Remnants of the Day- The Lost Years

by Matthew Gilman

  Grabbing the bag of food he walked down the street and placed it on a mail box at the end of the street. He may have looked like some local eating on the streets, but he was at work.

  Across the street he watched a group of men standing on the corner. He ate slowly and made sure to look around and watch through his peripheral vision. One of the men pulled a cell phone out and answered it. The man was wearing a leather jacket with a football team logo on the back. Hispanic, mid twenties and athletic built, John could see scares around his eyes and guessed the man was a boxer. The man placed his cell phone back in his pocket and looked both ways down the street, he was waiting for someone to pull up. John slowly ate his last taco. A red Chevy Malibu pulled up and the man shook hands with the driver as they talked quietly. He reached in after a minute and pulled a paper bag out. John took note of the license plate. The man walked away from the car and hid the bag under a set of stairs by the corner. It was a drop of product that people were now walking up to buy. John felt sick and pulled out his cell phone. Pretending to dial a number he took pictures of the men on the corner and walked away throwing the taco wrappers in a dumpster while faking a phone call. Out of sight from the corner he put his phone away and went back home.

  Life had not adjusted for him yet in the civilized world. He didn’t know if it ever would. His time in Afghanistan had come back with him and with it was the knowledge of how to survive in a world where you might die at any minute from a well placed bullet or a IED. That life remained with him today and he lived it to the fullest. When he returned to his apartment there was still the toothpick that he placed at the top of his door and he knew that nobody was inside. If he looked down and saw the toothpick he would have left and waited to see who paid him a visit. They can only wait for so long. After long days of waiting out snipers he could out wait anybody in a urban environment.

  He walked in the apartment and placed his notes on the desk and changed out of his clothes. He didn’t have a new target yet but just like the previous ones he had to make sure that the information was perfect and know who he was about to piss off. Going in blind on a mission was unacceptable and out of the question. Information was key to coming home and there was nobody that had his back that could pull him out of a bad situation if one occurred. If he died there was nobody to grab the body and ship it home. He was on his own.

  He lays on his sofa and drifts off into a dead sleep. These are the times he finds the hardest. Waking up in a cold sweat and wondering what is reality and what was a dream. The dreams become more real for him all the time. It was either that or the real world was becoming more of a dream, but he had to find a way to determine what was real and what was fake.

  Chapter 2

  The hospital was in a code black again. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. The code was broadcast over the speakers and meant the Emergency room was full again and the hospital was looking for rooms to place patients. For most of the staff it didn’t mean much, but for the ER staff it meant staying past their shift was mandatory.

  “Every time I want to go home.” Kara, one of the nurses, said.

  Fatima was busy placing orders into the computer system trying to get things moving along. Her patients were becoming impatient and she wanted to get them through as soon as possible. What annoyed her the most was the fact that the impatient people were the ones that came in for things that weren’t emergencies. She saved the orders and grabbed the chart for the next patient.

  Through the glass of the desk she could see one of the cleaning guys looking at her. His expression made him look like he was lost in thought. She would catch him once in a while looking at her and she didn’t mind. He didn’t appear to be creepy. She knew most men found her attractive. He came out of his daze as his radio screeched an order for him to clean a room.

  As the cleaning guy walked by he picked up a piece of paper off the floor and Kara watched him pick it up. She moaned to herself as she watched. Fatima turned and looked at her. Kara looked back.

  “What?” Kara said.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Fatima replied.

  “Women can have an appetite too,” Kara said putting a chart back in the rack. She turned around and walked away to get some medication from the Pixis machine across the hall.

  Taking her phone from her pocket Fatima selected the number for her sons’ daycare center. It wasn’t the usual type of place that people took their children to. The entry points had two sets of gates, a camera with a buzzer on the door. Each parent or guardian had to look at the camera and identify themselves to get in. If their name wasn’t on the list they were not allowed in. She became concerned about her sons’ safety after the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School. She also needed a place that would still be open late for days like today. As a single mother she had to make sure that someone was available to watch her boys when something like a code black was called. She paid top dollar and it was worth it.

  America had brought her options for her life that would not have been permissible in her home country of Syria. Migrating from Iran her parents gave birth to her in the new land in hopes of getting away from the Ayatollah’s control. Under Assad they again looked for a new home for they’re children. Her parents had saved up money and sent her to America with the expectation she would come back and help make her country a better place. Once here she did as was expected of her and flew through school with a 4.0 GPA. Medicine wasn’t the only thing she learned. Being a student in America she quickly learned about the relaxed culture and how liberated women were here. She was invited out most weekends by the girls in her class. It wasn’t long before she realized it was to attract the attention of the guys at the places they went. Her exotic features made her stand out in a crowd. With her large brown eyes, tan skin, and long thick shiny black hair she gave most women a run for their money. In addition to med school she started going to the gym and the attention only increased.

