A Deadly Summer Day

by K T Rose

  “Get a medic over here, now,” she commanded. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  “Lance and the nurse and the man from the alley, they’re all dead because of me,” I sobbed.

  “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you to the ambulance so they can help you,” she said, pulling me away from the van and leading me down the driveway. She nearly carried me as I put my good arm over her shoulder and limped on my knee.

  I wailed, “This is all my fault.”

  The cop shushed me as we approached the ambulance. They helped me onto a stretcher and hoisted it up on wheels.

  “Looks like a gunshot wound,” a man said.

  “Son, where are your parents?” the police officer asked.

  I looked up at the officer and dread ripped through me, crumbling my face.

  “Yeah, he’s on his way to St. Johns.” I turned my head to find Ms. Monica standing outside her SUV and talking on her phone. “No, no, don’t worry, I’ll go with him and meet you there. All right.” She smiled at me as she inched over.

  “No! No! Get her away from me!” I screamed. It was like staring into the face of a demon. Jolted by fear, I went to turn on my side and howled when my shoulder writhed in pain.

  The medics pinned me on my back and strapped my wrists down before putting a mask over my nose.

  “No!” I protested. “No. No…pl…ease…”

  Ms. Monica’s discerning glare faded to black as I drifted off, plastering her face in my memory.

  Satan Brothers

  “Did you hear Psycho Nick got out?” Nyla belted in my ear. I turned my phone down a little before stepping off the curb and crossing Green Ave, leaving my house behind and my mother’s face in the bay window.

  “Yeah, I heard. Mom won’t let me forget it.” I waved at her and mouthed I’ll be all right. She gave me a half smile and kept her gaze. If it were up to her, I’d be stuck in the house until graduation. But there was no way she’d keep me tied down for a year. We’d drive each other nuts.

  “You’re not worried?” Nyla asked. “I mean, I heard he was coming after you. Are you scared?”

  “And where did you hear that? You can’t even leave your house. I’m surprised you’re calling me now.” I marched up the street, wiping my brow. The heat wave had ravaged the city for about a week. My shorts and sleeveless shirt weren’t enough to combat the sun. I was better off wearing a bikini. But who was I kidding? If I showed up to my shift at the hospital like that, they’d rip my volunteer papers up on the spot.

  “Dad’s at work and Mom’s high off her ass watching some god-awful soap opera.” Nyla chuckled. “And anyway, smart ass, Dom told me this morning. I stepped out of prison for some air and she came strolling up to me with that sniveling wolf hound of hers. She said she saw Nick lurking up the street pulling on a cancer stick. Once he hit the corner, he stared up the block like it was going to talk back.”

  I shrugged. “And?”

  “He was staring in the direction of your street.”

  I scoffed. “Alright Nyla. That makes sense. Did you know that my house isn’t the only one in this massive neighborhood?”

  Nyla laughed.

  I cringed. I hoped the metal institute brought Nick a peace of mind. Made him alright. Made him stop hurting himself…over me. The last thing he needed was to be the hot gossip of the week. “And besides,” I said, “I thought his family moved away after he left.” I squinted as I walked up against the grass, making way for the kids on training wheels as they barreled up the sidewalk. Shit. Sunglasses. I turned to look back at my house when I saw Mom had advanced to the porch. I waved at her and continued my route. Going back would be like opening the same can of worms from not even five minutes before. I was better off staying out, avoiding Mom’s worrisome nagging.

  “That’s what makes it so weird. His family moved out to Boonton, across the tracks and on the outskirts of the city. No idea what he was doing here.” Nyla paused, then snickered. “Well, I know why he was here. Looking for lost love.”

  “Ugh,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Hey Joyce!” Little Monte said as he led his crew pass me. I smiled and waved at him. They tore up the sidewalk on big wheels, yelling at each other like adults in morning traffic.

  “Who’s that?” Nyla asked. “Is it Nick? Oh my God, run, Joyce. He’s going to kill you!” She laughed.

