Eighteen
I’m late for my first meeting with the professors and team, but I can’t go anywhere until Hayley brings my jacket. Okay. I could, but I refuse.
I assume that I’m in trouble. She didn’t like the fact that I had long trails of blood on it, but she really got upset when she smelled the cigar smoke.
While sitting on a bar stool next to my kitchen counter, I swing my feet. I can actually swing my feet from a chair. Wow. That hasn’t happened in years, and when I would try, Eve would yell at me.
Hayley’s standing at the door and watching me closely, but I can’t stop. This feels so weird.
She wipes the smirk off of her face and marches towards me with the jacket extended in her hand. After I put it on, she commands, “Open your mouth.”
“That’s a strange request.” She doesn’t say another word. Finally, I comply. Hayley jams a blue and circular crystal attached to a white stick into my left cheek. “Close.”
Moving the ball onto my tongue I do as instructed. I don’t want to seem too surprised, but I’m sure she can tell I am.
“What the hell is this?” I muffle while spinning it around in my mouth.
“Candy. A lollipop.”
“What’s that?”
Hayley bends down and gazes into my eyes. “I finally know something that you don’t. It’s a candy that used to be produced in the twentieth century. It’s called a lollipop or a sucker.”
“Why don’t they make them anymore?” I question with a smirk across my face. The sugar causes my tongue to tingle. This is my first time trying candy.
“I’m not sure. They’re just not popular anymore. I had a machine imported from China seven years ago. I make them in a room on the thirty-first floor.”
“Yeah. I heard you up there. I thought that was a strange laboring hobby—like a fantasy of working in a sweatshop or something. I decided not to ask.”
“Do you like it?” Looking away, I nod and twist the candy with my tongue. Hayley damn near rips off my cheek so I jump out of my chair to follow her hand. “Good because that’s all you’ll ever get if I catch you smoking a cigar again. You’ll get an allowance of three lollipops per week. There are two more in your jacket. If I ever see you with another cigar, I’ll stop you from having either. Do you understand?”
“Okay! Yes. Yes. Let go of my face. Please!”
The savage kisses the bruise she just created. “Good. Now go check on Seth before your meeting.”
Dryly, I whine, “Ah, Mom. Do I have to?”
“Don’t try to get funny, jerk!” She covers her mouth quickly. “Sorry sweetie. Natural habit.”
“You used to say that to John, huh?”
She fixes her eyes on me again. “Yes. Stop being so inquisitive.”
“Do I really remind you of him?”
“If I covered my eyes and heard you talk, I’d break into tears.” She bends down and lightly headbutts me. “Excuse my language for a second, but you’re both sarcastic assholes.”
“Sounds like my kind of guy,” I tease. Playfully, I kiss her on the nose and walk to the door. “John saved my life.”
“Why would you say something like that?”
“You and Dennis took me in because of him.”
“That’s a sad way to look at things. I didn’t realize that we both did it.”
“I’m fine by that. If it weren’t for John, you would’ve hated me for what happened with Spencer. Dennis too, but maybe he has other reasons.”
“Like what?”
“I’m late.” I point at her with the sucker. “You can interrogate me later.”
Through the closed door, she shouts, “Go check on Seth. I don’t care how late you are; I’ve been hearing complaints about his screams.”
I stick my tongue out and observe the strange color. Blue? What is this? Food coloring?
The elevator jerks a few times when it opens. I think they need to get someone to check on these things. They’re getting a little slower and I’m tired of the rough stops. Fortunately, they’re still blazing fast. I’m normally the type to take stairs unless I’m bleeding to death or with Carmen, but I can’t pass up speed when I’m this late.
Before exiting the elevator on the fourteenth floor, I can already hear the destruction Seth is causing. He’s singing some strange rock song that I can’t make out because his words are too slurred and he’s turning his living room upside down. Yet, he hasn’t spilled a single drop of his X-Eyes.
The couches and chairs are flipped over. One is even in the kitchen. Most of Seth’s equipment has been destroyed and there are holes in the wall. It seems that he’s not drunk enough to destroy the art that he has on the floor.
“Hello Kay,” Antonio says bleakly, but he’s wearing a smile.
“Drop the boy scout act, which you’re not very good at. Why do you pretend to love this guy when you know you’d prefer to have a nanobot shock him to death? I’m no psychologist but I think this is a deep cry for help, Antonio. This slave shift you’re working must be hard. You can always break free of master’s chains and surf the web on your own.”
