Watch the Birds by Michael Newman Simon awoke suddenly, the images from his nightmare still flashing

in his consciousness. It seemed as if every night was the same dream. He almost feared closing his eyes, but these days he needed the sleep. The nightmare, however, wasn't exclusive to the hours between one and five in the morning, the only sleep Simon typically ever got. The visions of that night on patrol, his partner Jacob lying on the ground, a single bullet hole in his neck, were as fresh as the night it had happened. The pain in his back as he sat up out of bed brushed the memories aside, at least for a moment. He gingerly made his way down the hallway to the bathroom, nursing his back all the way. The hot water from the shower always felt good. After showering, Simon toasted some bread till it was burned, (he liked it that way), and made a big pot of fresh ground coffee for his humorously oversized mug. Though Simon worked at a Hess gas station nowadays, but he hated the cheap coffee, he always had. As the french roast dripped slowly, Simon made his way to his tiny apartment balcony. He slid the glass door over sending a small group of cardinals soaring off into the suburban Boston air. He filled the bird feeder and went back inside, slowly closing the glass door and standing just inside. His doctor had said it would be therapeutic for him to have a pet, but the apartment building he lived in wouldn't allow anything like a dog or cat. So he bought a bird feeder instead. It made him happy to know that someone still relied him. Animals. his doctor would say, have a funny way of saying a whole lot without speaking. The cardinals flew back to the balcony as quickly as they had scattered and began to feed. Smiling, Simon watched one cardinal grab a seed and touch beaks with its mate. The other bird grabbed the seed and ate contently. Simon looked on, chomping down on the last bite of his midnight black toast, until drops of rain began to cover the glass. A sudden clap of thunder in the distance scattered the birds yet again. Another rainy day, said Simon, bemoaning the long weeks and months of largely dreary

weather. **** Simon quickly closed his truck door, shaking the droplets of rain off his jacket. The familiar smell of wet pavement filled the air. The storm had rolled in quickly. He turned the key to his truck, waiting while the engine coughed a little first, (a common occurrence), and turned onto the road, pulling hard on the wheel to turn the power steering-less old rust bucket around. As he turned his headlights on, he prayed the police wouldn't notice his right one was out. He thought maybe his days on the force would buy him insurance on something a small as a blown headlight. He drove slowly up Everett Ave., cars periodically honking at his unusually slow rate of speed as they blew past him, occasionally jumping him a little when a particularly loud horn would blare. He turned on the radio which was already tuned into his favorite sports station. The storm is rolling in, the host's static voice remarked through the truck's old speakers, and if things keep up like this, we're looking at cancellation of tonights ballgame Crap, Simon said under his breath. I was looking forward to that. He turned up Broadway, making his way to the Hess station where he worked, the rain coming down in sheets now. His wipers worked furiously to clear his windshield as he pulled into the parking lot. He drove around back and made his way into the store, moving as quickly as he could with a sore back to stay out of the rain. He hung his jacket up, put on his name tag, and went out front carrying his huge coffee mug and rubbing his back. Christine, Simon's boss, was holding a clipboard taking inventory. She looked over and smiled. Noticing Simon was holding his back, she made her way over. How you doin', asked Christine. OK, said Simon unconvincingly. I don't believe you, laughed Christine. Why? asked Simon, already knowing the answer. Come on. Your grabbing ya back and ya hands ah shaking, like they always do.

Simon looked down at the grey tiled floor, a little ashamed of his condition. How is your PTSD? You wah making progress, right? asked Christine. It's touch and go, you know? But, I think I see a light at the end of the tunnel, and it's not a train, joked Simon, trying to lighten the mood. Christine laughed and placed her hand on Simon's shoulder. Well, let me know if you need anything, OK? Christine said reassuringly. K, responded Simon. Christine made her way back to her work looking over her shoulder for just a second to look at Simon. She was an attractive middle-aged woman, and Simon had long wanted to ask her to dinner; however, his condition had stopped him from doing so. There's no way Christine would say yes, he thought. Not if she knew. **** It was seven fifteen in the morning and Simon was carrying crates of milk into the cooler. The store was getting busy and Adn was the only one at the register. Christine walked to the front of the cooler and opened the door, looking through the empty milk rows at Simon. Can you take register two Simon? Sure, said Simon, quickly sliding in a few jugs of milk. As Simon was about to close the cooler, two young men walked in the front door. They didn't appear any different than the other hundred young men who walked in every morning, but they looked very nervous and were moving awkwardly. Simon's time as an officer told everything he needed to know about these two, and it wasn't good. He continued to spy through the cooler glass until Christine's face appeared suddenly through the cooler. She swung open the door, jarring Simon from his trance. What ah you doin' Simon? Adn needs you up front! Christine whispered forcefully. Simon swung his head around and stared at Christine like a deer in the headlights.

