Free Apocalypse Atlanta by David Rogers

awake.  She fell out of the bed trying to get up, then when she did get up, came at me. Tried to bite me.”
    “What’d she say?” the white cop asked, still holding that very cop expression of bored skepticism as he came around the front of the cruiser and joined his partner on the sidewalk.  Darryl had seen that expression a lot, especially since he’d started bouncing at the O.  Fortunately for him, it was usually directed at the drunks who he called the cops in to collect after they caused a problem.  Having it directed at him was why he’d called Charlie.
    Darryl took off his sunglasses, hooked them into the neck of his t-shirt, and shrugged again.  Four beers had done a good bit to drive away the hangover  “That’s the thing, she didn’t say a word.”  He took a drag on the cigarette and shrugged a third time.  “We had a good time last night, no fighting.  She slept here.  Woke up, and was different.”
    “And when we go up there, we’re not going to find any marks on her, right?” the white cop asked, still wearing that dangerous expression.
    Darryl put up his hands.  “Hey man, I ain’t touched her.  We partied last night, like I said.  There ain’t a thing wrong with that girlie that I done to her.  Give Officer Prince a call, he’ll confirm I’m straight.  I ain’t got no record, and I don’t have to beat the girlies to get along with ’em, ya know?
    “She came at me like I said.  I fended her off, didn’t hit her.  Swung her around, put her in the bathroom.  On her feet, didn’t even knock her down.  She started beating through the door.  I backed off the door, it don’t lock, right?  She still beating on it, still ain’t talking or nothing.  So I got out, made the call.  I don’t need no trouble, I ain’t done nothing.”
    “Alright, you stay here.” the black cop said, giving his partner a look after he leveled a cop stare at Darryl.  “We’ll head on up and check it out.”
    “No problem, I’ll be here on the steps.” Darryl said, reaching very slowly to his belt and unhooking the carabineer with his keys.  “Unit M-15.” he said, flipping through the keys until he found the one for the door.  He got it off the ring and held it up.  “That’s what you need to get in.”
    The black cop took the key from Darryl, gave his partner another look, and went past Darryl to the front door of the apartment building.  The other cop eyed Darryl up a moment longer, then followed after the first one.  They vanished through the door, and Darryl sighed.  He sat down on the top step and put his shades back on, hurried through his cigarette fast enough to wince at the last few drags from the heat, then started another one.
    When he stubbed that one out, he sighed and glanced behind himself at the building.  Whatever was going on in there, they were still dealing with it.  He really hoped his pad wasn’t torn completely apart by the time this was done.  Sighing again at that thought, he pulled his phone out and checked through his messages.  Usual bullshit and hi-how-you-doing stuff.  He tapped a few texts back, then sent one to Charlie saying the unit was here and so far things were good, thanks for looking out.
    He was just about to flip through some of the tracks he had on the phone to find one he felt like listening to when he heard a heavy thump behind him, followed by another one.  Standing up and turning around, he saw the cops emerging from the apartment building with Bethany held between them.  She was handcuffed, stark naked, and silently struggling to lean her head at the men.  They were holding her at arms’ length between them, their grip down on her elbows where she couldn’t reach.
    Her mouth was making motions like she was chewing, and her eyes still had that dead look he’d noticed earlier.  And she wasn’t saying anything, not even grunting or gasping as the cops dragged her down the sidewalk.  Darryl’s gaze flicked down to her