“Are you done?”
“What’s going on?”
“Every few months, Seth’s brain grows at such a rapid rate that not even the alcohol can control him. He’s increased his X-Eyes intake nearly every month. It seems his brain is adjusting to it at an alarming rate.”
“And when he gets pissy drunk, you have to put up with this?”
“That’s his second bottle in an hour. I can’t imagine anyone that could survive. He managed to make a drink that doesn’t damage the organs because all the destruction is delivered to the brain, but I don’t know. This is on another level,” he complains while looking over his shoulders. “He’s had enough, but he’s too drunk to notice. We need to get him to the facility.”
“We?” Antonio reveals his digital puppy dog eyes. “Where is it?”
“Compton.”
“Damn. I can’t help you.” I return to the elevator.
Antonio yells, “Calibrate!” A few seconds later, he’s chasing me down. “Wait Kay. There has to be something.”
“Shoot!”
The hologram glues his eyes to the floor while muttering, “If he were asleep, I could inject him with the proper doses until you’re ready to take him away.”
“I’m busy all weekend.”
“And he could miss class for a week. He skips out whenever he wants anyway. You could take him next Saturday.”
“You’ll really put him under that long?”
“Better than him doing this,” the nerd returns to the room.
Needing to speed things up, I catch as much of the darkness in the hallway that I can before zooming in front of Seth and striking him in the back of the neck. Or that was the plan, but somehow, he caught my reflection on the bottle and ducked below the punch. His movement was so strange that I couldn’t believe I missed.
Seth drunkenly blares, “You tried to kill me,” while staggering on his tiptoes. “So I’m going to kill you.” He falls on the ground and leaves the bottle next to his hip. Then, he rolls into a ball and kicks me in the stomach. I fly back into his wall.
Did he kick me purposely? That was really unpredictable. I thought he was passing out.
Drunkenly searching the room, he stammers, “Where’d you go, bitch?”
Carmen rushes to the door. “Are you serious Kay? We’re late and you two are playing around.”
With my eyes still closed, I soften my expression and pout, “This is embarrassing. I think you’re about to see him beat the hell out of me.”
“Damn right!” Seth catches sight of Carmen from the corner of his eyes. He twitches as he spins around. “Oh! You’re cuter when I’m drunk. I’m Seth and soon to be the father of your child, if you play your cards right. What’s your name again, sexy?”
Trying to capitalize on his loss of concentration, I swing at his head. The drunk bends down and kisses his painting. “Whoa. Did I really dra
w this?” Then, he jumps backwards and his entire body bashes into mine. “Are you trying to hurt me Kay? Are you? Are you attacking me? Huh? I thought you were my best friend.” He rolls over and relentlessly punches me in the face. “I thought we loved each other. I thought we’d be together forever. Well, you’re not really my type, but that hologram thingy you kick it with, fine piece of technological yum-yum.”
My intent isn’t to hurt him so I tickle the drunk until he falls off. Then, I try striking him in the neck again, but he practically disappears.
“Kay!” Seth staggers to the opposite side of the room. “What the hell man?”
Carmen storms in and I try to stop her. “No!”
“Papi, you really have to get it together.” Seth holds his fits up. She demands, “Kiss me, idiot.”
He quickly lowers his hands and she stops right in front of him. “Okay.” As Carmen pecks him on the lips, she injects him with a syringe. “Ow! Ow! Ow! What’s that?”
“Something to help you sleep.”
“Hey! Thank you.”
Seth happily walks to his couch and pulls it from the wall. Then, he lies on it and falls asleep.
“Let’s go. Now!” She rushes out of the room and strikes the elevator door. I follow her quickly, still wondering where the syringe came from and disappeared to.
In the elevator, Carmen presses her body against me and starts kissing my face. When she moves down to my neck I say, “There aren’t any wounds there.”
“Sorry,” she croons while continuing. When the elevator opens, a few staff members from the first floor mall observe us with judgmental eyes. Two women are maids and the other lady is a scientist that mainly works on the fortieth floor. The maids chatter with brimming smiles. The scientist stares at Carmen as though she were a whore.
When Carmen spins around, her face flushes red. She grabs my hand and leads me out of the building. “You could’ve told me they were there.”
