Dreams Of Destiny

Two months ago John had an intense dream about driving his car fast for a very long distance. When he awoke he was inside his car in his boxer shorts and tee shirt in the dead of night. The keys were in the ignition and the engine was hot. He had no memory of driving. All he remembered was going to bed at his normal time and then dreaming that he was driving and driving without purpose. Like tonight, the dream ended when he closed his eyes. When he opened them he was awake sitting at the wheel of his Toyota.

John clicked on "record" and described his dream of the island and Destiny to the best of his recollection. When he was done, he pulled out the tape and dutifully labeled it Dream 16, 6/30. It was now 4:45. John thought about getting up and taking a long run through his Takoma Park neighborhood. But the dream kept nagging at him. It had been so seductive!

So why, John thought sadly, can't I just close my eyes now, and open them, and be back on my island, with Destiny? "Try it" a voice in his head said, "go ahead, try it." John closed his eyes. He opened them. He wasn't on his island. Nor was he in bed. He was running into a pitch black, smelly, trash littered alley in Anacostia after a teenager. His walkie-talkie was blaring, his gun was in his right hand, and his heart was in his throat. This was just the type of situation the classrooms and text books warned against. He had no back up. He had just been shot at, and he had no idea if he was going to get out alive.

The kid was fifteen feet ahead of him, running fast. John kept up the pace. Then the kid tripped, and went down face first into the trash on the right side of the alley. The kid's gun skittered out of his hand.

"Freeze or I'll shoot," John shouted. The kid reached, as if to grab for the gun. "Don't do it mother fucker," John yelled. "You don't want to die tonight. Lie down flat on your face with your hands behind you! Do it! NOW!" John was right on top of the kid now with his gun in both hands, poised to shoot.

The boy flattened out, as ordered and clasped his hands behind his back. "If you even blink, you're dead," John said to the boy. Slowly, John lowered his gun. He stepped on the kid's hands as a safety measure, as he pulled out hand cuffs. He reached down and put on the cuffs. "You made the right decision son. Roll over now and sit up slowly."

The kid complied. Jesus Christ, John thought the kid can't be more than thirteen years old. He almost killed me and I almost killed him. What a nightmare. John closed his eyes for a second.

Chapter III.

Colonel Rodriguez slowly opened his eyes. He looked around, confused.

Destiny's cool, green eyes were looking down at him with concern. She was on her knees before him, and he was stretched out flat on his back in the corridor of the airport. They were drawing a crowd. "Maybe I hit you a little harder than you thought." she said. "It can't be the heat. You live here, so heat prostration is no excuse for a fainting spell."

"A fainting spell?" Rodriguez asked. He looked around like he'd never seen the place before in his life. "No" he said, "I was asleep, and then I was a cop, somewhere..., Madre Dias! Where am I and what the hell happened? Who are you and how did I end up flat on my back on the floor?"

"I' m Destiny Lysander. I just got here on vacation. You're in the airport. Destiny replied. "I ran into you. We were talking and you suddenly folded like a deck of cards. Maybe you're not the first man to fall at my feet." Destiny smiled, "but please don't make it a habit. I've lifted weights, before but I'm not used to pushing two twenty without warning. I wouldn't want to try it again soon.

You were out for about a minute," Destiny continued. I was afraid you needed CPR so I got you onto you back. You were breathing and in no apparent distress so I just stayed with you and tried to keep a crowd from gathering until you recovered. Are you feeling any better?" Destiny asked worriedly.

"You say you are Destiny?""Si! I begin to remember. You ran me over."

"Bounced off of you, more like," Destiny countered, somewhat affronted. It was like a rabbit hitting an oak tree," Destiny said with candor, and then blushed. "I've never quite gotten such a dramatic reaction from a man before." Do you think you can get up yet?"

"Si," said Rodriguez. "With some assistance." He didn't need any help. He simply wanted to hold onto Destiny before the moment sipped away.

Destiny reached out her hand and helped pull him up off of the floor. "Before you ask, no, I don't just go around picking up guys off the street."

"What?" he said in confusion. The crowd was starting to disburse.

"That was a joke, Colonel. A little humor eases tense social situations, I'm told. Would you like to go some where to sit for a minute? Maybe get a cool drink to help you recover? There's a little bar right over there." Destiny pointed to an airport outpost not far from where they were standing.

