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Cries of a Shadow	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2758 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
There was a subtle shift in temperature as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, the impending dusk transforming the western sky from faded blue to an artist’s palette of muted pink and orange tones. Across from the aquatic center, Tom and Dennis loitered at a bus stop, their teenage attire helping them blend into the urban environment. However, despite Tom’s outwardly composed appearance, the young officer was anything but calm. His eyes scanned the street, searching for any sign of their suspect, his senses primed and ready. Tyrell Carson was an unknown entity, and therefore, he needed to stay alert and not become too complacent. While Booker had voiced a certain amount of skepticism, Tom knew all too well the dangers of dealing with teenage felons, and he never underestimated their intellect. Despite their tender years, many of those he had arrested had the cunning of a seasoned criminal, making them equally formidable. Therefore, even though his theory about Tyrell was based purely on speculation, he was not about to let down his guard. Flying blind always made him nervous, but he was confident in his skills as a police officer and having Booker by his side gave him an added sense of security. So far, the dark-haired officer had proved himself a worthy partner, and he was grateful for the backup. Booker was intelligent, eager, and he brought a fresh perspective to the case while readily accepting guidance. Overall, he was the perfect colleague, and despite his previous reservations, Tom hoped Fuller would see their compatibility and pair them together in future cases. After all, Booker had apologized to him, and therefore, he saw no reason to hold a grudge. A clean slate was all they needed to start again, and he was happy to give his new partner another chance if it meant salvaging their friendship.
“Is that him?”
Tom’s gaze followed Booker’s, and squinting his eyes, he scrutinized the three figures approaching the swimming center. “Yep. Let’s go.”
The two officers strolled across the street, their demeanors casual despite the adrenaline secreting from their glands. If all went to plan, they would be one step closer to making an arrest and shutting down the drug ring operating out of the high school. But first, they had to infiltrate the gang, and to do so, they needed to play it cool or risk detection.
“Hey, fellas,” Tyrell greeted. “I wasn’t sure you’d show. Nice of you not to keep me waiting.”
Tom stepped forward, the right corner of his upper lip curling into a sneer. “Yeah? Well, when we’re talking about money, we’re always punctual. Right, Brady?”
“Right,” Booker confirmed, his tough-guy mask showing little emotion. He was happy to let Tom take the lead, especially if it helped bolster the young officer's confidence. He trusted his friend’s abilities, and there was no point in them both fighting for the dominant role.
Tyrell nodded at the two teens by his side. “This is Seth and Joel,” he introduced. “They’re friends of mine.”
“Don’t care,” Tom replied in a bored voice. “Let's get down to business.”
A wide grin spread across Tyrell’s face. So far, McQuaid and Brady were living up to their reputations, and he mentally started to visualize all the cool things he could buy with the extra money he would make after recruiting the two misfits. But first, they had to pass the test, and with a twitch of his head, he turned and walked toward the back of the building. “Follow me.”
Tom and Dennis trailed behind the teen, their muscles tensed in readiness. Seth and Joel brought up the rear, their heads bowed together in deep conversation. Their voices were too low for the officers to hear what they were saying, but from their accelerated rate of speech, it was obvious they were excited about something. Booker shot Tom a look, one eyebrow arching, his expression questioning. In return, Tom gave a slight shrug. He had no idea what had the teens so hyped, but experience had taught him to be prepared for anything.
When the two officers turned the corner of the building, they found Tyrell leaning casually against a giant oak. The relaxed, almost rubbery way he reclined against the tree gave him an air of confidence much older than his years, and Tom’s instincts immediately went on high alert. Hidden from the road, the shady expanse of trees provided shelter from prying eyes, making it the perfect environment for an ambush. If it came down to a fight, three against two wasn’t a difficult task. But as the young officer had no idea if there were others concealed in the leafy environment, he moved closer to his partner and muttered a warning out of the corner of his mouth. “It could be a trap. Stay vigilant.”
Booker gave a barely perceivable nod of his head. The nervous excitement coursing through his body coupled with the slight tremor of trepidation was what he lived for. He was an addict, and the adrenaline high rarely disappointed. They were venturing into the unknown, and he couldn’t wait to find out what it was they were about to face.
