AfterNet 01 - Good Cop Dead Cop

cover into a coat pocket and continued searching the floor for the battery, but found nothing except discarded cups and bottles. The song ended and another began, pursuing the playlist of the departed DJ as a heavily sampled version of Amy Grant singing Carole King’s “You’ve Got a Friend” mocked Yamaguchi’s plight.
    “Give me a fucking break!” she yelled.
    Munroe didn’t know what fresh pain caused his partner’s screaming, all he could see was her mouth forming what could only be obscenities. He’d never seen her like this. She was an animal howling in pain and rage.
    In the midst of her scream, Munroe saw her stop and look around.
    She had heard something, the banging of a door somewhere. She reached for her gun but it wasn’t there. The leather snap of the holster had been torn off during the struggle on the roof or when she hit the ground. Years of training and you go looking for stupid batteries instead of your gun.
    Munroe realized she’d lost her gun and began searching as well. He quickly found it about 10 feet from her, under a table still upright. Linda, it’s here! For the love of God look over here! It was incomprehensible that she could not hear his words, which seemed to him the loudest scream he’d ever made.
    The sound of a banging door returned again, only this time Yamaguchi thought it was nearer. She looked in the direction of the sound and Munroe followed her gaze. Someone’s coming, he thought. He sped around the dance floor, looking for some way out, some way to get help for his partner. The trampled chain-link fence blocked the path to the disembodied entrance he had used, and the doors she had entered were to her left, outside her vision. Just open those damn doors, Linda, and I can get some help. You can get out of here. But she doesn’t even know I’m here.
    Her adrenaline and confused state prevented her from thinking she could simply leave the gymnasium. But she did realize she was unarmed and exposed in the middle of the dance floor. She walked to the DJ’s stage looking for something to use as a weapon. The bright shiny microphone stand caught her attention in the blink of the strobes. She tried picking it up but realized the heavy disc-shaped base made it too unwieldy to use as a weapon. So she removed the mike and unscrewed the metal rod from the base. She now had a suitably lethal heavy pipe about four and a half feet long.
    Go to the outside doors, Munroe screamed.
    Instead she went to the swinging doors that led further into the abandoned school. She peeked through a small glass window in the right side door. The interior of the school seemed pitch black because of the flashing lights in the gym. Occasionally the glass reflected the lights and she knew her face was being illuminated as well.
    She saw the flicker of flashlights and faintly heard people talking. She ducked her head back from the small window and leaned against the wall.
    The rave organizers would be leaving soon, she knew. They probably feared the fleeing kids might have called 911, but they might think they’d have enough time to clean up any evidence — which might include her.
    A voice sounded louder than before, a man saying, “I’ll check.”
    She gripped the rod from the mike stand more tightly, worried that her bloody, sweaty hands would slip. She wiped her palms against her coat just as the right side door swung open. She stepped away to avoid being hit.
    A man, white, bald, heavy and around 5’8”, walked through the doorway holding his flashlight in front of him. Yamaguchi, blocked by the door, could only see his arm and the flashlight. She stepped forward and brought the club down. Despite her fear, despite her desire to do anything she needed to disable this man, she was still shocked by the sickening feeling transmitted through the mike stand as it slammed into his left arm. The impact made him bend forward slightly. She hadn’t overcommitted her swing, so she was able to bring the mike stand back up, catching him under the chin just as he was recovering from bending forward. The impact drove his head back while at the same time his legs flew out from underneath him. She watched in what seemed like slow motion as the strobe lights caught him falling to the floor, flat on his back.
    The swinging door had not closed. It was held open by the man’s body. She picked up his legs and pulled him into the gym until the door could close. She looked through the door’s window to see