Leaning back and exhaling smoke from his lungs, Jemarkus nonchalantly replied, “And nothing more than that... Bang! Bang!”
Chapt er 2
Placing a hand behind her back for support, Nafeesa waddled into the kitchen area. Her mother quickly got on her feet and went to assist her baby girl. Retrieving a glass of orange juice, the young child turned to greet her loving mother.
“Come on, baby, let me help you to the couch. Nafeesa willingly allowed her mother to help usher her to the comfortable sofa chair.
Plopping on the long sofa, her mother grabbed the remote control and turned on the television. The news quickly filled the room as the news station anchors appeared on the screen.
“Well, in a few weeks, it’ll all be over, and I’ll be so glad,” Nafeesa spoke.
Chuckling, her mother replied, “When that baby arrives in a few weeks, this whole thing will be just beginning!” Nafeesa quickly began to tense up at the thought.
“Have you and Byron decided on how you two are going to raise this child? I mean, has he been looking for employment?” her mother inquired.
“Ma, I have a plan,” she responded growing slightly irritated.
“I’m sure you do, but does Byron?” her mother probed further.
Nafeesa looked at her mother as if she were seeing through her. It was as though the child had become caught up in a trance, as her mother continued to speak.
“Byron is a young black male, living in one of the worst areas of this God forsaken country. The horrible spirit of Chicago has never shown any mercy to any of its inhabitants. It doesn’t matter the color, gender, preference or age. The spirit of these streets will claim your innocent soul,” her mother admitted.
Taking her glass, Nafeesa raised it to her dry lips, and began to drink her juice.
“Listen, I know Byron is a good hearted boy, but I am not blind to some of his dark hearted ways. It’s time for you to think about you and that little blessing that’s growing inside of you. If Byron loves you like I think he does, then you have the power to show that boy a better way for all of you,” she encouraged her daughter.
Nafeesa digested her mother’s words as a knock came at the door. Byron stood with her favorite breakfast platter in his hand, as her mother opened the door.
“Speak of the devil. Come in, baby,” she said smiling.
“Good morning, Ms.Diane,” he greeted.
Once Nafeesa heard her man’s voice, she hopped to her feet to greet him and gave him a big bear hug.
“I figured you might be hungry this morning, so I got you your fave,” he said. Nafeesa didn’t hesitate to take her goodies and begin chowing down on it.
Taking a seat alongside of Ms. Diane, Byron made himself comfortable. Studying the father of her soon-to-be grandbaby, Diane couldn’t contain herself from speaking out any longer.
“Byron, me and Nafeesa were just having a rather interesting conversation about the spirit of Chi-Town. Would you like to comment?” she inquired.
Shrugging his shoulders, the young man responded by saying, “It ain’t no secret, Chicago’s a hard city to make it in, but it’s possible.” Nafeesa bit down into her turkey bacon and nodded in agreement.
“Yes, it is possible,” Diane continued, “But my question is, what plans have you made for your future? I mean, knowing that this is a hard city to make it in is only half of the battle. In less than a month your child is due to enter this world. That means you won’t just be living for you anymore. Every decision you make, and every step you take, you have to have that little one foremost in mind. So again, what do you have planned to afford that child a chance to make it in such a city as the Chi?”
Bryon sat in silence for a moment and began fidgeting with his fingers, as heavy thoughts began to consume his mind.
“Have you considered going into any branch of the military?” Diane questioned. At the mere idea of joining the armed forces, Byron began to giggle.
Sopping a biscuit up in syrup, Nafeesa paused to chime in.
“Byron this is not a laughing matter. Our child deserves a fair shot when he or she gets here, and these things are exactly what we need to be thinking about.”
Byron looked from Diane to Nafeesa, before parting his lips.
“Don’t get me wrong, that slight moment of chuckling wasn’t meant to be
disrespectful. I just feel like I’m being put on the spot right now and it’s a little intimidating, but to answer your question Ms. Diane, I’ve thought about a lot of things and the military ain’t an option.”
“Why not?” she inquired.
