Siren in the Night
#2 of Death Befalls Her
***"Siren in the Night" is part of a series of unrelated short-stories called "Death Befalls Her", in which various women are depicted in dangerous situations. Sometimes they survive, sometimes they die quick, and sometimes they die horribly. If you are curious to find out which, read on. To keep the element of surprise, keywords may not be entirely true for these stories. If you wish to avoid possibly violent and gruesome scenes, which may also include rape, then I do not urge you to read any further.***
Red and blue lights from a police car flash brightly over the dark fields of corn and soybean plants, parked on the side of the road that ran between them. Music playing from the red TransAm it had pulled over just moments before shakes the ground with the thump of its subwoofers.
The door of the outdated Crown Victoria squad car opens and a very dark figure steps out onto the street, the dancing light on the white roof of her vehicle illuminates her black feline face in colored flashes. She shuts the door behind her and shines her very bright flashlight onto the red vehicle ahead of her.
"Turn off your engine and your radio!" she orders with a strict voice as she begins to walk towards it.
From inside, a young bull grunts and turns his ignition off, his speakers and subwoofers immediately falling silent along with his engine. He soon finds the bright light of the policewoman's flashlight shining in his face. His black eyes squint and try to look away from it; face of brown fur showing obvious frustration.
"Are you aware you were going 80 on a 55?" she asks him with a scolding tone since his wreckless driving could result in far more than just a ticket. He sneers at her and shakes his head, unable to see her face with that light shining in his eyes.
"I'll need your license and proof of insurance," she demands.
The bull reaches over and pops open his glove compartment, exposing a mess of disorganized papers he really didn't want to fish though.
"Have you been drinking?" she asks him as he searches.
He shakes his head again and sits back up in his seat with no papers in his large hands. "No," he replies, "but come on beautiful, can you let me off just this once?"
"Sorry sir, but you must hand me your license and insurance information," she tells him, sounding slightly sympathetic.
Suddenly, as though he were looking for a sign of weakness, he swings his car door open as hard as he can, slamming it into the policewoman and knocking her to the street on her ass. He rushes out the door and quickly pins the much smaller woman face-down against the pavement, then sits his larger body on top of hers.
He pins her arms behind her back and then reaches for the flashlight she had dropped. He immediately shines it into her face, her yellow feline eyes squinting and narrowing its pupils quickly in reaction. Her fur is almost completely black except for a single brown patch over her right eye. Her uniform hat had been knocked off during the fall and lies upside down next to them, revealing short black hair on top her head between feline ears of matching color.
"Sorry, bitch, but I can't go t' jail," he threatens with a deep voice, still shining the light at her, "Lets see how you like this damn flashlight in y'er face."
"Please," she begs while squinting, "I'm just doing my job.. Don't do anything stupid... I have a camera running in my car recording this.."
The bull laughs loudly. "You liar. Everyone knows that you damn Wesnaw city cops can't afford those."
He then tosses her flashlight into the cornfield and pulls her up onto her feet. He then begins to drag her towards the field of soy on the other side as though she were the one being arrested. "I ain't going t' jail because of some country bitch," he grunts before he shoves her down into the dirt of the field, the soybean plants barely tall enough to conceal her body from the road. She cries out as the bull then kneels down behind her and pins her arms to her back again, putting his weight on her shoulders to keep her down. The flashing red and blue lights dance off their forms in the field.
"Hmm maybe I'll have fun with you before I kill you," he says with grin.
The policewoman's eyes widen with terror and then she begins to squirm against his hold fiercely, her body giving out a lot of strength for her size, but remains pinned beneath the much larger bull. Her body and uniform becomes covered in the loose topsoil that covers the field. "Let me go you fucking bastard!" she screams.
"No, I think you'll stay for trying t' send me to jail," he says before he lifts her hips up, then yanks her blue uniform pants from them and down off her legs. Her wide black furred rear with white panties between the cheeks are exposed to his eyes, causing him to grin. His large hand then rubs against the soft lace, pressing his thick fingers against her puffy lips that hide beneath. This causes her to growl and squirm more violently beneath him, her black tail whipping back and forth above her, but her efforts to get free get her no where except more dirty beneath his crushing weight.
