Loco returns

Ok, I have no clue as to what was the logic, purpose, point, etc behind this one. but it kept playing inside my head, and I had to write it. Just me, i guess

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Lying on a hospital bed with tubes sticking out of him, he thought about the last 35 years and felt no regrets.

They called him Loco, and the veteran cop lived up to his name. Infamous for a temper and violent ways of dealing with criminals, Loco had ended up in the operation theatre of the hospital after a confrontation with a drug Mafioso had gone horribly wrong. What was supposed to have been a simple arrest turned out to be a bullet-fest when the druglord’s henchmen stormed out of his liar, guns blazing. Loco had managed to shoot all three of them, but had taken three bullets in the chest and two in the stomach in the process. The Mafioso had been jerked out of his hiding place under his office table and dragged to jail.

After a three hour long surgery where surgeons and nurses struggled to deal with the damage caused to several of his vital organs, a barely conscious Loco was wheeled into the Intensive Care unit. He was now thinking about the innumerable encounters with criminals in which he had always come out the winner. His partner always said he had a death wish.

Damn right I did, Loco thought.

He wasn’t worried. Every criminal that he had taken an interest in was either dead or in jail. Those from the latter category had slim chance to walk free; Loco had seen to that by providing enough evidence for the state to present a watertight case in court. He had lived life the way he wanted to, and was now going down in the proverbial blaze of glory.

Floating in a world that exists between consciousness and unconsciousness, he became aware of his partner and immediate boss beside him.

“We’re losing him,” his partner said.

As if in corroboration, the cardiograph emitted a beep, indicating erratic heartbeat.

“What do the doctors say?” Loco’s boss asked.

“Chances are slim. The damage is extensive.”

So I’m dying. Big freaking deal, Loco thought. Cheer up partner. At least I’m not leaving the job unfinished.

“Crazy devil! Pitting his handgun against those assault rifles!”

“That’s how he always was”

The cardiograph beeped again. There was a doctor in the room now. The heartbeat and other vital signs were getting increasingly erratic, and Loco could hear the doctor issue several instructions which were so full of medical jargon that he had no clue what the doctor had just said.

At about the same time two nurses rushed into the room, a cell phone buzzed. For two minutes after that, there was only silence. Then Loco’s boss spoke.

“The drug dealer’s escaped. Snatched a gun, shot two cops and jumped out of the police jeep while being moved for security reasons.”

The cardiograph was beeping continuously now. Heart rate was low and breathing was laboured.

Time ceased to exist as realization permeated Loco’s consciousness. The bastard had escaped. He had also shot two cops. His death was going to be in vain after all.

Not if I can help it, Loco thought savagely.

The cardiograph beeped. The heartbeat stabilized just a little bit.

I hate drug dealers, and I especially despise those that kill cops

Another beep. More stability.

You’re going down, you sorry piece of shit. You’re gonna wish you’d listened to your mother and become a good man

Loco didn’t even realize that he had just taken a deep breath without any problems. The cardiograph showed a steady heart rate.

“He’s coming back to us. I wouldn’t be too hopeful, thought. It could be momentary,” the doctor told his partner and boss.

Momentary, my ass. The sod better watch out for me now.

The heart rate stayed steady.