"Purr"fect Timing
Summary: Yep, another "missing" scene for "Fatal Edition"g.
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to their creators. No
copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made.
Author's Notes: One finds inspiration in some strange places
sometimes. I found mine for this story holding a paper clip.
Author: Tracy Diane Miller
E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
"Purr"fect Timing
It wasn't something that he expected to find while he was hiding in
that alley between Franklin and Hubbard waiting for Marissa to arrive
with those bolt cutters. But there it was partially concealed nearby
a dumpster. He saw it as he leaned against a brick wall. It was so
small, so insignificant, but yet the sun's reflection off of the
metallic item made the object appear as valuable as pure silver.
A paper clip.
Carefully, Gary bent over to pick up the paper clip. With the angry
jaws of the handcuffs eating into his flesh, it wasn't easy grasping
the tiny item. His heart was pounding. And his brain was working
almost as desperately as his hands. He had an idea. It was risky,
but he had to take the chance. He smiled wryly as he held that paper
clip. Instinctively, he put it into his jacket pocket. Later, the
paper clip would be pressed into service. It was the only way. He
needed to talk to her alone. She would understand and believe him.
She would help him. She had to.
It had been hours since he left Marissa. And his hope of locating
Joe, the parking lot attendant who he was certain was connected to
Scanlon somehow, had been quashed when he learned that Joe had quit
and a substitute had been hired. The new employee had no idea as to
Joe's whereabouts and Gary doubted that the guy would help him even
he could.
Chicago appeared restless tonight. The entire city was on highest
alert for an escaped fugitive. But of course, he was more scared
than restless. Gary was certain that every police car siren that he
heard wailing in the near distance was meant for him, to take him
back into custody. There he was hidden, yet in plain view; his
survival instincts were in overdrive as he lurked in the shadows,
watching.
And waiting.
Providence appeared to smile upon him or rather; to offer him a small
ray of light to illuminate the darkness of his fear for it had been
much easier to locate her than he could have anticipated. She lived
in a townhouse not too far from the police station. Again, the
danger of his intentions resonated in his ears, loud and piercing
vibrations imploring him to avoid the risk, but he wouldn't listen.
Gary was walking a thin tightrope between freedom and capture. He
couldn't afford to fall from that tightrope.
He removed the paper clip from his jacket pocket, contorted it so
that its slender needle fit perfectly into the lock, and then went to
work. A few seconds later, he smiled victoriously when he heard the
distinctive clicking sound. Turning the knob, he walked in the door.
A momentary pang of conscience washed over him. He had stolen that
jacket and cap from the Laundromat. Now he was breaking and
entering. His parents had raised him with a clear sense of right and
wrong, but those lines had been blurred by his present
circumstances. Desperation was without scruples.
He waited for her in the darkness. Ironically, the darkness was both
benevolent and cruel. The police would be combing the streets
searching for him. They wouldn't expect him to be hiding in the home
of one of their detectives. No one had seen him break into the
townhouse and with the darkness of the structure, the neighbors'
suspicions wouldn't be aroused. Yet, the darkness and sheer quiet
served to heightened his anxiety. He no longer believed as he had
that The Paper had wanted him to be arrested, especially given Cat's
fortuitous appearance at the courthouse and the headline in the early
edition that facilitated his escape. Still, why had he been caught
in this nightmare? What was he expected to do?
His questions remained unanswered. A short while later, he heard a
key placed in the front door. He could barely hear himself think
through the sound of his heart pounding. Brigatti turned the lights
on and gasped in shock seeing him standing there.
He pleaded with her to help him. His eyes and the fear in his voice
implored her to believe him and to help him, but she wouldn't.
Instead, the only "help" that she had given him was in not putting a
bullet in his back and allowing him to walk away. Where he was going
he didn't know. What he did know was that he was alone.
Gary ended up in a secluded spot not far from the lake. While Chicago
finally slept, Mother Nature stayed awake and alert exhaling a
powerful breath that wrapped the air in a deadly chill. Discarded
pieces of newspaper were caught in the gust; the howling winds
carrying the debris in a flight of fancy. He shivered violently from
the cold. Gary knew that he couldn't spend the night on the street.
He would die from exposure.
It was after midnight when he found what looked like an abandoned
warehouse somewhere in Chicago's industrial district. He quietly
crept inside. It was a huge, dirty space, but very warm. He could
get a few hours of sleep there.
A wooden board on the floor became his bed and a worn, musty blanket
served as covering. The exhausted hero lay on the makeshift
accommodations and closed his eyes.
However, sleep proved elusive. His mind interpreted every sound as
the police closing in on him and when he finally fell asleep, dreams
of capture tortured him.
It was morning when Gary heard a meow followed by a chorus of soft
purrs, but he dismissed the sounds. He covered the blanket over his
head. He needed a few more hours of sleep. Undaunted, Cat continued
with the aria; the purrs became louder as the feline scratched at the
blanket. Such determination was met by Gary opening his eyes. The
Paper lay nearby him. The headline screamed "Fugitive Captured".
Gary read the story in the nick of time and was able to escape once
more before an army of police converged on the building. He watched
the activity from a safe distance. The front page headline had been
changed to "Manhunt Continues".
For so many mornings, he had cursed Cat's early morning appearances.
But on this morning, he said a prayer of thanks for such perfect
timing.
