Читать книгу Allied Zombies for Peace - Craig Nybo - Страница 16

Chapter 9

At the corner of High and Main, a handful of lackadaisical officers leaned against their squad cars, some pulling on cigarettes and crushing the butts out on the tarmac under their hush-puppies while Sergeant Bixbie wasn’t looking.

The radio inside of Smash and Fern’s cruiser squelched to life. The voice of a parade official at International Plaza, the other end of the parade route, confirmed that the parade was about to start.

“Don’t know why we’re on the sidelines and not marching today,” Fern said. He stood a few feet away from the cruiser, practicing a hat trick, flipping his eight-point cap into the air and catching it on his head after a full rotation. He had only successfully landed the stunt once.

“You gotta remember; the heat is on. You were still in Some’Butt, Kentucky when everything went down,” Smash said, trying not to let his partner’s hat antics get under his skin.

Fern slapped the hat onto his head and fixed Smash with a glare. “That’s Sumner, Kentucky. I wish you guys would lay off; I got family there still.”

“You know, that crazy som’bitch came out of some hay-seed town like Some’Butt. Last year we had some of those hippie types, all hopped up on mushrooms or something, cause a big scene. One of those kids got in the infamous Officer Greer’s face, calling him a pig and other stuff. The scene got a tense. I think the hippie kid even threw a punch. Well, Greer, being a half-cocked hayseed, took out his gun and put a slug in the kid’s chest—killed him cold.”

“Psycho.”

“Not too psycho. Everyone liked Greer. Hell, I would have jumped right in for a good boot stomping on that hippie son of a whore, Lord knows I can’t stand those little dirt bags, but pulling a gun on an innocent man, that’s another thing altogether.”

Fern leaned against the cruiser, forgetting the hat trick altogether.

“Internal Affairs hung Greer out to dry and worked the whole precinct over. Things was sticky for the better part of a year. Even now we’re looking over one shoulder for the men in black to come take us away.”

“That why everyone treats me like a chump?” Fern said.

Smash allowed one corner of his mouth to curl up into a mirth. “You gotta pardon me and the guys if we are a little antsy about the new guy, especially if he’s a hayseed.”

“I ain’t no hayseed. I’ve seen enough action to know how to handle myself, brother.”

“And that’s another thing. You ain’t a brother. Don’t call me brother.”

Fern looked at the ground.

Smash sighed and spread his hands expressively. “Look, man, I know you’ve been getting a hard time. You should take it as a compliment. This is a big town, nothing like Some’Butt. We all just need to watch one another’s backs, you know, and nobody’s seen how you handle yourself in action.”

“I’ll do just fine.” Fern looked up at a group of about eight cops playing a spontaneous game of soccer with one of the officer’s lunches. The lunch sack bounced from kick to kick, indefensible, until it broke open. A covered bowl of tomato soup burst open, spraying blood-red ooze onto the road in daps and splats.