Title: The Christmas Gift #2
Author: ken_r AKA Ken242 AKA Kenneth Renouard
Disclaimer: Once again I use the characters owned by others as actors to tell a story with people we already know. Lara’s song is labeled with URL of its location.
genera: Alternate Universe No Aliens but, sometimes we are all aliens.
Rating: Child, Maybe teen because of police language
Summary: Sometimes when fate has been the cruelest there is a tiny light in the darkness which promises us something we can live with. I started the story about a little girl but as the story grew it showed the lives of policemen, their wives and their friends during Christmas.
This story is dedicated like The Christmas Gift to those who have a hard time during the Christmas season.
The Christmas Gift #2
Max came in from his patrol. He parked his car in front of the police building. He stamped his feet to rid them of snow as he entered the front door. He was parked right in front of the building and it was clearly marked, “No Parking,” but let them bitch. It was too fricken cold to worry about that.
New Mexico didn’t have much snow. Especially in Albuquerque, where the wind currents going around the Sandia mountains caused a very mild climate in the exact place the city was located in the valley. Twenty miles north or the same south of the city and you could have three foot drifts and in the city it was still balmy. Sandia meant watermelon and, today, the melon was frozen, frozen. The mountains were white with the stuff. In Albuquerque, big snows only came about once every 30 or so years. Whole generations of citizens had never seen a big snow and they had no idea of how to drive in it. Max had done a stint in the mountains and he had, through necessity, become a fair snow-weather driver. It had only cost him one squad car. Of course, hitting the state police commissioner’s Cadalic, was not a good idea. That probably cost him a lot more than the squad car. He would know at his next evaluation. What the hell was the commissioner doing out in that weather? Max thought that he should have had better sense.
Of course there were many people from back east and some from up north. They were snow experts, but the locals used them like the bumpers on a pinball machine. No matter how good you were, some fool could careen off of you at any time. There were four-wheel drive vehicles. Now, they had plenty of traction, but when you put on the brakes, they were just like any other car. What good did it do you, if you could always get started and then find out there was no way to stop, especially on the down side of a hill?
“Hey Evans, there are only two more days until Christmas. You better hump if you want to get more DUIs for this year.” During holidays the police force was marshaled to go after DUIs, or driving under the influence. Long ago, it was DWI or driving while intoxicated, but the inventive public found so many ways to screw up that they had made the broader law. Max had been off two days and his score wasn’t that high yet. This snow wasn’t helping. How can you tell if a car is weaving if you can barely hold your cruiser on the road? Max would catch up; he usually did.
Maria stuck her head in the room. She was on radio tonight. Her boyfriend, Michael Guerin, was a sergeant on the city force. You could hit Michael in the head with a two by four and he would shake his head and then, make you eat it. He was known as one of the toughest cops in the city. “Hey, Evans, have you made a run up the interstate north tonight?”
“Hell no, Maria, I am not sure I can even see the interstate in this weather,” Max answered.
“Well, you better call out your dog team and get mushing. There have been several calls about tracks going off the highway somewhere around the Cochiti exit,” she told him.
“Shit, why would anyone be out in this weather? Maria, call my wife, Liz, and tell her I am still on call. She wanted me to meet and have supper with her, sometime tonight.” Max stated. He knew that Maria and Liz were friends and Maria could break it easily, that Max probably wouldn’t be back until well after midnight.
Max turned west on the I-40 interstate and proceeded to the “Big I.” The Big I, that expansive interchange, of which the highway department was so proud. Massive arches and flyovers as the concrete strips made three tiers merging two large highways. Now, they were perfect skating rinks. Max was up to about 40 miles per hour. Driving in these conditions was a bit like flying. There were no such things as brakes. The steering wheel was caressed like an angry woman. Max saw a spinout ahead of him. He gently touched the wheel and he could feel the cruiser adjust direction. Max intended to just miss the guy in the gutter and still be set up for the gentle turn heading north. His only fear was for the fool to try to jump in front of him and try to flag him down. The city would get to this spinout in their own time. Max had his red lights on he was going 10-33, that is emergency traffic, even if he was only driving 40 miles per hour. Once out of the city, he would probably turn them off. He was now going north on I-25.
