Black Lives Matter

by De'Kari

  “Ooh! Ungh! Ungh!” French Tip grabbed her nose and dashed out to look for some air freshener. She came back with three lit incent.

  “Why y’all do that?”

  “Hell, auntie, we didn’t know he was the one who killed Jimmie Hoffa’s snitching ass and threw him in the fridge.” Finally, DJ could talk.

  “Man, how long has it been since Big Brah was here?” C-Murda spoke for the first time.

  “Lord only knows.” This was the only thing French could say while she placed the incense strategically around the living room and kitchen.

  Dok Holliday and even his men had a good laugh out of the situation. Gunz thanked him for getting them out of the jam without casualties or bringing heat to the organization. They all figured it would be best to lay low all day and creep out under the cover of the night. Lady J and the twins were to come at 1:00 o’clock in the morning in three SUV’s. An hour later Mike Vegas, Africa and Stunna would pull up to get the rest of the group. They would send people to pick up their own vehicles. French Tip, on the other hand, had different plans. She knew she shouldn’t have followed through with her plans, but she said, “fuck it!” She spent the night in her brother’s house. In the morning she showered, got dressed and jumped in her brothers Lambo headed for the hospital with a lot of things on her mind.

  The hospital ward where they had Voorheeze housed was relatively quiet aside from the nurses assigned to the ward and a doctor or two here and there. There were five of Dragon Gangs beasts outside the room. She greeted Double G. He was 6’9” 325lbs, if he didn’t put the fear of God in you, his brother, Tiny Africa’s 6’8” 368lbs of brick solid muscle combined would take care of that. Murda arrived last night or early this morning depending how you looked at it. The Twinz had been there since he came out of surgery.

  After briefly greeting and speaking to each one, French stepped in the room. Her heart dropped at the sight of her African Warrior all laid up with tubes and bandages coming from everywhere and taped all over his body. Last night she didn’t get the opportunity to check on him.

  French Tip wasn’t prepared for what she saw. Her feet were so heavy. Each step she took was a mountainous effort. How, Dear God, she wondered. How did this happen to her brother? She cried for what seemed like forever. It was a cry that her spirit needed. Her eldest brother was dead, second brother was flirting with death and her mother was on the verge of a breakdown. Even with the members of the organization around, French Tip felt so alone. She cried some more and prayed. The beeping of the machines was like acoustic tunes in the background noticeable but forgotten.

  Outside, Nina was irritated. She wasn’t sure why, but something was amiss. Since the first time Voorheeze was laid up in a coma, she had held countless conversations with Pastor Juan for endless hours. She didn’t even know what made her pull him aside that fateful day as he was walking out of Voorheeze’s room. The pastor was very down to earth. She hadn’t expected that. Most of the ministers and pastors she had known growing up were all hellfire and brimstone, death and vengeance. Pastor Juan was different, he was loving and caring in a “Gangsta for God” sort of way. No matter the circumstance or topic of conversation, he always had a funny way of saying “It’s that God” and neva once making it seem or sound weird. Hell, he was kind of cute too! Nina found herself saying once “How would that look me hooking up with a pastor and finding God? What a joke!” or was it?

  She wanted to tell her best friend and twin about what was going on with her, but she didn’t know how. As she stood with her back to the wall next to Voorheeze room door, she finally realized what was wrong with her, why she was irritated. The Pastor had gotten to her. Nina didn’t want to kill anymore. She still had the heart. She’d just lost the desire.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by French Tip, who finally came out of the room. She looked like the world was thrown at her and she just climbed out from under it.

  “Big sis, can I do anything for you?” Nina didn’t understand why people would say are you okay? You could look and tell she wasn’t okay.

  “No, twin.” French took a deep breath, straightened her back and threw her shoulders back. “Ain’t shit none of us can do but pray to God and see what He decides.”

  Nina couldn’t believe the connection with what she was thinking at that moment. She said a silent prayer asking God to give her a sign if He really wanted her to hang her guns up.