  “No, idiot. You should spend less time listening to rumors and learn how to stay out of trouble. God, you’re always grounded. I miss you. I really wanted to catch the train out to the mall today once I left the hospital. I had it all planned out and everything. I was even going to get you some pink berry. But no, you’re too busy serving a sentence for real felons.”

  “Uh uh. I miss you too but don’t use pink berry to change the subject. Are you scared? How can you be out on the streets at all with Knife Nicky on the loose?”

  “That’s a nasty thing to say. Nick is really a sweet guy. He was just lost and alone. If you spent more time getting to know him and less time teasing him, you’d see what I mean.”

  “Joyce, he was a freak that smelled like garbage and depression. I’m not into charity like you, so don’t even lecture me about helping others and blah, blah, blah. It’s already boring. I wish I was free from these disciplinary restraints. I’d be out there getting into whatever I can. Not volunteering at homeless shelters and hospitals. Let those people wipe their own asses.” She huffed. “I’d be enjoying my summer.”

  I scoffed. “Whatever. I can’t help that I like helping people however I can. Nick included.” I grimaced as a rumbling van sputtered by. Beat up and tattered with dents, the black paint was rusted out around the doors and wheels. They were better off putting the eyesore down rather than riding it around making as much noise as a cluster of Harleys. “And so what if he’s out? That—”

  “What? Speak up I can’t hear you,” Nyla yelled.

  “Hang on.” I pressed my phone against the side of my thigh, waiting for the van to hit the corner and turn. “Hello?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I said that was a long time ago. He’s not after me or anyone else. We should hope that he’s better—I know that he’s better.”

  “What if he’s stalky? A Stan? Blade crazy and blood loving? Oh…what if he dreamed about you while he laid there in the mental hospital? Could you imagine him lying there cutting himself to the thoughts of your face? Betrayed by his true love? Asking himself every day: why don’t she love me? ‘Oh, why doesn’t Joyce love me?’ He probably whined to the psychologist. ‘I only left her letters written in my own blood.’”

  “Ugh. Don’t bring that up.” Sometimes, I found myself going back to those days when I’d find letters in my locker at lunch time or at the end of the day. Joyce, I wish I could hold your hand through this life and into the next as we cross over the threshold into a realm of lust and laughter. The words were always etched in loose leaf paper and printed in copper, crimson, or burgundy ink. The more the letters came, the more cuts Nick had up his arms. It wasn’t until I’d gotten a soaked letter, still dripping in a metallic smelling ink, when I realized what he’d been doing. Though he hurt himself, he never raised a hand or even yelled at me. He was soft and light spoken. Nick was the quiet kid in the corner with a frail smile. And I was his friend. Probably his only friend. But I couldn’t allow him to keep hurting himself. So, I did what was best for him. He deserved that much.

  “…this is how she repays me? Landing me in a prison for the mental? Oh where did I go wrong?” Nyla took a breath. “End scene.”

  I frowned. “Stop it. Okay? It wasn’t like that and for the fiftieth time, I didn’t land him anywhere. I was concerned. I didn’t want him to hurt himself anymore for me or anyone else. If he’s out, that means that he’s better. Hopefully, he comes to school in the fall and we can pick up where we left off, good friends. That’s what everyone should be talking about. Not the fact that he might be crazy or whatever.�
�

  She smacked her lips. “Please, girl. Admit it. You got it like that. Boys are splitting their own skin for you.”

  My stomach crawled. “You’re dramatic as hell.”

  “Well you know I’m going to be an award winning, stunning, and all out fabulous actress. I could only hope that guys would write letters in blood for me. But I’d only burn them. You know? Feed the well.”

  I dropped my brow. “Burn the boys or the letters?”

  “Um…yes.”

  “You’re a witch now? Sick.”

  “Oh shut up, everyone’s doing it.”

  I rolled my eyes before turning on Connor avenue. “So this is what you do all day when you’re grounded? Dream about being an actress and blood sacrifice?”

  “Well, no. Since my best friend won’t come over...” She coughed. “Yeah, you bitch—I’m trying on my Mom’s dresses while I wait for her to pass out. Then I’m going to smoke her joint and reenact Mean Girls and call it ‘Nyla the Trite, A One Woman Show.’”