"A very intelligent suggestion. A drink is definitely in order as it seems I have been smitten by Destiny. But you must proceed me, lovely lady, so I can say Destiny awaits."

"You know," Destiny said with a grimace as she headed down the hall, "I've heard just about every Destiny joke there is. I didn't ask for this name." Rodriguez followed her into the dimly lit bar.

"No, piquena, it was fate that gave you your name."

"Actually," Destiny said as she sat down at a table looking out at the concourse, "my mother's name was Faith, believe it or not. Very few people know that."

"Faith begets Destiny?" The colonel laughed. "I'll bet your mother's put up with a lot of ribbing over that."

"She didn't have a chance to," Destiny said sadly. "My mother died in child birth. "I lost my faith when my mother met her destiny."

Destiny paused as a waiter approached. The waiter asked for their orders in Spanish. "What would you like?" Rodriguez asked Destiny.

"Sangria would be good," Destiny replied. "Dos sangrias, por favor." The waiter nodded and headed back towards the bar.

"So sad," the Colonel prompted, "never to know you mother."

Destiny continued her tale. "My father named me in keeping with my mother's family's tradition. We have them all. Faith, Prudence, Hope, Charity, Comfort. I might have tapped into darker aspects of humanity if I'd had children: Jealousy, Vanity, Despair, Pity, Sorrow, Anger, Hatred. The possibilities are endless.

How about Passion, Love, Longing, Lust, and Desire" Rodriguez suggested. Or the twins, Lewd and Lascivious.

"Now you're talking." Destiny grinned at the handsome colonel. But my family would truly disown me if I gave name to such venal sensations."

They both laughed.

"You seem to be recovering well." Destiny said. No head ache or dizziness?"

"No, nada, I have no idea what happened back there." the colonel responded. "It was as if reality twisted for a second, and I was in some other place. Actually, two other places."

"You haven't been taking any medications? No drugs?"

"Of course not." said Rodriguez, affronted. "I've just been having a little trouble with sleep lately."

"Ah," said Destiny. Is it sleep, or is it dreams?"

"Well, to be honest," he replied, "it is both."

Suddenly Rodriguez flared. "Christos, why am I telling you this? Who are you anyway, Destiny Lysander? Some American Tourista. You come here to this island for a week or so of sun and pleasure. You know nothing of me. I know nothing of you except what you tell me of your silly family names and tradition. I faint dead on the ground and all of a sudden you think you know me?"

Destiny was about to make an angry reply when the waiter returned with a pitcher of sangria and two glasses. The wine and fruit was served. She bit back her retort and picked up her glass instead. He raised his. Their eyes met as they sipped their wine.

For both Destiny and Rodriguez the world 's spinning slowed for a fraction of time. The air between them hummed. They moved closer as if drawn together by a magnet. Destiny would swear later that she heard the music of the universe in that second.

"Colonel," Destiny said, as she tipped her glass, "may you never grow faint in the face of Destiny again."

"Juan," the colonel said in a low voice. "My name is Juan Rodriguez."

"Juan then," Destiny agreed. She caressed his name with her lips.

For some unknown reason Destiny's eyes began to tear. She started to brush away the wetness. Oh no, she thought, and stopped in mid blink, but it was too late. The vista before her began to shimmer and disintegrate as if she were viewing it through a kaleidoscope. There was nothing she could do. For Destiny the dream ended.

And, at that precise moment Colonel Rodriguez sneezed. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at his eyes....

Chapter IV

Officer John Rodgers opened his eyes. It was 5:55. The sun was rising on the horizon in a rancid, filthy alley in Anacostia, a section of Southeast Washington, DC, known for its high incidence of violent crime. Rodgers was staring down at the teenager he had just subdued seconds ago at gun point. He was, to say the least, nonplused.

What in Hell just happened to me? he wondered desperately. All I did was blink, and suddenly I was off somewhere, passed out on a floor looking up at a total stranger. A totally gorgeous stranger, but a stranger nevertheless. And then speaking Spanish to a waiter? I don't even speak Spanish.

Rodgers realized that his hands were shaking and he was shivering all over. That's it, he thought, I'm getting the flu. I've had too many night shifts and too little sleep. Or maybe I'm so sleep deprived that I fell asleep on my feet. Or else I had an adrenaline hallucination. There has to be a logical explanation for what just happened. Otherwise I'm cracking up and that just can't be.