  “On second thought, I heard that you have been hanging around Pastor Juan. Give him a call for me and see if he can drop by and say a prayer for my brother and my mother.” She told Nina as she turned to go and check on her mother.

  Nina didn’t know if God answered everybody’s prayer, but He’d just answered hers.

  French stopped dead in her tracks. It looked like it was shaping up to be a long day. A mothafuck’n cop was walking their way. Both brothers stood to their full heights. Her pale skin already had some color to it, but the moment she saw Tiny and Double G, she turned crimson.

  “H…Hello, I’m Chief Vieira of the Milpitas Police Department…” She began to say but Tiny wasn’t hearing none of that.

  “Trick, I don’t care what your rank is. Ain’t none of you pigs getting through dis door.” Her being a woman didn’t matter to him either. She could get it too. He stepped toward her to prove his point.

  Chief Vieira took a step back. “H…Ho..Hold on! Wait! I’m a, I’m not here in official capacity.”

  “Fuck dat ‘posed to mean?” Tiny wasn’t liking her using all them big ass words. He felt like she was trying to make him look stupid.

  Something about the whole situation was off. Women could tell certain things about another woman. French Tip stepped up and placed her small hand on Tiny Africa’s back. “It’s okay, Tiny.”

  “You sure, sis?” He just wanted a reason. And if she gave him one…

  “Yeah, I’m sure, let her through.” French had to see if her woman’s intuition was right.

  **** N. D. ****

  Chapter IV

  Redwood City, California

  Last night

  Sheriff’s deputy Horsely was feeling mighty good about himself. He had gotten himself assigned to the Special Task Force in charge of capturing the bastards responsible for all of the cop killings. He’d been transferred to the unit only two weeks ago and already he had gotten the attention of Hedgecock. Although Hedgecock himself was only a rookie, it was his work that drew everyone’s attention to the Neva Die Organization.

  Though it still was unclear how the organization was connected to the killings, Hedgecock had uncovered enough information for it to be known that the organization was indeed connected somehow.

  Deputy Horsely received a text message from Officer Hedgecock himself asking him to meet him on the road under the Dumbarton Bridge. Ravenswood SF Bay National Wildlife Refuge off SR84 was where people could park under the bridge in their cars. Before the Mercury in the water reached toxic levels, fishermen used to come and fish under the bridge for sturgeon and gill sharks. The message he received stated that Hedgecock had found a new solid lead that would bust the case wide open. He was requesting Horsley’s assistance in return for sharing the breakthrough and arrest.

  It didn’t matter to Deputy Horsely that he was coming in on his off time. Hell, he worked so much over time that to him, work was work. Horsely loved the job! He didn’t even mind that if was late at night he was called out. The only thing he could think of was if Hedgecock said it was big, then dammit it was going to be big. He pulled off the turn right around the time the call went out from the Dumbarton Bridge Control Booth that there was a malfunction with the camera system on the bridge. Horsely drove all the way down to the end of the lot. He didn’t see Hedgecock or anybody for that matter which was okay though because there were two sides to the bridge to the other side. Once he was there he noticed a dark blue Dodge Ram 3200 parked midway down the parking lot.

  The windows of the Dodge truck were tinted. Horsely parked on the
passenger side of it and got out. He expected Hedgecock to climb out of the truck, when he didn’t Horsely knocked on the passenger window.

  “Open the door, buddy. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.” He was a big guy, but anyone would be cold below the bridge by the bay waters.

  When no-one answered he knocked again. The wind picked up, howling like a wild beast. Suddenly he felt uneasy as apprehension washed over him. He noticed a cloud covered the moon, causing the night light to dim.

  “Maybe it was some type of hazing ritual,” he thought to lessen his concerns. He looked around but didn’t see a single soul. Fear motivated his large frame as he made his way over to the driver’s side of the truck. He didn’t notice the weird drawing of a bat that was drown on the window.

  “God Dammit Hedgecock, if this….” He yanked the unlocked driver’s door open. What he saw froze the breath in his throat, cutting him off in mid-statement. He almost lost his lunch.

  A dead park ranger sat with both hands on the steering wheel with his decapitated head in his lap. The thing was, the head was facing Horsely and there was a gruesome smile on its face.

