Brush Creek Charlie, D. B. Reynolds [top non fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

Charlie blatantly ignored the cultural argument from the soldiers in his infantry. A tall, dark-complexioned, and well-packaged soldier from another infantry stepped into the hut only a few minutes after Charlie. Jamie Long was his name, a black man from North Carolina who’d already served a tour of duty. His bulky football physique dominated most of the space.
“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,” Jamie said with a disapproving grin. “Please don’t tell me you’re here to try this nasty rat meat.”
“Shouldn’t knock it until you try it,” Charlie hinted. “Meat is meat, and the aroma’s got my stomach wanting some.”
“Gross!” Jamie frowned. “The next plague will be through the rats. Forget about the bird flu, these things are gonna kill off a whole country.”
“Good eating or not, this is what’cha gotta do to survive sometimes.”
“I’d rather starve.”
“Jamie, these people live worse than anybody in any ghetto back in the states. If they weren’t eating this, that’s exactly what they’d do, they would literally starve to death.”
“In the ghettos of North Carolina, we fought off rats in order to keep food in our house. My younger brother got bit by a big rat and had to get all kinds of rabies shots. Rats dug holes through our walls and did all kinds of damage to our house, a house that was already falling apart from the top to the bottom. Charlie, we had rats and they fucking gave me the creeps.”
“Tell ya what, Jamie. Let me try some and let you know how it tastes.”
“Go right ahead my friend.”
Charlie bit into a sandwich with rat meat cooked and seasoned to perfection. The Vietnamese cooks smiled satisfactorily when they seen Charlie ripping into the sandwich. Truly appetizing couldn’t’ve described how good it tasted.
“Charlie, you know you’re one crazy fucking dago, don’t you?” Jamie resisted, the hardest frown rippled through his face.
“Now I’ve got a story to tell when I get back home.”
“What story?”
“How good rat burgers are.”
“Sick! Sick! Sick! That’s what you are, Charlie.”
Charlie came back to the present. Heavier waters dropped from the tunnel ceiling. Thick sewage shot every direction from the pounding splashes. Semi-bright rays of moonlight spilled inside the tunnel. The squealing noises increased with each passing second. Charlie looked around at every inch of the tunnel. Much to his dismay, four large sewer rats had emerged from the murky sewer waters and onto the wet concrete. The four huge rodents shook off excess water and looked every direction to find their bearings.
An extreme rush of adrenalin shot through Charlie. Supernatural reflexes charged him with enough speed to rush one of the sewer rats and grab it by the head and midsection. The other three dove back into the water and swam further up the tunnel. Jerking and biting wasn’t tactical enough for the oversized rat to break the iron grip of Charlie’s powerful hands. Bones along the rat’s vertebrae were cracked. Fizzling saliva shot from its mouth. The deep gashes of the rat bites along his hands didn’t bother Charlie one bit. Vietnam toughened him to ignore pain.
A mighty burst of light shot into the dark tunnel. Mixed with the already glowing moonlight which dominated the nighttime skies, a brightness strong enough to raise the dead had somewhat revealed every subject inside the tunnel. Charlie dropped the dead rodent to the ground. Where’d this unexpected explosion of light come from?
A proud uniformed officer stood on the other side of the calm creek waters with his service revolver pointed straight towards Charlie. Little did Charlie know that several KCPD officers were assigned to keep Brush Creek under tight surveillance. It’s my ass they’ve got! Thoughts like those nearly made him shit his pants.
“Hey, what are you doing here in Brush Creek this late?” asked the highly-skilled, fiercely attentive KCPD officer. He held his pistol steady, ready to put a hot one in the chest of Charlie.
Charlie gulped out a nervous response. “Officer, I’m just taking a night stroll.”
“Night stroll my ass!” the officer disregarded, watching every his every move.
“No seriously, I just came for a late walk to clear my mind.”
“Betcha ready to dump another body in Brush Creek, aren’t you?”
“Who me?”
“Yes you.”
“Officer, I’m innocent.”
The police officer knew he’d nailed the right guy. “Alright, I want you to interlock your fingers and place your hands on top of your head.”
Charlie obeyed his command. He placed both hands at the top center of his head.
“Now, very slowly, I want you to turn away from facing me.”
Charlie followed his instructions with exact detail.
“Alright, I want you to bend down to your knees and cross your legs.”
