American Criminal Read Online Free Page B

breath. Burnside glared maniacally into his panic-stricken face with an expression of intense satisfaction.
        Suddenly, his expression changed as an image flashed into his mind of a psych patient attacking him in a similar manner.
        What the fuck am I doing? Am I really going to kill this guy?
        Burnside remembered the fear when the madman pinned him to the floor. It had taken two EMTs and two nurses to pull him off. The vivid memory made him cease the strangulation and draw back as if he had touched a live wire. The officer coughed and gasped for breath as the restraint was removed from his throat. Burnside pushed himself up and stood over the fallen man, staring down at him.
        Did I almost kill that guy? What am I turning into?
        Burnside staggered back to the MRI panel and sat down.
        The last thing I want to do is kill one of my former brothers.   
        Another part of his mind disputed the assertion.
        But the bastard is going to drag me to prison for something I didn't do!
        His conflicted mind tried to reach a compromise.   
        It doesn’t matter. There will be other opportunities to escape where I won’t have to kill anyone.
        Burnside sat on the MRI panel as he watched the fallen officer slowly push himself up with one hand, while he clutched his neck with the other. Looking for his partner, the cop saw him lying on the floor on the other side of the suspended machine panel. He pulled a radio from his belt with a trembling hand.
        "Officer Jones to any available back-up," the cop said as he released his grip on his neck, picked up his gun from the floor, and leveled it on the prisoner. "The prisoner has broken loose. He's taken out Daniels. I'm in the MRI screening room in Metro-East Hospital. I need back-up. I repeat, the prisoner is loose and I need back-up," he paused to await a response.
        "1745 is en route from Prospect Street," an unknown officer's voice replied over the radio.
        "Officer Burke en route from the ER," another voice spoke from the radio
        "1738 on the way from downtown."
        "1752 on the way from the south side."

     There was a brief pause before the dispatcher's voice cut in
        "All units en route to Metro-East Hospital. Eighteen-forty three."
        The cop held his 9MM trained on the prisoner with a trembling hand. He returned the radio to his belt and moved back a few steps until he was leaning against the wall for support.
        Burnside felt exhausted as his adrenaline high faded. Closing his eyes, he lay back on the panel. He tried to imagine the pristine white surface inside the machine. He tried to imagine all the blackness inside of him breaking apart and evaporating. He ignored the sound of running footsteps in the hall as he concentrated on the pure image of white in his mind.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 4

Bad Company
     
     
        Lying on the MRI panel, Burnside saw an officer storm into the room with his pistol drawn. The cop trained his pistol on him and then glanced down at the floor.
        "What the fuck," the cop said, observing the officer lying facedown next to the panel. "Who the fuck is that, Jonesy?" he asked, pointing to the prone officer's body.
        "That's Daniels," Officer Jones replied without taking his eyes or gun off the maniac lying peacefully on the MRI panel.
        "Daniels?" the newly-arrived officer repeated. "Daniels is a fucking monster. How was that guy able to take him out…. when his hands are still cuffed and his legs are still shackled?"
        "He's a fucking nut-case, Burkey" Jones said.
        "That explains it," Officer Burke said, keeping his 9MM trained on the prisoner.
        The officers stood immobile, staring at the dormant psychopath as if they were observing a strange mutant.
        "Do we wait for backup to arrive before