As Max proceeded north, the snow started picking up. The wipers were having trouble keeping up. The wipers were freezing on either side of the windshield. The interstate, so far, was well lit. The snow falling in the lights was distracting, but as Max got to the city limits, the lights were no longer there. He was now beyond the area that protected Albuquerque. Now, all Max had were his head lights. Turn on the brights and you were faced with a solid wall of white reflecting back at you. You had to run on dim lights. There, the lights hit the ground sooner, but didn’t reflect as much.
The radio surely was quiet. The Law Enforcement channel didn’t have anyone on it. What cattle inspector would be out on a night like tonight? The tribal police showed that the Native Americans had better sense than to be out tonight either, by their silence. The State channels only had a few calling in from out-lying areas. Most of them were going 10-10, or out of the car at coffee shops, trying to get warm. Max could use a hot coffee right now. He had intended to have that supper with his wife, Liz, before he had been sent half way to Santa Fe.
There was a pull-off just ahead. Max was going to have to pull over and get the ice off his windshield. The wipers were starting to go over the ice and were missing the windshield all together. This was dangerous. Max knew that cars coming up behind would key off his taillights. They would be just as likely to run right into him as not. Max put his emergency blinkers on as well as his overhead red light. He could only hope to be safe as he hurriedly cleared his windshield. It was cold. Max didn’t bother putting on his parka. He wanted to get the job done and get back on the road. It was much safer there than sitting in the parkway as a target for someone not thinking. He quickly chipped away at the ice on, first his side of the windshield and then, he went over to the other side. The little plastic scraper was almost ruined by the hard ice.
Max got back into the car and took off again. The country was steep hills. Going up was scary and going down was just insane. Every so often Max would flash his spot light looking for exit numbers. He must be getting near the Cochiti exit soon. Way up ahead, there were red lights. They were just pinpoints seen through the curtain of snow. As he approached they began to string out in a line. There was a whole group of them ahead. As Max passed them, he saw the lights protecting the rear end of a semi truck. The truckers had, as usual, stopped to help, but they were worried about their rigs, also. They had strung out flares, those things that looked like sticks of dynamite. They could be struck like the old fashioned Kitchen match. The flares burned for about a half an hour with a bright red flame. On a night like this, the truckers were generous in the number they used.
Max pulled just ahead of the truck and stopped with his blinkers on as well as his red light flashing. He used his spotlight, but he couldn’t make anything out, off the road. This time, Max pulled on his parka. The wolf skin, tree huggers be damned, ruff around the edge of the hood made his face almost have feeling. Damn, it was cold. Two truckers came up shouting over the noise of the wind. “Hey, Max, we saw the tracks go over the side. They are all filled up by the snow, now. It is so slick that we can’t go down the embankment. We would never be able to get back up,” the trucker who was know to Max as “Rump Buster,” on the CB or citizen band radio, shouted.
“Give me a hand, Rump Buster,” Max requested. Then, Max went to the trunk of his car and took out a climbing rope. It was about 200 feet long and Max thanked someone for the fact that the bean counters or accountants of Santa Fe, hadn’t yet made the State Police get compact economy cars. Max had all sorts of junk in the trunk that was helpful from time to time.
About this time, a tall, gaunt figure came up, “Hey Max, can you use some help?”
Max knew Chicken Farmer as a tall, red headed boy from down south somewhere. They had chatted many times to break the boredom of the interstate. Chicken farmer had arms that belonged better on an orangutan and the red hair that covered his body made a person wonder. Tonight, only his hairy hands were visable as he took off his gloves to take the rope. In the old days, they would have just attached the rope to a bumper, but cars, including cruisers, didn’t have bumpers anymore.
With the rope sliding under his butt, Max let himself down the incline. There were a couple of places where Max’s special cowboy boots didn’t find traction and Max had to be careful to not meet the rocky incline with his face. Max, like many state policemen had fastened waffle soles onto his cowboy boots. They gave better traction in winter and in summer they kept his feet off the hot asphalt of the road.