As Tom and Dennis approached, Tyrell motioned toward a rectangular window situated above a large double door. “I hope you’re agile.”
The two undercover officers gazed up at the open transom window, but it was Booker who posed the obvious question. “How the hell are we supposed to climb through that?”
“Easy,” Tyrell grinned, and with the nimbleness of a cat, he shimmied up the trunk of the tree and out onto an overhanging branch. With the window now in reach, he pushed his feet through the gap and with a wink, he slithered through the opening and disappeared inside.
“Jesus,” Tom muttered. “Do you think we’ll fit?”
“Only one way to find out,” Booker replied, and before Tom could stop him, he scaled the tree and dropped through the opening.
Annoyed at his partner’s impulsive actions, Tom stood staring up at the window, a deep frown creasing his brow. But before he had time to overthink his plan of attack, Seth Madison stepped toward him, his expression menacing. “Whaddya waiting for, butthead, get inside...Now!”
While the words were threatening, the teen’s delivery was shaky, and Tom made a mental note of the conflicting behavior. It appeared Tyrell Carson was both the brains and the brawn behind the operation, and if it came down to a physical fight, the young officer’s inner voice told him he could take out the two lackeys without breaking a sweat. But Tyrell was a whole different kettle of fish. It was obvious the high school thug had backup other than the two teens standing beside him, and the knowledge had Tom proceeding with caution. But the exhilarating game of cat and mouse between the hunter and the hunted was what he loved most about his job, and despite his nerves, he couldn’t wait to jump head first into the contest because deep down, he was sure he would win.
As he approached the tree, he shot a withering look at Seth. “Or what, dickwad?”
Unsettled by Tom’s attitude, the corner of Seth’s left eye twitched nervously, and he took a step back. “N-Nuthin’,” he stuttered. “It’s just...we d-don’t wanna be seen.”
Smothering a grin, Tom scaled the tree and crawled out onto the oak’s leafy limb. As he inched his feet through the window, he briefly wondered what would happen when he landed inside. But a part of him was dying to find out, and with his senses primed by the excess adrenaline his body was producing, he grasped the window’s aluminum frame and slipped toward the unknown.
The nine-foot drop jarred his ankles, but he flexed his knees to absorb some of the jolt before rolling onto his side. He scrambled to his feet, his pride wounded, but he quickly recovered and ignoring Booker's amused grin, he focused on his surroundings.
The Olympic size pool took up over three-quarters of the available floor space, its clear water deceiving many of its depth. The vast expanse of water made Tom nervous, and for the first time, he started to wonder why Tyrell had chosen the public pool for their rendezvous. But before had time to ponder the whys and wherefores of their location, Seth dropped through the window, closely followed by Joel.
“Let’s take a tour,” Tyrell instructed, his tone friendly, and walking past the wooden bleachers, he stopped beside the edge of the pool.
“This,” he indicated with a sweep of his arm, “is where we sort the men from the boys.”
Seth giggled, and a chill ran down the length of Tom’s spine. But the young officer managed to control his rising panic by channeling his inner McQuaid. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Cocking his head to one side, Tyrell’s ice-blue eyes fixed on Tom’s face. “It’s quite simple, McQuaid. There’s been a lot of talk about the mayor’s undercover program. Have you heard of it?”
Tom’s expression remained neutral. “I have.”
“Then you’ll understand my concern,” Tyrell continued. “So, before I say anything more, I need to make sure you’re not part of this secret team.”
A scornful snort echoed throughout the swimming center. “You’re joking, right? Do we look like cops to you?”
Unmoved by Tom’s reaction, Tyrell continued to stare at him, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Well, that’s kinda the point, McQuaid. These cops look exactly like teenagers, so it’s hard to tell. But we’ve come up with a way to make sure our potential friends aren’t wired and about to arrest us. Not that we’re doing anything wrong, of course, but it pays to be careful.”
