Patrolling The Streets
I evenly maintain my foothold on the accelerator. I’m in the zone. I let base know my location and begin my surveillance of the streets, the footpaths, the alleyways. My peripheral vision is finely tuned. I await any sign of acknowledgment. Any sign that I am needed.
A group of teenagers mounted on bikes turn and look my way. One yells something out that I don’t quite hear and the others let out a chorus of chipped, broken laughter. I don’t need to place my attention their way. There’s no need. A few squirmy adolescent goof balls will only end in some wasted time on my shift.
My vehicle crawls along the bitumen like a cat ready to pounce. It hums in fact. I’ve got one of the new fleet vehicles and it’s a pleasure to do business in.
I spot my gig. He’s staring right at me. I pull…
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