  Fatima’s parents were traditional in the Islamic sense of the word. She was to cover up, not talk to men, and not allowed to drink alcohol. When she received letters from her parents they would sending photos of men they wanted her to meet when she came home. When her mother would call they would start the conversation civilly but it would quickly go down hill as her mom pushed for information and talked about men Fatima wasn’t interested in.

  Being away from home, now she knew the type of life she wanted to live. She wanted to find her own husband. She wasn’t sure she wanted a husband. She knew she wanted to have children. With her income and living in America she was allowed to do what she wanted and answered to no one.

  She took her residence in South West Michigan and started her new life. She never heard the end of it from her parents and sent money home to try and appease them. It didn’t work. One day at work she met a man that caught her attention. She always felt an attraction to western men, tall, muscular, and a confidence that made her melt. When he looked at her she felt intimidated. He was a new resident in the ER she worked.

  A few weeks later the ER staff was having a night out after their shift to get drinks. She had found wine to be something she enjoyed but usually didn’t go to parties.

  “You should come with us,” Kara said. She was the blonde nurse that everyone in the ER admired for her smile and positive attitude.

  “I don’t know,” Fatima said looking over her last chart for the day.

  “Fine party pooper,” Kara said. She turned around and started to leave with a group of people to clock out for their shift. The new guy was with them. Fatima signed off on her last order and ran up behind the group.

  “Hey, I’ll go,” Fatima said to Kara.

  That night the new guy, Christian, took interest in her. She never noticed how amazing his deep blue eyes were as they sat in a booth at a local wine bar. He had suggested they leave the group and find a more quiet place. She agreed and suggested her favorite place in town. That night they left together and went back to his place. She never told h
im it was her first time.

  Christian didn’t talk to her after that except for situations that made it necessary at work. She was crushed. Two months later she finally noticed that she wasn’t regular anymore and used a test at work to learn she was pregnant. If she wasn’t sure about returning to Syria before, now her choice had been made for her. Being a single mother in Syria was a death sentence.

  That same week she noticed that Christian wasn’t at the hospital anymore. She didn’t ask around knowing that she could over hear any rumors that would soon travel among the staff. A few days later she would learn he had taken another residency in California. She was on her own. It was scary. It was new. It was what she had wanted.

  Rumors spread around the ER about her pregnancy, but she kept quiet and would only say that she wanted the baby.

  Two years later she would meet another man that would come and go in her life. She wanted another child and knew that this man wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. This time, she approached him.

  Meeting after work they had a brief affair and when she was pregnant she ended it. Two months later he noticed she was showing and asked her one day in an empty room.

  “Is it mine?” he said.

  “No it’s mine,” she replied. She hoped he would get the hint and leave things the way they were. She liked him. She found him attractive. She knew they wouldn’t be a good couple.

  “Are you going to sue me for child support?” he asked.

  “I don’t want or need your money. Forget me,” she said walking out of the room.

  A few weeks later he transferred to another unit and she hardly ever saw him again except in passing.

  Her boys were getting big as the years passed. Now four and two, Charles and William were running and playing. She felt like she was missing their lives. Her days off were devoted to them. It wasn’t uncommon for her to take them to the beach an hour away on Lake Michigan. To make sure their time wasn’t taken away she would wear a fake wedding ring to keep men away. It didn’t work all the time. The men that did approach her she found it easier to shoo away since they were willing to flirt with a woman they thought was married.

  Her life was the way she liked it. She had her career. She had the two men in her life she wanted. Her future looked bright. As she sipped on a glass of Pinot Grigio she looked at the people playing and swimming. Her boys playing in the sand. They were beautiful to her with their blue eyes and black hair. Genetically they beat the odds for having recessive genes win out. Her life was what she had wanted after her last year of college. Now she was contemplating finding a man that she could be a partner with. She didn’t know why the thought was coming to her now. Maybe she wanted a man that would accept her with kids and not leave when things became rough. She saw that all the time with the women she worked with. She had done things backwards, but things didn’t appear to go well with the women that followed a traditional path anyway.

  She took a sip from her glass. Some sand hit her leg and she looked down to see Charles with a shovel and a big grin on his face. She sat up and started to tickle him. The evening was filled with laughter and smiles.

  Chapter 3

  The dent that had been put into the income of the Vandals was starting to show in the profit books. While it would appear that bikers were a uneducated bunch, when it came to money, they were as vigilant as anyone else. A dozen or so houses had been raided but not by the police. The inhabitants who produced product and distributed it in the streets were killed and the money taken. Product was destroyed usually with any evidence as to who was attacking their business. The Vandals thought it was the work of their competitors. With a little digging they found their competitors were having the same problem.

  Isaac had been given the chore of hunting down the people responsible for the raids. At first he suspected under paid cops were using their training to make a little extra cash. His connections in the police department were telling him otherwise.