Apprehension flashed in Tom’s eyes before he quickly gained control of his emotions. “Yeah? So, what’s this genius plan of yours? Enlighten me.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Tyrell walked around the two officers, his pace slow and measured. “It’s quite simple. I’m going to give you two choices. You can either strip naked or jump in the pool.”
Anxiety raised the fine hairs on the back of Tom’s neck, and another rush of epinephrine surged through his system. Public nudity and water were his two greatest fears and taking a deep breath, his gaze flitted toward the pool.
Yellow light danced over the still water, the amber glow of a street light filtering in through the narrow window bathing the pool in its luminescence. The artificial radiance created abstract patterns on the white tiled walls, giving the illusion of movement. Most would have found the serene ambiance calming, but for Tom, it was a vision straight out of one of his nightmares. Over time, he’d developed a fear of water, and while others experienced the terror of falling when trapped in the REM cycle of sleep, in his dreams, he was always drowning. His phobia was deep-seated, and he no longer went swimming. But strangely, if he had a life vest, he was still able to enjoy the ocean’s tranquility if he were on a boat. He put the disparity down to his favorite childhood memory, a vision so pure, even the brutality of his punishment couldn’t destroy the contentment he derived from it. While it proved the complexity of the human mind, he never questioned the paradox too closely, for fear of bursting the bubble and destroying one of his last remaining pleasures. His memories were all he had left of his past life and to lose them would surely be the beginning of his end.
Fighting back his fear, the young officer attempted to portray an air of nonchalance. “Hey, man, I’m not getting wet just ‘cause you’re paranoid.”
A grin curled Tyrell’s lips, but it failed to reach his eyes. “C’mon, McQuaid, it's just a little water. Whaddaya afraid of? Unless you’ve got something to hide.”
Booker shot Tom a quizzical look. He couldn’t figure out why his friend was stalling. But he quickly realized they were losing face, and so he decided to take control of the situation. “I’ll go first,” he offered, and kicking off his boots, he walked to the side of the pool and stared into its depths.
“I don’t care who goes first,” Tyrell growled, all traces of his friendly demeanor vanishing along with his patience. “But one of you had better get in, or I’ll get Seth and Joel to throw you in. Got it?”
“No problem,” Booker replied with a smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Tom’s worried face. In his mind, anything was better than stripping naked in front of a group of strangers, and Tom’s hesitancy surprised him. But he put it down to his friend’s overcautious nature, and removing his most valuable item—his jacket— he shot him a cheeky wink and dived into the pool.
Tom’s muscles tensed, his anxiety curling his fingers into fists. Holding his breath, he suffered through several long, agonizing moments, his heart hammering against his chest, waiting...watching...counting down the seconds in his mind until Booker’s head bobbed to the surface. When he caught sight of his friend’s dark hair, he exhaled a weighty sigh. But his relief was short lived. As Booker effortlessly swam to the side of the pool, the cold hand of fear once again gripped his heart, and he gulped down his rising panic. His lower lip pulled between his teeth as he tried to focus his mind. Tyrell had given him two choices, neither ideal, leaving him caught between a rock and a hard place. Both options were likely to bring on a panic attack, the trauma of which would prove him unworthy in the teen’s eyes. But he couldn’t just stand there like the coward he was and not expect the shadow of suspicion to fall upon him. His lack of courage was putting the whole program at risk, and he knew he needed to act fast or live with the consequences forever.
But before he could formulate a stalling tactic to buy him some time, Tyrell Carson made his decision for him. “Time’s up, McQuaid. The pool it is. Throw him in, boys.”
The color drained from Tom’s face, and he slowly backed away. “Hey, w-wait a minute,” he stammered, his dark eyes widening in panic. “Can’t we—”
He hit the deck of the pool hard, the weight of Seth’s body forcing a loud oooff from between his lips. Before he could recover, Joel immobilized his legs by grabbing his ankles, giving Seth the opportunity to gain his footing. Seconds later, his wrists were captured in a vice-like grip, and he was lifted off the ground, his body suspended between the two teens. Instinctively, he started to struggle, his body swaying erratically as he fought to gain his release. Behind him, he heard a shout, but he couldn’t make out the frantically spoken words. Laughter sounded in his ears, taunting him, the distorted echo bouncing off the walls. Realizing he was unable to break free, his frightened eyes sought out Booker. But when strong arms propelled his body from side to side, he became disoriented, and he started to yell, his panic mounting. “STOP! PLEASE STOP!”