The teenager lying at his feet started to turn over. "Hey man." he complained, "I'm tired of layin on my face. We gonna stay like this all night or are you gonna do your cop thing?"

Rodgers shifted gears. "Thanks for telling me my job, boy" he said sarcastically. Then he called in the arrest and his whereabouts, and asked for transport for the juvenile. He could already hear sirens heading their way. Less than half an hour had passed since he and his partner had entered the juvenile's apartment on a domestic violence call. It felt like a year.

"Your welcome, but I ain't no boy," the kid replied with a scowl.

"You are to me if you're younger than my baby brother. You can roll over slowly and sit up."

The kid complied. "How old is your brother?"

"Thirty four."

"Shit, man, he's a grand daddy." And you be 'most old as God."

"That's the way I feel tonight," Rodgers agreed. "And for the record, you're under arrest. Anything you say can be used against you. You can have a lawyer if you want one and you don't have to talk to me or anyone else without a lawyer." Do you understand?"

"Sure."

"What's your name son?" Rodgers asked the boy, "and how old are you?"

"Are you interrogating me, or just being friendly?" the boy answered.

"Just being friendly. I'll know in a couple of minutes anyway, I figure. I'm sure your baby brother and sister have already given the information to my partner."

"Shit," the kid said. "That ain't fair."

"Life ain't always fair," Rodgers said.

"You got that right" the kid agreed without rancor. "My name's Devon, Devon James. I'm fourteen. What's your name?"

"John Rodgers. I'm forty six."

Rodgers suddenly realized that he still hadn't recovered the weapon the kid had been carrying. Very sloppy work, ace, Rodger chided himself. A little slip like that could cost me my badge if not my life.

It was fully light outside now. Rodgers looked around for the gun. A pleasant breeze drifted into the alley blowing away some of the stink.

John spotted the gun in a gutter not far from where Devon was sitting.

"Stay put son," Rodgers admonished the kid. I have to get the gun you were carrying before I arrested you."

Devon was young, but not totally ignorant of the rules regarding evidence seized at crime scenes. "What gun?" the kid asked with an innocent smile. "I don't know nothin 'bout no gun."

It's amazing,"John thought, "how much street law a bright ghetto kid could absorb in 14 years.

"Give me a break, Devon," Rodgers said wearily. "Its just you and me here. Do you see any one else? I saw that gun leave your hand and I saw where it landed. I even saw you reach for it before you decided to freeze. It doesn't matter that I didn't pick it up the second you were arrested."

Rodgers decided to shake the kid up a bit for trying to be smart. "I might even say I had to struggle with you for the gun before I subdued you if you decide to play games with me. Who do you think a judge would believe?"

"Think about it, Devon, the officer urged. The gun has your prints all over it. Are you gonna try to convince a judge that it flew into the alley this evening under its own steam?"

The kid didn't say anything as Rodgers got up and headed over to where the gun was resting. Retrieving the gun took less than a minute. Devon sat still the whole time.

"See," Rodgers said with a smile. "There it was, right where you tossed it before you gave yourself up to me without a struggle."

Devon rolled his eyes.

Rodgers' backup and the transport vehicle pulled into the alley at about the same time.

Rodgers was soaked with sweat from the chase and crawling around in the alley He decided to sit himself down and watch the sky brighten while his colleagues worked. It was a warm and muggy morning, but not nearly as bad as summer in West Palm Beach where he had spent most of his early career. He had moved up here to DC to become what some people disparagingly call a "kiddy cop." He had come for reasons known only to himself. Rodgers knew that life as a DC Youth Division officer could be as dangerous, or more so as a homicide dick in West Palm Beach. This morning's activity had proved that in spades.

Now came the boring part of the job. He had to see to the kid's transfer and secure the chain of custody of the gun he recovered. He had reports to write at the Youth Division. After that he would have to wait in the office of Corporation Counsel until a prosecutor was ready to talk to him about the case. The prosecutor would grill him on the morning's events and decide whether or not to bring juvenile charges against the child.

If charges were filed, Rodgers would have to wait around in D.C Superior Court until a decision was made as to whether or not he would be needed to testify at an initial hearing. Rodgers figured he might get free of this case by 2:00 p.m. if he was lucky. Then maybe he could get some sleep before his next shift which began at midnight. The only good thing was the over time.

