Under the Seat
John Leahy
John Leahy has had three novels published - Harvest, CROGIAN, and Unity. His story "The Tale In The Attic" attained an honorable mention in L Ron Hubbard's Writers Of The Future Contest. His short story "Singers" has been included in Flame Tree Publishing's 2017 Pirates and Ghosts anthology, alongside tales by literary greats such as Homer, Joseph Conrad, Rudyard Kipling, Arthur Conan Doyle, Robert Louis Stevenson, H.P. Lovecraft, and H.G. Wells. When not writing he spends his time teaching and performing music, working out, and keeping abreast of the stock market and current affairs. He lives in Killarney, Ireland.
Officer Rogers switched on the light-bar and siren and after one disconcerting weave over the median line the wayward vehicle moved onto the hard shoulder. Rogers pulled in behind it. Both he and Officer Killen got out and walked up to the car. The driver already had his window rolled down. He had a big goofy smile on his face and his eyes were drowsy. There was a man in the passenger seat and he was in a similar state.
“Hello Officer” the driver said.
Rogers didn’t smell any alcohol.
“Licence and registration” he ordered.
The driver closed his eyes and nodded for a long time.
“Lllllllllllicence and registrrrrrrrrrration!” he declared as he fished out the requested document. He handed it to Rogers who studied it and gave it back to him.
“Hey, take a look at this” Killen said.
“What is it?” Rogers asked.
Killen was shining his flashlight down behind the driver’s seat.
“I found something.”
Rogers turned from the driver and looked down between the seats. Resting at the base of the column of illumination spilling from Killen’s flashlight was a haphazard trail of white powder trickling from a sizeable plastic bag half-filled with the substance.
“Take it out” Rogers said.
Killen opened the back door, bent down and picked up the bag. He dangled it at the driver’s window, looking in at the two men.
“So what’s this, gentlemen?”
“Nirdu” the driver answered.
Killen’s brow furrowed.
“What?”
“Nirdu. From the Grossak plant.”
Killen looked at Rogers who turned to the driver again.
“Where did you get this stuff?”
“Napa.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Grosargyktupmi Simurfatgig.”
“Who?”
“Oh. His earth name. Greg Smith.”
Rogers was getting tired of this spaced-out drug talk. He watched as Killen padded a dot of the powder on the tip of his finger and lifted it toward his open mouth for a taste test.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you Officer.”
The man in the passenger seat had spoken for the first time. He held Killen’s eyes who blinked in surprise, his open mouth still waiting for the finger which was now paused in mid-air in front of it.
“It’s not for you” the passenger added.
Killen blinked again and slowly lowered his finger. He looked at his partner. Rogers had had enough of this sideshow. Clearly the men were under the influence of whatever it was that was in the bag and Rogers’ gut told him it was illegal.
“The two of you are under arrest for possession of a controlled substance” he declared. “Step out of the car.”
He looked at Killen who had a troubled look in his eyes.
“Get the handcuffs” he ordered his subordinate.
Clearly unsettled, Killen went to the cruiser. While he was gone Rogers read the men their rights. When Killen came back he cuffed them and escorted them into the back of the cruiser.
* * *
“Nate, we don’t know what that stuff is” Killen murmured on their way to the station. “We don’t know if it’s even on the list of – “
“Oh it’s on the list alright” Rogers interrupted. “And if it’s not then it should be. Maybe it’s some new shit that they’ve come up with.” He looked in the rear-view mirror at the arrested driver. “Whaddya’ say this stuff was called?”
“Nirdu. From the Grossak plant.”
“Right” Rogers said. “Just some more shit to mess with people’s heads.”
“Nirrrrrrrrrrdu” the man drawled happily. “Only grows on certain planets, in certain soils...”
They pulled into the station yard. When they got inside Rogers sat the two men down at his desk and placed a blank file before him. As he opened it up to begin the paperwork he saw Killen’s hand deposit the bag of powder at the head of the file.
“Call of nature” Killen informed him. “Back in a few minutes.”
Rogers clicked a pen into action.
“Ok, you first” he said, pointing his pen at the driver of the car. “Name.”
“You saw it on my driver’s licence.”
“Name.”
“Earth name or real name?”
