The Boarder

Officer Sullivan leans his head toward his right shoulder and talks softly into the nearly invisible microphone strapped to his shoulder. “See him yet?” he nearly barks into the mic. “Nope. I thought I had him earlier, but that little shit is so sneaky. And fast,” replies Newell to his partner. Perhaps junking up the airwaves, Sullivan complains, “This is really getting mighty old. You’d think there would be at least one place in this entire town that's secure enough to keep him locked up tight.” Suddenly, Newell spots movement and speeds down the alley before him. At the intersection he steps on the gas and turns sharply on to a road that takes him the wrong way and down a clearly marked one way street. Along with cursing under his breath, the vigilant officer looks up to the skies and says a quick 'Thanks' that there's no traffic there to greet him at this time of night. With no idea about hiding his excitement, Officer Newell shouts into his radio, “I’ve got him! He’s running north on Sixteenth. Go north around the block. We're going to nail him this time!” Sullivan, who has built a reputation on being up for the chase and a little risky behind the wheel, grins as he drives Dukes-of-Hazard style through a parking lot and out on to the street. The pair meet in the middle of the road where they box in a small, wiry figure between their overheated cruisers. Newell gingerly leaps from a barely stalled black and white with Sullivan on his heels. Officer Newell grabs the arm of the dirty, baggy clothed youth and roughly shoves him up against the patrol car. “Gotcha!” the officer exclaimed with what may have sounded like a bit too much glee. Officer Sullivan enjoys his own sense of humor with drawn out, exaggerated pleasure, “Well, hello, Carl.” Although Carl is tall for his age, both officers know that he is only eleven, but maybe going on thirty-five in some areas of his life. The kid is his usual surly self and challenges the officers. Carl snarls, “Let me go, you fuckers! Your mamas want you home. It’s way past your curfew.” With a cloaked mixture of enjoyment and tart humor, Sullivan responds, “Still cute after all this time. Right, Carl? How many times have we had to pick you up so far?” While trying to escape the officers’ vice-like grips, Carl shrugs and sneers, “I dunno. I can outrun you so this won’t be the last time. I'm sure of that.” Both officers work together in their attempt to cuff the writhing, adrenaline filled youth. When finally under control Carl is stuffed in the back seat of Newell’s patrol car. Because of Carl's history and determination to get free, the officer is a little paranoid about losing this one. All the way to the Juvenile Hall Newell keeps a close eye on his struggling charge locked in the back seat.