Anshon and Deck were just running past the front office when the two state troopers let off with their glock 9 mm. Deck slid to the floor and rolled to his right, as Anshon dove to the left. They could both hear the state troopers calling for backup.
Deck stuck the MAC-11 around the corner and squeezed off eight shots. The barrage sent the state troopers for cover. Deck got up and took off running while changing the empty 32-round clip.
As Deck ran for the lunchroom, Anshon made his move. It was hard to fire on the run with the. 50. Its kickback was too big for a one-hand shot. He was breathing heavily as he took off toward the library. It was better to split up. He knew he would never see the free world if he was caught. He quickly reloaded the two empty shots in his. 50 with shaky hands.
“Fuck!” he whispered at the sounds of police sirens in the distance. He lowered himself to his stomach and moved quickly behind a row of books in the pitch black library. When he heard the chatter of the police radio near the door, he stopped breathing in hopes they hadn’t seen him enter the library. Niggas get a sixth sense when they’re on the run.
“Police!” a deep, commanding voice shouted. “Come out with your hands up!”
Anshon closed his eyes and murmured a quick prayer, but why would God listen to a sinner? He was the bad guy.
“Last warning!” the state trooper stated.
Anshon gripped the gold .50 and kissed the barrel. He had made up his mind to save one round. He refused to live and die in prison.
“You and me, baby girl,” he whispered, hyping himself up. He slowly came up on one knee and peeked between some books. He only saw one of the state troopers as he ducked behind the checkout counter, gun in hand.
His heart was pounding in his ears. He searched for the second state trooper but came up short. He slowly slid a thick hardcover book from the shelf. The police sirens were still in the distance. He had to get ghost before the backup showed up. He gripped the book, slung it clear across the library, and was moving in the opposite direction before it struck the computer room door.
The hidden state trooper made his presence known by squeezing off two loud shots in the area where he saw the book thrown from.
Anshon dove to the floor. These muthafuckas wasn’t playing anymore. He cocked back the hammer and turned just in time to catch the state trooper in the moonlight as he moved from behind the checkout counter.
Anshon brought up the gorilla with a firm two-hand grip while on one knee. He knew he had to go all out. He eased back on the trigger. BOOM! Then he rolled to his left.
The hidden state trooper, who was calling his partner over, saw how the impact of the gun lifted him off his feet completely, and he flipped back over the checkout counter. The .50 packed so much power that it took the state trooper’s entire right arm off.
Anshon heard the hidden state trooper gasp in shock near the reading lounge.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Glass shattered from the buzzing slugs from the .50. He took off for the door while he had the chance. Just as he exited the library, the police backup slid into the student dropoff loop, six deep. He took off toward the lunchroom.
“Officer down!” he heard someone scream behind him. “Down the hall, freeze!”
By instinct, he dove to the glossy floor, sliding on his stomach as the deadly line of lead ripped down the hall. They kept firing down the dark hallway, trying to pin Anshon down. Anshon could see blue lights out in the student parking lot. They were trying to trap him off.
They were still firing as he rolled toward the hallway leading to the brick masonry class. Once in the hallway, he stumbled to his feet and took off running full speed. He had to hit the back exit and try to get ghost in the woods. He was on pure adrenalin as he reached the fire exit.
The alarm blared once he burst through the fire exit. A sheriff’s deputy patrol car was slowing to a stop just as his feet touched the pavement.
BOOM! The entire front windshield exploded. The rookie deputy was leaning over and looked up where the headrest used to be. He shifted in reverse without ever looking up. He planned to resign tomorrow.
Anshon ran between two outside trailer-like classrooms and quickly reloaded the five empty slots. Taking four quick breaths, he dashed across the band practice field and headed for the woods. The police were done with a verbal warning. The trooper that Anshon had shot in the library was dead.
Anshon had reached the woods, then he tripped over a log. When he struggled to his feet, he turned to see countless moving flashlights, and in the center was the barking K-9. He turned and bent down over the long barrel. He didn’t know if his shot would reach, but he’d let ’em know what would be waiting.
