Infected

61.

Officer Ed McKinley turned left onto Washtenaw Avenue and headed east toward Ypsilanti. Traffic slowed all around the Ann Arbor police cruiser, just a touch, even for people who traveled at the speed limit. In the passenger seat, Officer Brian Vanderpine stared out the window, far more alert and attentive than usual.

“Eight dead,” Brian said. “Man, that’s a lot.”

“That’s the tenth time you’ve said that, Brian,” Ed said. “How about you give it a rest?”

“I just can’t get over this. Shit like this doesn’t happen in Ann Arbor.”

“Well it does now,” Ed said. “I’m not surprised, really. We’ve got foreigners from all over the damn planet going to school here. And every last one of them thinks America is evil.”

“Yeah, we’re evil, but they sure are happy to come here and get an education from us.”

Ed snorted. “Yeah. I guess the schools aren’t evil, just everything else about our culture. Funny how that works out so well for them.”

“I would love to find the bastard responsible for all this,” Brian said.

“You think the feds know what they’re doing?”

Ed shrugged. “I dunno. Something fishy is going on, that’s for sure. They show up exactly when this shit goes down. Not before. We get no warning, just a body count.”

The radio squawked: “Car seventeen, come back.”

Brian grabbed the handset and thumbed the “talk” button. “Car seventeen here, go ahead.”

“How far are you from the Windywood apartment complex?”

“We’re heading east on Washtenaw at Baldwin,” Brian answered. “Only a couple of minutes away from Windywood. What’s up?”

“Disturbing the peace. Complaint is from an Al Turner who lives in apartment B-303. Says the guy below him is screaming and has been for days. The screamer is listed as Perry Dawsey, apartment B-203.

Brian turned to look at Ed, a quizzical look on his face. “Perry Dawsey. Why does that name sound familiar?”

“I wonder if that’s the same kid that played linebacker for U of M a few years ago.”

Brian again thumbed the “talk” button. “Roger, Dispatch, we’ll check it out.”

“Be advised,” the dispatcher said. “Complainant says Dawsey is very large and potentially dangerous.”

“Roger that. Car seventeen out.” Brian hung up the handset.

Ed frowned. “Very large and potentially dangerous? That sure sounds like the Perry Dawsey I saw play.”

Brian squinted against the bright winter sun. He remembered watching U of M’s “Scary” Perry Dawsey. “Very large and dangerous” certainly fit the bill. It was just a disturbing-the-peace, but he didn’t like the sound of this call, not one bit.