Yeah, sorry. It's OK, just...hurry up, alright? Christine said, a little bit softer this time. Simon made his way out into the store, all the while keeping an eye on the two young men who, by now, were in the far corner. Simon could see that the two were arguing over something. He greeted the next customer and rang them up. Thank you, come again, said Simon handing them the change. Suddenly, one of the young men rushed towards the register, and as he did, he pulled a .40 caliber handgun from his pants pocket and pointed it at Adn's head. Empty the register! He screamed, the gun shaking slightly in his hand. OK, OK! said Adn, terrified and shaking. The second young man ran to the door looking outside and then back at his friend. He seemed extremely nervous. Simon immediately felt every memory rushing back like the storm surge from a hurricane. He tried to suppress them, but he couldn't help it anymore. He was reliving it all. **** Four years ago. Simon was working an overnight patrol in downtown Lynn with his partner Jacob, or Jay as all the guys on the force called him. It was around 1:00am and they hadn't had a single grab all night. Jay slapped the back of his hand on the chest of Simon. You wanna coffee? There's a place cross the street. Sure, said Simon, even though he wasn't very fond of cheap coffee. Alright then. Be right back, Jay said opening the door and stepping out. Don't you go on no high speed chase or nothin' without me. No problem. I'll ask the perps to wait up for a second while I pick you up, Simon sarcastically yelled out his window. A few minutes after Jay had entered the shop, Simon heard a loud noise. It was the sound of glass shattering and it was coming from around the corner. Simon got out of the squad car and pulled

his 9mm M&P from it's holster, holding it down near his waist. He reached the corner of the street and quickly pulled around the building, raising his gun. Nothing. He noticed broken glass a few yards up and made his way to it, scanning the street for any suspicious persons. The glass was from a small firearms dealer that had its entire front door broken. Simon lifted his gun and slowly stepped through the door's empty frame. He was about to holler out when the butt of a Smith and Wesson shotgun struck him in the head. He fell to the ground, landing on a bed of glass shards. The robber, or robbers, Simon wasn't quite sure, jumped over him and ran out the door. He stumbled to his feet and took off after them, kicking himself for going into the store. He rounded the corner where his squad car was and saw a dark figure sanding there, an object pointed at him. Simon fired two shots, dropping the suspect. He walked forward, gun raised, when there next to the body, he noticed two cups of hot coffee spilled all over the sidewalk. **** Adn stuffed the last of the cash into the knapsack the young man had hanging over the counter. Is that it, yelled the young man with the gun. Yeah, yeah, murmured Adn. That's it. We gotta go, yelled the second young man. We got company! A police car pulled in to the Hess station and occupied an open pump. Simon knew that the situation had just been elevated about one hundred degrees and was scrambling to find a way out. He looked at the young man with the gun and noticed that the magazine was not fully seated. This type of malfunction could cause a misfire, and Simon knew it was possibly his only chance. Too late, shouted the young man with the gun. It's a cop! The police officer was walking to the front doors of the Hess station when the young man with the gun shouted. Get back! Or we'll shoot!

The officer stopped abruptly and raised his arms up. He slowly walked backwards towards his car. The two young men, extraordinarily confused and now sweating, began arguing with one another. We hafta take a hostage if we're gonna get outta this, remarked the young man with the gun. No! We can make it out if... Before the second young man could finish, the one with the gun grabbed Christine who was knelt down behind the periodicals. The young man held the gun to her head and yelled to the cop just beyond the glass. You're gonna let us outta here or I'll put a bullet through her head! Don't do anything foolish now, said the officer, trying to cool down a quickly escalating situation. We don't want anyone to get hurt here. Simon slowly moved around the counter and walked closer to the young man and Christine. He was trembling with fear, the thought of Jay, bouncing around in his head like a pinball. His back was in real pain now, but he ignored it as best he could. If I could only create a distraction, there may be a chance, he thought. And with a misfiring gun, the chances were good. Meanwhile, the two young men still stood at the door, yelling at the officer. Back up! Back away, yelled the young man holding Christine. I'm gonna back up, just stay calm, the officer pleaded. Tears trickled down Christine's cheeks like the raindrops on the windows, but she didn't make a sound. Simon continued to walk slowly toward the two young men and stopped just a few feet away. The man holding Christine heard a noise and spun around, now pointing the gun straight at Simon. Simon was sweating and felt a little queasy, but he stood firm. Let her go. Get back, screamed the young man, thrusting the point of his gun at Simon. It's gonna be OK Christine alright, said Simon, taking a step toward the barrel of the gun. Just as he did, the young man holding Christine pulled the trigger. Simon quickly closed his

eyes as Christine let out a scream. Simon heard only a click. All of a sudden, the glass from the front door shattered as a single gun shot rang out and hit the young man holding Christine in the back of the leg. He dropped to the floor, screaming in pain. Christine leaped away, falling toward Simon. Simon caught her and they both fell to the ground. The second, trepidatious young man immediately lifted his hands and knelt on the floor. Simon scrambled over and retrieved the gun off the the floor, taking out of reach from the robbers. It was the first time he had held one in four years. The officer stepped over pointing his gun at the two young men. Put your hands behind your head, shouted the officer to the one robber not writhing on the ground in agony. He then made a call on his radio to the dispatch. I've got a 1045 on a 1027 with two perps, they are both in custody and one has been shot, I'm gonna need an ambulance. The sun shone through the open door way and sparkled on the wet, broken glass like the windows of an old cathedral. Simon looked up at the clouds that were now dissipating and then looked down at Christine. She was smiling, a good sign all things considered. Simon smiled and grabbed a hold of Christine's hand. Your hands aren't shaking, exclaimed Christine, and your lying right on your back. Your right, said Simon, I am. Doesn't it hurt, asked Christine, fully expecting a miracle. He paused and looked out the door only to see a small cardinal perched outside on a gas pump. It looked around, seemingly unfazed by the situation that had developed just a few feet away, and then took off into the, now, blue sky. Simon looked back down at Christine. Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime, asked Simon. I'd love to.