“But then they wouldn’t know how cool I am.”
“You’re so sneaky.”
Our light jog evolves into a full out sprint towards Gardezi’s class. It takes three minutes.
Gardezi stops me outside of the classroom. He’s leaning against the wall, reading messages on his phone. He continues flipping through his text. The last one says, You have thirty minutes to get here and acquire the data. They’re moving soon.
“I told you to be here at seven P.M.” Gardezi glances at the time on his phone.
“Busy day.”
“Jules is going to kill you.”
“This is a favor I’m providing you. Though you’re my professors, don’t treat me like the pets you have in the room. If you need my assistance finding the Cavern of Youth, fine. But don’t pretend like you hold authority over me on a weekend.”
I listen as a smile breaks across Gonzales’ face inside the room. She relays the message to Jules. Gardezi can sense what’s brewing inside so he steps out of the way.
The door flies open and Jules approaches me in a threatening manner. “You listen here, little snot. I will not have this mission compromised. I will hang you myself before watching you mess things up.”
“Will it be painful?” I zip up my jacket and throw on my hood, causing my face to disappear into the darkness.
“Boy. Don’t tempt me. Not only is your life on the line, but your grades as well.”
“Let me clarify: I couldn’t care less about grades. If you think you’re bold enough to lay a finger on me, try it. Your mission, whether I choose to accept it or not, is to acquire documents from a militia base in East LA. Unfortunately for you, they’re hiding in an apartment in the projects. You need me to figure out a way for us to get in without alerting the leaders, because you can’t. Whether I succeed or fail doesn’t matter because you haven’t been able to get within a foot of this group.”
“How?” A bead of sweat falls from his forehead. “How do you know that?”
“That’s my job, isn’t it?” I waltz into the classroom with my hands in my coat pocket. Angie grips her chair tightly and Monte sneakingly rubs her arm. It helps her to relax a bit. “Hey folks. I’m your new search and destroy team member, but only if a few demands are met.”
“Demands?” Gardezi echos while laughing. He strolls into the classroom and announces, “Kay. You’re my type of kid.”
“Jules.”
The peppered hair professor boils with fury. His glasses slump on his face and his head trembles lightly. The old man snaps, “You will address me as Professor Jules!”
“Are we in your class?” He doesn’t respond. “Jules, you’ll keep Malik away from all of us when he’s released from the hospital. If you’re wondering why, I hate him. But pleasant personalities don’t seem to run in your family. I’m sure you understand.” I wait to see if he’ll blow his top. A wad of spit leaps from his mouth as he grits his teeth. The others watch him closely also. Angie smirks briefly, but returns to contained princess mode immediately after. “Double check to make sure he stays away from Carmen. If she gets hurt, I’m out.”
Gonzales releases a quick burst of laughter. Then, she gestures towards the door.
I lead the pack to the center of the battlefield. We hop into a miniature helicopter with Desert Storm written on the tail. This beast was modeled after a jet. It has a similar body to one, but there are propellers over its head and on its tail. This aircraft can seat seven, but most only fit two or three passengers. It must be Jules’ elite helicopter that Malik brags about to all of his friends. Supposedly, it makes no sounds, can retract its propellers, and drive on the road.
Carmen asks, “Where’s the pilot?”
Angie responds, “Shut the hell up if you’re too stupid to know what you’re sitting in.”
Carmen shudders. The delicate girl folds her hands in her lap and sits quietly as the glass door slides closed, the chopper bolts into the air and zips through the sky, topping out at five hundred miles per hour.
There’s no time to see or take in the sights. The helicopter lands on East Atlantic Boulevard and El Portal Place. We step out next to drivers that are raging past and honking. I grab Carmen’s hand and pull her back towards the helicopter to stop her from colliding with the front end of a big rig that was too impatient for us to move out of the way. Either that or he couldn’t stop. The way he runs through the red light, I’ll assume it was the latter.
History books tell us that East Los Angeles was a booming Anglo populated region in the past. Then, this thing called segregation kicked in. Now, lowlives are pushed into these areas because they can’t afford “normal” housing. Though they struggle to get out by dealing drugs or working on their education—whichever comes easiest—they’re often killed before making something of themselves.
