Mean Spirited by Joshua Scribner
“Please, just let it go,” Yancy said to the cops who couldn’t hear him. One of them was standing on the roof of the cruiser with a pair of binoculars. He had heard about this. It was “Click it or Ticket” month nationwide, and this was how they cracked down.
He watched as the cop kind of hesitated, like he had just saw something strange or felt something in his body he had never felt before.
“That’s it. Pretend you don’t see me. Go on to the next person.”
Yancy moved past him, down the mountain road, around a corner. He blew out a sigh of relief, but he didn’t thank them; he never thanked them; they didn’t like to be thanked.
He had felt something strange this morning while meditating, not something completely foreign, just out of place. He had felt it on several occasions when he had needed certain tasks performed, but this was the first time he had felt it out of the blue.
He looked off at the trees and watched many birds look back at him as he moved down the road. This was nice. His life was nice.
He heard a loud chirp, but it wasn’t from a bird. He turned around in his seat and saw the cruiser behind him, its lights flashing.
“Just turn back. Forget you saw me. Stop someone else.”
The cruiser slowed, but its lights still flashed. For several seconds, it was losing ground on him. It looked as if it would stop, but then it suddenly sped up and made the chirping sound again.
“Pull over!” came from the bullhorn.
Yancy wondered what his car would do. No blinker came on, but it decelerated and moved to the side of the road.
The cruiser followed. There were two cops inside. After about a minute, the same one who had been on the roof got out. He walked slowly to the side of Yancy’s car. He stood behind the front door, but Yancy could see him in the side mirror. He was kind of slumped over, as if in a little pain. It took a good thirty seconds for Yancy’s window to come down.
“Sir,” the cop said in a labored and pained voice. “Do you know why I stopped you?”
Yancy laughed, but it wasn’t all him; it was mostly not him.
“I’m not totally sure. I would have thought you would have let me pass.”
“Sir, you’re not wearing a seatbelt.”
Again, Yancy laughed, and it was so loud and so joyful that he was sure anyone else would have been hulled from the car right now and tested for alcohol.
“I would never where a seatbelt, because it would offend them.”
“Sir?”
“When you saw me from the top of your car and noted that there was no strap over my body you had to have also noticed that my hands were not on the wheel.”
Looking in the mirror, Yancy could see the blood had drained from the cop’s face.
“I have so many spirits with me that there are only a few things I do for myself, and since I don’t like to drive down this mountain, it’s always taken care of.”
“Sir?”
The cop was practically gasping for breath. Yancy looked in the rearview-mirror.
“Looks like your partner is slumped over the wheel. He might need medical attention.”
The cop responded to this but only with a loud exhale.
“Listen. I know you felt something foreboding when you saw me coming. I kind of sent that at you. But something else, something wicked and playful, toyed with your mind. That’s my fault because I haven’t had any business for her lately and she’s grown bored. Still, I think if you go ahead and walk back to your car and forget you ever saw me, you’ll be fine.”
Yancy watched the cop hesitate for a few seconds. Then he saw him reach for his gun. Yancy was not afraid, at least not for himself.
He laughed joyfully as the cop brought his hand from the gun to his chest and then fell to the ground. Losing him in the mirror, he leaned out the window and watched as the cop kind of flopped around on the ground. He then looked to the road, where cars passed buy, their passengers either oblivious or afraid to act.
His car soon got back on the road. Yancy didn’t like what had happened to the two cops. But he never questioned her.
