Current Issue

Ralph Filicchia is the author of seven paperback books and over 200 short stories and articles.

The Innocent Lamb by Ralph Filicchia

I don't know how much more of this I can take. She's getting to be a first-class pain in the ass. Marriage. Who needs it? Being a cop in this city is tough enough without listening to your wife always complaining that you're really married to your job. And I don't like the way she's been acting lately, either. What's with this silent treatment stuff, and then sometimes the funny looks? What's that all about?

I skipped down the last few steps to the lower level and plopped onto the bench built into the wall. A nice long subway ride, that's what I needed. Something that would help clear my head and give me a chance to relax. I could play my little game of looking at other people to see if I could find the pain in their eyes, or in their expression. Everyone has heartaches of one sort or another. It's mankind's universal disease. Most people never realize how much information they give about themselves just by the look on their face. As a cop you pick up on that real fast.

The train roared into the station. Lights and figures blurred their way past me. When the train stopped I stepped into the last car and found a seat. I slumped and closed my eyes. I needed a few minutes break because I was still tense. She could really get me going when she started acting bitchy.

"You and that lousy job. You think you're so important. So help me, someday I know I'm gonna find a windup key sticking out of your back that will explain why you're so programmed."

Yeah, she was turning into a real itch.

My head bobbed with the motion of the train. Just before the next stop I opened my eyes. Some guy was sitting across from me, staring at me with a steady look on his face. And he had this thin piece of coated wire, or something like that in his hands, and he was twisting it over and around his fingers. I watched him through half-closed eyes, figuring him to be the typical fruitcake you find walking the streets, but who really belongs in a padded cell.

I closed my eyes through the next two stops, but when I opened them the guy was still there, still twisting that stuff in his hands, still staring at me, and looking a bit more uptight than before.

I tried to figure him out. He probably lived for that wire or whatever it was in his hands. If his keepers took it away from him he'd probably go ballistic. Maybe he was on his way to work at a wire factory and was testing the strength of this new piece.

Yeah, fat chance.

Or maybe he was on his way to kill someone.

Yeah, now wouldn't that be something! He was on his way to some little old lady's apartment to kill her and steal all her savings, even though she had befriended him many times. That fits. Stuff like that happens all the time.

I decided I would find out. Hey, it was Saturday and I had nothing else to do anyway.

He made no movement to get off the train and soon we were at the end of the line. I got up from my seat and walked out onto the station platform, determined to follow this guy and find out where the morning was leading him. He got off behind me and stood around on the platform like he was confused, not knowing which way to turn. I feigned looking for something in my pocket, still keeping one eye on him.

After a moment or two he began walking slowly down the ramp. I followed at a distance. He turned and looked back once, but our eyes did not meet. That was good. I had been told many times that I had Cop written all over me, so I tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

When we reached the street he again glanced back, and again I made sure our eyes did not meet. Then he picked up speed, but every few minutes would turn to look behind him.

Okay, so he knew I was there. So what? If my presence could deter him from doing what he had planned the time would be well spent. He was either crazy or up to no good—and with every passing moment I was more inclined to bet on the latter. And if by some chance I could nab him in the act, all the better. Like they say in the squad room, you're never really off-duty.

We were now in a rundown section of the city filled with small industries, gas stations, corner variety stores, and an occasional three-decker tenement building.

Suddenly he took a quick right and disappeared from view. I quickened my stride. He had gone into an alley. I stopped at the entrance and looked down the narrow alleyway. I neither saw nor heard anything. I took a deep breath. Well, I had probably scared him off. But I decided I should take a look anyway. I walked past a small blue dumpster, some plastic bags filled with rubbish, a number of liquor bottles, most of them broken....

And suddenly it was around my neck, cutting into my flesh as I struggled to turn. I tried my elbows, my heel, everything, but he seemed to anticipate every move. He pulled tighter and I was having difficulty breathing. I could feel his hands twisting the cord, cutting off my air supply. Blackness was coming down over my eyes. My head felt as if it were going to burst. I tried reaching behind me to get at his face…but it was no use. The blackness was dropping faster. My legs gave out….

And I heard a voice, as if coming from a great distance, saying, "Your wife said you could be led like a lamb to the slaughter, that you wouldn't be able to resist…."

THE END