The last day of the Fayatte Police’s existence was one of chaos. Michael knew what was going to happen. The rest of the country was falling apart from the anarchy. There were even reports of cannibalism which sounded far-fetched to Michael because the missiles only hit four days ago. All you could see on TV were reports showing the rioting and people fighting with riot police, civilians looting and fighting each other, it was all sickening. What are we? Michael always knew there were lots of disgusting creatures in this world who called themselves human but, my God, how could this happen so fast? Haven’t we come farther than this? Apparently we haven’t evolved as much as we thought, or as much as we should have. Michael hasn’t slept much in the last few days and he is figuring it will be a long time until he does again. He enters his car, starts it and turns on his police radio hearing the chaos first hand.
“We need back up now! We can’t keep them out! There’s too many dispatch!” Sgt. Pellerin screamed.
“Sarge I’m almost there. Two minutes.” Michael responded as he damn near turned his car on two wheels.
Michael was the only unit left to respond to what was remaining of the shift. Only Sgt. Pellerin, Cpl. Hanson and Cpl. Jones are left. The sheriff’s department advised they couldn’t help as they were all already downtown dealing with rioting on Main St. No other officers for Fayatte PD are responding to their radios. Some probably left to tend to their families and the others either said “fuck this” and fled or are dead. Truman yelled shots fired on his burglary call but never responded after that. The calls have been non-stop since Michael started his shift at six this morning and hasn’t stopped since. And he now knows this is probably his last shift.
Michael’s unit comes to a screeching halt as he locked up his brakes arriving on scene. What he saw confirmed his worst nightmare. There were looters running out of the bank with money in their hands and others screaming in pain. Michael saw several bodies on the ground bleeding from gunshot wounds and saw the four units with their lights still on in the street. As he got out of his car he heard Sgt. Pellerin call his name. Michael looked to his right and saw Pellerin sitting on the sidewalk and Michael could barely see his face from the blood and bruises. Michael ran to him and knelt beside him.
“Sarge, what the fuck happened?”
“We were fighting those mother fuckers and it got to be too many of them. I drew down and blasted my way out. I must have killed ten of those crazy fucks. But the others never came out.”
Michael looked back at the bank to see if it was safe enough to go in. It seemed as though no more people were coming out. Michael looked down to Pellerin and said,
“Alright, let’s get you in my car and I’m going in to see if they’re in there. I think we should get the fuck out of here because now dispatch won’t respond. I think it’s every man for himself now. You need to get home to your ol’ lady.”
“Fuck that, I’m going with you, I’m fine and my wife's already out of town. Let’s go.”
Michael nodded and ran to his unit to grab his AR-15.