Chapter 36

This time I really did nearly get raped. Why is rape all of a sudden becoming such a big part of my life? First the baby rapist, then when I thought Hugo was attacking me, now this.

With Hugo’s new ID we’ve been getting around more. Today we took some of his produce to the market, and then I decided since we were out anyway we might as well do a little shopping. But we’d got a late start, and everything went really slow, and by the time we’ve got everything done the sun’s down and it’s a cloudy night and everything’s pretty inky.

“How can you drive without seeing?” Hugo asks. I realize I haven’t done any night driving with him.

“We have our own lights, dear,” I say, and show him. He gets out to go look at the headlights and walks around to see the rear too and seems very impressed. Then he gets back in and we head home, at last.

The road’s pretty empty, and maybe I get it up a little fast, but anyhow the next thing I know there are those familiar flashing blue lights in my mirror. Shit, I haven’t had a ticket in forever, but I guess my winning streak has come to an end.

Hugo’s been half dozing in the passenger seat, he spent most of the day in the garden and I guess he’s tired. As I slow down to pull off he sits up and looks around.

“Why do we stop?” he asks, seeing that we’re not home yet.

“I told you about the police,” I tell him. “One of their jobs is to make sure people don’t drive too fast. I suppose I was, and one of them is right behind me and wants me to stop.”

He looks back and sees the lights. “Is this very bad?” he asks.

“No, not really. He’ll just give me a ticket, which means I’ll have to pay a fine, a penalty, but that’s all. He probably won’t even want to see your ID, just mine. Just relax, don’t say anything, and we’ll be OK.”

We’re stopped now, and I’ve rolled down the window. The cop comes up to my door with kind of a swagger, I guess he’s one of those. He’s even got his hand on his damn gun while the other hand holds a flashlight. He leans down and shines the light right in my eyes, dammit. There are good cops and bad ones, I guess like any other field, but I don’t think I’ve lucked into a good one.

“Get out of the car,” he barks. No “please,” no “ma’am,” nope, I don’t have a good one. And why get out? Even if he’s going to put me through some kind of field sobriety test, wouldn’t he want to see my license and registration first?

He shines the light over at Hugo. “You stay there,” he says just as abruptly. This is going to be an especially unpleasant traffic stop, I think.

As I open my door I hear a couple of soft clicks, and then I twist to set my feet on the ground and Hugo seems to explode out the other side. Oh, Jesus, why couldn’t he just do what the cop said?—

And the cop’s pulled his gun and now he’s shooting! Shooting at Hugo! “No!” I scream and jump out to grab for his gun hand. “Officer, he’s not armed, don’t shoot!”

The cop shoves me away and now he’s got the gun pointed out me. “Not armed?” he snarls. “Good. Let’s go, sister.” And he pushes me with his flashlight in the direction of his own car.

What the hell? Cops don’t act like this, not any I’ve known and I’ve known a few. I look at him and he’s just wearing jeans and a shirt, no uniform. Then I look at his car and it’s not a police car and it’s a lot too old and decrepit looking to be one of the unmarked cars the cops sometimes use for speeders. And the cop himself smells, well, pretty ripe.

It dawns on me that this guy isn’t a cop! He’s just a man with a gun who’s trying to kidnap me!

We’re silhouetted in his headlights as he jabs me again with the flashlight, and then I hear a rustle nearby and he turns to blast a shot that way and I hear the stone whistling through the air just before it hits the gun hand. Hugo carries his sling with him all the time along with a few stones, and I guess he’s got it out.

The second stone takes the phony cop square in the face, and I see blood erupt. It’s probably enough to do the job, but I don’t wait to find out; he’s standing there with his legs spread a bit, and I put everything I’ve got into it when I kick him right in the crotch. I’m wearing pumps with stylishly pointed reinforced toes, and he’s down without a sound.

And Hugo’s suddenly beside me, the sling still in his right hand. He gives me a quick hug, but when I start to clutch him he pulls away to pick up the gun. The fake cop’s twitching a little on the ground and Hugo sees it and kicks him hard in the head. Then Hugo and I hold each other hard until our breathing begins to subside. My breathing mostly, Hugo’s a lot better than I am.

“He pretends only,” Hugo says. “This is not man of police.”

“I don’t think so,” I agree. The guy’s out cold, just lying there on his face. His hip pocket bulges, and I bend down to get his wallet. I have a bad moment when I flip it open and see a badge, but I look closer and realize it isn’t a real one, no serial number and it looks pretty tinny. And there’s no other cop ID.