Trust in No Man 3
Page 23
I stepped out into the moonless night, bopping toward my truck with the weight of so many sins on my back— some justified and some not. On one hand, I had avenged my pop. On the other hand, I had killed callously, and some of my victims had been innocent. What felt like a pang of remorse shot through my chest. I wondered if Big Ma was behind those pearly gates pleading with God to put his hands on me and soften my heart.
Then the rustling movement brought real life back into focus.
Out of the shadows stepped a dark figure. From behind the huge tree appeared another. Zeke and Soldier Boy held shotguns on me. There was no sense in me reaching for my waist because for the first time in years, I was not strapped. I imagined this is how many of my victims had felt.
Helpless.
My heart thumped.
“I told you that I bury little, reckless niggas like you,” Zeke bragged. His shotgun was aimed square at my chest.
“It’s Judgement Day, youngin’,” said Soldier Boy with a wicked grin on his face.
He was right about that, but if these niggas expected to hear me beg for my life, they had the game fucked up. Even unstrapped, I still had the artillery, which was my father’s blood, running through my veins. It wasn’t that I was not afraid, but courage was being able to stare fear in the face and not back down. The same way my pop faced lethal injection.
I looked from Zeke to Soldier Boy, then back to Zeke. Then I said, “What? Y’all bitch niggas must want an autograph.”
I hawked a gob of spit in Zeke’s face.
Boom!
My chest filled with buck shots and I slammed into the side of my truck.
Kaboom!
Soldier Boy blasted me in the gut. I slid down the side off of my truck and was twisted on the ground. I faintly heard a scream come from the vicinity of the porch. My mouth quickly filled with blood as more blood leaked out of my body and onto the cold pavement.
“That’s—all—y’all—niggas—got?” I mocked my executioners.
Boom!
Everything went dark.
THE END
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