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Blood in the Wilderness
Blood in the Streets Chapter 11

Blood in the Streets Chapter 11

  Doc Rivers stooped over the most recent body he was examining. He didn’t know what time it was, only that his own body told him it was late.

“I just can’t do it like I used to.” He muttered irritably to himself, as he began to clean things up. Gone were the days of efficiently cutting open and examining body after body without rest. He’d grown too old and too tired for that. Now, his body ached and groaned under his own weight, compounding the ever present loss of his youthful vigor.

When he was finished, Doc Rivers made his way slowly down the corridor from his office, and out of his precious isolation. Once, when he was younger, he had requested they move a bed to the morgue so he could make his abode there permanent. Sadly, his request had been adamantly denied on the grounds that it was both ‘ridiculous and unsanitary’. Apparently the police chief even thought it was a joke and later commended the Doc for his sense of humor. At least someone was laughing.

Doc Rivers walked the maze that was the rest of the precinct with practiced ease. He knew the shortest route out of the precinct and away from its society, and would usually hurry along it as quickly as possible. But something about the exhaustion that set within him, slowed him. He didn’t know why it was happening, but he could feel the frustration churning inside him.

This unexplainable frustration continued to build as he entered the precinct’s foyer. Crystal smiled as he approached the center desk. She smiled at him, just like she always did. She always seemed to be working when he made his way home lately and always greeted him in the same friendly way.

He was about to give his usual gruff response to her, when he suddenly decided against it. Instead he turned to her, giving her a weak smile.

“Working late again are you?” He asked. His voice, which was usually rough and coarse, came out much softer and more pleasant than it usually did.

“Yes.” Crystal sighed. “It seems like I’m staying later and later, and the work still keeps piling up.”

“It’s no good for a pretty young girl like you to work so hard. You should be at home, getting your beauty sleep.”

“That would be nice,” She laughed. “But it’s not easy for a woman to live on her own, and I’ve got to pay my bills somehow.”

Doc Rivers frowned. “Is there no man to help lighten the load for you? Surely a pretty girl like you can find one who’d be more than willing to have a lovely, hardworking wife like yourself.”

“Well, I don’t know that I’m at that point yet. Though, hopefully I will sometime soon. Not that I don’t have a man, so there’s no need for you to look so worried. It’s just that, we’re trying to take things slow.”

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“Don’t take too long. There’s much more to life than working all of it away. You should live, while you’re still young.”

Crystal smiled a broad smile at this. “Is that sage advice from someone with personal experience? I’ve heard about your work ethic, doctor, and it seems to me you don’t have much room to talk.”

“And do you really want to end up grumpy and old like me?” He replied. “I chose my road, but it’s not for most people. Especially not the kind of person who’s social enough to be the pretty face of a police precinct.”

Crystal went silent at that, and Doc Rivers allowed himself a smug smile. He began to move on from the desk but paused for a moment.

“By the way, if that young man of yours needs some encouragement, let me talk to him. I’m sure I could… educate him about how a man should properly treat a woman.” He stated glancing back at Crystal, before continuing his trek out the door.

The night was darker than usual for the city, illuminated only by the loosely dispersed and suddenly very dim street lamps. The summer air hung heavy and humid and clung to the Doc as he made his way down the precinct steps. He watched as a car drove slowly along the street where his own vehicle was parked and waiting for him.

He took his time, his exhaustion only compounding in the oppressive atmosphere. Upon reaching his car, he slowly opened the door and slumped inside. Curling over his steering wheel, he rested for a moment. It seemed as if he would nod off to sleep right there, until he was startled by the bright lights of another vehicle suddenly coming from behind him.

He watched as it approached, cruising along the roadway. As it neared it seemed to slow, which the Doc found to be odd. Still, he didn’t allow himself to be shaken, instead slowly turning the key and starting his vehicle.

He was just about to push his foot on the gas pedal and put his car in gear, when he noticed the vehicle creep up next to him. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he saw a thin barrel emerge out of one of the car’s open windows. A bright blast of light and an explosion of sound knocked Doc Rivers sideways before he could even register what had hit him. All he could process was the sudden, massive pain that now swamped him, and the sounds of the gun firing as it destroyed everything around him.

Then finally, the torrent ceased. Doc Rivers lay crumpled against what was left of his driver’s side door, the structure of which now more resembled a block of swiss cheese than the entry of a complex machine. Every breath the Doc took was a struggle, and he couldn’t help but think that this just might be the end. He tried to move, to cry out, to do anything; but he couldn’t. What little strength he had left was fading, and all hope with it.

Then, distantly, he heard voices. At first they were soft, but as they got closer he recognized the frantic tones of shouts, accompanied by panicked footsteps. They came nearer and nearer until suddenly he felt a rush of air as his door was yanked open. Just as he was about to hit the ground, Doc Rivers felt hands reach out and grab him. He was safe and face-to-face with an officer.

He couldn’t tell who the officer was, everything was hazy. Though he could see that the officer’s lips were moving, he couldn’t hear what was being said. He tried to say something, to force his lips to move, but he was too weak. He was tired, too tired to move. The old doctor just needed rest. He could see the officer, still hazy and shouting frantically over him, as he closed his heavy eyelids and everything faded into darkness.