Rogers sighed in exasperation.
“My Siliasi name is Sansar Famuljeg” the joker continued.
“And I’m Prekbehaf – “
“Shut up” Rogers interrupted the second idiot. He sat back in his chair and studied the two men for a moment. Mercifully they stayed quiet. He turned his attention to the powder-bag on the table. Killen was right. If he wanted to lock up these two clowns he’d have to prove that the stuff was off limits. He gazed at it. It’s probably heroin, he told himself. He leaned forward and slipped a pinky finger into the bag. He pressed a dab of the powder onto the pad of his finger and raised it to his lips.
“Officer you definitely do not want to do that” the passenger said as Rogers opened his mouth.
Rogers blinked.
“Because it’s not for me, right?” he said sarcastically.
His adviser nodded.
Ignoring him, Rogers opened his mouth again. As he dabbed the powder to his tongue he didn’t notice the two men edging their chairs back a little from the desk. He closed his mouth and ran his tongue around in saliva. The familiar bitterness was there alright –
He blinked rapidly. Something was wrong. His entire tongue felt like it was on fire. He could taste copper in his mouth....now his mouth and throat were burning! He coughed and a fat spurt of blood drenched the fresh file on the desk. As a horrible inferno began to bloom in his stomach he stared with rapidly-heating eyes at the blood he had disgorged. It was boiling, little bubbles of steam popping on its surface. He went to scream but nothing came out of his mouth only more boiling red, his voice-box having disintegrated in his melting neck. His eyes went dim as they roasted in their sockets and helplessly gave way, spattering the blood-flooded file with more bodily matter. His heart ruptured in his chest and it ended, Rogers’ disintegrating form spilling from his chair to the floor. The two men watched as the corpse imploded, quickly deflating and dissolving into a hissing, popping pool of reddish sludge.
“Ah well” the passenger said to the mess.
He bent and took the handcuff key from Rogers’ floating belt. In seconds he was free, then he de-cuffed his companion. He pulled the bag of powder close to him and placed his two middle fingers into it. He removed them, the pads of both digits coated in white. He opened his eyes wide and placed his fingers on the pupils. His eyeballs blazed a brilliant pale green and his entire body began to shake. Then the dazzling glow dissipated and his eyes resumed their normal state. His body stopped shaking. The driver slid the bag over to his side of the desk and performed the same exercise.
“Ohhhhhhhhhh” he sighed after completing the ritual.
The passenger saw that Killen was in the room again, staring in disbelief at the mire that had once been his partner.
“He wouldn’t listen” the passenger said.
Killen turned in his direction and blinking, watched the two men leave.
“Hello Officer” the driver said.
Rogers didn’t smell any alcohol.
“Licence and registration” he ordered.
The driver closed his eyes and nodded for a long time.
“Lllllllllllicence and registrrrrrrrrrration!” he declared as he fished out the requested document. He handed it to Rogers who studied it and gave it back to him.
“Hey, take a look at this” Killen said.
“What is it?” Rogers asked.
Killen was shining his flashlight down behind the driver’s seat.
“I found something.”
Rogers turned from the driver and looked down between the seats. Resting at the base of the column of illumination spilling from Killen’s flashlight was a haphazard trail of white powder trickling from a sizeable plastic bag half-filled with the substance.
“Take it out” Rogers said.
Killen opened the back door, bent down and picked up the bag. He dangled it at the driver’s window, looking in at the two men.
“So what’s this, gentlemen?”
“Nirdu” the driver answered.
Killen’s brow furrowed.
“What?”
“Nirdu. From the Grossak plant.”
Killen looked at Rogers who turned to the driver again.
“Where did you get this stuff?”
“Napa.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Grosargyktupmi Simurfatgig.”
“Who?”
“Oh. His earth name. Greg Smith.”
Rogers was getting tired of this spaced-out drug talk. He watched as Killen padded a dot of the powder on the tip of his finger and lifted it toward his open mouth for a taste test.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you Officer.”
The man in the passenger seat had spoken for the first time. He held Killen’s eyes who blinked in surprise, his open mouth still waiting for the finger which was now paused in mid-air in front of it.
“It’s not for you” the passenger added.
