the girl’s father, staggering across the lawn. He had multiple bite marks on his chest and arms, both of which were bare. He’d apparently just thrown on some shorts to follow his naked daughter into the street.
The girl was going absolutely insane on his windshield, hammering it so hard her hands were bleeding and biting at the recalcitrant glass. The cars had been upgraded with a stronger type of auto glass or she’d probably have shattered the window.
Young didn’t hear what happened but the girl suddenly looked to the passenger side of the cruiser. The words “feral” came to mind. The look of a wild predator that had heard the sound of prey. She leapt off the hood and charged the man on the lawn.
Then Young bailed out. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the wild child. The department, after a series of lawsuits and protests to the city government, mostly over YouTube videos that hadn’t happened anywhere near Williamsburg, had taken Tasers away from all officers except sergeants and above who had had the state course in same.
The girl was already on the man before he could even get around the cruiser. She was—not howling, not screaming—keening he thought was the word. A high, long, weird sound. And she was thoroughly locked onto the man’s left arm with hands and teeth biting and ripping at it.
“HELLLP!” the man screamed, looking at Young while struggling to free his arm. He was pulling the girl’s hair half frantically half gently as if afraid to actually hurt her. “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELP ME! JESUS CHR—! CHELSEA! CHELSEA! ”
Young just stood there for a moment, hands on his hips, then opened up the back of his cruiser. In a box there was a bag that was for “assistance in securing hostile animals.” Generally called a snake bag, it was just part of the kit. Cops didn’t secure wild animals but if they had to back up animal control they carried “snake bags.” Like the M4 he was seriously contemplating for if they had to back up SWAT. He regarded the bag for a moment, judging the size of the opening. About large enough to fit over a teenage girl’s head.
There were also tactical gloves. The Diamonds were a pain to wear all the time but if there was ever a time to put on a set of gloves it was now. He wished they were thick leather. As long as he kept her off his arms he should be good.
He took the bag in hand and duck-walked up behind the girl, gaze fixed on the back of her head.
“Would you HURRY?” the man snarled, then screamed wildly as blood began to spray all over the freshly cut green lawn.
Young paused behind the girl for just a moment, then snapped the bag across and down. The girl’s mouth was locked on her father’s arm but as the bag went over her eyes she reared back, clawing it, permitting the man to fall back onto the grass. He pushed himself backwards toward the house trying to staunch the spurting artery his daughter had torn into.
Young, meantime, had his own troubles. The girl had started spinning before he could get the bag fully over her head and had one hand under it. He was afraid to simply yank the closure line too hard. It could permanently choke her. But the bag had at least slid down enough to cover her mouth. She was no longer keening, just gutturally grunting.
He also wasn’t sure where to put his hands. Freaking cameras were everywhere these days. He wasn’t in direct view of the car but people were probably breaking out their cell cameras for the spectacle. Although, come to think of it, distribution or even ownership would, probably, assuming the girl was under eighteen and she looked more like fifteen, be a federal crime. In fact, his car camera might just be considered a federal violation. Cops weren’t automatically exempt. Of course, he couldn’t, legally, turn it off absent orders or completion of the call. Which was not yet complete. So he was probably covered. Probably.
Which is exactly what he expected to be thinking when
The girl was going absolutely insane on his windshield, hammering it so hard her hands were bleeding and biting at the recalcitrant glass. The cars had been upgraded with a stronger type of auto glass or she’d probably have shattered the window.
Young didn’t hear what happened but the girl suddenly looked to the passenger side of the cruiser. The words “feral” came to mind. The look of a wild predator that had heard the sound of prey. She leapt off the hood and charged the man on the lawn.
Then Young bailed out. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the wild child. The department, after a series of lawsuits and protests to the city government, mostly over YouTube videos that hadn’t happened anywhere near Williamsburg, had taken Tasers away from all officers except sergeants and above who had had the state course in same.
The girl was already on the man before he could even get around the cruiser. She was—not howling, not screaming—keening he thought was the word. A high, long, weird sound. And she was thoroughly locked onto the man’s left arm with hands and teeth biting and ripping at it.
“HELLLP!” the man screamed, looking at Young while struggling to free his arm. He was pulling the girl’s hair half frantically half gently as if afraid to actually hurt her. “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELP ME! JESUS CHR—! CHELSEA! CHELSEA! ”
Young just stood there for a moment, hands on his hips, then opened up the back of his cruiser. In a box there was a bag that was for “assistance in securing hostile animals.” Generally called a snake bag, it was just part of the kit. Cops didn’t secure wild animals but if they had to back up animal control they carried “snake bags.” Like the M4 he was seriously contemplating for if they had to back up SWAT. He regarded the bag for a moment, judging the size of the opening. About large enough to fit over a teenage girl’s head.
There were also tactical gloves. The Diamonds were a pain to wear all the time but if there was ever a time to put on a set of gloves it was now. He wished they were thick leather. As long as he kept her off his arms he should be good.
He took the bag in hand and duck-walked up behind the girl, gaze fixed on the back of her head.
“Would you HURRY?” the man snarled, then screamed wildly as blood began to spray all over the freshly cut green lawn.
Young paused behind the girl for just a moment, then snapped the bag across and down. The girl’s mouth was locked on her father’s arm but as the bag went over her eyes she reared back, clawing it, permitting the man to fall back onto the grass. He pushed himself backwards toward the house trying to staunch the spurting artery his daughter had torn into.
Young, meantime, had his own troubles. The girl had started spinning before he could get the bag fully over her head and had one hand under it. He was afraid to simply yank the closure line too hard. It could permanently choke her. But the bag had at least slid down enough to cover her mouth. She was no longer keening, just gutturally grunting.
He also wasn’t sure where to put his hands. Freaking cameras were everywhere these days. He wasn’t in direct view of the car but people were probably breaking out their cell cameras for the spectacle. Although, come to think of it, distribution or even ownership would, probably, assuming the girl was under eighteen and she looked more like fifteen, be a federal crime. In fact, his car camera might just be considered a federal violation. Cops weren’t automatically exempt. Of course, he couldn’t, legally, turn it off absent orders or completion of the call. Which was not yet complete. So he was probably covered. Probably.
Which is exactly what he expected to be thinking when
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