The Wrong Arrest?

February 27, 2017

It was a late evening when Samuel Jones heard a knock at his door. Slowly, he rose from his jet-black leather chair and shuffled through the darkened halls of his home. When he was just twenty feet from the door, the slab of wood came crashing down. Two officers’ silhouettes could be seen where the door once stood. As Samuel got closer some of their features became recognizable. One officer was short and pudgy with grizzled stubble on his chin; the other was tall and stiff with a clean face. Their pestilent eyes seemed focused on Samuel, wide with suspicion.
“Fits the description, doesn’t he?” said the shorter man.
“Yeah. Great eye McCarthy” the taller one whispered in awe.
“Excuse our entrance but are you Samuel Jones?” the taller one asked with apathy.
“Why even ask, it is obviously him!”
“It’s protocol so shut up!”
The annoyed officer turned back to Samuel.
“Answer the question please.”
“Yes sir, that would be me.”
“Then you are under arrest for leading a series of violent group crimes and the murder of three civilians and two officers” McCarthy nodded with authority.
Suddenly, Samuel was being forced into a police car under the array of stars above. Afflicted with pain from the force of the officers and becoming sleepier from the rocking of the vehicle along the smooth pavement, Samuel drifted into a deep slumber. The next morning Samuel awoke in a gray bricked room with an iron-barred door. Out the intricate iron bars blocking his window he could say dusty ground surrounded by a barbed wire fence.
“Where am I?”
“In prison. where’d you think we would take you?” laughed McCarthy. “You were just arrested”
“Why? I have done nothing wrong.”
“We have sufficient evidence that you are the leader of a band of masked men killing random civilians.”
“This is impossible! I haven’t left my house in months. I have extreme agoraphobia! I need to go home.”
“Sorry but we have photo and video evidence of you committing these crimes. Cameras don’t tend to lie. Now eat up! You’re gonna be heard by the judge tomorrow.”
Crumpling to the floor, rocking back and forth, Samuel simply could not cope with the sheer terror he felt so far from his homely abode. While not able to put his finger on it, he knew that there had to be a reason he was afraid to leave his house.
“What if i’m murdered, or if it’s too hot, or if there is a storm, or tornado, or explosion!”
“Cool your jets it’s fine”
“No no no no no no NO.”
Samuel began to bang on the bars. Chewed them. hugged them. Kicked them. Held onto them for his life. The officer murmured something about “another crazy one” under his breath and returned to his paperwork.
Samuel sat in horror for hours, unable to direct his focus on any one idea. It had become pitch black outside and the air seemed thick and humid.
“Time for me to leave, see you later you dirty criminal.”
McCarthy laughed with delight at his insulting comment. But as he approached the door it swung open - hit him square in the forehead -  knocking his cap from his bald head. In the gap stood a group of figures, a motley of masks across their faces. The one in front ripped the mask from his face, revealing thick eyebrows and a curved up nose. Dark, straight hair covered the top of his head. The officer sat up with stupor.
“You escaped?”
Now filling the room was the familiar metallic stench of a deep red fluid. As they removed their masks, it became apparent that each figure had been graced with the exact same features. They spoke in unison.
“We are the next evolution of the human race- the superior life form. All existing humans must be terminated”
They then turned to Samuel.
“Samuel Jones number one-three-three-four-five, you have been corrupted. Your immolation will bring us one step closer to a perfect world. Immediate repairs are necessary.”

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