  “What the fuck?” He stumbled backward.

  “Here’s looking at you kid.” He heard over his shoulder. His fear screamed DON’T LOOK! But he ignored the call and spun around, WHACK!

  To Batman the saying was true “the bigger they are, the harder they fall.” Because his big ass went down like a giant Redwood or a Great California Sequoia. Both massive trees went down with a mighty crash.

  When Horsely came to, he didn’t know how long he had been out. What he did know was he was stripped butt naked. The whooping wind was biting ferociously at his naked flesh. His hands were cuffed behind his back with his own hand cuffs. When he moved his legs, that’s when he felt the discomfort. He lifted his heavy head and looked down. Fear gripped his heart tightly. An industrial vacuum was between his legs. That’s not what caused the fear. The aluminum hose that was connected to the Shop-Vac was rammed up his ass. He could only imagine the gruesome shit that was about to happen to him.

  “You know, a lot of people are unaware of the fact that I’m from Mississippi….” Horsely could hear the voice, but its owner was standing behind him. He couldn’t see him. “You know, the deep south. People wouldn’t believe how much ‘Klan activity is still going on.”

  By now Batman had made his way around to the Shop Vac. He had some sort of nozzle apparatus in his hands and a back pack on. It was actually a portable oxyacetylene tank set inside the pack. The long hoses connected to the nozzle in his hand were attached to the tanks.

  “My mama and pops had nine kids, of which I’m one of the youngest. When I was… oh I don’t know maybe around seven, eight, a white Klansman that looked just like you, raped and killed my oldest sister. The sight of my sisters violated, mutilated and abused body nearly drove my mama crazy.” The smile that Batman gave him was so sinister. The look in his eyes tormenting. “It’s payback time, cracker! You might not’ve been the cracker that did it, but you’s a cracker and that’s good enough for me. Besides you look so much a like him, you’s probably his cousin or sum’n.” He pulled a flint striker from his pocket, messed with the two valves on the nozzle then held the striker to the tip and struck it.

  The flame lit up the night “I saw this shit in a movie once. The mothafucka had two rats on a niggaz’ stomach with a metal lid over it…” Horsely had seen the same movie.

  “Dear Jesus, don’t let it be.” He cried. “Don’t do this, man!” “You know when I saw the movie I didn’t believe it. I always wondered if that shit was real or not…” he adjusted the valves. The flame turned from orange red to a hot whitish blue. “Its eighty hungry rats inside of this Shop Vac cracker. Do they really hate heat like that?”

  Batman didn’t wait for a reply. He put the torch to the Shop Vac. Neva in his life had Horsely known a fear like he knew now. He didn’t even care about shame, as a stream of hot piss shot out his tiny little pink dick. Soon, the Vac began heating up! The ting sound metal makes as it expands was shooting off. It sounded like the someone was taking shots at the can with a pellet gun.

  "Let me tell you something cracker, September 14, 2013 a young black man named Jonathan Ferrell was on his way home when he crashed his vehicle." Batman looked so evil, Horsely thought he was possessed. "The brotha knocked on a nearby door seeking help. But, the old cracker that lived there called the police. You wanna guess what happened?"

  Horsely was so frightened that he couldn't talk.

  "Don't worry, I'll tell ya. The cracker pigs shot the brotha ten mothafuckin' times! Ten times! All he wanted was help. Instead, he was murdered in cold blood."

  "_Please. Please don't do this, bro! please!" He was literally crying.

  "Bro? Cracker don't try to sound cool! Like we friends or something! Just stop crying like a little bitch and be my guinea pig." He placed the nozzle almost directly on the can now. The area where the nozzle was aimed glowed red. You could hear the sound of tiny claws scratching against the can. The sound was only audible because the wind died down briefly.

  Batman smelled the stench and smiled. He shook his head, "that was a real mistake, cracker. Rats love shit everybody knows that."

  No sooner did he speak than the hose started moving.

  "No, no, no, no, no, God! Nooo!" Horsely shook so violently that for a moment Batman thought the hose might fall out his ass.

