A few years back, I was commissioned to write a story for the 'We're Alive' podcast.
Long story short, it didn't pan out.
But I spent a very long time writing it for it to languish in my computer. I spent that time not only writing it for the 'We're Alive' folks, but mostly for my readers.
So what I've decided to do is publish my initial story here, via my blog, as a work of FAN FICTION, a completely unofficial piece about a character from the series. This is completely unofficial and unauthorized, but I think my work and time spent on this project deserve to see the light of day.
I would like to encourage everyone who might enjoy this fan fiction to check out the officials 'We're Alive' website HERE. It is a fantastic and well-developed world created by a group of professional writers and expert voice actors.
In the meantime, here's the completlely unofficial, unauthorized 'We're Alive' fan fiction, originally entitled (WORKING TITLE: BURT)
BY
BOWIE V. IBARRA
From an idea from the creators of the
Copyright 2011 PRODUCERS OF “WE’RE ALIVE” PODCAST, BOWIE V. IBARRA
7D. WINTER OF
BITTERNESS
Years pass.
Burt and
Shirley grow in love together, working through lows and riding highs.
Burt and
Shirley prosper with their gun store, ‘Locked and Loaded’.
Burt and
Shirley hold each other tight on the couch every night. All they want, all they know that will happen
to them, is to grow old together.
That’s all
they can see when they think of their future together.
Shirley
lets her bottled black hair show hints of gray.
Burt’s
beard completely transitions to white.
They drink
together. They drink a lot
together. Together.
Their love
is at its peak. Their commitment will
never die.
And as the
years pass, adding to their perfect love and sweet financial prosperity, all
they still know, all they still can see, is that they will grow old together.
It’s all
they can see.
What they
can’t see is the vile harbinger of doom growing rapidly inside Shirley’s
body. They can’t see it. So they live.
They laugh. They love.
It was
supposed to be a yearly checkup like previous checkups. Shirley was supposed to go in, get a clear
bill of health like always, and go on.
It was not supposed to end like this.
The doctor
found the malady. After checking and
double-checking, it was cancer.
The doctor
told Shirley and watched her smile fade.
The doctor
patted Shirley on the back as she shed cruel tears.
This was
not how the day was supposed to go.
“I don’t
know if I can do this anymore, Mike.”
“What do
you mean?”
“I guess I
mean I really don’t have to do this anymore.”
Shirley was
talking to Deputy Mike Guerra over her cell phone as they drove in their
individual patrol cars to a call.
“You have
to stay in one more year to get your full retirement benefits, Shirley. You can’t get out now.”
I don’t
have a year, she thought.
“The shop
is doing really good. Burt’s kept the
city off our ass by giving to city charities in the name of the shop. I just… I don’t have to put myself on the
line anymore.”
“You’re
good at what you do, Shirley. We
need you. The county needs you.”
“But I
don’t need them anymore, Mike. I don’t.”
“What about
me? Won’t you miss me? I’ll miss you.”
“Stop it,
Mike.”
“You know
I’ve always been sweet on you, Shirley.”
Shirley
blushed. “You need to stop it,
Mike. You’re my friend.”
“What about
that night in Long Beach?”
“Mike, that
was over ten years ago, when I was still with Greg.”
“What was
that?”
“An escape
with a friend, Mike. Now stop it. I’m with Burt now. He’s my husband.”
There was a
moment of awkward silence before Mike spoke again.
“I have to
say I’m jealous. But I admit, Burt’s the
best guy I’ve known you to date.”
“And marry,
Mike. We’re married.” She paused.
“And so are you. You know, Mrs.
Guerra back home? Your family?”
Shirley
could hear Mike huff in frustration on the other end of the line.
“You’re
right, Shirley.”
“I’m your
friend, Mike,” she said. “Please, be
mine.”
The
conversation cooled off as they pulled into the scene at Washington and La
Brea, just west of downtown Los Angeles north of Santa Monica freeway. They parked their cars in the parking lot
near a taco stand where the disturbance was reported. As the law enforcement team pulled up, a
small group of Mexican nationals scattered as inconspicuously as they
could. Shirley and Mike walked together
as a team to the taco stand.
“I hate
this shit,” said Mike.
“What?”
asked Shirley.
