Route 55, Brensby, Bower City
***
A fat and bald police officer, in his early forties, sat down on his chair with her both feet placed on top of his desk. He was eating peanuts and waiting for something to happen. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his landline phone rang loudly. The police officer stretched his right hand while staying in a slouched position.
"Brower Police Station, this is Officer Jones." The police officer lazily answered as he always anticipated a prank call.
"Officer, there is a car accident. The car collided with a lamp post and it is burning.. here in route 55." The anonymous male voice spoke at the other end of the phone. Officer Jones jerked and took his feet off the table and sat rigidly while hearing the voice over the phone.
"Hello, hello, hello, who is this?" Jones exclaimed. The conversation was suddenly cut-off.
"This is Roy. I am riding on Route 55 towards Astron. I just passed by a burning car right on the curb. Hurry up, maybe someone got hurt." It answered.
"Ok. Ok. We will be on our way." Jones replied. The call seemed legitimate.
The police officer immediately stood up and called other police officers inside the station. Others were still groggy from a power nap, and others were hauled from their card games.
"Maybe another prank call. Those bastards!" One officer said as he folded his cards in hand.
"Could be. But we don't want reports from the Administration, do we?" Jones retorted.
"Hey, you!" Jones pointed to the newest deployed officer in their station. "Ryan, call immediately Brower fire station!" It was uncommon for them to have a case like this, especially a car accident on Route 55. It was unlikely but they have to check.
2 police cars responded to the call and headed immediately to Route 55. The area was 15 miles outside Brensby, Brower City.
There were several police stations strategically stationed at almost every municipality under Bower City. But the degree of police engagement was different depending on the locations. Busier if you were stationed in crowded municipalities and less engaged if located near the outskirts of the City.
Brensby police station was one of the outskirt locations of Bower City. A few policemen were assigned in this part of the area, and most of the time they would sleep on duty for almost no cases to handle at all.
Brensby was one place with the fewest public establishments and it was almost conquered by domestic housing, low-end to high-end, and a large patch of barren. The tallest building would be a 5-story building apartment. It was peaceful as always in Brensby, perfect for people who wanted to live a quieter life.
"Burning car? The driver must be drunk. He better has a valid reason." Jones cursed under his breath. Together with him was the newbie, Officer Ryan.
"Fire station responded, sir. They are en route in ten." Ryan reported.
"Good. It should better be not a prank, or so help me God. Else, I will jail his ass off." Jones continued with his chagrin.
This route was barren and had a lot of plain fields with neighboring houses very far from each other. The highway was only lit by sturdy street lights spaced enough to make the road visible to motorists.
Moments after, the police cars and a fire truck surrounded the burning car and were extinguished in just a few minutes. Officer Jones and his fellow officers inspected the burnt car and they found a burnt body in the driver seat with its head leaning on the steering wheel.
"My God! He's dead." Ryan screamed. He turned away and gagged almost a vomit.
"You get used to it," Jones said to him, tapping his shoulder.
It was very gruesome, especially to some officers in Brensby that never even experienced witnessing a dead body. The body cannot be identified as it had 3rd degree burns exposing flesh and bones and disfigured.
One of the firefighters, a middle-aged male, FO1 Greg Sweeney, approached Officer Jones after extinguishing the fire and reported.
"Car collision against the street light caused the vehicle to burn. The driver may be unconscious after the hard collision and eventually toast himself inside the car."
"Do you find anything that we can identify the driver?" Officer Jones asked.
"Everything is burnt inside, even his wallet." FO1 Greg replied.
"Maybe this guy is drunk driving." Officer Jones added.
"Could be? He had no traffic. Or maybe sleep was his enemy. Or maybe a deer who suddenly passed by and made his car swerve with the surprise." Greg assessed.
"We have retrieved the car's plate number. The car model is a Prius. Its plate number signified registration is from Astron City... I think." FO1 continued his report while he handed over the car plate number in transparent plastic.
"OK, thanks. We could trace the owner of this vehicle and call his family if this guy has."
Officer Jones took out his cellular phone, dialed a number, and called his guy working at the forensics office.
"Hey, could you run me a trace? Owner of a blue Prius, plate number GAA 4826. It looks like from Astron City." The other end of his phone confirmed and Jones heard the sounds of a keyboard tapping hastily.
"The owner of that car is Mr. Lance Davis, 0999-881-4811." The other end of the phone spoke. "Lives in River Creek, Astron City. His wife, Mrs. Angela Davis, contact number is 0922-777-3536."
"Ok, copy. Thanks." Jones affirmed.
Officer Jones first dialed the first number but to no avail. Instead, he called Angela's phone number and was answered immediately.
"The wife's coming," Jones said.
***
Two silhouette figures stood almost a mile away from the scene. It was Lance and Agent Kate. Their location was concealed by the darkness that enveloped the barren land and where street lights could not reach.
"How many minutes did they respond since you called the police station?" Kate asked.
"15 minutes," Lance replied.
"Where did you get the body?" Lance asked Kate while using binoculars to look at the scene.
"Astron Central Hospital. Paid an intern there for the corpse," Kate replied.
"What's next?" Lance asked.
"You will be announced dead tonight." She responded.
"They will call Angela immediately after the trace that her husband died in an accident. Your wife will weep. You will be on every news channel in Astron City and you will be famous for a while. Your good story when you were in service will be known to the world."
"What about our agreement?" He asked.
"A bag with $5M in cash will be sent to your house's front porch tomorrow, as promised. Then, in a couple of days, your funeral." Kate explained.
"That easy, huh?"
"Yup, that easy."
For a couple of minutes, another car was fast approaching the scene. The tires screeched against the road as it halted behind the police car. A woman ran close to the burnt car but she was stopped by one of the officers at the scene.
It was Angela.
She cried and screamed emanating to the ears of Lance and Kate. For Lance, it was devastating scenery more than that of the burning car. He flinched as his wife's screams reached his hearing. He controlled the welling up in his eyes so that not a single tear would fall.
The skies grew darker and the stars faded. Lance could feel his heart constricted and his hands grew cold.
Kate turned her gaze to Lance.
"Are you sure it's easy?" She probably sensed uneasiness and tension in him but he was handling it not being over-emotional.
"Have you ever been in love, Kate?" Lance asked without looking at her.
"Not to this extent," Kate answered, referring to the weeping wife of a dead husband.
"Then, it is not yet for you to understand. She is a great part of my life and seeing her for the first time to weep like this...it's like a vine of thorns crushing my heart."
"I know you can handle it. You are Lance Davis. The unkillable."
He earned the name "unkillable" during the most difficult situations on his participated missions in the Rebel countries.
"Yeah. You are right. I can handle this."
It was clear that it was never easy for him. He just accepted the fact that there was no other way. He was born to serve his country almost equivalent to the love he sacrificed in his marriage. He thought that when everything was over, he would go back to Angela and make amends, that if she is still single.
But the mission at hand stood out as his priority, a dire need of purpose, a dire need of service, bigger than his marriage, and for the betterment of this country.
He turned around and carried his bags toward their parked SUV. Kate followed suit. For a second there, Lance was teary-eyed but Kate did not notice. He could not bear the pain to see her wife cry so loud.
He had a sudden jolt of sadness, crumpling his heart, and full of regrets that a girl once he loved and promised a good life, now had been crushed and surely would mourn for his death.