Tommy was 19 years old, and a police officer. His routine he had done about a thousand times now, wake, get ready(Not hard here, blue uniform made his mornings simpler) and go to work.
He patrolled the same route over and over, he could do it blind. His only defense from the monotonous patrol was Bernard. Bernard was a gruff, imposing man who made Tommy look short. He was a veteran of “The European War” as he called it, and seemed like a wise old man to anyone who knew him. His facade of intimidation was not well hidden, he would regularly stop to speak to stray dogs and cats on his patrol, much to Tommy’s confusion.
“Life would be easier if they gave us a different route to patrol, nothing here.” Tommy said to Bernard
“Not sure I could handle that, this is easy work here, Thomas.” Bernard replied, “I’ve been doing something like this a lifetime, here’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
Tommy turned and looked up at Bernard, smirking “I’ve only been here, what, two years? Here’s felt like a lifetime!”
“At least we’re not at the port or somewhere with dangerous crime, you’re green as can be! Disregarding your schoolyard fights.” Bernard said, grinning. Being born in the last century had its perks, limited as they were.
“I pay taxes, Bernard.” Tommy said.
“Missing the point!” Bernard boasted
“Ah, you win then. I’ll get you eventually.” Tommy said, pulling at his collar, sun burning through his uniform's fabric.
Speaking to one another was basically their hobby, Despite the two hardly being peers. They’d long been past the point of being able to enjoy the scenery of their patrol. The most interesting thing they’d ever seen was a fight on some fall afternoon in ‘26.
“You’d think you’d see something interesting, right?” Tommy said, lazily.
“I think you think that fighting armed bootleggers is fun, Thomas.” Bernard said, trying to sound as authoritative as possible.
“Well, I’m sure it’s better tha-”
BANG!
A loud blast sounded out. Most of the people in the street jumped, a few hit the ground, others decided to leave.
“Hellfire.” Bernard grumbled.
Tommy was as frozen as every other kid on the street, and only realized he was, in fact, a police officer. He mustered the courage to start following bernard. He looked down at his holster, trying to take out his “little purse gun” as he called it. I’m sure that was just a car Tommy thought.
After running along for what felt like a few hours in Tommy’s mind, they reached the source of the noises. An old factory or a storage building? Whatever it was, it was old, the biggest danger there was likely the building falling in on itself.
“Follow me, look everywhere, and for God’s sake, stay back!” Bernard said, under his breath. You don’t need to convince me, Bernard.
They walked along the side of the building, guns up at their hips. “Look,” Bernard whispered. Tommy looked at what Bernard gestured to. A truck, and a person a few feet behind the door of the back of the truck. Whoever they were, they were long gone. A small pistol lay past the man’s hand.
“Follow me, Tommy.” Bernard said, looking back at his shaky comrade. “I’m behind you, Bernard.” Tommy replied. Bernard gestured to Tommy to stop, and peaked into the truck’s bed, gun raised. “Don’t move!” he shouted, being as intimidating as he looked for the first time Tommy had ever seen.
“Tommy,” Bernard grumbled, “Go cuff him. I’ll watch” Bernard waited as Tommy walked over and climbed into the truck bed. Tommy looked at the bootlegger. He didn’t look like much of a killer. He was a small man, or more of a kid, really. He seemed as terrified as Tommy was.
“Keep still, bootlegger.” Tommy whispered to the boy, cuffing him.
BOOM!
Tommy shoved the cuffed boy down and leaped behind a few crates of moonshine. He waited, cocking his revolver.
“Don’t make me save you again, Archie! Come on!” Tommy peaked up above the crates. A large, tall man. He jumped up as far as he could above the truck bed. Bang Bang! The man fell back, motionless.
“Damn it, Bernard! Are you ok?” Tommy shouted. No response. He waited, and waited. No response came.
Tommy climbed out of the truck bed. There’s got to be another bootlegger, surely, he thought. He ran to the front of the truck. There's something wrong here!
“Hands up! Come out! It’s over, there’s an army of us!” It was another cop, Keith. He was an unsuspecting looking man, about 30, not exactly fierce looking.
“You’re late, Bernard’s gone” Tommy said “One dead bootlegger, some kid captured.” Keith turned to Tommy “Where’s Bernard? The kid is a bootlegger?” Keith said “He’s gone Keith. And yes. Go on.” Tommy slumped on the brick wall behind him, letting himself slide down.
After getting done telling details to Keith and staring forward until he figured his shift was over, Thomas went home.
His apartment door creaked open, the room inside void of light or life save for a small window. Thomas walks further into his apartment, and sits on his bed. “God, what?” Thomas cried out. “Surely he couldn't have!”. He laid on his bed, and laid, somewhere between sleep and reality.