Falsely Accused Ch. 04

"You bet." Cindy said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The plan, long since made with Laura, was that I would drive my Police SUV right up to the back door of the Psychology Building, the door to the parking lot, and we are talking within three feet of it, so that she could get the kids and herself into the vehicle as it blocked any threats or gunfire.

But you know what they say about the best laid plans...

As we got there and drove up, I could see immediately that it was too late. People were streaming towards the Psychology Building from every direction, and they had signs, baseball bats, and things like rocks and bottles. There were at least 100 people coming towards the building already.

"Get into the building!" I shouted to Cindy, whose side of the SUV was next to the building door. I got and and ran around the car as the first rocks whizzed past me. One rock hit the windshield of the SUV, which was bulletproof and unharmed. Another rock hit the door as I ran through it, slamming it shut and locking it. I also had locked the doors to the SUV.

"Croyle!" I shouted into my cellphone as Cindy and I went into Laura's office. "We're under attack! Psychology Building!"

"Roger that, sir. On our way!" Teresa replied.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Psychology Building was now ringed by screaming 'students', as well as older persons dressed like unkempt students. The SWAT Team and other TCPD units massing in the strip mall across the street. No Campus Police nor State Troopers were to be seen anywhere.

Teresa went down the street to see what was going on, and saw the danger. She saw the orange flash of a fire, then the bottle with a flaming cloth hurling towards the building. It was a Molotov cocktail!

The Psychology Building was one of the oldest on campus, and the off-white-painted heavy bricks were fireproof and sturdy. The first Molotov cocktail hit the side of the building between the windows of Laura's office. The gasoline exploded, but there was no further damage.

"Charles! Get up here!" shouted Teresa into the Police radio. "Charles! Where are you?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Do not cross the street!" shouted Della Harlow to Sergeant Charles. "That's an order!"

"Ma'am, Captain Croyle just called us---" said Charles.

"Sergeant! I outrank you, and I outrank her! Stand down! Now!" shouted Harlow. Charles hesitated, unsure what to do...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We could hear the chatter on Cindy's Police radio. I heard Teresa calling for Charles several times.

"Hewitt!" called Teresa, "Charles is not responding. Deploy to the Psychology Building!"

"Wilco!" yelled Hewitt. But his team was further back...

The windows to Laura's office were thick glazed glass that one could not really see out of. The windows opened sideways, like French doors, and I opened one slightly to see what was outside. What I saw was a large number of screaming people, their eyes filled with the intent to do bodily harm, if not outright murder.

"Croyle!" I shouted into Cindy's radio, "we're under attack! My family is in here! I need help NOW!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Come on, guys!" shouted Charles, about to lead his team across.

"Anyone that doesn't stand down will be prosecuted and do jail time!" shouted Della Harlow. "I swear to God I'll have you jailed and prosecuted!" Again Sergeant Charles hesitated. At that moment, Teresa Croyle came running up.

"Come ON, Charles!" Teresa shouted. "The Commander's family is under attack!"

"Fuck you, Croyle!" shouted Harlow. "You have your orders, Charles!"

"Charles, *I* am your direct chain of command, not this fat bitch!" Teresa snarled back. "Let's fucking GO!"

"Come on!" came a voice. Lt. Irwin had his 1st Precinct Officers on the run, and they were now crossing the street. Hewitt also had his SWAT troops coming up.

But it was too late...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"There's the bastard!" shouted a scraggly, bearded young man. Someone lit a Molotov cocktail and he hurled it at the window I was peeking out of. It missed the window by a foot, and I felt the heat of the explosion. The wall did not catch fire, and the spots on the grass below died out.

Time slowed down.

I saw the guy grab another bottle full of gasoline and someone lighting the cloth. Instinctively, I knew that the next throw would hit the window and shatter it, and that burning material would be inside, setting Laura's office on fire. And with no place to run, not even the dungeon downstairs, my family was dead. I did what I had to do.

As the punk cocked his arm back to throw the incendiary device, I opened the window, already drawing my gun from its holster and taking off the safety. Before the bastard could throw the Molotov cocktail, I aimed and fired three shots.

*BLAM!* *BLAM!* *BLAM!*

Two little holes appeared in the dead center of the thug's dirty t-shirt, then became crimson spots as he fell backwards. The third shot hit the perp just under the left eye. The Molotov cocktail slipped out of his hand, and panicked protesters collided as they tried to get away from him as the bottle exploded, engulfing him in a swirling fire. He did not scream out, and I knew he was dead already...

To be continued.