Back at the fire exit, the K-9 officer was about to let his dog go, when suddenly a deputy standing five feet from him holding a pump was thrown back on his ass, followed by the report from Anshon’s .50.
BOOM! They all scattered. They couldn’t return any fire because there were houses not far from the woods. The slug had reached out and touched the deputy in the upper chest. It didn’t punch through the vest, but the slug packed enough stopping power to make the deputy’s heart stop.
Anshon was already on the run when the deputy hit the ground. He ran a good distance, until he found the running trail used by the track and field team. He stopped and crouched to the ground. He could see them searching the woods to his left.
He placed the .50 on the ground and quickly took his Nikes off. He removed both socks then found two rocks. He had to trick that fucking K-9 if he wanted to stand any chance of getting away. He wiped both socks under his arms and vigorously wiped his ass with them. He then placed a rock in each sock and quickly pissed on both.
The time to complete his deception took forty-eight seconds. He slung one to the left and then slung the other to the right, then took off running with the gold .50 at a measured pace. He’d run for thirty to forty seconds, then stop and listen. He repeated this until he circled out of the woods near the football practice field. He could see countless squad cars in the bus parking lot.
Teck’s minivan was parked in the same spot, and when a police car pulled off, he saw the lights shining on the nearly headless Teck, who’d been killed and pushed under his minivan earlier.
Anshon watched and caught his breath. Just because it was dark, he knew it didn’t mean he was safe or well hidden. Two minutes later, he made his move to cross the road. Once he made it safely across the street, he ran through the field. Once he reached the woods, he knew he’d be straight.
He reached the thick woods and ran through a briar patch. The thorns hooked him in a thousand spots, but it would take more than some thorns to stop him from running from the police. Since he still had on the gloves, he pulled the briars loose and surged deeper into the woods.
When he reached a cow field, he slowed up. He took the time to catch his breath once again and loaded the one empty chamber, leaving him with four slugs in his pocket and five in the golden chamber. He nearly shitted on himself when his cell phone rang.
“Shit!” He lowered himself closer to the ground and silenced the ringer.
“Yeah, who dis?” he said, licking his dry lips.
“Wood C, nigga. Where you at?” Wood C whispered.
“Near a cow field,” Anshon replied then shot the same question back to Wood C.
“Hiding in somebody’s back yard under a truck,” Wood C whispered. “Deck ain’t answering his phone. You seen ’im?”
“We split up at the school,” Anshon whispered while looking around with quick jerks.
“Yo . . . I’ma holla.”
“A’ight.”
When he slid the slim phone back into his chest pocket, he went back on the move. The cows ignored him as he crouched down near the fence. He thought of his sister as he stood up to jog across another field.
The pain was still there. His quest for revenge hadn’t changed a damn thing, except his fate. Tammy’s words of advice rang in his mind: Don’t let the game be
your demise.
Anshon prayed to God to let him reach Peedin Street. If not, he’d be beggin’ for the Lord to let him in Heaven’s door. So he kept running.
He knew he had to be careful crossing Highway 70, so he paused at the edge of the woods and waited for the right chance. Anshon realized the spot he was in was spelling out his life to him. He could see the overpass, and further down 70 to his left was a place he never wanted to see again: prison. To his right and a few miles down the road was the cemetery, a place where his sister and Momma rested in peace, a place he wasn’t ready to visit just yet, but if it came down to it, he’d pick the right over the left. That left nothing but moving forward to reach home.
He said Monica’s name, laced up his kicks, cocked the hammer back, and dashed across the four-lane highway. His inspection didn’t pick out the two Selma’s finest parked in the cut.
“Freeze! Police!”
Chapter 11
Monica sat at her kitchen table next to Fe-Fe, with her hand on her cell phone and the cordless on the table. The two women were both worried about the same man. When Fe-Fe told Monica about the twins, she nearly fainted. There was no doubt in her mind that Anshon would kill them both. She just wanted her man to come home. Fuck everything else.