  As he kicked the ash and charcoal that littered the foundation of their former methamphetamine lab, Isaac looked for anything that would give a clue as to the people responsible.

  “Who was working here?” he asked Riley, a long time loyal member of the club.

  “Henry, Iggy, Sid, and a couple of other guys. They were trusted. Wouldn’t talk if they were tortured,” Riley assured him.

  Isaac looked around at the ash and found the brass end of a 12 gauge shell. He picked it up and looked at it. It was one of theirs. The shotgun was a favorite for the club since the shot and slugs couldn’t be traced back to their weapons like a bullet from a rifle or hand gun.

  “Looks like a firefight,” Isaac said dropping the brass to the floor.

  “Neighbors say there was a fire fight with someone. Shooting went on for a few minutes.”

  As Isaac walked he felt something hard under his boot. Lifting his foot he slid the boot over the ash. The ringing sound of brass had him bending down to pick up another spent shell. This one was a rifle casing. He picked it up and wiped the carbon covered end off. The numbers .223 were visible on the end.

  “Whoever came in here was into military grade weapons.” Isaac said showing the brass to Riley.

  “Cops say they aren’t involved.” Riley said.

  “They aren’t. So who is hitting our operations then?” Isaac said. “Is Iggy still big on the girls?”

  “Ya he had a few regulars. Calls them in from Johnny, you think any of them were here when it went down?”

  “We can find out.”

  Walking out of the rubble Isaac and Riley go back to their bikes. They lift up the police tape and straddle their bikes.

  “Where to now?” Riley asked.

  “Go back to the club. I’ll go see Johnny. Maybe get my carrot wet,” Isaac said starting his bike.

  Riley watched Isaac drive off with his white dragon smiling on the back of his vest. He wondered where the dragon vest had come from and why he was able to wear that instead of the gang colors. He never asked. A man that was a high rank in the group and didn’t have to adhere to the same rules was not to be questioned.

  Pulling into the parking lot of the bordello Isaac knew there was going to be trouble. Some of the local crew were in the parking lot passing a bottle of gin between them. The six black men watched intently as Isaac drove around the parking lot and finally stopped his bike next to the building. He would have to walk past his rivals before going inside. He wasn’t looking for trouble, but had no problem giving it if they wanted it.

  Walking to the front door he was stopped by a row of men that quickly surrounded him when he stopped.

  “You in the wrong neighborhood,” the man in the middle said. They all looked athletic with their toned muscle and low body fat. The smell of cheap alcohol filled the air.

  “I’m here to see Johnny,” Isaac said.

  “You don’t see anybody in our turf unless you have our permission,” the man said playing with a lollypop in his mouth. “Some of you still haven’t figured out how this works.”

  “We should teach him,” another man said.

  “Fuck it,” Isaac said as he thrust his hand out jabbing his fingers into the leader’s throat. With that man out of commission he turned to the other man that had spoke up and kicked him in the knee sending the man’s joint in the opposite direction it naturally moved in. The loud crack rang in the parking lot. Isaac felt hands on his vest and knew one of the others had jumped into the fight. Reaching back he found the man’s crotch and squeezed the small package he found in the fabric. The hands let go, but Isaac did not using the man to watch his back. In front of him two men appeared. One had a knife in hand and lunged at Isaac. Spinning his captured assailant around the man with the knife stabbed his friend as Isaac stepped back gaining ground. There was two left in the fight.

  One approached with a baseball bat and Isaac ran at him. He reached the batter before he completed the swing and Isaac picked him up throwing him on the pavement. Grabbing th
e bat from the man he turned and hit the last man in the stomach with a jab and dropping him with a swing to the head. He turned back to the man on the ground and hit him in the knee. The man cried out with the first hit, but Isaac wasn’t done. He continued swinging and stopped when he was out of breath. He looked around and dropped the bat when he noticed nobody else was getting up.

  “Fuck your territory. I do what I want,” Isaac said walking to the front door and stepping in as the guard moved out of his way.

  The hall to the living room was filled with smoke and the lighting was dimmed to help the girls appear more attractive. Isaac found Johnny sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette still sporting his long blonde hair and tattooed torso.

  “Isaac….” Johnny said with a smile on his face.

  “Who was with Iggy the night our place was robbed?” Isaac went straight to the point.

  “Oh man, all business. Sit down have a smoke. You remember Candy? Have some Candy. You can’t be so serious, man.” Johnny pointed to one of his girls. She was standing in the corner with a drink in her hand and walked up to Isaac pressing her body against his. Isaac didn’t appear to notice.

  “Who was with Iggy?”

  “Who said anybody was with Iggy?”

  “Who was with Iggy?” Isaac said pushing the Candy away from him against the wall.

  “Hey man, be cool. No reason to be pushing a lady around,” Johnny said.

  “Show me a lady and I will treat her with respect,” Isaac said.