The Nothing Read Free Page B

Jesus when he comes back! Before there were cell phones, people had survived just fine. People had lives and made livings without any of this wireless crap. Life went smoothly. It was better and quieter.
    Bentley didn’t want to get himself all pissy due to something that only politicians control, but he did anyway. He had a tendency to disappear into his head. They’ll only write the bill when it’s one of their precious darlings mowed down by a someone driving while barking on a phone.
    All in all, t he daytime hustle and bustle of downtown Houston didn’t appeal to him. Yet it was part of his patrol area so he had to pass through occasionally. There was rarely a call for police from that area during his shift. Mostly it was a mix of white-collar types walking to get coffee, a sandwich, or having a smoke outside their office building. The 45 freeway elevated above, stretched from downtown to the booming midtown area. Though still littered with pockets of bad crime, midtown had a few nice developments popping up. Hell, before we know it, this whole area will look like Beverly Hills!
    “Son of a Bitch!”
    The tires screeched then rammed hard over the curb on the side of the street. Bentley immediately jumped out of his squad car and yelled, “I almost hit you! What the hell are you doing running out into the street like that?” The man with the dirty brown jumpsuit and a face hardened by life was breathing heavily. While raising an arm that seemed too heavy and pointing without aim, the old man managed to push out his words. “I ain’t never seen anything like that, and my phone ain’t working. Was trying to find someone to call 911.” The man was breathing so hard that Bentley though he was going to have to call an ambulance. Luckily the old man managed to continue. “There’s a girl killed over there; In Almeda’s.” He then bent towards the ground as if to puke, took another two deep breaths, coughed, and then spit a huge mound of creamy mucus on the ground. “I had to stop yer ass somehow. You wasn’t seein' me waving. Ain't no phone service. I had to get your attention.”
    Bentley turned his gaze in the direction of Almeda’s and saw an uneasy and growing crowd. He had been at scenes like this before. But it was usually a call from dispatch that sent him. Bum dispatchers. Usually we get to the scene way before the crowds get this big. Yet today, Bentley happened to be at the right place at the right time. Or so he hoped. The scene was like that of a rock concert. More and more people were joining the crowd. One lady walked around dressed in pajamas. Another held infants in each arms. Bentley estimated that there were around fifty people and growing. The old man stood steadily and said, “Must be the cell tower.” Bentley noticed some agitation in the crowed while others had their faces in the direction of the restaurant. Some were laughing and looked like they were having a good time.
    A ction in the neighborhood is always fun until it’s your kid bleeding on the ground . Bentley sat back in his car to radio dispatch, give his location and request assistance. Then he would inquire as to whatever that man he almost hit with the car had been crying about.
     
    “ GF44”
     
    (Silence)
     
    “GF44 to dispatch”
     
    (Silence)
     
    “This is GF44, reporting a possible 10-34, requesting additional units on scene”
     
    (Silence)
     
    “GF44, anyone there?”
     
    (Silence)
     
    At that moment it hit to him that there was no squelch or signal on the radio. Dammit! Couldn’t be a worst time for the radios to go down. The city built that new multi-million dollar emergency facility with a dispatch center the size of a football field; not once had there ever been a malfunction and there was always a dispatcher that responded on the radio . Must be this stupid piece of shit radio!
    Bentley decided to take a closer look at what was going on inside. But the crowd wasn’t generous with their space in