Coop's radio crackled, "We need a unit at the East End and Diamond. Report of a robbery suspect last seen on foot."
Lurching to life, he gripped his walkie-talkie as he took the car out of park and began to speed towards the Diamond Street bridge. "Cooper responding. And I'm a block away."
His body tensed with excitement, his torment shelved. That fucking bastard's gonna be sorry when I catch up with him!
As Coop's voice faded into the balmy air, Malone and Jimmy also began to make their way to the bridge.
Guilt seeped through Jimmy's pores and glistened on his forehead. His friend was headed into a dangerous situation alone, all because he was nothing but a fucking coward. God, please let us get to the bridge before Coop. Please, Lord, I'm begging you.
Near the bridge, McCree leaned against a concrete pillar as he pulled his gun out of his jacket, feeling the warm blue-black steel burn through his leather gloves. In the patrol car he had parked a block away, McCree had loaded his rifle with trepidation. He was confident the four bullets in the magazine would deliver the justice sick men like Coop and Jimmy deserved.
As he had run up the street to his vantage point, his green eyes flashed and a cold, hard smile had spread across his face. As he had practiced shooting his gun at the range the past week, McCree had felt more and more confident on his decided plan of action. Sure, I'll give Cooper and Jimmy a bit of a scare. That's all they're going to have time to feel!
McCree's mouth grimaced as he recalled Sarge's pleading words when they had finalized their plans the previous day: "Just a little scare that'll make them stop what they're doing, Tom. That's all I want you to do." McCree sighed. That was the problem with men like Coop's father making it to high positions in the police force; they lacked the will necessary to enforce the discipline needed to rid the police of undesirables. It was little wonder that the force was beginning to contain these freaks of nature.
Well, tonight's gonna help change that.
Hearing tires rumbling over the debris created by nearby construction, McCree darted behind the pillar. He had to be certain he wouldn't be seen easily. If he knew Coop well enough, the impulsive officer would take no more than a momentary glance of his surroundings and would be a sitting duck.
Coop stopped the car when he got to the end of the bridge and put the car into park. Protocol dictated that he look around the area carefully, to wait for back-up in case the robbery suspect was armed. But caution was the last thing on his mind. A robbery suspect running loose had very little to lose and needed to be apprehended as soon as possible.
He reached to open his door, but noticed his gunbelt loosening . Cursing under his breath, Coop began to play with the belt's buckle.
Creeping out from behind the pillar, McCree saw the other officer, but was caught momentarily off guard at Jimmy's absence. Doesn't matter. As soon as he had a clear shot, he squeezed the trigger.
Flash!
Bang!
Smash!
Rip!
"Ugh!" Coop was jerked to the right as the shot entered below his right shoulder, shattered glass from the windshield scratching his face. Warm liquid ran down his chest and his shoulder screamed in pain as he tried to get his gun out of its holster.
McCree ran a few feet, aimed for the left side of Coop's chest, and again pulled the trigger.
Flash!
Bang!
Smash!
Rip!
A second bullet smashed through the windshield and hit Coop square below his left pectoral. More glass rained down on him and he coughed to clear the blood trickling up his throat.
Satisfied the man was mortally wounded, McCree tossed a yellow brick of heroin through the open passenger window. Racing to his car, he smiled at his brilliance. I'm sorry, Captain, but looks like Cooper wasn't the officer we thought he was all this time and was actually dealing smack on the side!
Coop breathed heavily and the pain emanating from his chest was so intense he almost screamed. Blood dribbled from his mouth and ran out his nose, trickled down his face from glass fragments had gashed it. He could feel warm fluid gushing down his chest and back. Darkness flooded his vision and he almost passed out.
He forced himself to continue breathing, swallowing back the blood trying to drown him. He leaned against his door, his hair wet with perspiration. He tried in vain to staunch the blood flow from below his left chest with his left hand whilst reaching for his walkie-talkie with his right. The pain from moving his shoulder was sharp, but he merely gritted his teeth.
Instinct screamed at him reach for his gun, but he had to conserve what little strength remained. He brought the walkie-talkie his mouth and swallowed before sputtering, "Officer down, east end of the bridge at Diamond." He paused to get a clear breath. "I've been hit. Two shots out of nowhere."
Jimmy jerked forward and his heart began to pound. "That's Coop. Floor it!" he yelled to Malone.
The rookie instantly responded, turning on the siren and hitting the gas. The 1966 Plymouth Fury flew down the deserted street and around parked cars in a red blur.
Coop could feel himself fading as his breathing became more laboured every second and he wished Jimmy were beside him. But as the blood continued to turn his shirt a deep red, he knew he would never make it that long.
Gripping the radio in his hand, he gasped, "Jimmy, if you out there..."
Jimmy's hand flew for his walkie-talkie. "I'm here man, hang on!" He yelled, breathing fast. "Coop!" he shouted when he didn't get an immediate reply.
As it became harder to breathe, Coop felt relief to hear his friend's voice. His fears of death eased as he realized Jimmy didn't really hate him. "Jimmy," he gasped. He stopped to swallow back more warm fluid.
"Keep talking! We're almost there!" Jimmy's voice broke through the cloak Coop began to feel numbing him.
Jimmy held the radio so hard his knuckles turned white. He hand was so clammy, the walkie-talkie almost slipped from his fingers, but he clung to it with a vice-like grip. "You hear me?!" he yelled.
After a few seconds of ominous silence passed, he again called, "Coop!"
Coop felt himself being tugged upwards. There remained so much he wanted to tell his partner. But with his life swiftly drawing to a close, the words he had time enough to say were few.
"Coop?" Jimmy's voice rang through the radio.
Coop took one last deep breath. "We were the lucky ones," he manged to say in a raspy whisper.
For a moment, Jimmy stared at the radio in his hand. God, damn it, Coop! Don't give up on me!
"Don't forget that," the radio crackled before Coop's voice cut out.
"Coop!" Jimmy screamed into the radio, his hand trembling.
Coop's right hand fell to his side, radio still clenched within. His open eyes stared vacantly into the night sky.
The previously gentle tugging jerked Coop upward with such force that he almost flipped upside down. As he looked down, he could see he was flying away from himself, his car, away from Philly.
Sarge had sat in the creaky wooden chair during the exchange in stunned silence until Coop's voice no longer came through. He called desperately to his son, praying for a response. "One-oh-eight, are you there? One-oh-eight, are you there?"he shouted over and over.
Coop's lifeless body was still, the silence punctuated only by the desperate calls of his father and partner.
Sev Krol emerged from a cardboard box near the bridge, the sounds of gunfire interrupting his drug induced slumber. Though the ragged drug addict's mortal fear of the police was dulled by the good score he'd earlier injected, he slowly approached the patrol car looming ahead.
Coming up to the driver's window, Krol darted away when he smelt the pungent, rusty iron odour of fresh blood. But as he ran around the car's left side, he caught a glimpse of a yellow brick that pulled him back towards the car.
Visions of that police officer's lifeless body staring back at him with lifeless eyes as it tightly held a radio in its right hand would haunt Krol for the rest of his life. But for that night his mind was mollified in a haze of smoke from that heavy yellow brick. A cop parked under a bridge with a whole lot of dope in the car? Some hero. Bastard got what he deserved.