Killen blinked again and slowly lowered his finger. He looked at his partner. Rogers had had enough of this sideshow. Clearly the men were under the influence of whatever it was that was in the bag and Rogers’ gut told him it was illegal.
“The two of you are under arrest for possession of a controlled substance” he declared. “Step out of the car.”
He looked at Killen who had a troubled look in his eyes.
“Get the handcuffs” he ordered his subordinate.
Clearly unsettled, Killen went to the cruiser. While he was gone Rogers read the men their rights. When Killen came back he cuffed them and escorted them into the back of the cruiser.
* * *
“Nate, we don’t know what that stuff is” Killen murmured on their way to the station. “We don’t know if it’s even on the list of – “
“Oh it’s on the list alright” Rogers interrupted. “And if it’s not then it should be. Maybe it’s some new shit that they’ve come up with.” He looked in the rear-view mirror at the arrested driver. “Whaddya’ say this stuff was called?”
“Nirdu. From the Grossak plant.”
“Right” Rogers said. “Just some more shit to mess with people’s heads.”
“Nirrrrrrrrrrdu” the man drawled happily. “Only grows on certain planets, in certain soils...”
They pulled into the station yard. When they got inside Rogers sat the two men down at his desk and placed a blank file before him. As he opened it up to begin the paperwork he saw Killen’s hand deposit the bag of powder at the head of the file.
“Call of nature” Killen informed him. “Back in a few minutes.”
Rogers clicked a pen into action.
“Ok, you first” he said, pointing his pen at the driver of the car. “Name.”
“You saw it on my driver’s licence.”
“Name.”
“Earth name or real name?”
Rogers sighed in exasperation.
“My Siliasi name is Sansar Famuljeg” the joker continued.
“And I’m Prekbehaf – “
“Shut up” Rogers interrupted the second idiot. He sat back in his chair and studied the two men for a moment. Mercifully they stayed quiet. He turned his attention to the powder-bag on the table. Killen was right. If he wanted to lock up these two clowns he’d have to prove that the stuff was off limits. He gazed at it. It’s probably heroin, he told himself. He leaned forward and slipped a pinky finger into the bag. He pressed a dab of the powder onto the pad of his finger and raised it to his lips.
“Officer you definitely do not want to do that” the passenger said as Rogers opened his mouth.
Rogers blinked.
“Because it’s not for me, right?” he said sarcastically.
His adviser nodded.
Ignoring him, Rogers opened his mouth again. As he dabbed the powder to his tongue he didn’t notice the two men edging their chairs back a little from the desk. He closed his mouth and ran his tongue around in saliva. The familiar bitterness was there alright –
He blinked rapidly. Something was wrong. His entire tongue felt like it was on fire. He could taste copper in his mouth....now his mouth and throat were burning! He coughed and a fat spurt of blood drenched the fresh file on the desk. As a horrible inferno began to bloom in his stomach he stared with rapidly-heating eyes at the blood he had disgorged. It was boiling, little bubbles of steam popping on its surface. He went to scream but nothing came out of his mouth only more boiling red, his voice-box having disintegrated in his melting neck. His eyes went dim as they roasted in their sockets and helplessly gave way, spattering the blood-flooded file with more bodily matter. His heart ruptured in his chest and it ended, Rogers’ disintegrating form spilling from his chair to the floor. The two men watched as the corpse imploded, quickly deflating and dissolving into a hissing, popping pool of reddish sludge.
“Ah well” the passenger said to the mess.
He bent and took the handcuff key from Rogers’ floating belt. In seconds he was free, then he de-cuffed his companion. He pulled the bag of powder close to him and placed his two middle fingers into it. He removed them, the pads of both digits coated in white. He opened his eyes wide and placed his fingers on the pupils. His eyeballs blazed a brilliant pale green and his entire body began to shake. Then the dazzling glow dissipated and his eyes resumed their normal state. His body stopped shaking. The driver slid the bag over to his side of the desk and performed the same exercise.
“Ohhhhhhhhhh” he sighed after completing the ritual.
The passenger saw that Killen was in the room again, staring in disbelief at the mire that had once been his partner.
“He wouldn’t listen” the passenger said.
Killen turned in his direction and blinking, watched the two men leave.