Most of the projects in East LA were in Watts at one point. All that changed during the GAW. Military officials managed to have a lot of battles in that area. A genocide occurred, killing off many soldiers and gang members. The city was then rebuilt by many financially wealthy people that could use both Watts and Compton as central locations for access to the beach and downtown Los Angeles. The area is booming with gladiators and other entertainers. Most movie stars live in that area. Some call it “New Hollywood”.
Because the housing development there was removed, city planners built larger ones in East LA. Buildings out here are generally fifteen stories high. Thousands of residents can live in one development. Now that my sight has returned to a ten mile radius, I can hear many of them and know what they’re planning. Let me say, it isn’t a college education.
These people are influenced by GSE or neonball. Most residents want to become the next Jay Jay. Though the culture in this place is very diverse, the mentality isn’t. Investors attempt to use the violence that occurs between gangs as an excuse to turn places like this into reality sports entertainment productions.
Vincent’s plan is to make this the first Californian Block Party in history. If he does, his fortune will in
crease drastically.
The others follow me as I run down the street and the helicopter takes flight. We walk on the sidewalk, heading south down Atlantic.
“Look at the buildings. They’re run down and the air is musty. The walls are tearing apart and could probably fall at any moment,” Carmen says while holding tightly onto my arm.
“This is how they live down here, but back away and stand up straight. You don’t want to draw a lot of attention to yourself.”
As we come to the corner of Cadiz Street, I step into a swap meet and head to a section that sells casual clothing.
I command, “Everyone take off your armor and put on something you like. Five minutes.”
Monte stares at me in his bulky armor as customers passing by do the same to him. “Why do I need this? What is it? Cotton?” he asks arrogantly.
Angie tries to hide her excitement while rummaging through various racks. Carmen hasn’t moved an inch. She’s probably thinking the same thing as my airhead brother.
“We have to make it in and out without causing much attention to ourselves. Do it or stay here.”
Monte complains, “Who left you in charge?”
“Me.”
Turning away, I walk to a counter with an older man and woman. Their nationalities are too diluted to guess. The man’s skin is darkened, but he has tight eyes and smooth hair. The fair woman’s eyes are also tight, but they’re narrow and low. I can hardly tell if her eyes are opened or closed. Her skin is pale and hair is thin. Both have wrinkles stretching across their foreheads and from the corners of their mouths.
I slap eight hundred dollars on the counter. “Let us take anything we can put on and that’s yours.”
The man’s words are slurred and the right side of his mouth hardly moves as he says, “Uh. Yeah that’s fine.”
“Carmen. Come here.” She prances towards me and rests her cool hand on the back of my neck once she stops. “His heartbeat is irregular and I think he’ll have a heart attack in two or three days. His lazy eye and lips are signs of a stroke, right?” The beautiful girl’s lips glow pink and she nods her head. “Heal him.”
“Now?”
“Now,” I repeat while lifting her onto the glass counter, which displays belts and fake watches.
Her lips illuminate the older man’s face. She presses her mouth firmly against his and holds him for four seconds.
His weak and slow heartbeat evolves into a smooth and constant one as Carmen’s data reprograms his heart. When she pulls away, he grins from ear-to-ear. The woman next to him looks furious. She slaps his butt three times.
He articulates with a smile, “Stop baby. She kissed me, now. I couldn’t stop her.”
“Listen to your voice Martin and your lips are moving. Look at you.” Tears swarm her eyes and a smile possesses her face. “Look at you.”
I place another five hundred dollars on the counter. “No one should ever know we were here.”
Martin stares at the money in amazement, and his partner hugs him tightly. Carmen skips over to some clothes that Angie threw to the side. Her eyes glimmer when she finds what she likes. She undresses quickly. Angie slaps Monte’s arm. He takes another peek before looking away.
The fashionistas and I finally exit the building and continue down the street.
Monte’s wearing all black. He has on a hooded zip-up jacket that’s too big, even for him. I forced him to loosen his belt. Now his pants hang at his waist. But he refused to remove his armored boots. Luckily, they’re black.
Carmen’s wearing a navy blue skirt and knee high socks. Her sleeveless jacket is camouflage green and it’s a zip-up as well. The outfit was obviously meant to resemble mine.
Angie found a colorful V-neck sweater that hangs off her shoulders. Her black skinny jeans show off her hips beautifully.
“Why didn’t you change?” Monte asks angrily.
“I don’t wear armor. I have on bandages, jeans, and a jacket. What do I need to change in order to blend in?”