The End
Summary: Yep, another "missing" scene for "Fatal Edition"g.
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to their creators. No
copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made.
Author's Notes: One finds inspiration in some strange places
sometimes. I found mine for this story holding a paper clip.
Author: Tracy Diane Miller
E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
"Purr"fect Timing
It wasn't something that he expected to find while he was hiding in
that alley between Franklin and Hubbard waiting for Marissa to arrive
with those bolt cutters. But there it was partially concealed nearby
a dumpster. He saw it as he leaned against a brick wall. It was so
small, so insignificant, but yet the sun's reflection off of the
metallic item made the object appear as valuable as pure silver.
A paper clip.
Carefully, Gary bent over to pick up the paper clip. With the angry
jaws of the handcuffs eating into his flesh, it wasn't easy grasping
the tiny item. His heart was pounding. And his brain was working
almost as desperately as his hands. He had an idea. It was risky,
but he had to take the chance. He smiled wryly as he held that paper
clip. Instinctively, he put it into his jacket pocket. Later, the
paper clip would be pressed into service. It was the only way. He
needed to talk to her alone. She would understand and believe him.
She would help him. She had to.
It had been hours since he left Marissa. And his hope of locating
Joe, the parking lot attendant who he was certain was connected to
Scanlon somehow, had been quashed when he learned that Joe had quit
and a substitute had been hired. The new employee had no idea as to
Joe's whereabouts and Gary doubted that the guy would help him even
he could.
Chicago appeared restless tonight. The entire city was on highest
alert for an escaped fugitive. But of course, he was more scared
than restless. Gary was certain that every police car siren that he
heard wailing in the near distance was meant for him, to take him
back into custody. There he was hidden, yet in plain view; his
survival instincts were in overdrive as he lurked in the shadows,
watching.
And waiting.
Providence appeared to smile upon him or rather; to offer him a small
ray of light to illuminate the darkness of his fear for it had been
much easier to locate her than he could have anticipated. She lived
in a townhouse not too far from the police station. Again, the
danger of his intentions resonated in his ears, loud and piercing
vibrations imploring him to avoid the risk, but he wouldn't listen.
Gary was walking a thin tightrope between freedom and capture. He
couldn't afford to fall from that tightrope.
He removed the paper clip from his jacket pocket, contorted it so
that its slender needle fit perfectly into the lock, and then went to
work. A few seconds later, he smiled victoriously when he heard the
distinctive clicking sound. Turning the knob, he walked in the door.
A momentary pang of conscience washed over him. He had stolen that
jacket and cap from the Laundromat. Now he was breaking and
entering. His parents had raised him with a clear sense of right and
wrong, but those lines had been blurred by his present
circumstances. Desperation was without scruples.
He waited for her in the darkness. Ironically, the darkness was both
benevolent and cruel. The police would be combing the streets
searching for him. They wouldn't expect him to be hiding in the home
of one of their detectives. No one had seen him break into the
townhouse and with the darkness of the structure, the neighbors'
suspicions wouldn't be aroused. Yet, the darkness and sheer quiet
served to heightened his anxiety. He no longer believed as he had
that The Paper had wanted him to be arrested, especially given Cat's
fortuitous appearance at the courthouse and the headline in the early
edition that facilitated his escape. Still, why had he been caught
in this nightmare? What was he expected to do?
His questions remained unanswered. A short while later, he heard a
key placed in the front door. He could barely hear himself think
through the sound of his heart pounding. Brigatti turned the lights
on and gasped in shock seeing him standing there.
He pleaded with her to help him. His eyes and the fear in his voice
implored her to believe him and to help him, but she wouldn't.
Instead, the only "help" that she had given him was in not putting a
bullet in his back and allowing him to walk away. Where he was going
he didn't know. What he did know was that he was alone.
Gary ended up in a secluded spot not far from the lake. While Chicago
finally slept, Mother Nature stayed awake and alert exhaling a
powerful breath that wrapped the air in a deadly chill. Discarded
pieces of newspaper were caught in the gust; the howling winds
carrying the debris in a flight of fancy. He shivered violently from
the cold. Gary knew that he couldn't spend the night on the street.
He would die from exposure.
It was after midnight when he found what looked like an abandoned
warehouse somewhere in Chicago's industrial district. He quietly
crept inside. It was a huge, dirty space, but very warm. He could
get a few hours of sleep there.
A wooden board on the floor became his bed and a worn, musty blanket
served as covering. The exhausted hero lay on the makeshift
accommodations and closed his eyes.
However, sleep proved elusive. His mind interpreted every sound as
the police closing in on him and when he finally fell asleep, dreams
of capture tortured him.
It was morning when Gary heard a meow followed by a chorus of soft
purrs, but he dismissed the sounds. He covered the blanket over his
head. He needed a few more hours of sleep. Undaunted, Cat continued
with the aria; the purrs became louder as the feline scratched at the
blanket. Such determination was met by Gary opening his eyes. The
Paper lay nearby him. The headline screamed "Fugitive Captured".
Gary read the story in the nick of time and was able to escape once
more before an army of police converged on the building. He watched
the activity from a safe distance. The front page headline had been
changed to "Manhunt Continues".
For so many mornings, he had cursed Cat's early morning appearances.
But on this morning, he said a prayer of thanks for such perfect
timing.
The End