  The crackling of an engine grew louder. I spun to find the van rolling slowly up the street. The guy must’ve been lost or looking for a house.

  “Oh my God I would love to see that.” I laughed and turned to the street ahead. I looked at my phone. 4 o’clock. I sped up, then slowed down again. I cleared my drying throat. Shit. My water bottle was sitting on the kitchen counter. The bodega was a couple blocks out. I’d stop there and get water. Then, I’ll buy as many apples and chocolate-covered raisins my backpack could carry. The patients would appreciate it. Especially because I hadn’t stopped by to see them the week prior. It wasn’t fair for Mom and Dad to keep me cooped up because of Nick or because they heard he’d been lurking around. Nick wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone lay a finger on me. That was for certain. He loved me too much for that. The patients at the hospital needed my attention more. Not some rumor about Nick coming after me.

  I turned onto Giles Road. “I’m not sure. It’s been a week since I’ve seen the patients and I’m sure they have lots to talk about. By the time I leave the hospital, I’m sure you’d be passed out.”

  “That or moved onto the wine.”

  “How about this? I’ll call you when I’m done. If you’re awake, I’ll stop by—”

  Someone grabbed me around the waist and lifted me off the ground. My phone slipped from my grasp as I flailed around. “Hey! No!” I screamed.

  The man behind me grunted as I twisted and swung my fists, hitting nothing but air. “Help!” I shrilled before a big hand covered my mouth. He dragged me up the sidewalk and over to the open side door of the van.

  My head hit the wall behind the driver’s seat sending a thunderous cramp down the back of my skull. The masked man dove inside and grabbed my backpack with one hand, pinning me in place. He used the other to slide the door closed. The tires shredded at the ground underneath us.

  I swung and kicked and clawed at the man’s exposed square jaw.

  “Hey, hey, calm her down!” the driver yelled as he swung the van around the corner.

  The man groaned. “Fuck! Stop it!” I couldn’t place his timbre voice to anyone I knew. But the rolling in my gut knew exactly who at least one of the guys was.

  “Get off! Let me go!” I yelled as I batted at the masked man’s face and kicked at his side and belly.

  He slammed a fist into my nose once, twice, three times. Flashes ignited before my eyes, blinding me to the shabby interior of the van. My head thrashed back, and blood rushed down my throat. My chin came back down to my chest. I slumped over to my side, breathing hard and swallowing blood. The scratchy cushion soaked the blood running from my face.

  “Why’d you make me do that?” he screamed. He blubbered under the mask and I felt wet tears lick my cheeks. “Why’d you make me hurt you?”

  “Hey! Calm down. All right? You did what you had to do. Now tie her up,” demanded the masked driver.

  “Okay,” said the man as he wiped the eyeholes of his ski mask. He climbed over the seat to the back row and fumbled. He sniffled. “Man, she’s stronger than she looks.” He came back around and sat next to me.

  “It’s good. You’re good. But hold your shit together. We can’t mess this up, hear?” The driver swerved so hard that my limp body slid up the seat and my head slammed into the wall. Dazed, I could barely make out the entrance onto the freeway through the wide windshield.

  The masked man came back and sat next to me. He snatched a strip of tape from the roll and softly pressed it against my mouth. Then, he lifted my neck and slid a cotton sac over my head. He pulled my waist up, turning me on my belly, and pulled my backpack free. Then he tied my wrists together behind my back. The space around me shrunk to nothingness as air depleted from my lungs and my chest shriveled. I trembled as a chill surged up my spin, paralyzing me in place.

  Nick. The only person I could think of was Nick. I remembered catching his pale face and dark eyes staring down at an empty lunch table. Saddened, I used my allowance to buy him school lunch. I even dedicated half of every lunchtime to sitting with him because no one else would. We’d laugh and talk about cartoons and candy. Tag and Batman. I was his only friend. And now, I might die for it.

  “Now look,” the driver started, “carry her into the basement. Don’t talk to her. Don’t say shit. After that, I want you to meet me in the living room.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” A pause. “What?”