“Man, what has the government ever done for us as a people? That pecker-wood killed that young kid in Florida and ain’t get no time! Police shooting up dudes up in New York right before they supposed to get married! Straight up, children getting’ murdered left and right in our own neighborhoods up here, but you want me to go kill somebody in they neighborhood for America, when America is just as bad as anyone of them? Nah, miss me with that Uncle Tom nonsense,” he retorted.
Diane took hold of the young man’s hand and sympathized with his pain. She viewed him as many of America’s young black men, who identified more with the in-justice of the system rather than the need for its warped sense of justice.
“Calm down, baby. I understand your anger, but this is the time to figure how to make life better for your seeds,” she said.
Resting his nerves, Byron faced Ms. Diane and replied, “I always wanted to be an automobile designer.”
Diane smiled a bright smile. “Okay that’s good! Now what are you doing to achieve that goal?” she asked him.
Shrugging his shoulders Byron dropped his head ashamed. Squeezing his hand, Diane firmly stated, “With becoming a father comes becoming responsible, so you’d better start thinking quick.”
Nafeesa swallowed her final bite of cheese and eggs, as her mother rose to her feet and left the kids alone.
“Oh my God!” Nafeesa said, focused on the television screen. Byron quickly focused his attention on the news station to find out what caused her to become startled. Noticing a mug shot of Slim pop up, he instantly became, interested himself. As Nafeesa cut the volume up, the pair listened closely.
“Local teen found slain in the back of a stolen automobile which belonged to a Travellis Thomson, who was also found murdered alongside the body of his girlfriend Tammy Ramos. The young couple’s bodies were found on the comer of Madison in the alley of a local grocer,” the news anchor advised.
Byron played that night back in his head and realized Jemarkus had to be the culprit who knocked off the couple and had stolen their vehicle during the process. Shaking his head he took notice of his girl glued to the television every time Slim was mentioned.
“You musta knew dude or something?” he asked.
“Oh my goodness, yes! Before you moved out here, he used to stay right next door. He was like my best friend. He was even my first kiss!” she said.
Byron began putting the missing pieces of the puzzle together, as she continued speaking. “His parents used to abuse him badly. I mean, burn him with cigarettes and whoop him with anything they got their hands on. He used to share all of his secrets with me but made me swear I wouldn’t tell anybody.” Byron listened on in silence.
“One day, his mom was found strangled to death that had occurred during a home invasion and his dad was already a junky. He ended up over-dosing on heroin, and Slim got put in the system. He would always run away and we would meet up and kick it, but he was slowly becoming a monster to me by some of the things he told me he was into. I guess you can say we shared puppy love, but when you came along, I experienced real love and told him I could no longer see him again,” she finished.
“So, he knew who I was?” Byron asked.
“I mean, yea…I told him I was in love with a guy named Byron but I didn’t point you out or anything.” She teased him. Byron chuckled. Everything made sense now.
Nafeesa was what th
at clown had been babbling about that night. Turning off the television, she stared Byron in his eyes lovingly.
“I don’t want you to end up like Slim or for us to end up like that couple found dead. My mom is right .We both need to pay much more attention to our futures and our child,” she said.
Byron moved as close as he could to his beautiful girl and placed a passionate kiss upon her lips. Rubbing his hand across her bulging belly, he added, “I’ve been looking for a job, and I do want more for our baby.”
Stroking his chin with affection, Nafeesa looked him firmly in his eyes. “That’s good to know,” she began, “Because, I love you, but I will not allow your street life to affect our child by any means.”
*********************************************
Jemarkus studied the boy on his passenger side as he took a sniff of cocaine up his nose. Tossing his head back, traces of the powdery substance could still be seen encircling the outer limits of the youth’s nostrils. Turning from the passenger’s side loading the clips of their semi-automatics, while firing up a cigarillo of kush, Jemarkus puffed away, pleased with his new recruits into the Murda Gang Family. With their minds befogged and their adrenaline racing through their veins, the three prospects listened as their chief began instructing them.