Rodgers and the rest of the officers finished up with the crime scene at about 6:40. Rodgers caught a ride over to the station with his partner, Maria Dias, who had joined the Youth Division ten years ago. She had been a beat cop before that. Maria was a pretty woman of ordinary height and breadth She had medium brown hair and brown eyes. Her breasts were her only extraordinary physical feature. Shelf tits, Rodger's uncle in Florida would have called them. The way her bosom jutted out in front of her was amazing.

Maria had been his partner since he had joined the Division. She was tough as nails and took shit from no one. She was cool as a cucumber in a crisis. She was an expert at Judo. She knew the city like the back of her hand, having grown up in DC. She was a pleasure to ride with.

"What happened on your end, Maria?" Rodgers asked as he got into the squad car.

"A lot," Maria replied shortly. "I think it was lucky the boy took the gun. Someone might have died in there this morning if there had been a gun in the apartment. Mama's boyfriend was in the living room and had the little girl, Lily, around the neck when I got into the apartment. That was when your guy bolted.

"I heard a gun shot out back right after you went out the kitchen door. I was afraid the kid shot at you, but things were happening so fast in the house that I couldn't get out to back you up. So I called in for help. I couldn't say which way you were heading and didn't have the time to look. I told the dispatcher to get as many units into the area as possible.

"Once mama realized I wanted to take the kids into custody, she grabbed little Marky by one arm and dragged him into bathroom. Marky's about four years old. Momma locked the door behind her. I went after the boyfriend to get him the hell away from the little girl, Lily.

"By this time the other units started to arrive. I subdued the boyfriend and placed him under arrest. Mack processed him for transfer. "Then I interviewed Lily."

"Lily told me she's twelve years old. Her mamma's boyfriend wanted to pimp her. Her Momma was willing to go along with it but Lily refused to dress up and hit the street. Big daddy laid into her with his fists. Lily kneed him in the balls so big daddy put his hands around Lily's neck and started to choke her That's what got your kid all upset. A neighbor must have heard the ruckus and called the child abuse hot line."

"While I was interviewing Lily, Mack was trying to convinced Momma to come out of the bathroom and give Marky to us. When she did come out she was high as a kite and wanted to fight everyone in the room. Mack was arresting her at about the time I learned that you had made your collar safely. I wanted to get out of there so I came by to pick you up."

"God, what a nightmare," John said.

"Some family, huh?" Maria replied as she lit a cigarette. Maria pulled the squad car into a parking space outside of the building which housed DC's Youth Division. The two officers got out of the car.

"Well, I guess we'd better write this up tuit suite." said John. "It sounds like both of us are going to be doing probable cause hearings today."

"What a pain in the ass," Maria grumbled. "But the sooner its done, the sooner we sleep. The coffee's burning on the hot plate and the donuts are getting stale as we speak. Let's go grab some breakfast."

They strolled into the building in a comradely silence. It was 7:00 and the morning shift was just coming on duty. Officers worked 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., 4:00 p.m. to midnight, or midnight, to 8:00 a.m. Most cops arrived an hour before their shift started in order to dress, chat and for roll call.

John and Maria grabbed their donuts and coffee and headed for their desks. Maria's desk was closest to the front door. John looked at Maria's desk as he passed by. It was a disaster area. It was covered with paper and files. Photographs of friends and family members were stapled to the bulletin board next to her computer. Candy wrappers, wads of used paper, paper cups and soda cans littered the floor surrounding her trash can.

Thank God the days of indoor smoking are over, Rodgers thought as he looked at Maria's desk. Add the smell and mess of cigarettes and the desk could be condemned as a toxic waste dump site

Rodger's desk was neat by comparison. John prided himself on having an ordered mind. He would have done well in the military he thought, suddenly remembering his earlier dream. There were no little personal touches on or around Rodgers' desk. Rodgers had very few personal ties and had not taken advantage of tentative overtures of friendship made by colleagues and other Youth Division employees since his arrival in DC. Each time he thought of reaching out he reminded himself that he had a private agenda.

Rodgers booted up his computer and got to work. He ignored his phone which began to ring the minute he sat down. It took him less than an hour to complete his incident report. As he was about to leave, Maria walked into his cubicle..