“You can stop leading the way if you’re blind. That looks awkward enough.”
Spinning around, I face the idiot. “My hood is on.”
Angie barges between us and barks, “Both of you shut up until we get to the complex.” Those wise words lead us down the street until we’re on the corner of Atlantic and West El Repetto Drive. The buildings here are lime green for the most part.
I inform everyone, “There are fifteen levels. The drug dealers and scientists operate on the same floor in adjacent rooms.”
Angie bounces up and down. “I know why! They use the drug dealers for protection and as an alarm. If someone tries attacking either side, they’ll escape and make everything go kaboom! Kode taught me.” Suddenly, she returns to her solemn state. I think she just remembered that I’m her enemy.
“Yeah. We’re going to get the drug dealers to take us to the scientists’ lab.” Using my phone, I send everyone a text message. “But I want all of you to hold onto a combination for me.”
“First, twenty-seven point twenty four,” Monte mumbles.
“Last, NW,” Angie says while scrunching her eyes.
Carmen mouths, “Second, eighty point eighty-three,” and holds onto it tightly. She’s been carrying her phone since we left the store because she doesn’t have pockets. She nudges me and asks, “What’s this?”
“Some important numbers I can hear in their room. It’s drawn on a wall with materials that can only be seen under black lights. If any of us are captured, tell them we all have a piece of it.”
Monte narrows his eyes at me. He’s analyzing my every word and it shows. With his arms crossed, he fumes, “And how do you think we’re getting in? Are you going to ask nicely?”
“Yeah.” I lead the others between two green stucco buildings and up to an all black steel door. Monte observes his surroundings, including the plastic trees and the green turf.
I don’t even have to knock. Two men greet us with frowns by opening a wooden door on the opposite side. I remove my hood because I don’t expect to make it in with a blank face.
“The fuck are you?” The largest and fattest man asks with a huge military assault rifle hidden behind his back. The dark skinned guy probably weighs three hundred pounds and is Angie’s height. His lips are crusty white and his voice is baritone deep.
The man next to him rocks in his chair while smoking a cigarette that’s been dipped in something strong. I assume PCP. The way he’s behaving, he may stand up and shoot us with his Glock just because he can.
With an attitude I reply, “The cops, so let me in.”
The crusty mouth guy reveals his weapon. Impatiently, he taps it on his leg. “Aye little man, this ain’t a schoolyard.”
“Tell PM I need to see him.”
Crusty Lips points his gun down the street. “Them niggas got the same product on the corner.”
The guy smoking a cigarette leans out of his seat. His eyes trace Carmen’s body while his left hand snuggles his penis. Sluggishly, he stands up and moves Crusty out of the way. “Hey. Come here.” He speaks clearly and eloquently as though he were college educated. If he weren’t smoking, I wouldn’t know he was high. “What? You look as though you’re afraid.”
“No,” she replies, trying to seem as though she has courage. “Are you letting us in or not?”
“It depends. What are you willing to do?”
Angie rolls her eyes. “I’m sick of this. Let us in, now.”
“Oh! She bites.” The man sniffs loudly and scratches his balls. “Okay cutie. What are you doing here?”
“Don’t know.”
“You don’t? You’re in the wrong place.”
“No. I don’t know. I’m just the muscle. If you want to cut deals, talk to the manager.”
Taking a huge puff of his cigarette and shaking his head, he turns to me. “Okay, manager. What’s up? You want to talk to PM. For what?”
I listen to guys on the top floor bragging about how they rip
ped off another group of dealers a few hours ago. They’re still pumping their guns and sniffing cocaine while telling the story.
“You know the boys on East Forty Fifth that just got hit?” Both men stare at each other with bewildered expressions. “I’m the one that gave PM the information about where to find them. I’m just here to get my cut, then I’ll bounce. He said I get ten percent of whatever they got. We were supposed to trade on the street, but when Trey got dropped, we all went our separate ways. I picked up my family just in case.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t care who PM is. I’m not walking in by myself.”
“Okay little man. I’ll let you and your family in, but you know, kids should stay off the streets. What you doing with drugs and hanging out with older girls?” He snickers while opening the door. “Manager. I love kids.” Still blocking the way, he turns to Crusty and hands him lip balm. “I swear if I give you another one and you lose it, I’ll slap you.”