“This shit is real simple ...You see that house?” Jemarkus questioned them, pointing across the street. All three boys nodded their heads back and forth in unison. “Okay, y’all see this nigga?” he asked, holding up a photo of a seventeen year old. Again, they all nodded. “Good, go in that house and kill this nigga. You wanna be in the Murda Gang, then go murda that muthafucka now!”
With their hearts amped, Tracey and Kimbo hopped out of the back of the car. Nigeria wiped the white residue from his African nose before exiting the passenger door. Jemarkus continued inhaling and exhaling, as the trio cautiously headed over to the house of unsuspecting victims.
Making their way around to the back, the three boys began jimmying a downstairs window. A master at the trade of breaking and entering, it took Tracey all of three seconds to get inside the window. Nigeria and Kimbo waited patiently for their partner in crime to come around and unlock the back door.
Once inside, Tracey told the two to be quiet. “I hear noise upstairs. He may have company,” he assumed. Kimbo looked to Nigeria for guidance. Loaded off of the cocaine, all the African boy could see was blood in his eyes.
“Anybody up in this bitch gettin’ murdered today,” he whispered, while unleashing his fully loaded nine millimeter. Kimbo smiled. The biggest of the three, he’d received his nickname for his reputation as a vicious street fighter and the moniker of Kimbo. Following suit Tracey and Kimbo retrieved their weapons and tip toed graciously up the stairs.
Sprawled across their bed, Mr. and Mrs. Donovan lay in one another’s arms watching television. To their haunting surprise, Nigeria rushed in on them with his gun aimed high.
“Anybody move, I’m sendin’ you muthafuckas straight to your maker!” he exclaimed.
Kimbo and Tracey also entered after a quick inspection of the other two rooms.
“Ain’t nobody in this bitch,” Tracey acknowledged.
“Please…. y’all can have whatever it is you want, please…. just spare me and my wife,” Mr. Donovan pleaded. Nigeria smirked before responding.
“Where that bitch ass son of yours?” he asked.
“No! Leave my Robbie alone!” Mrs. Donovan said.
Nigeria frowned quickly and studied the woman. “Wrong answer bitch!” he said, leaping onto the bed and smacking her husband to the floor with his pistol.
“No! Please!” She screamed out, as Nigeria viciously beat the man down.
“Bitch, shut yo’ fuckin’ mouth!” Tracey said, grabbing her by the head and throwing her to the floor as well. Kimbo folded his huge arms across his broad chest and watched as his African friend went mad. By that time, Mr. Donovan had blanked out and come back to, as Nigeria stomped him mercilessly.
Tracey held Mrs. Donovan by her head as she cried. “I got a little somethin’ to take your mind off of things,” Tracey said, while tossing her back onto the bed.
The dress she wore naturally flew above her buttocks, as she landed revealing her naked bottom. “Damn,” Kimbo chimed in, “Moms musta knew we was comin’ through.”
“I know right?” Tracey laughed, while slapping Mrs. Donovan’s nude backside.
Once Nigeria had grown tired of beating his victim to a bloody pulp, he had a bright idea.
“We gonna teach you muthafuckas a lesson today,” he snapped, while snatching up a broom he’d seen in the hallway. As Kimbo and Tracey tied Mrs. Donovan’s hands together, Nigeria stripped Mr. Donovan’s semi-conscious body.
With his head caved in to the right, the poor man could barely register what was taking place, as Nigeria began forcing the broomstick up his rectum. Mrs. Donovan began to scream, as she watched her husband having to undergo such torture.
“Shut the fuck up!” Tracey said, giving the woman a vicious gut-blow with his fist. All of the air left her body as she keeled over and vomited. Kimbo ripped her dress from her frame and stuffed it down her throat to muffle her cries. Forced onto her knees, with her hands tied behind her back, Mrs. Donovan shed tears of agony, as Nigeria raped her husband brutally. Spitting out bloody teeth, the most Mr. Donovan could muster was a barely audible whimper. Shoving the broomstick as far as he could, Nigeria had finally had enough. Bleeding from his head and anal cavity, Mr. Donovan passed out.