  “Where is her phone?” the driver asked.

  “What?”

  “Her phone. She was talking on it. Where is it?”

  “She dropped it.”

  “Those—those things have tracking devices in them…”

  “I know. I know. She dropped it. I know she did.”

  “Check her backpack.”

  The zipper came undone.

  “There’s nothing here but scrubs, a pair of headphones, and a wallet.”

  A pause.

  “Check her,” the driver said.

  “What? I ain’t touching her again. She got my face pretty good.”

  “Check her.”

  My heart caught in my throat when hands touched my arm. Trembling, I let out a muffled cry as he patted my waist down. “There ain’t a phone here. She must’ve dropped it.”

  “You better hope so.”

  He sighed before retreating.

  “Grab the glock from the glove compartment,” the driver said. “Do what we practiced.”

  There was the opening and closing of the glove compartment and a metallic clanking. “D—don’t move or I’ll shoot you.”

  I sobbed and nodded.

  The men sat quietly for a few minutes. Even with the sac over my head, I could feel eyes on me and hear tense breathes.

  “Look,” the driver started, “I’m sorry for being so hard on you. But this has to work. I’ve had enough of this. I want more—need more. I’m just happy you’ll be there with me. All right? We can do this. I just…I get annoyed sometimes when people don’t take directions well—simple directions.”

  “I know. I can do better. I just—”

  “Chin up,” the driver said. “It’ll work. We’ll leave this dump and move out to LA.” He chuckled. “Fuck this place and these people. We’ll make them wish they didn’t look at us like trash. Treated Mom like an alcoholic waste or treat you like a hypersensitive burden. Our Lord will make them regret the days they shunned our family’s name. Made us inadequate. We ain’t inadequate. We’ll rise above. We’ll be the best. Money, women, houses, cars…”

  The other guy said nothing.

  ***

  My feet scuffled over the ground as I was pulled by the arm from the van. I tripped over the threshold.

  “Watch your step,” the man said as I stepped down, lifting one foot after another on the floor, hoping I’d trip and stayed down.

  The scent of molding meat hit me in the face. I squinted. It was like animals lived here, wherever I was.
/>   At the bottom of the steps, my knees buckled, and I burst into tears. I didn’t know where I was, but I knew they had plans to kill me. Why else would they snatch me off the street in broad daylight? Would Nick really go this far to get me? One part of me strongly doubted it while the other half dismissed all denial.

  “Hey hey,” he said, grabbing my waist. “It’s all right. It’ll be over before you notice it was anything going on.”

  He helped me kneel over in a corner. The grim from the floor scraped my legs and spiderwebs tickled my elbows. He sat across my knees and wrapped my ankles with rope.

  “I’m going to take this off you now. Get you some air. Are you ready?”

  I nodded.

  He pulled the sac from my head and I froze.

  Nick stared back at me with long oily hair clinging to his narrow pale face. He’d sprout about a foot since I last seen him. He cracked a nervous grin, showing all the teeth that’d gone missing since the seventh grade. Blood, more than likely from me, smeared on his t-shirt, adding to what looked like dirt and oil stains. His jeans were just as dirty. Deep scratches crossed his face, from his eyes to his chin.

  He studied my face in awe, dragging out the seconds that passed between us. His grayed smile faded as if he could feel the convulsions coming up my belly from the sight of his face full of frayed youth. What the hell happened to you? ran through my head along with, What are you going to do with me? Nyla and Mom’s comment rushed forward, drowning me in guilt.

  He dropped his gaze to the cement floor when I squinted at him. He backed away and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I uh—thought about you a lot. Always wondered how you were and if you were happy. How many new friends you had…?”

  I tripped over my own breaths. What did he want with me? He couldn’t’ve been mad at me, could he? I only wanted to help him.

  “Uh—are you hungry?” he asked. “I’m going to get some pizza. How do you feel about pepperoni? I mean, what’s your favorite toppings? I love sausage and onions.” That faint smile couldn’t hide the sullen frown dominating his face.