A Café in Rome

A short story

Violence is a force that is difficult to explain. This piece is my attempt to explore its psychological and physical effects on the mind and body. I wrote it in a small café on the cobblestone streets of Rome, Italy.

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It had to be soon. 45 minutes and he had escaped the calls for service that had come in. The accident had been picked up by a safety aid and the delayed burglary had gone to an older zone partner. He knew his luck would not last long though. He would get assigned a call sooner or later and miss the opportunity to bring a criminal to justice.

He desperately wanted to see the white Land Rover before getting a call.  He sipped his black coffee which was already cold now. One day he would enjoy hot coffee. Maybe in a cafe somewhere in Rome, with nothing pulling him away. He had always wanted to go to Rome. He could be like Hemingway, sitting in a cafe writing without the noises.That was it, a picturesque cafe on a cobblestone street in Rome, where he would hear no noise. He did not mean external noise. He meant the noise in his head; the voices. 

Stop it, you. You sound crazy. When you say voices, you sound crazy. But there were voices. Not all are yours. Maybe they were all your voices. It seemed that they came from other people, mostly. The voices of need, of wanting, and of fear. They needed you to do this or that, and they never shut up. They would shut up in the coffee shop in Rome. Yes, that was it, do this and you will enjoy that one day. Right now you have to be here first. Do this first. If you don’t do this first, then how can you do that in Rome? 

The cold coffee going down his throat brought him back. 

Yes, that was terrible. Still it snapped you out of it, didn’t it? It did its job, right? So then coffee is not meant to be enjoyed? Enough. 

Then it happened. The Land Rover pulled in. This was what he had been waiting for. He verified the tag with his binoculars. The familiar rush pulled him into the feeling of anticipation. It gripped him like an invisible hand. The chill followed; a shiver down his arms that ended in the hairs on his arms standing up. 

You like this feeling, don’t you? Stay in the zone. Don’t let yourself go past this point. This is good, but don’t let yourself go past this point. That’s when you make mistakes. When your heart rate gets too fast and you make mistakes. Mistakes can get you killed, or worse — someone else.

The Land Rover has to be addressed. The driver is pure evil. Who else will address it but you? Someone has to address the real monsters. The monsters that prey on the weak. The predators. Yes, that’s a better word: predator. In the end, you are either a predator or a prey. That’s it. Nothing else. It’s the age old question every man asks himself. Yet, most never know the answer. They spend their entire lives avoiding the question. They pull over cars in school zones or work behind a desk. There isn’t anything else besides this question. The predator and the prey question. So what are you? You have taken down predators, true. You are a predator then, yes? That “yes” is far too weak. 

No, there is more to it than just that. It isn’t that simple. The answer is never quite that simple, not really. Because even if you survive an encounter with a predator, there is always another one. And if you prey on predators, as predator, what makes you any different? There go the voices again. It’s just noise. Enough! 

You aren’t prey, or a predator. Neither are they. You are just a cop doing your job. They are just people born into terrible situations and they do exactly what you would do. You would commit the same crimes they commit had you been dealt the same hand. No you wouldn’t! Maybe you would sell drugs to make money, yes. But you wouldn’t pistol whip that older lady in the white Land Rover. You wouldn’t carjack someone. No, that is where you draw the line. 

Oh, you draw a line there? You draw it at carjacking, huh? You’re a real winner, A120. A real tool more like it. You are overthinking catching a carjacking suspect. What you have to do is simple, just do your job. It is when you get these thoughts that you make mistakes. Or when it happens so fast and you can’t control your breathing. That hasn’t happened in awhile though. It happened some when you first started this job. Or maybe you haven’t been tested in awhile. That’s it, it’s not that you are so much better, it’s that you haven’t been tested lately.

Then it happened, the Land Rover pulled into the driveway. Another car pulled up and the driver of the Land Rover jumped out. He approached the window and exchanged something from the passenger of the other vehicle. 

It’s a dark object, a gun, maybe? Yes, it has to be. The way the driver holds it can’t be mistaken. But you can never be sure at this distance. Why did you put down the binoculars for a second and miss that exchange? 

Then the driver jumped back into the Land Rover and pulled out. It happened so fast. The Land Rover came southbound towards his location. The driver spotted him in the marked police car. The Land Rover drove right by him. It was then that the moment happened. 

There is always a moment. The moment where the battle lines are drawn. The moment usually happens with a look. You know it is coming. You see the driver about to pass you. Wait for the eye contact. You will know from the eye contact.The eyes are brown. Were the eyes always brown? Stop it brain! You know that isn’t true. He’s assessing you now. Who is the predator? Who is the prey?

He shifted the car into drive but remained motionless. He wondered if he could fool the brown eyes into thinking he didn’t know about the carjacking. He wondered if he could get other units into the area before the driver fled and the fight began. There was no mistake when they made eye contact. Nothing short of fire shot back between the two. The driver issued a challenge. He shouted with his eyes, “I’m a predator, mother fucker, you can’t touch me!” 

