t hit the man properly- it diffused through him, like oncoming headlights through a foggy windshield. The man, the ghost of a man, young and wearing sixties-era clothing, turned around slowly. I could see the gaping gunshot wound in the front of his leisure suit, which had obviously been fatal.
Howell holstered her weapon. “This isn’t a designated haunting area,” he said.
“It’s on the National Register of Historic Places,” the ghost protested. “And not that I’m complaining, but why aren’t you running away in terror?”
“Because we’re fully trained police officers,” I said, dryly. “And you’re an extra from Saturday Night Fever.”
Howell ignored me, like usual. “You’ll have to move along,” he told the ghost.
He frowned. “I could be tied here, you know. One of the workers who tragically lost his life constructing such a marvel of engineering.”
“The Water Works was finished in eighteen-seventy-two,” said Howell. “Try again.”
The ghost did. “I might have drowned at the swimming pool!”
“Yeah, kind of hard to swim with a bullet in your chest,” I drawled.
His face fell. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’,” said Howell, then his expression softened slightly. “I’m going to let you out with a warning this time. We’ll give you a ride back to your cemetery.”
“Thanks,” said the ghost. “I… I just needed to get out, for a little while.”
As we headed back to our car, I looked at him more closely. He was younger than I’d thought, probably even a little younger than me.
“Hey,” I said, as he glided through the car door into the backseat. “They ever catch the guy who killed you?”
The ghost shook his head. “I didn’t even see him.”
“When I get back to the station, I’ll look up your case,” I told him. “I can’t make any promises, but…”
He brightened. “Would you? It’s Kenny. Kenneth Long.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “Whenever I can find the time.”
Howell pulled the car back into the traffic of Kelly Drive. “You’ll have the time,” he said.
I grinned. I could probably even get him to help solve the case.
THE END
Current Mood:
hungry
Prompt: writerverse challenge #29 weekly quick fic #10 (‘there are ghosts by the reservoir’ & ‘unknown’)
Word Count: 816
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke and Howell respond to a call at the Fairmount Water Works.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
On Patrol
About half-way through every shift, I need a snack. It has nothing to do with being a semi-undead vampire, and more to with a fast metabolism and having a job that keeps me on my toes. Howell says it’s good for uniformed officers to be seen at places with statistically high risk of crime, but I think he really just needs his two AM Tastykake fix.
One night, I came out of Wawa with our usual haul (three hot dogs, a box of Kandy Kakes, and a black coffee for Howell; a meatball hoagie, a jumbo-sized Crunch bar and a mocha-mint latte for me) to find my partner leaning against the hood of our patrol car.
“We got a call,” he said, grabbing one of the hot dogs and scarfing it in three big bites. “A disturbance at the Water Works.”
I handed him another hot dog as he got into the driver’s seat. “What kind of disturbance?”
The second hot dog vanished as quickly as the first, and I passed over a third. “Don’t know,” said Howell. “But dispatch called us specifically.”
“Ah.”
I was the only vampire at Philly PD- law enforcement was not a regular career choice for my kind, who generally prefer to be historians, museum curators, or if they could manage it, wealthy socialites- but there were several other cops in the other precincts with varying levels of magical ability.
Whatever this disturbance was, it could be that it needed our particular abilities- or just that we were the nearest available patrol car.
The ride to the Fairmount Water Works gave me enough time to eat my hoagie and half of my chocolate bar. I put the rest in the glove compartment for later as we pulled to a stop along the bank of the Schuylkill River.
We both got out, flashlights in hand. Despite the name, the Water Works hasn’t actively worked any water for decades. Part of it had been turned, most recently, into an upscale restaurant, but it was mostly a historical center.
Howell stepped out onto the porch-like portico overlooking the river, lined with marble columns.
“Police!” he yelled. “Show yourself!”
There was no answer.
“They’re not really disturbing the peace anymore, now, are they, sir?” I asked.
Howell gave me his ‘my partner talks too much’ scowl, but I just grinned at him, and followed him farther down the portico.
We reached the end of one section and made to turn back when there was a sudden noise. A man appeared from nowhere and started running.
“Police!” Howell yelled again, as we raced after the man. “Freeze!
The man reached a dead-end and skidded to a stop.
“Hands up!” said Howell, drawing his gun. “Or I shoot.”
I frowned at the man, then snorted. “Won’t do any good, sir,” I said.
The beam from my flashlight didn’t hit the man properly- it diffused through him, like oncoming headlights through a foggy windshield. The man, the ghost of a man, young and wearing sixties-era clothing, turned around slowly. I could see the gaping gunshot wound in the front of his leisure suit, which had obviously been fatal.
Howell holstered her weapon. “This isn’t a designated haunting area,” he said.
“It’s on the National Register of Historic Places,” the ghost protested. “And not that I’m complaining, but why aren’t you running away in terror?”
“Because we’re fully trained police officers,” I said, dryly. “And you’re an extra from Saturday Night Fever.”
Howell ignored me, like usual. “You’ll have to move along,” he told the ghost.
He frowned. “I could be tied here, you know. One of the workers who tragically lost his life constructing such a marvel of engineering.”
“The Water Works was finished in eighteen-seventy-two,” said Howell. “Try again.”
The ghost did. “I might have drowned at the swimming pool!”
“Yeah, kind of hard to swim with a bullet in your chest,” I drawled.
His face fell. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’,” said Howell, then his expression softened slightly. “I’m going to let you out with a warning this time. We’ll give you a ride back to your cemetery.”
“Thanks,” said the ghost. “I… I just needed to get out, for a little while.”
As we headed back to our car, I looked at him more closely. He was younger than I’d thought, probably even a little younger than me.
“Hey,” I said, as he glided through the car door into the backseat. “They ever catch the guy who killed you?”
The ghost shook his head. “I didn’t even see him.”
“When I get back to the station, I’ll look up your case,” I told him. “I can’t make any promises, but…”
He brightened. “Would you? It’s Kenny. Kenneth Long.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “Whenever I can find the time.”
Howell pulled the car back into the traffic of Kelly Drive. “You’ll have the time,” he said.
I grinned. I could probably even get him to help solve the case.
THE END
Current Mood:
hungry