“You sure they didn’t tell you where they took Wallo?” Monica asked with tears running down her face.
Fe-Fe shook her head slowly side to side. They both had their car keys within reach, and when Monica’s cordless phone rang, she answered it before the first ring was completed.
“Hello!”
She prayed she would hear Anshon’s voice. It was Deck. He told her that he needed a ride and that he would meet her at the Pizza Hut in Smithfield. Deck had put some miles on his Reeboks and was in the clear. He had ditched his MAC-11. When he told her that Wood C and Anshon was still on the run, she nearly dropped the phone.
Fe-Fe rushed to pick it up, and Deck repeated everything he’d just said to Monica. Fe-Fe snatched up her keys and ran out the door to go pick up the stranded Deck. Monica sat back down and started to cry uncontrollably. She wanted Anshon.
* * *
Wood C had somehow made it to McDonald’s on 301 and was now sitting in the front eating his meal and trying to blend in. Police were still heading down toward the high school. He’d broke his cell phone when he dove from a pair of headlights as he crept through the white neighborhood next to the school’s campus. Once he was in the clear, he dropped his two .40s in a plastic trashcan. He planned to calm his nerves down then bum a ride back to Selma, which he guessed would be easy.
He was biting into his Quarter Pounder when he saw Fe-Fe’s Legend slow down for a red light on 301.
Fe-Fe was still praying for Anshon as she sat at the red light. It was a long wait, and just as she came off the brake, Wood C swung the door open, scaring the shit out of Fe-Fe.
“Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go!” Wood C said, slamming the door. She pulled off.
They both tried to talk at the same time. Fe-Fe won. She told him about Deck then asked about Anshon. Wood C was happy to hear about Deck, but as of now, Anshon was still on the run.
“Once we pick up Deck, hit Buffalo Road. Lemme see your cell phone.” He checked the side mirror—no blue lights.
Fe-Fe told him she didn’t have a cell phone.
“Damn!” he said, slamming his fist on the dashboard.
Deck was standing in the parking lot when they pulled up. When he saw Wood C, he asked about Anshon as he got into the back seat. Deck pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Anshon’s cell number. He didn’t answer.
“Roadblock.” Fe-Fe sighed as they rounded the corner near Smithfield Middle School. Blue lights were everywhere.
“Fuck!” Wood C said.
When a helicopter flew over with a blinding spotlight, Wood C clenched his fists. The police had Buffalo Road locked down and made them turn around.
* * *
Anshon was on the run again, and this time they were on his ass. He had followed their command to freeze, but a passing eighteen-wheeler had blinded the four police that were two deep in each squad car.
Anshon made the .50 throw up. He eased back on the trigger, making the gorilla erupt in his hand. Boom! A slug punched a police in the chest, killing him instantly. Boom! A slug flattened a tire. Boom! A slug shattered the second squad car’s side window.
He took off for the woods and reloaded the .50 on the run. Five shots left. God had to be looking down on him when he tripped over a tree stump, as the police opened up with an AR-15, talking in rapid succession. Branches fell on his back as the rapid fire continued to blaze over his head.
He fired one shot over his shoulders. Boom!
When the helicopter roared over the treetops with its bright light, he became disoriented. He got himself together, came to his feet, and ran. Fuck looking back; he wanted to move forward. Thorns cut into his face and neck, tearing at his skin, but he kept moving without missing a step. Pain would come later. His chest was on fire, but he kept running.
When he ran into the dog pound, he knew he was almost home. He was about to cut to the right when something hot hit him in the arm, spinning him around. He slammed into a tree. He rolled over to his stomach and easily found the gleaming .50.
His left arm had been hit by a stray round. Ignoring his useless arm, he got up and ran. He could hear the police yelling out to each other as the helicopter buzzed the treetops with its blinding light.
He dove to the ground just as the spotlight moved over him. He gritted his teeth and willed his wounded arm to support the .50. He raised it up as the spotlight moved near him. When the light blinded him, he eased back on the trigger.