Mrs. Donovan’s eyes grew wide as Nigeria placed his gun to the back of her husband’s head and squeezed the trigger. Sobbing through her eyes, Mrs. Donovan lost her soul when her husband lost his. Snatching her to her feet, Tracey took his hand and viciously plunged two fingers within her dry vagina. The pain of his forceful thrusts were excruciating as she squirmed to get away.
Grabbing her by the neck, Kimbo forced her over onto the nearest dresser and part her legs. Tracey quickly followed suit and began squeezing her nipples and slapping her breasts as hard as he could. Pulling out his rock hard dick, Kimbo shoved it in her pussy with no remorse. Grimacing in pain, Mrs. Donovan looked at her dead husband’s corpse and said a silent prayer within.
Hearing someone approach the front door, Nigeria hurriedly went to go and check out the scene.
Robbie had come in the house as usual and he turned to shut the door, but unbeknown to him, he’d just locked himself inside with three devils.
After making sure the front of his home was secured, he turned around and came face to face with Nigeria who bashed him in the face with his weapon instantly.
Finally coming back around from the sudden blow he’d just received, Robbie was appalled by the sight of his mother sandwiched between Kimbo and Tracey on the bed. With tears in her eyes, Mrs. Donovan was being forced to pleasure Nigeria’s manhood as he shoved it down her throat.
“No! I’m gonna kill you muthafuckas!” Robbie exclaimed through tears. Nigeria smiled as he moved Mrs. Donovan’s head back and forth on his dick.
“See how much mommy loves you? I told her if she treats my dick right I wouldn’t kill yo’ little punk ass,” Nigeria said sarcastically.
“Oh…o…oh shit!” he let out. Mrs. Donovan’s head became still as she gagged from the cum Nigeria was spilling down her throat. On cue, Tracey released his seed within her asshole, as he rested underneath her frame.
With his hands and feet tied together, Robbie rolled over only to find that he had been lying on the lifeless corpse of his father. He became delirious.
“Oh shit, my turn, bitch!” Kimbo said, as he pulled his dick out of her pussy and came all over her face. Disgusted, Mrs. Donovan no longer desired to live as the teens degraded her as best they could. Once they were done, Kimbo tossed her down on the floor beside her son. Cocking back his pistol, Tracey placed it to the back of Robbie’s head.
“You said you wouldn’t kill him!” Mrs. Donovan cried out.
“No,�
�� Nigeria smirked. “I said I wouldn’t…” Pop! Pop!
Before she could scream for her son, Kimbo released two hollow tips into the back of her skull. The entire family lay covered in blood and murdered execution style.
In an attempt to wipe away any traces of semen from Mrs. Donovan, Nigeria poured Clorox bleach inside of her mouth, anus and vaginal opening.
Heading back out to Jemarkus, the trio told him exactly what they had done, excluding none of the hideous details. Jemarkus simply laughed and commended the boys on their creativity.
“Ruthless is how y’all better remain,” he said while pulling off.
Chapter 3
Reaching for a pair of his sneakers, Byron suddenly heard the sound of his front door opening. Checking his watch, he knew no one should be at his home at this point in time. Retrieving his pistol, the nervous boy bolted into the front room with his weapon drawn. Startled, aunt Charlene jumped at the sight of a gun aimed at her face, realizing it wasn’t an intruder Byron quickly lowered his semi-automatic.
“My bad, Aunt Charlene, but what you doin’ home so early?” he inquired.
“Damn it boy! You almost scared me to death! I have a lunch date, so I came home to freshen up a bit before I meet him,” she replied.
Byron studied his aunt for a moment in silence. He had to admit to himself that she had gotten her figure back and was beautiful now that she had left the crack alone. As the over protectiveness of a nephew kicked in, he started probing for answers, “So who is this him you call yourself meeting?”
While looking at herself in her pocket mirror, Charlene put lip gloss on and paused to give Byron a once over.
“He’s an old boyfriend of mine from back in the day. Anymore questions, Mr. Officer?” she teased.
Folding his arms across his chest, Byron grew agitated. “As a matter of fact, I do have another question. “What’s this old boyfriend’s name?”
Chiraq Killinois (America's Nightmare) Page 2