911
Benjamin Harrison
127
911, State Your Emergency - 911 Operator X caller
I always dreamt about following in my father’s footsteps by becoming a police officer. Working as a 911 operator while taking classes hasn’t always been easy. Tonight, the room hummed with fluorescent patience as I looked over at the clock on the wall. My shift was near its end when the call came in.
“911, what’s your emergency?” My voice is a well-practiced calm. The other end, silent. I listened carefully. The sound of cars speeding past whoever was on the other end. “911, state your emergency.” I leaned into my desk before rolling my eyes, my finger hovering over the end call button. “Okay, I’m going to hang up.” My eyes then widened to the sound of a frightened breath.
“Please,” A voice faltered, “You have to help me. He took me. I’m in the back of his car.” Their words came in ragged bursts, a breath between each. My fingers found the map on my screen, every lane a thread in a web I only half understood. I pictured you, eyes wide with fear. I steadied my breath, counted to ten, then spoke as soft as rain. I tell them their name and address to confirm I have the right person on the line. My breath catches in my throat when I see they are only a couple of years younger than me. “Tell me what you see outside? Any landmarks?” You keep your voice barely above a whisper, as if the world might swallow you if you spoke too loudly. “Do you know the license plate of the vehicle, make colour?” You start to cry, and it breaks my heart.
“It’s a white car. I don’t know that plate number.”
“Stay quiet,” I instructed, “I will find you.” I try to keep my composure. “You’re doing great, just stay on the line for me.” A soft sob escapes your lips as I place you on hold and call dispatch. “I have an abduction in progress, driving down the freeway. I need all units available to be on the lookout for a white car. No plate. The victim is in the backseat.”
Benjamin or Ben, 22
911
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