BOOM! He completely missed the light, but the slang easily punched through the bottom-viewing window in the cockpit and hit the co-pilot in the stomach after the slug first traveled up through his leg.
The pilot shrieked and banked the helicopter in a tight turn as the co-pilot spewed blood all over the cockpit.
Taking a deep breath, Anshon got up and ran through the woods. He burst out of the woods, running as fast as he could. His heart was pounding, and sweat covered his face, which set his face on fire from the open cuts.
He ran in the angle that would allow him to go through his back yard. He could see Selma’s finest accelerating down Peedin Street five deep with the blue lights flashing. Suddenly, Anshon stumbled and fell flat on his face.
* * *
Monica ran to the front door when the police rode by. Deck had called to tell her that Anshon was still on the run. Tears ran down her face as she looked down the road. Plum and Dee were also standing outside. “Baby, please.” Monica cried to herself. “Please come home.”
* * *
Deck was on his way back to Peedin Street with Fe-Fe. Wood C was now sitting behind a bush at the corner of Preston and Massey Street when he saw the K-9 unit coming. Just as it reached his hiding spot, he ran to the curb and emptied Deck’s little .32.
POP, POP, POP, POP, POP, POP! It caused the driver to lose control and hit the curb at forty miles per hour, breaking the rim as the tire blew. Wood C hoped it would help. He took off running and vanished with ease.
* * *
Anshon was almost home, but he was past exhausted. He was now in the field behind his trailer. His cell phone didn’t work, so he had to make a quiet entrance. He was bleeding badly, but the wound could have been worse. He fell to his knees then rolled to his side. He was too tired, too weak. He silently cried.
He got up once more but collapsed after five steps. As he was getting to his feet, he heard the K-9 and knew it would follow his blood trail, and if the dog didn’t kill him, the police would.
He refused to go back to prison. “Big sis!” he sobbed as he held the .50 to his head. He closed his eyes and slowly eased back on the trigger....
EPILOGUE
Ten Months Later
Selma, NC
Fe-Fe stood at the gravesite holding h
er two-month-old baby girl, Tammy, with grief resting in her heart. Next to her stood Monica, holding her six-week-old baby boy, Anshon, and she too had grief resting in her heart. They were both paying their respects to someone they cared about deeply and missed.
Monica placed a single red rose on the gravesite as tears rolled down her cheek. After they said their silent good-byes, they both turned to hug each other.
“You be safe, okay?” Fe-Fe said.
Monica wiped her eyes. “I will, Fe-Fe. Just stay in touch with me.”
“I promise,” Fe-Fe said before she turned to leave.
Monica watched her best friend slowly walk away. She was happy for Fe-Fe and Wood C, who were now together. Fe-Fe had legal custody of her twins again, and the five of them lived up in Richmond, Virginia.... Really it was six if you wanted to count the new seed Wood C had baking in Fe-Fe’s oven.
Fe-Fe hated lying to Monica about Wood C being li’l Tammy’s father, but little did Fe-Fe know, Monica knew the truth. The baby looked too much like Anshon for anything to be denied.
As Wood C neared his gleaming 300C, he opened the door for his queen then kissed her lightly on the lips. They both waved good-bye then slowly pulled out of the quiet cemetery, and that was Fe-Fe’s and Wood C’s ending.
As for Deck, he was still in Selma. He now ran a barbershop on Raiford that supported his brand new triple-wide trailer out in Southern Estates. He no longer took up space in Wood C’s 300C passenger seat. He now had Anshon’s Chevy.
Larrisha and her brother Von moved to Los Angeles.
Monica neared the shiny QX56 then wiped her teary eyes. She leaned over to kiss her baby. A few moments later, they were heading for I-95 South to begin a new life down in Miami, Florida. Tammy had made her promise her before she died that they would take the spot in Miami as soon as Anshon got out of the game.
“Well, baby,” Monica said, looking up to the sky, “I guess this is it.”
Enjoy this sample from:
For the Strength of You Page 13