Crusty absorbs all of the balm, but his lips are still white around the edges. He follows us while keeping his gun aimed at Angie’s back. She never looks back at him.
We trail the skinny guy through a narrow hallway. There’s no telling what color these walls were originally.
Carmen covers her nose from the stench of feces and vomit. I don’t know how they both made it into the hallway, but it seems that’s the new fragrance on the streets.
Our tour guide flicks his cigarette on the ground while puffing his last bit of smoke into circles. That’s when I remember I have another lollipop. I take out the wrapper and shove it in my mouth. My tour guide points his gun at me to make sure I’m not doing anything dangerous.
“Man. You really are a kid.”
We walk up the stairwell, passing tenants engaging in the thrilling hobby of injecting themselves with some intensive drug on one floor and siblings playing with their three-legged dog on another.
Once we’re at the top, I check for hidden cameras by pretending to rub my eyes. I need to see vibrant colors to do this. We’re clear.
We continue walking down the hallway, but I block the others at room 1507.
“What’s wrong, little man?”
Turning my head towards the door, I listen as a tall and muscular guy smacks a drug addict woman around. He’s obviously high on the illegal barcodes covering his body. The one over his heart is his most recent. The data flowing through it is primitive, but powerful for a mortal. That type of code has been illegal for years because of its side effects, including suicidal thoughts, unmanageable aggression, and fecal incontinence.
There’s some pretty advanced neonball armor resting on the torn couch. I assume the three-legged dog ripped it apart, but that’s probably not true. The woman being beaten doesn’t seem like she could afford anything better than the one kitchen table, two chairs, and stolen carpet. The brown rug is the most expensive thing in the house, and I’m sure it’s stolen
“I don’t care what you say; I’m sick of this. You dry and loose. How you think you going to make money now? You think I’ll fuck you? Nah. That’s not happening.” Looking at the woman’s daughter, he utters, “She thirteen though. Remind me of you back in high school.”
The scrawny and delicate girl is pressed tightly between their spherical television and a wall. It looks like half of the TV isn’t working.
The woman cries, “Please Bobby.”
Bobby Russell! He was just bumped from D-League to the pros in neonball. Some say he has the potential to be the star player for the Smogmen—the top seed for the West Coast—but old habits die hard. Drug addiction and several fights have provided him with a night in jail four times this season.
“I paid for this already and I didn’t even nut. This is getting boring and I want my money’s worth.”
The woman yelps with bruised lips and eyes, “You can have it baby. You can have it back, but don’t touch her.”
“Didn’t you just say you needed this money? You said you’d do anything for it. You need rent. And you blew the money she needed for that academic program, right? Teach her how to earn it.”
The little girl cries uncontrollably. A stream of tears stretch down her face and crash onto her dirty socks. Her shirt is torn and pants are removed.
My tour guide interrupts, “Little man. You alright? Is that sucker laced?”
“How do you know what this is?” I ask, turning to him.
“Where you from little nigga? We sell those around here, doped up and everything. Get them from the UK and push them at Jefferson. Anyway, you ready?”
“No. I think Bobby told me he was coming over today. I want to see if he’s here.”
I walk to the door and try knocking, but my tour guide grabs my hand. “Angie. There’s no camera.”
The gladiator princess punches Crusty so swiftly that his gun floats in the air for a second. She dismantles it before dropping the pieces on the big man’s limp body. My guy tries raising his gun, but I’ve already removed his slide. I tightly hold the ridge of his neck and he passes out.
“Okay. I’m impressed. We’re here, but where’s the room?” Monte asks.
“1513.”
The others walk past me and I fight the urge to dropkick the door. Now, Bobby’s beating the hell out of the woman to stop her from interrupting anymore.
Carmen mouths, “Whatever it is Kay, ignore it. We have to get those computers for the professors.”
Taking a deep breath, I join the others. Angie’s looking over her shoulders as though she recognized me. Though she can’t know what’s on my mind, I feel as though she’s judging me for passing up that door. Her look isn’t filled with hatred. Why not?
Monte stops in front of the scientists’ room and whispers, “You sure this the one?”
Bobby punches the naked woman and she crumbles over. She’s crying blood and tears, but not giving up. As she struggles to stand, he approaches the little one. She screams, “No!” and begs for her mother’s help. The girl is tiny and frail, though she’s a bit developed to be so young. If this guy does anything to her, she’ll be scarred the rest of her life; possibly become a prostitute like her mother.
