Wandering Ends A Flash Fiction Collection

The South Side

He had been on the beat for fifteen years. The South Side was a contaminated place. Hookers lined the corners alongside the pushers and enforcers for hire. Daily, bloody fights for territory were a common occurrence. It had the look of a war zone with all of the dilapidated buildings, bullet holes in the street signs, and the local gangs and other riff-raff openly conducting their business. Most cops would quit rather than walk this beat. Not old Chucky, though.

Chucky started down in the War Zone, as it was affectionately known, when he was twenty-two; he was now thirty-seven but looked every day of sixty. He had won more shootouts then the entirety of the force had ever seen. Chucky had also taken more bullets than he could count. He found a way to survive down here, though.

At first, he did not like bending the law, but now he brazenly broke it to keep the peace. The gun battles had begun to wane over the last two years, as Chucky's morals crumbled. He brokered deals between rival gangs and made solo gung-ho busts on new gangs trying to encroach on the area. He was something like a mayor to the people of the South Side. He also become addicted to the lifestyle.

The Chief did not like what was happening to Chucky. He even offered him a promotion. The promotion would have put him behind a desk, making a lofty salary. Unhesitatingly, Chucky turned it down, his refusal concerned the Chief.

Bodies were turning up on the North Side in recent weeks. The bodies were not just turning up, though; they had been placed with a purpose, as if to send a message. The Chief did not want the problems of the South Side on his side of town. Even more so, he did not want one of his own involved; he was afraid Chucky was in a bit too deep.

The Chief figured it was time to take a trip to the South Side. He found Chucky down on the corner talking with the ladies of the evening. The Chief stood catty-corner, observing. Chucky seemed very friendly with the harlots. A man swaggered around the corner and shook hands with Chucky. The man seemingly handed something over. Chucky laughed and joked with the guy, then crossed the road. The Chief decided to tail him for a while to see what was going on.

Several blocks down the road, Chucky strolled up to a house and kicked a door in. The Chief heard four shots crack through the muted air. A truck pulled up before long and three guys jumped out helping Chucky drag the bodies into the back. The guys in the truck left as Chucky crossed the road.

The Chief snuck up behind him, giving him quite a start.

"Damn, boss, you scared me! What're you doing down here? Where's your car?" Chucky asked.

"I came down here to see why bodies are being dumped on the North Side," the Chief replied.

"I mean we've got the violence down, but it's not perfect yet," said a jittery Chucky. "Things happen down here, boss, and I can only do so much, but it's getting better."

The Chief started, "Let me be honest, I know what you did, and I know what you've been doing."

"I've been doing what I was sent here to do, and that's clean this mess up. I don't see anyone else down here doing it, especially you. This is the first time I've seen you down here in eight or so years. I'm not always proud of the way I have to do things, but it's gotta get done!" Chucky spoke aggressively, as he started wondering how much the Chief had seen.

"Oh, I don't give a damn about the killing, the deal-making, the lawbreaking. What I do care about is my boys," the Chief said ominously, in an almost threatening manner.

Chucky was confused. "What do you mean, your boys? No cops have been getting killed down here. I'm the only cop with the balls to be here."

"Not the uniforms; MY boys. The ones you and your friends have been killing and sticking on my side of town. We need more territory. Our operation is expanding," the Chief explained.

It just was not clicking for Chucky. He did not know where the Chief was headed with this. The Chief pulled his gun from his holster. He shot Chucky once in each knee. Chucky fell to the ground in disbelief.

"The North Side gangs decided on a sort of peace treaty last week. They've been getting into business down here, but now they're being sent back dead. Like I said, we need more room, and you have not been letting that happen. So thanks for your years of service with the force," the Chief elucidated, then raised his gun and shot Chucky between the eyes.