Max made it down the incline and, taking out his flashlight, he tried to peer through the driving snow. There, ahead of him, was a dark object. He could barely make it out. Still holding the rope, because if he dropped it, he wasn’t sure he could find it again, Max made his way to the object. Yeah, it was a car. All of the windows were out and the doors were ajar. Max worked his way over to the vehicle. It had out of state plates. Max thought that they were Arizona, if he remembered the colors right. Probably from southern Arizona, Phoenix or somewhere, balmy Phoenix, where the temperature yesterday, was in the 70s. Two people were slumped against the front dash. Max took off his gloves and felt for the artery in the neck. The body was cold and Max couldn’t detect any pulse. He checked the other one and it was the same.
Max called out to those above him, “Hey, Rump Buster, get on my radio and tell Maria to get a wrecker and ambulance on its way. We have at least two who need to be removed.”
Max was working his way all around the car when he heard a moan. Max took one of the rear doors, which looked as if it was beat up the least, and yanked. At times like this, it was amazing the strength a man could command. With a groan of the metal, the door opened. Luggage and blankets spilled out on the ground along with the body of a child. Max couldn’t tell much about the child, except it was cold. He took a blanket and wrapped it up. The child was standing and shivering. Max took a chance and decided that the child needed to get to where it was warm. Max took a turn of the rope about his waist and tied a one-hand bowline knot. He took the child in his arms and placing it over his shoulder, he proceeded to climb back up the embankment. The truckers were keeping the rope tight to help him.
When they got to the top. Max handed the child to the truckers as he made his final way over the top. “Hey, Max, weren’t you afraid you might cause her more injuries?” Chicken Farmer asked.
“Yes, but the ambulance will be, maybe, an hour or more getting here and it is freezing out here. Get the child over to my patrol car,” Max commanded. When they unwrapped the child and Max saw it was a girl about nine or ten. Chicken Farmer helped her into the passenger seat of Max’s cruiser. Max got out some first aid blankets. Two of them were army surplus wool and the rest were furniture pads, very worn out. Max had gotten them from the local U-Haul company. Max took the wool blankets and tucked them around her body. She was still shivering.
There was a knock on his window and Max rolled it down. It was Rump Buster. “Max, here is my spare thermos. You can return it to me on the flip side when I return in a couple of days. If she can drink it, the coffee it might warm her up and I know, you will need it. Me and ole’ Chicken Farmer are going to try to get our rigs up and on their way. The way it is snowing, it may take four hours to make the normal half hour trip to Santa Fe. The CB reported that Gloretta Pass is closed, so we probably will not go any further to night.
Max nodded his thanks and, taking the thermos, he again shut his window. Max poured a cup of the hot coffee and tasted it. It was bitter, but the liquid warmed him immediately. Max poured another cup and offered it to the girl. She carefully took it and made a face as she tasted it, but its warmth was too compelling. She drank it down.
Max took the microphone, “Car 103 to Albuquerque, I have a 10-41, female in the car, about nine years old, with me. She seems to be suffering from hypothermia, but otherwise, is all right.”
He heard over the wind howl, “Okay Max, the emergency equipment is on its way. Do you need any more help?” Maria’s voice was comforting in the storm.
Max had been generous when he said it would take an hour. It was much closer to two hours. The two vehicles arrived together. Max was sure they were giving moral support if not actual support to each other as they drove. The wrecker driver and the ambulance driver both using Max’s rope made their way down to the wreck. The assistant from the ambulance took the little girl over to the ambulance. She cried and clutched at Max. She had lost all she could stand for one night. “That’s all right honey, I will be right here. Let them take care of you. You can see me right outside through the window.” She didn’t seem convinced, but finally, she released Max and let the EMT, emergency medical technician, led her to the ambulance.
About that time, the Bernalillo Fire Department arrived. They answered most accidents because they had extrication equipment like the Jaws of Life, a huge motorized shear to cut their way through the metal of he vehicle to get to those inside.
The ambulance driver climbed back up. “Max, start another ambulance. The two inside are probably her parents and they are 10-7, dead. I don’t want to transport her in the same vehicle with their bodies. That is just not right,” the driver said.
“That is okay, Joe. If we start another ambulance, it will take another two hours or so to get it here. I want to clear this scene and get back to town. If you say she doesn’t have any injuries, I will take her back with me,” Max stated.
