Capture

Harry rounded the corner. He knew his quarry was just ahead of him. He was sure he would catch him this time. He couldn’t stay hidden forever. He saw a shadow flit through his peripheral vision and heard the slapping of flip-flops on the concrete sidewalk. Bingo.

Harry froze, holding his breath, trying to see in the fog that enveloped him. Trying to hear the vermin that he was pursuing. The vermin froze too. This one is too smart—it’s going to be a long night, he could tell already. A career in law enforcement requires more dedication than most people realize. And self sacrifice, too.

Most of these hardened criminals, once Harry started after them, started to cry for their mommies and he could cuff them and take them down. However, this was a wily one. He might even have to miss his hourly doughnut break. He hated when that happened. If he didn’t have his hourly infusion of chocolate syrup, sickly sweet whipped cream, and bad coffee, he got the shakes. Never a good thing when one is packing heat.

Usually, the afternoons were quiet and he could nap uninterrupted in the car or in a carrel. He always had his tiny Curious George pillow with him, just in case he got to sneak in a four-hour nap. He tried napping without it, but it is hard to explain the imprint of the seatbelt on your cheek. Therefore, he had taken to bringing George with him everywhere he went. He had also taken to thinking of George as his partner, which just could prove to be a dangerous assumption.
He had also taken to asking George what he though ‘they’ should do. George was at best a listener, not a thinker. Of course, Harry wasn’t a much better thinker, but he was definitely a better speaker.

Harry was about to ask George what he thought they should do, but realized just in time that would give their position away to the hunted. Bad idea. They remained frozen in their tracks, until they heard it, the unmistakable pitter pat of flip-flops tiptoeing down the hall. They leaned around the corner and took aim. Still couldn’t see a damn thing.

Harry tried tiptoeing too. He fell over instantly. He always got confused about which side of his toes he should be walking on to tiptoe successfully. He had new sympathy for the ballerinas who were always standing on their toes- not that he had actually seen one up close and personal, but he had seen pictures. He gathered his wits together, no small feat, as you can imagine, and clambered back upright. Since he crashed to the ground, there was little need to be stealthy, so he sprinted after the culprit.

He sprinted at least fifteen feet before he collapsed against the wall, chest heaving, unable to get enough oxygen. His legs refused to carry his doughnut-riddled body one more step without his lungs. He watched his prey increase the distance. That guy probably thinks he’s seen the last of Harry, but he wasn’t counting on Harry’s secret weapon.

Harry steadied his breathing, closed his eyes, focused his energies and took a step. Then another. He pulled an inhaler-like apparatus out of his pocket. He took a hit. Then another. One more good one and he was ready to carry on. Much better. He took off running after his quarry, with nearly super-human strength. At least super-Harry strength. He closed the gap, not even breathing hard. And, he had his lime-green crocs on, with the little loop across the heel, so they stayed snug, even when running. The flip-flops didn’t stand a chance against the turbo-charged Harry and his crocs. And George (but he was Harry’s little secret). Harry could not lose.

He was so close now; he could see the terror in the perp’s eyes. They reflected a crazed, sweat-covered mini-Harry with white stuff all over his mouth and Harry—though unnerved by the sight—kept his cool. He slapped the cuffs on just as he had a million times before. Except that, he wound up with one on him and one on the perp. Okay, that had only happened about 200,000 times before, not every time. He still got so excited at cuffing someone that his gross motor skills stalled sometimes.

At least he was in control, which was the important thing. He slammed the perp into the wall, nearly breaking his wrist in doing so as he realized too late that he was still wearing the other cuff. He had lost the key the other day, while practicing cuffing the dog. Well, he didn’t really lose it- the dog ate it in retribution and he hadn’t had the time, nor the inclination, to look for it yet. Luckily, Fluffy lacked wrists and was able to shed the cuffs without difficulty.

Once he had the vermin up against a car, he frisked him as well as he could with one hand. Apparently a bit too roughly, as suddenly the horn began a desperate chorus and the headlights started flashing frantically. Damn. He half ran, half dragged the perp to another car so that he could pretend to have no idea why the car’s alarm was going off.

Finally, Harry completed his left-handed search and found all the evidence that he needed. George read the perp his rights, while Harry looked on. The perp looked scared. Harry held up the cell phone in his cuffed hand, asking the perp if he knew the penalty for taking a call in the library (and waking Harry from a perfectly sound nap). The penalty is being escorted from the library, and, one’s name put on a watch list.

With his other hand, he brought up his inhaler, marked “powdered doughnuts” and inhaled deeply.

Copyright 2007 Antigone Lett. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.