How many times has Dennis told me to lay low? He begs me to avoid killing anyone above ground because it causes too much attention. People die in this type of neighborhood all the time. What’s the difference today? She’s only getting raped.
It hurts to see her school books on the table with her homework complete. She’s not like them. All of her answers are correct on her Calculus, but her grammar needs serious help.
Bobby tears off her panties and she screams bloody murder. Even the others look back at the door. When he slaps her, I find myself standing in front of the numbers 1507, knocking lightly.
He covers her mouth forcefully. “Keep your ass right here. I swear on The Writer if you say a word I’ll kill moms. I swear. Don’t say a fucking word.”
She covers her mouth and whimpers softly, but he couldn’t find her more amusing. He strokes her adorable face near the scar he created just seconds ago. It stretches from her eye to the halfway point of her cheek.
Bobby throws on his baggy dark purple armored pants and stumbles to the door. He boldly flings it open, practically daring the girl to run away.
He’s so tall he doesn’t notice me initially. “What’s up?” The words infect my nose with a vomit and alcohol odor.
“I came to drop off her homework.”
“She never forget work. What you really come for?” I get a bit anxious. Did he already see through me? “You trying to get some? She a little young, but so are you. Nah. I guess you like thirteen, fourteen but you not ready to get in that yet. Believe me. This family ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.”
On the ground, I hear the little girl pray to a god that will never hear her. She’s crying and begging The Writer for someone to stop him, but her prayers are turning to anger. She wants to know why He’d send someone so small.
The
little girl crawls across the floor to reach her mother, but she’s hurt. She glares at me from the corner of her eyes as though I were a disappointment. A let down.
Bobby looks over his shoulder when he realizes she’s in my sight.
“Why are your eyes closed? You blind?”
“Do you believe in heaven and hell?” I turn my head up to him.
“Yeah boy. Everybody do.”
“Not me. How do you get there?”
“You do good or bad things. You do good you go up. You do bad, you go down.”
“Where are you going?”
“Same place every bitch go on me, little homie. Look. I don’t have time to mentor you but I can give you an autograph or something. Just come back later this week. Michelle’s going to be a little sick tomorrow.”
Monte motions for me to get away from the door. Angie and Carmen watch in amazement. I don’t know if they can tell what’s going on, but neither budges one bit.
I consider allowing him to close the door and leaving fate up to the invisible gods to do what they will, but that’s boring. The only god Michelle will ever know just opened his eyes to cause this prick to take three steps back.
“I’m going to kill you. Don’t worry. There’s no hell for you, but no future either.”
The man lights various thin barcodes across his body. I imagine that acquiring this many must have hurt. He’s very strong for enduring that tattooing. Maybe he did have the gall to become the next Elyse Jordan of neonball. Too bad we’ll never know.
I lunge forward and wrap my hand around his throat. I sling him through a thin wall separating the living room and kitchen. After slamming him on the tile floor, I drive my knee into his face, breaking his nose. I beat him within an inch of his life. The punches sound thunderous, and cause the entire building to rumble. That’s when I hear the door for 1513 explode, with Monte right in front of it. The two rooms next to the scientists’ lab blow up as well. Only three men working inside were able to escape. Many of the others are dead.
The shock wave thrusts Monte into 1514, where drug dealers with guns and half-naked women are gathering their wits. Monte’s forced to defend himself against everyone in the room.
Angie curses before leaning against the hallway wall and slumping down to the floor. Surprisingly, she chuckles under her breath. Carmen walks into my area, just in time to witness me choke Bobby to death.
The mother screams and tries to fight me off. Her blood, spit, and sweat sully my jacket. With a gentle force, I push her away. She falls on her butt and screams louder than when Bobby was beating her.
Michelle cries joyfully. She’s holding her knees. Her eyes focus on Bobby’s arm as it falls limp. Once he’s dead, she stops shivering. Her eyes connect with mine and an evil smirk lifts on her face.
When I’m done, I walk over to her and ask, “Michelle, what’s your last name?” I cut my thumb on my wristband and smear my blood over her wound. The scar turns into a black and powerful barcode.
“Smith,” she responds while holding her face. She’s yet to stop smiling.
After handing her all the money in my pocket, I say, “Here’s your second chance. Help your mom or run away.”
Mission failed. I guess.