some of them holding batons, while others carried Tasers or pepper spray. Seeing what was about to happen, the man launched himself at one of the officers, striking him with so much force that the policeman stumbled. The crazy man flailed and kicked, never stopping, never allowing an officer to keep a solid grip on any part of his body.
A young officer, shorter than average, pushed his Taser in the back of the mad man's neck and then brought the end of the Taser down to the guys thigh. Gloria had seen this on an Internet video one of her kids had been watching: it was called a drive stun and would complete the electrical circuit from the probes down to the end of the Taser. But the mad man didn't seem to be affected. He turned and sank his teeth into the Taser officer's neck. When the sick man released him, Gloria could see tendons and stringy veins pull away from the officer’s neck.
The other officers took the moment to try pepper spray. Three streams shot out from three different canisters and hit the man across the eyes. Again, he didn’t react, didn't even brush the dripping spray from his eyes. He attacked the officers, sinking his teeth into forearms, hands and necks. Any exposed flesh was fair game.
A large officer who looked like he’d played football in his glory days, ran at the crazed man from behind. His shoulder hit the sick man's torso and his arms wrapped around the man’s legs. The large cop powered forward and then let go, tossing the sick man head first into the concrete wall that separated the boardwalk from the beach. The sick man struck the wall face first, but didn’t collapse. Instead, he turned quickly and stood.
The officer reached for his gun and drew it smoothly. As the sick man ran toward the policeman, the big officer pulled the trigger once, then again, and again, and again.
“Shots fired,” an officer said into a radio near Gloria. The words echoed on the radios of the nearby officers.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gloria looked on in horror. It had all happened so suddenly. Was shooting the man really necessary? She supposed it was: the man had just bitten an officer’s throat and who knows how many people he could have injured if he’d escaped. But now four of the officers were handcuffing the corpse as if it would jump up and attack them after being riddled with bullet holes. It all seemed a bit like overkill.
Someone was shaking her arm. Bobby.
"Mom, I think we should get Roger to the hospital. I'm worried."
Gloria's eyes shifted over to Roger. Izzy and Abby were helping him hold the towel over his wounds.
Roger gave her a slight nod, agreeing with Bobby but not wanting to scare him. "I'll be fine, Bobby. Nothing a few stitches and some antibiotics won't fix right up."
Bobby nodded, still nervous, but trusting Roger.
An officer a few feet away spoke into his radio. "Tell aid the scene is safe; we need them here. There are a lot of people injured. Send as many units you can."
Over the next few minutes the waterfront became flooded with emergency responders. Gloria didn't even know Virginia Beach had this many cops and ambulances. She looked down at Bobby and saw that he had some scratches on his arm and a couple of splotches of blood. The blood must have been from the man because his scratches didn't look deep enough to draw blood.
They walked, together as one family, to an ambulance that was pulling up. One look at the blood soaked towel on Roger's forearms and the paramedics brought him inside before any of the others.
"Can we ride with you?" Gloria asked one of them.
"We can only let one of you ride with us."
Gloria frowned, torn between wanting to be with Roger and not wanting to leave her children alone right now.
"Why don't you just meet me at the hospital, Gloria?” Roger said. “It’s no problem."
Gloria looked down at Bobby's arm and was about to suggest he go with Roger so he could get his arm cleaned, when a woman with a far more serious bite