“My Spanish
is shit,” he said.
“I got it,”
said Shirley.
The music
from a Spanish radio station played loudly over an old soundsystem. Accordions and percussion could be heard over
lively lyrics. A billboard featuring
every item that could be ordered was placed over the front desk. It was all clearly painted by hand. A spot of graffiti lined the front of the
taco stand.
“You better
get this,” said Mike.
An old lady
approached them as they arrived. She was
visibly upset.
“Gracias
a Dios,” the old lady said, relieved.
“Buenos
noches, senora,” said Shirley, greeting her. “Usted es Octavia Jimenez?”
“Si.”
“Que
paso, senora?”
Tears of
relief were wiped from her eyes as she described what happened.
“Seis
jovenes se peliaron con mi hijo. Y se
fuen aya,” she said, pointing to a nearby alley where the boys she claimed
assaulted her son ran off to.
Shirley and
Mike turned to where she indicated the perpetrators had run.
“What did
she say?” asked Mike.
“Some kids
beat up her son and ran to that alley.”
“What’s the
next move?”
Shirley
groaned, considering her choices. It
would be dangerous to follow the kids into the alley. It was just the kind of thing she was
complaining about earlier, the kind of thing she didn’t want to risk anymore. But she wanted to help the old lady.
“Let’s
check out the alley before we ask her son some questions,” said Shirley. “They might still be there.”
Turning
back to the old lady, Shirley said, “Vamos a ver, senora. Regresamos in un momentito.”
“Gracias,”
said the old lady gratefully as Mike followed Shirley to the alley.
“Little
dangerous, don’t you think?” he joked.
“Yeah,”
Shirley replied. “But it’s our job to do
right by the lady.”
The
deputies placed their hands on their weapons, prepared to draw them, and turned
the corner. Nothing was in their sight
line, but there were two large dumpsters blocking their view. One was on each side of the alleyway.
“What do
you think?” Mike asked, trying to get Shirley to change her mind.
“We’re
committed now, Mike. Let’s just walk to
the end and back, see what we can see.”
“Okay,”
groaned Mike.
The first
dumpster was only a few yards away. They
would be able to see the other side of it in mere moments.
“This isn’t
a good idea,” he said. “They’re going to
panic with us sneaking up on them.”
“Just
relax, Mike,” she said. “We need the
element of surprise.”
“Okay,
Shirley Tzu, Art of War,” joked Mike.
The two
deputies slowed down, creeping slowly to the blind spot behind the large
dumpster. The funk from the massive
trash bins hit their noses, the rotting smell of sun-roasted waste caking the
interior and exterior walls of the bins for years. The odor danced in their noses as their
hearts beat in their chest.
They
secured their hands on their individual sidearms.
Shirley
turned the corner.
Old trash
and an aluminum can sat against the wall near the corner of the dumpster.
No sign of
the juvenile delinquents.
Shirley
sighed with relief in spite of the malodorous garbage.
“Nothing
here,” he said. “Let’s go back.”
A side of
her did want to leave. In fact, for one
moment, she was ready to turn around and leave.
Something inside of her was telling her she needed to. Woman’s intuition, perhaps. She suddenly became more fearful, but still
felt like she had a job to do.
“Let’s
check that other dumpster and get out of here,” she said.
“Okay,”
said Mike, also relieved. It seemed
clear the kids had probably left the scene of the crime out of the other end of
the alley. But they would know for sure
after looking behind the next dumpster.
“So, you’re
really going to retire?” asked Mike, slowly walking behind Shirley.
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
“Dumb shit
like this,” she said. “I just don’t want
to put myself in harm’s way anymore.”
“Lost its
luster, huh?”
“What
luster?” asked Shirley. Deputy Mike was
more relaxed than before. But Shirley
was even more tense than before.
“Just a
weird change of heart,” said Mike as they crept closer to the second dumpster.
Shirley
considered confiding in Mike in that moment.
Her friend should know about what she knew about her own health. Her days were numbered. But Burt should know first before anyone
else. Her Burt.
“We’re
alive, Mike. That’s all. I just want to live,” she whispered.
“So live,”
he said as they edged toward the blind spot behind the dumpster. The familiar funk of fecal matter hit their
nose.
