The wolf from Castle Hill E-Book

Martin Sommerdag

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 53

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

The police officers, John Bronson and Amy Baggio, are responding to a domestic dispute at Hillwarn Houses, in Castle Hill, Bronx. The situation is far worse than first anticipated and even further from ordinary. The officers are suddenly tangled in a gory horror mystery with supernatural undertones and are chasing a mad suspect around the premises, who does not behave like a human being.

Leseprobe

The wolf from Castle Hill

PrefaceChapter 1 - Fresh meatChapter 2 - Hell HousesChapter 3 - FistfightChapter 4 - Concrete mazeTo be continuedCopyright

Preface

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1 - Fresh meat

It was a cold February morning, a new day, a day closer to retirement. That was the modus operandi of the veteran cop, John Bronson. He had been working as a police officer in the Bronx at the 43rd precinct for so long that he didn’t even hate it anymore; even the terrible coffee from the vending machine couldn’t ruin his day. John was old-school, an elderly tall man, handsome and honorable, with dark grey well-trimmed hair and a solid chevron beard. His posture was robust and strong. 

Today, exactly one year away from his retirement, he had fresh meat joining his platoon, a new partner, a young woman, a rookie cop straight out of the academy. John didn’t think much of it because everyone is equal when a gun is involved, equally strong and weak, depending on where that gun was pointing. However, she seemed different. She seemed oddly floaty and happy in the world without any care. She came walking with high, bouncy steps to the quiet corner with the snack machines, where John was peacefully enjoying his morning coffee and a slightly stale jelly donut.

What occurred to him initially was that she must be madly in love, and he gave a tired sigh of silent prayer that this ecstatic girl with wavy dark brown hair wouldn’t bring that exhausting, dangerous curse with her. She was spontaneous and charming, slim and fit, ready to take over the world with ruby-woo lipstick and a lethal smile.

“Hey there,” she said, with an upbeat and bright voice. “Amy Baggio, reporting for duty, and that’s BAGG like my badge and an E-O.” She smiled cheerfully, extending her arm for a shake.John looked down at her hand and slowly brought his up to grab it. He had neglected to wipe the jelly from the donut off his hand and added a sticky embrace to their first shake. 

“Officer, John Bronson,” he answered with a profound and serious voice. 

“Well, Officer Bronson,” she began, “I hope you’ll be kind enough to be leading our patrol today because at this moment, I have officially commenced my first shift at the 43rd precinct, and I’ll admit to you right now, I do not know my way around the Bronx.” 

“You’ll learn,” he said and stuffed the last chunk of donut down his throat, “it’s just another piece of the Big Apple.” He mumbled with his mouth full of jelly and bread. 

Some donut crumbs stuck in his beard, and Amy looked at him with a wry smile on her face. He took the last sip of coffee, crushed the plastic cup, and air-balled it in the trash can like it was a basketball. “It’s going to be a good day, Officer Baggio,” he said optimistically. 

They left the quiet corner as their shift started, and John greeted the other cops as they passed through the station. 

They bumped into the swamped and highly stressed police captain, Richard Calaway, on their way out, and John gave him a high-five, leaving Amy feeling like a total stranger and a real newbie. They walked down a lively avenue, and she gazed at the surrounding skyline of the South Central section, also known as Castle Hill, a high-density urban working-class neighborhood with decayed abandoned properties and a relatively diverse population, but mainly African Americans and Puerto Ricans. The garbage trucks were busy this morning, enshrouding the streets with a pungent stink of decomposed food. 

“From down here, it seems like a pretty big, moldy chunk of the Apple,” she admitted enthusiastically and covered her nose with her fingers. 

“I just love the smell of rotten meat in the morning. It reminds me I am alive.” He smirked at Amy while taking an exaggerated deep breath through his nose. 

The officers both wore solid dark coats, matching brave blue uniforms underneath, almost black, with an emblem for the New York Police Department on the shoulders, and a metal badge, with their personal collar number, 2306, over the chest, as well as a leather belt with essential items, including a flashlight, handcuffs, baton, and a standard 9 mm handgun. There was something John really liked about this girl, and it annoyed him. It was obvious she had no idea what it really meant to be a police officer. 

With the sounds of the moving city around them, the officers walked down the sidewalk, and they passed the local cinema, Tooms Theatre, which premiered the feature film Hot Traffic later this evening. 

“Honestly, I could barely find my way to the station on time, but I made it, and I’m delighted to finally be a New York police officer,” she said. 

John raised his palm to stop her chatting. “This happy-go-lucky attitude you have going is downright deadly when you’re patrolling the Bronx, especially the South Central,” he patronized and brought his hand down to his belt and tugged at it. “We’re not homies that shake hands and say, ‘Have a nice day,’ to every Bronxite that passes by. You shake the wrong hand and you end up in the morgue. You smile to the wrong fellow and you end up in the morgue as well. Welcome to the 43rd precinct, Officer Baggio,” John said and looked at Amy with a quirky smile, waiting for a dreadful reaction.

Surprisingly, she shooed his insinuation away with the wave of her hand. “I’ve been through the academy, the self-defense classes, the training simulations, and I have 6 months’ experience as a police trainee from the 6th precinct,” she explained with great confidence and enthusiasm.

“Manhattan is a tourist attraction, a cozy wellness club compared to the Bronx,” he replied contemptuously and smirked. 

“I am well aware of the risks, Officer Bronson. I know the dangers, but that doesn’t stop me from being who I am because, at the end of the day, all we do is to protect and serve, and that makes me happy, no matter which precinct,” she argued. 

“Nice speech, I liked it,” he said honestly. 

“I’m not proud enough to lie,” she said. “I’m psyched and fully prepared to be a police officer, even though I’m a new recruit.” 

He frowned. “Good, just remember we aren’t superheroes in costumes, but police officers in uniforms, and I don’t want you wounded on your first shift.” 

They crossed a busy street and walked along the huge Pugsley Creek Park.