Seattle – 1979
The gunfire was thundering as Charlie Swan took shelter behind a dumpster, a mouse scurrying out of the way as he slumped heavily against the filthy wall behind him. He flinched as he moved his hand to his radio, blood leaking out of the wound on his arm faster than seemed safe to him.
Fiddling with the dials on the radio he found it totally dead, and slumped in defeat. Gun battles were a foreign territory to the small town cop; the murder of a local girl two years previously had spiraled into the biggest case of his 15-year career.
Charlie rested his uninjured arm behind him and slumped awkwardly, craning his neck to check the damage to his other arm. He'd become separated from his partner, Billy, in the mayhem; each diving down opposite alleyways when the gunfire broke out. He pulled his weapon towards him from where it rested in his lap and checked the rounds remaining. Two stared back at him and he frowned, he'd fired at most five shots.
Footsteps rounded the dumpster and Billy was in front of him, a hand extended to help him up. Charlie smiled in relief and snatched it, groaning as the movement jolted his arm.
They found his body crumpled by the dumpster an hour later, four bullets from a service pistol buried in his chest.