Diaper
genie, thought Shirley to herself as she turned the corner of the trash
bin.
Mike and
Shirley were greeted by a large rat that walked right in front of them. It scooted by up against the wall with an
arrogant indifference.
But there
were no perps.
“Damn,”
said Mike. “Is that a puppy?”
Shirley
chuckled in relief. “No shit,” she
said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What is
that smell with the baby caca?” asked Mike.
“Potpourri?”
chuckled Shirley.
“Potpourri-smelling
caca,” said Mike. “Better than
caca-smelling caca I guess.”
They had a
laugh as they began walking back to the taco stand when a group of teens ran
into the alley. The deputies heard them
and turned around.
The teens
stopped in their tracks.
A beat
passed. An OK Corral moment. This was not meant to be a standoff. But in a charged second, that’s exactly what
it became.
“Hold it!”
shouted Mike, putting up one hand and placing his other hand on his piece.
Shirley did
exactly the same thing, shouting, “Don’t move, boys.”
Four of the
boys stopped dead in their tracks. One
even threw his hands up in the air.
But one of
the boys was too surprised to comply.
Too scared. Too guilty.
The boy, no
more than fifteen, reached for the front of his pants. The instinctive move suddenly made the
situation an old west shootout. It was a
bad move.
“No!”
shouted Shirley and Mike at the same time.
They both drew their weapons, also at the same time as the boy.
It was
fast, but the boy had a full few millionths of a second on the two
deputies. He pulled out his gun first
and committed to aiming at one of them.
Shirley
could feel the weight of her pistol as she drew it from its holster. All she could do was focus on the boy. She wanted her gun up so much faster. It was as if a strong piece of elastic, like
a thick rubber band, was pulling against her movement, adding tension where
there shouldn’t be tension. It all felt
so slow. There was nothing else in the
world in this moment. Her mind,
realizing death was close, focused all her concentration on the boy. Complete and total tunnel vision.
She could
see the boy leveling his gun as she raised hers. White smoke coughed violently out of the
boy’s Glock, split by orange fire. And
for a moment, she could almost see the round flying out of the gun.
This is
it, she thought to herself as she pulled her weapon’s trigger. Her bullet was sent through the air at its
target. She would not miss.
But neither
did the boy.
As she
discharged her weapon, the boy’s round struck her square in the chest. It hit right up against her flak jacket, and
it made her stumble.
As she
fell, she watched the boy fall as well.
The other boys had already jumped away from their foolish partner in
crime as he was hit by another bullet.
Then three
more shots were fired. One came from the
boy’s pistol. The other two came from
Mike. Both his rounds punched their way
through the boy.
“Don’t
move!” shouted Mike at the other boys.
They remained stone-still where they were. Shirley began to feel the pain in her
chest. She ran her hand across the
bullet hole in her uniform. She felt for
blood, but there was none. Only a severe
divot in the body armor.
I can’t
do this anymore, she thought to herself.
She thought
of Burt. His smile. His sweet embrace. His gruff voice. His love.
Shirley
never wanted to lose it. She knew she
would, though, sooner than she ever expected.
The clock was already ticking for her, and Burt didn’t even know.
For a
moment, she felt bad for the dead boy.
What made him think he could win a shootout with cops? It was a dumb move. But Shirley knew it was a dumb choice to walk
into the alley in the first place.
All Shirley
wanted right now, lying on the ground, was to feel Burt’s embrace again.
First, she
needed to pull herself together. She had
a job to do.
I can’t
do this anymore, she thought to herself again as she rose to her feet. The pain in her chest was going to have to
wait.
She
rejoined her partner.
A week
later, Shirley retired from the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department.
=====
FOLLOW THE CHAPTERS HERE!
Check out the 'We're Alive' podcast HERE...
Network with Bowie and find his other titles at his official website, ZBFbooks.com.
For the full scoop on the story, join the official ZBFbooks.com Facebook group HERE.
For the full scoop on the story, join the official ZBFbooks.com Facebook group HERE.
Register on EverydayFamily TODAY and you will receive stage by stage pregnancy and baby newsletters, offers and coupons as well as access to free baby samples, baby coupons, baby magazines and much more.
ReplyDeleteAll New Members Can Win Free Diapers for a Entire Year!