Salem, Oregon, September 201-
The Hunt
The Prey was now less than ten yards ahead of her. Excellent! It had been an exciting chase through the trailer park maze - Officer Sargent couldn't wait to consummate the Hunt!
Panting, the frantic ooman jinked right, and then went left between two double-wides sagging lopsidely on their foundations, before vaulting over a broken BBQ pit only to trip over a tricycle, going down hard.
Dreads flying, Officer Sargent came to a full stop, pulled out the iPad holstered at her waist, holding it at chest height while striding in for the kill. Raising a pair of castanets, small goatskin drum and bone whistle within easy reach, the African looking woman in a bright headscarf on the little screen cleared her throat, ready to translate Yautja into Gciriku, the closest human language to Yautja, before translating that into North American standard English out loud.
It had been tough for M'Binte to find an equivalent for: "Do you know how fast you were driving?" and "This is a one-way street. That's why I just gave you that ticket!" in an African language which had developed by a hunter/gatherer society in a part of the world where cars and paved streets were very, very rare, but she'd managed and was now well on her way towards a second Ph.D by compiling the world's first Yautja-Geiriku-English dictionary, thanks to U.S. accommodation laws.
Leaning over the cowering Prey, Officer Sargent clattered her mandibles, emitting a piercing whistle that made anybody within hearing distance's back teeth vibrate.
Whimpering in terror, Sargent's Prey rapidly scooted back on his elbows through the weeds and pea gravel.
M'binte tensed, quickley consulted her notes, and then relaxed, saying in a light, pleasant voice, "Thank you for the exhilarating chase."
Officer Sargent handed the Prey a white, official-looking envelope.
The Prey took it from her with one violently trembling hand.
Clattering and hooting, Officer Sargent politely held out a clipboard and pen.
M'Binte said, "Sign here, please. Have a nice day!"
Officer Sargent, last subpoena of the morning delivered, strode towards the modified king cab pickup with the front seats removed that she'd been assigned as a Patrol car, sliding the iPad back into its holster as M'binte took a coffee break in her little UCLA Berkeley office. Sargent had no idea why everybody else in Salem's police department hated delivering subpoenas - it was FUN!
(Especially when they ran away!)
"Active Shooter Situation" crackled over her body-mounted radio, followed by an address. M'binte quickly swallowed the last of her coffee and translated by rattling the castanets with one hand while slapping the goatskin drum with the other and at the same time blowing hard on the toy wooden train whistle she kept on a string around her neck within easy reach. Feet in steel-toed work boots for resonance, she kicked an empty metal wastebasket across the room so that it hit the wall across the hall outside her door across with a reverberating clang.
Sargent's casual loping stride abruptly turned into a sprint.
A few seconds later, the patrol truck shot out of the trailer park and onto the highway in the direction of Merston High School, lights flashing and siren wailing.
Raina
Still on the landing pad at Salem Hospital after helicoptering in a traffic accident victim, Raina's dispatcher directed her to a new location.
No big deal.
It happens.
It wasn't until she was halfway to the new destination that she realized that she was being sent to Merston High.