Just as the bull begins to reach for the belt of his own pants, the policewoman's black ears suddenly perk above her head. Her head rises a bit from the ground as her sensitive ears pay attention to a spark of hope she hears in the distance. The wail of sirens from another police vehicle slowly breaks through the nightly ambiance of chirping crickets and frogs. "I told you!" she yells with a tone of warning up at him.
The distant sound of the sirens slowly pierce the ears of the bull, but not as sharply as his sudden revelation. "Shit!" he exclaims before he jumps up from her and retreats for his car, eyes wide with panic. He hastily opens the door and slips inside, slamming it behind him before turning the ignition after briefly fumbling with his keys. He then immediately shifts it into gear. The squeal of tires follows the roar of the motor, the spinning tires off the side of the road kicking up dirt and stones.
Meanwhile, the policewoman reaches for her pants that the bull had removed to pull a black sig .40 cal from its holster. With only panties around her waist, she scrambles up to the street and stands infront of her vehicle. She then swings her pistol up into an aiming position towards the sports car pulling onto the road. Her eyes burn with anger as they narrow with concentration, taking aim. She does not rethink her actions. Her mind is filled with rage against this bull, causing her mouth to open and scream irately just as she squeezes the trigger and opens fire. The loud claps of her gunfire deafen and ring her ears, emitting bright flashes of light on her dark figure as her arms bend with the pistol's recoil.
Hollow-point bullets punch through the rear windshield of the sports car, and just as the bull looks up into his rear-view mirror, one of them bites him on the back of his head, snapping it violently back. The soft tip flares out as it forces its way through the bottom of his skull and punches out beneath his jaw in a hole as large as his fist, splattering the windshield and console with blood. His large body then falls forward onto the steering wheel and causes the vehicle to swerve to the left, diving it into an irrigation ditch between the road and the cornfield with a loud crunch.
The policewoman stands there silently after she watches the vehicle roll into the overgrown ditch, its frame bending on impact and engine smoking after it comes to a stop. She knew that she had hit her mark, the gun in her black hands warm and smoking infront of her face. Her bare, long black legs beneath her hips begin to shake as they feel the cool night air blow against them and as the true severity of her situation slowly dawns on her.
She no longer heard the distant sound of the sirens. It was obvious to her all along that they were never meant for her rescue, but still miraculously saved her life. The bull was right. She had no camera, she was alone, and she was very, very vulnerable. The same cruel fate that brought her to this terrible situation had saved her from it as well, and the more she realized it, the worse she felt.
With a loud cry, she drops to her knees on the street. The black pistol falls from her grip and onto the dirt next to it. Tears fill her yellow eyes and drip down onto her legs, still only wearing the white panties below her dirty police jacket. Her black tail lies limply on the street behind her, and with loud sob, she buries her face into her black palms. Tears smear the black fur of her face as she continues to sob. Her eyes peek over her writhing fingers to look at the gun resting in the dirt. The deadly persuasion of suicide begins to haunt her mind.
"No.." she sobs to herself before her arms fall to hug herself tightly across her chest. With a loud sniff of her running nose, she leans her back against the bumper of her police vehicle, the idling engine behind her whispers calm mechanical noises into her ears that strangely comfort her.
Although she had escaped both death and rape, she did not survive unharmed. Her mind was haunted by images of what could have happened and what the bull had planned to do. The rape never became real, but mentally, it had done its damage with deep emotional scars that may affect her for the rest of her life.
After weeks of therapy, the feline quit the police force at the age of 26 for acceptable reasons seen by her peers, and in accordance to her strange request, was allowed to keep the old Crown Victoria after a proper civilian conversion. The Wesnaw city police force shortly adapted a mandatory camera policy for all their vehicles due to the events of her case. She later married and did her best to live a quiet life from then on.
The source of the sirens that had saved her life remains a mystery.