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“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher asked calmly.
“There’s an officer getting attacked on I-30 in the middle of the slow lane. Mile marker…”
I rattled off the mile marker, as well as the closest building to where we were.
Keene slowed to a stop about five car lengths from the altercation and threw it into park.
“Stay in the car,” he ordered, bailing almost as fast as he’d given the order.
I resisted the urge to say ‘truck’ but only because he hadn’t realized that he’d said it in his haste to get out of the truck and go help the state trooper who looked like he was getting his ass kicked.
I watched in avid fascination as Keene literally ran, and when I say ran, I mean he sprinted like a linebacker looking to take out someone who insulted his mother, in the direction of the two people scrambling on the ground for purchase of a gun.
My heart was literally in my throat as I waited to see what would happen.
“Is the officer all right?” the dispatcher asked.
I didn’t know.
They were struggling hard.
A gunshot sounded just as Keene was within ten feet of them, and all of a sudden, the officer completely stopped struggling.
The man doing the attacking came up, gun in hand, but he wasn’t ready for the two-hundred-and-thirty-pound man to hit him like a freight train.
The guy went down hard underneath Keene, his head hitting the pavement.
I got out and ran myself, much slower, finding the officer on his back with blood dribbling out of a hole in his chest, pooling on the ground around him.
The dispatcher that was on the phone with me was placed on speakerphone, and I was talking.
“GSW to the chest,” I said. “Officer is down. I need life flight here immediately. He won’t make it without it.”
I didn’t hear what the woman said after that.
I trusted Keene to take care of the dude behind me.
“Officer…” I looked down at the man’s name. It said Trooper Garrison. “Trooper Garrison. My name is Ande Carter.”
Officer Garrison looked at me, eyes glazed with pain.
“Do you have a medical kit in your cruiser?” I asked.
“Y-yes,” he said. “Trunk.”
I heard some scrambling from behind me, and then a door open.
I looked up just in time to see Keene bodily pick up the man who’d shot the trooper and throw him inside the cruiser so hard he hit the other side.
Keene slammed the door closed, then he was at the back of the cruiser.
He pulled out a bag and walked over to me.
“What do you need?” he asked.
I rattled off everything I needed as more and more people started to walk up to offer help.
None of them were medical professionals, though, so Keene told them to back off.