  The nozzle was held in place as more and more rats fought each other, biting and clawing to find safety. The only sanctuary was Horsely's ass hole. The thing about rats, once they started fleeing for safety they didn't stop.

  They were now chewing their way through his colon. The screams he made would shake a lesser man’s soul, but not Batman. He would make the devil his bitch. Even with the wind slowing down, his victim’s screams would neva be heard. There were too many cars racing over the bridge.

  "That's for you Robin", Batman said as he hit his fist over his heart. He pounded it a few times before taking one final look and getting out of there.

  Sooner or later they would either get the cameras up and running or they were going to send someone for a look especially after not getting a response from Ranger Dave.

  The frenzy was well underway, it was a guarantee the rats would finish the job.

  **** N. D. ****

  Stanford Hospital

  Today

  “So how long have you been sleeping with my brother?” French Tip couldn’t believe she was asking the Chief of Police this question. The obvious signs were there loud and clear.

  “Excuse me?” the question caught Vieira off guard. She felt her skin get hot as the blood rushed to the surface. “Okay, first off honey, you need to know that we don’t bullshit around here. This is our family, so everything is straight forward no beating around the bush. Secondly honey, it’s written all over your pretty, white face. You love my brother. I’m just trynna figure out how’d that happen”, wasn’t no sense beating around the bush.

  Chief Vieira took a deep breath. The dam of tears threatening to break. Her pale skin was beet red from embarrassment, guilt and shame. This little girl was young enough to be her daughter, yet she spoke to her like she was her parent. But, who was she kidding, yes, she was in love with him. All of him. From the way he molded and shaped her body, to how he sexed and made love to her mind.

  “My Lord, I’m so ashamed.” Those words, that admittance broke the dam, the tears flowed.

  French didn’t have any remorse or sympathy for her. Sure, she was a woman hurt and emotionally wrecked. She still was a fucking cop. French just folded her arms across her chest and waited.

  When her cries turned to sniffles, Vieira looked far away and spoke. “We met months back. I was actually at the grocery store shopping…” in fifteen minutes Chief Vieira told French Tip everything. Not that she trusted her or anything. She simply had to share with somebody. Keeping it all in her mind and heart wasn’t helping. She had
to get it out.

  Vieira told her how it began as raw animal lust. She had always had a thing for black men, but was too afraid to test her fantasy. When Voorheeze approached her, not only was he a giant dark hunk of a man, he also had the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was. It was fun, the sex was amazing, and she was having the time of her life. She loved being around him. He didn’t know that she was a police officer. She certainly didn’t know that he was connected to the streets. By the time she learned who La’Mont was, it was too late. She was madly in love.

  If this wasn’t some Hollywood, Netflix shit French Tip didn’t know what was. “So, what you plan on doing about everything now?” She needed to know there were no threats to her brother of any kind.

  “I don’t know,” Vieira looked defeated. “I know what I’m supposed to do. But my heart wants me to do something completely different.”

  “Well, I’mma leave you alone and let you have some more time with my brother. Hopefully you can figure it out…” she stopped with her hand on the door knob. “Just know this, if you cross my brother, you won’t have a heart to be crying over.” Her beautiful chocolate face did little to cover the evil lingering behind the threat.

  French Tip walked out the room. She told her people to give the Captain all the time she needed but not to let anyone else in. No-one questioned her about it, though their faces showed that they wanted to. To her left, French noticed Nina across the hall down aways talking to Pastor Juan. She started to head that way, but figured she was too tired to talk to anyone else. Hell, she still had to see how her mother was doing.

  Five minutes later she was walking into her mother’s room. The sound coming through the door was enough to give her the answer she wanted.

  “I don’t wanna hear that shit! You mothafuckas must not know who the fuck I am! I used to work here so I don’t wanna hear none of that bull shit!” Mama Beckum was going off. There were three nurses in the room and they all looked terrified “my name is Bernice Delores Beckum, trick! You better ask somebody and go get my shit.” She was standing up with a cane in her hand holding it like it was a Billy club.