The officer didn’t mind getting his shoes and uniform dirty by crossing the sewage waters. This showed true dedication to his work. As he approached Charlie with the gun pointed at his back, Charlie had his eyes on a big chunk of concrete from the tunnel. Enemy personnel tucked away in the Vietnamese jungles were no match for him. No way would a police officer be a match for him, no matter how much training he had. With the officer being approximately fifteen yards away, Charlie felt he had to make his move. He refused to be taken down when there was so much more killing to do.
Jumping at a phenomenal speed, he dove for the chunk of concrete and rolled towards the other side of the tunnel. The officer fired the first shot. The bullet ricocheted off the tunnel floor. Before another round was discharged from the revolver, Charlie threw the large rock. His aim hit its target like a baseball pitcher throwing the perfect strike. The rock struck the officer right between his eyes. The impact wasn’t pretty at all. Blood squirted from the corner of his eyes. He dropped both his gun and the floodlight.
Charlie took off running towards the opposite end of the tunnel. For the disgruntled officer, it was far from over. Slight damage might’ve been done to his sight, but he could still reach for his walkie talkie and radio for help. A familiar crackling noise shot over the radio of Officer Richard Dolan. More giant sewer rats jumped into the murky creek waters and created mild splashes. Officer Dolan jerked his bright floodlight all along the tunnel floor and walls to make sure none of the aggressive rodents wanted to attack him.
“912 to respond, 912 to respond,” Officer Dolan spoke, doses of anger going into the radio.
“Go ahead,” responded the dispatcher at the command unit.
“This is Officer Richard Dolan. Are you clear?”
“Yes, Officer Dolan, everything’s clear.”
“Can I get a ‘King One’ canine unit down here in Brush Creek?”
“What’s your exact ten-twenty there at Brush Creek?”
“I’m here at the vicinity of Brush Creek Boulevard and Swope Parkway.”
“Canine unit will be dispatched very soon.”
“Please alert other units that this suspect is considered armed and dangerous.”
“Stand by.”
“Ten-four.”
And while Officer Dolan stoodby for the help he so diligently needed, he watched his back to make sure none of the rats who did their hunting through the night decided to have him as a meal.
Quicker than a shooting star fading across midnight skies, the KCPD canine unit responded to the urgency of Officer Richard Dolan. Master Patrol Officer Seth Jacobson arrived at Brush Creek in less than fifteen minutes. A tall, broad-shouldered, and compact man with a bushy brown mustache and frizzy thinning hair, Jacobson had been partnered up with Bruno, one of the strongest and healthiest German Shepard canines throughout the entire police department. Bruno stood proud with a noticeable muscular frame. A shiny coat bolstered how he’d eaten good and exercised regularly.
“Richie, what happened down here in Brush Creek?” inquired Officer Jacobson, itching to turn Bruno loose to capture their assailant.
Officer Dolan pointed over at the dark tunnel. “Spotted some guy standing around inside the tunnel.”
“A vagrant?”
“Possibly a suspect involved with those two Brush Creek killings.”
“You get a look at him?”
“The floodlight sorta flashed across his face.”
“Well?”
“He had a nightmare-of-a-face.”
Officer Jacobson moved closer to his valued colleague. “Think you might need medical attention, Richie?”
“Wouldn’t hurt to let the med techs look at me.”
“I’m ready to send Bruno inside the tunnel.”
“After he whacked me in the face with the rock, he ran the other way.”
“Where, towards the stadium?”
“Sure did. Hey, I think we should also get the air unit out here.”
“Wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
MPO Jacobson snapped the lease from around the neck of Bruno and released him. The one-hundred and sixty pound German Shepard shot right into the tunnel to apprehend the dangerous suspect. Only minutes after entering the tunnel, Bruno picked up a scent. The human scent belonged to Charlie. Traveling through Vietnamese jungles with enemy personnel on all sides were no challenge. Finding his way through a sewage-infested tunnel with a canine in hot pursuit was fun.
Charlie stomped through knee-high waters as human and animal waste splashed all over his body. Bruno barked louder the closer he got to his target. More large sewer rats squealed from the holes they’d dug from both sides of the tunnel. Possums found sanctuary from the upper crest of the tunnel. Why didn’t Charlie take the big lead he’d been given before the canine unit had been called out?
He might’ve been up for another one of his sick challenges. The faster Charlie ran, the louder Bruno barked. Officers Dolan and Jacobson waited to see if the police canine had apprehended their suspect. Charlie was only a few yards from the end of the long tunnel. Bruno’s superior senses got him a few short feet away from his prize. The prize had greater survival skills than any canine alive. Only a short distance were between