He said that, right? You heard it clearly. Those brown eyes said just that. Why does the eye color matter? It doesn’t, it’s just something you noticed, that’s all. You are allowed to notice. That doesn’t make you bad. 

The chills had passed now and everything sped up and slowed down in intervals. This was how it worked. People would describe these moments as slowing down but that’s not entirely accurate. Right now it’s going fast. Dispatch: southbound, tag number, occupants, reference, location, speed. 

You need to breathe. 

He did, and then he remembered the possible gun. The oxygen he forced to his brain gave him that memory. 

Thanks brain. Keep that up, and give the brown eyes some distance so you can react. Now you are in the zone. This will likely be a long one. A drawn out battle. Start K9. More oxygen to your brain. That allows for another thought; start the helo. This is it. You have him now. There is no getting away now. There is no escaping. Pull closer, just to be sure he doesn’t lose you before you get the cavalry behind you. The cavalry is coming and the predator will become the prey. 

Then it slowed down, way down. Too slow. The breathing has been good but things are too slow. He saw the weight of the Land Rover shift forward before he saw the brake lights come on. 

You are too close. Something is off. There is a disturbance in the force. A disturbance in the force? You’re funny. That you can make a joke to yourself within a fraction of a moment and still process the environment. Funny how that is when things go slow. A glitch in the matrix. There you go again, cracking yourself up. What about the driver’s door opening? Got a plan for that, jokester? You laugh but what about that, A120? You got way too close and you know what is going to happen next don’t you? Yes, and I’ll address it. First, get your gun out. Stop making jokes and get your gun out. 

He looked down and saw it was already in his hand. And the seatbelt? He had already taken it off with his left while the gun was coming out. 

Funny how I did that while I was cracking myself up. 

Next, the door. Do not get stuck in this coffin. Get out and fight. 

But the door is already open and your foot is sliding lightly over the pavement. All you have to do is get the car in park. That is happening now, with your right hand, the gun hand. With the gun in it, palm upwards into the shifter. Nice job, no hang ups. Man, the smell of brakes burning is always harsh. 

You already bailed out of your vehicle. The gun is up and you didn’t even think about it. The brown eyes are out. You know that, right. They’re coming towards you. Of course you know that. You are watching his right hand moving upwards with an object in it. A gun, right? You know it is. But you can’t say for sure. Silence, stop overthinking, it is a gun. Why else would the brown eyes exit their vehicle and come after you? No, it’s a gun alright, even if you can’t say for sure. Better be sure. If you’re wrong, you’ll be in a prison cell very soon. What’s better, a prison cell or a coffin? 

There is the disturbance again. The wave of negative energy rushing through you like a force. When that happens, you have to process. Yes, but your brain has already done that for you. Without your awareness. You know your brain is processing because you hear two empty shell casing slap the window of your car. Your shell casings. Funny how you hear the clatter of metal against the car window but not the explosion of your gun. Not the explosions of his gun. You see his gun exploding though. You didn’t think to pull the trigger, or even aim. But you are aiming. Did you fire?

Three more shell casing. You did fire. Yes, you are no prey. A prey doesn’t have that kind of reaction. Four more clattering sounds of your empty shell casing. No way the brown eyes can hear their empty casing, that’s next level. Yep, you got this, A120. You are a damn predator. You already know the answer. You will never have to wonder again. Those voices can go silent now.

There was silence, too much silence. You shouldn’t be laying on the ground. Get up, you prick. This is no time to lay down. Get up! 

Now things are happening fast again. Around you they are, but you aren’t responding that fast. The brown eyes are now over top of you.

What is that warm, wet feeling against your neck? What is that smell? You’ve smelled it before and it means something bad. It was on your hands the last time you smelled it. Your hands, why can’t you feel your hands? 

Then the brown eyes again. You are looking into the brown eyes and see the fire. Except it is not fire, it is fear. There was no mistaking it now. It was deep, gut wrenching, unabated fear. 

And remember the look you gave the driver? That eternity ago. Yes, it was crystal clear now. You were scared too. That was fear too. Now you feel no fear. You feel no fear but see fear in the brown eyes. Man, it felt good to feel no fear. Who cared about being a predator or prey. When you feel no fear you don’t care about all that noise. This was a good feeling. Yes, it was great. Don’t you wish the brown eyes didn’t give you that look of fear? Damn him to hell.  If he only knew he didn’t have to be afraid. Why don’t you just tell him? Just say it, right now. Say it right now before this gets any worse for him. You can’t say it now because your voice won’t work. One day you can tell him. You will tell him, right? So many things in life are passed over and forgotten after these moments of truth. This is a moment of truth. Maybe you’ll tell him in Rome. You can sit with him over coffee and all the noises will go away. You and him can sit over a coffee and you can tell him that he doesn’t have to be afraid anymore. That blue eyes and brown eyes can sit together without fear. This is good. This will make us both happy. 

The empty shell slapped the sidewalk near him and he smiled to himself. That casing was different. It didn’t come from his gun, and he knew it. He looked into the driver’s scared face and tried to mouth, “I will see you in Rome, my friend.”

The end 

“Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy to a friend.”-Martin Luther King Jr.