He called Albuquerque, “Car 103 to Albuquerque. Maria, I am going to take the 10-41 back in my car. Her parents are 10-7 and I do not want to wait for another ambulance.”
That is a good idea, Max. The ambulances are all backed up and it could be morning before we could get one to you, anyway. The good citizens are busting each other up all over town. Michael just called and said they have a real pile up at the Big I. He has two ambulances helping him there.”
“Thanks, Maria, I will get off the highway somewhere and use the side streets on my way in. Do you want to notify Child Services that we will be bringing in a customer?” Max asked.
“Sure thing, and good luck, Max. Michael said this was the worst storm any of the old timers could remember. I have the reserves working the phones. The phones were driving me crazy,” Maria answered.
Max knew that the reserves were hard-working volunteers who had good training, some as good as the regular officers. On nights like this, they would get out of their warm beds to help patrol and work the phones as a hobby. They were mostly nice guys and gals who wanted to experience police work, but they all had regular jobs. Well, most of them didn’t have jobs tomorrow. With this much snow, the city would be shut tighter than a rich man’s wallet. Only emergency crews would be working. He was sure Liz would be home and that the schools had already been called off for a snow day.
The back of the ambulance opened. A small figure wrapped in a blanket scurried out and ran over to Max. “I tried to keep her here, but she insisted in going back to you. I checked her over and I couldn’t find any thing except for bruises,” the EMT stated.
“That’s all right, Jeb. The others are 10-7 and your partner doesn’t want her to ride back with you. The ambulances are backed up for hours. I was lucky to get you guys before the midnight crowds let out. I wonder how many 10-47, drunks, they will have. A drunk in this weather is just a disaster waiting to happen.” Max was careful to not say anything about 10-7 meaning dead. She would have time enough to realize that she was alone, at least for a time, later.
The little girl was wrapped in her blanket, sitting in Max’s cruiser, fast asleep when Max saw the EMT, emergency techs, bring up two litters with the help of the firemen. They took almost an hour to winch the wreck back on the road and upon the flat bed of the wrecker. The crews were competent. They had picked up as much of her car’s contents and piled it all in the wreck. They tied the door that Max had sprung, and now, they were ready to go. One of the firemen came over to Max. He had a pink suitcase. “Here, Max, this looks like it would belong to a girl her age. Maybe, at least, she will have a few possessions she is familiar with.”
They had buttoned up everything they could. Max, with the help of a fireman, had mapped out the accident scene. He couldn’t do it exactly, because of the storm, but he did the best he could. With Max leading the way, they headed in.
When Max finally arrived at the station, he was met by Maria. The office was bustling with the reservists. They had everything they could control, working smoothly. “Max, Child services can’t get their car started. They are snowed in. They want us to hold the child or something,` until morning. The weather report says the storm will be over by noon tomorrow,” Maria said.
Max turned to her, “Maria, the girl has been beat up enough for the night. She is going to have a rough Christmas. Call Liz and tell her I am bringing the girl home. Liz is good with children. She is younger than those Liz teaches, but she will be better off with us, than with child services, even if they could ever get here.”
Maria smiled. Just like Michael, her boyfriend, Max was a softy at heart. He could whip his weight in drunks, but the eyes of a child would wilt him into a puddle. The morning shift was on their way and Michael would soon pick her up in the city squad car. If they bitched about him using the car for personal reasons, fuck ‘em. Michael, had been busted from sergeant and, then, promoted back, so many times, he couldn’t count them.
Liz got the call. At first, she was scared. All police wives live with the fear of a call saying their husband had been hurt or killed in the line of duty. When she was told, by Maria, that Max was bringing home a little girl who had lost everything, Liz was at first relieved, then saddened that this had happened to someone else.
Liz heard a tapping on the door. She wondered, Max has his key. When she opened the door, she saw Max covered in the falling snow holding a wrapped something in his arms. Max deposited the girl in the spare bed room and then, went back to the car for the pink suitcase.
Liz got the girl ready for bed and then, she and Max returned to their room. Max would sleep late tomorrow. Tomorrow was Chistmas Eve. Max, the next evening, he would be out on the highway, catching those celebrating too much but the little girl would wake up, on Christmas Eve to the fact that her world was now gone.