But his desperate plea went unanswered. Instead, a loud voice started to count. “Ooone...twooo...threee!”
Tom hit the pool with a splash, the force knocking the air from his lungs. Instantly, the water engulfed him, swallowing him beneath its icy depths. Voices echoed from above, but the silence inside his head screamed louder than any sound. Invisible arms wrapped around him, pulling him toward the bottom of the pool, the pressure squeezing his empty lungs. Panicked, his limbs refused to function, and he began to sink, his eyes wide open, the weight of his clothes dragging him down. His chest burned, demanding air, forcing his mouth open in one last silent cry for help. But before he drew in a final watery breath, the ghostly apparition transformed into a solid form, and he was propelled back toward the light.
His face broke the surface, and with a gasp, he sucked in a fresh breath. Spluttering, he struggled to keep his head above water, his mind still panicked. As his breath rasped from his tortured lungs, he sank back below the waterline. Chlorine stung his eyes and his nose and mouth filled with water, but he managed to push back to the surface and coughing loudly, he forced his limbs to cooperate and keep him afloat.
“Hey, man. Are you okay?”
The voice sounded out of breath, and turning his head, Tom wiped a trembling hand over his eyes. Booker’s worried face slowly came into focus, and it was then he realized the dark-haired officer was treading water next to him.
“Yeah,” he managed to choke. “I th-think so.”
“Can you make it back to the edge of the pool or do you want me to help you?”
“I can do it,” Tom replied, wary of the three sets of eyes watching from the poolside.
“Alright, but I’m right beside you, okay?”
Too exhausted to swim properly, Tom doggie-paddled to the steps at the corner of the pool. As he and Booker climbed out, a chorus of slow claps met their ears.
“Very heroic, Brady,” Tyrell chuckled. “I’m betting little Tommy wants to give you a big sloppy kiss for saving his life.”
“Shut up, Carson,” Booker growled, water pooling around his feet. “We did what you asked, now tell us, what’s your plan?”
The sight of Tom and Dennis’ bedraggled appearance gave Tyrell an inordinate amount of pleasure, and his grin widened. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you already know what I’m offering. So, are you in or out?”
Somewhat impressed by the way Carson had managed to deflect his demand so as not to incriminate himself, Booker asked what he hoped was the obvious question. “What’s our cut?”
Tyrell Carson took a moment to study his two prospective sellers before deciding they were trustworthy. “Ten percent,” he replied. “But we’re not talking dime bags, boys. This is a very lucrative business, if you get my drift.”
The information came as no surprise to the officers. Tom had already deduced Tyrell was nothing more than a teenage contact for a local drug cartel, which meant they were talking hard drugs and not just weed. But having already tipped off Fuller, they had a strategy in place to fund the operation.
“We do,” Booker confirmed with a smile. “So, when do we start?”
“You’ll be hearing from me,” Carson advised, and casting a nod in the direction of his two friends, he turned and walked away.
Booker addressed the teen’s retreating back. “Hey, how do we get out of here?”
Without breaking stride, Tyrell held up a key. “Through the door. Slam it closed when you leave.”
Amused, Booker turned to Tom. “Geez, and he made us climb—hey, Hanson, are you okay?”
Tom stood shivering, his wet hair plastered to his pale face. “Cold,” he informed his friend through chattering teeth.
After collecting his boots and jacket, Booker placed an arm around Tom’s trembling shoulders. “My place is closer. Let’s go there and dry off. Okay?”
With a confirmatory nod, Tom followed the dark-haired officer out of the aquatic center. Wednesday night was Will’s bowling night, so he did not fear any reprisals for staying out late. Also, it would give him an opportunity to see where Booker lived, which, he hoped, would further cement their blossoming friendship.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Cries of a Shadow