Baltimore Chronicles

by Treasure Hernandez

  Derek started getting hungry and impatient after waiting in the woods for two hours. He was starting to question whether Day was even in the house. He made a deal with himself that he would give it another hour then come back the next day.

  Twenty minutes into his last hour, Derek saw signs of life coming from the house. The garage door opened up and Day out walked. Derek perked up and forgot about his hunger. He readied his gun and moved into position for the ambush.

  Day stepped back into the garage, which gave Derek the opportunity to move even closer. He was crouching on the side of the house behind some bushes, ready to pounce as soon as Day came out again. His body was like a compressed spring ready to unleash.

  Derek started to jump up when he saw movement, but immediately pulled back when he realized it wasn’t Day. Instead, a little boy came bopping out. Derek retreated behind the bush.

  “Yo, M.J. Wait up. Stay by the car,” Day said from inside the garage. M.J. obeyed and waited by the passenger’s side.

  Derek watched as Day followed behind and pressed the button to close the garage door. Day then opened the back door of the truck and put M.J. into his car seat.

  “When is Mommy coming home?” M.J. asked.

  “Soon, little man. Soon. I promise,” Day answered.

  Derek saw sadness in M.J.’s face. He thought about his own kids and how they must be feeling. He felt guilty for keeping Halleigh separated from her son. Like Derek, she would do anything for her child.

  He was conflicted now. On one hand, he could use Halleigh to get his own children back—although that approach was taking a lot longer than he had expected. On the other hand, he was keeping a mother from her child.

  His guilt won out. He decided not to ambush Day. The kid was an innocent bystander; he didn’t deserve to see any violence. Derek figured he would have just as much success hunting down Scar on his own.

  He sneaked back to his car and drove back to his place in the country.

  Derek was feeling helpless and useless as he thought of his children on the drive back. They were somewhere out in the world with that monster, Scar. He couldn’t believe that his own flesh and blood had turned on him so severely. It was beyond Derek’s comprehension to think that one brother could be so different from the other. His once-deep love for his brother had turned into an even deeper hate.

  To try to think of something else and not end up killing himself for feeling so useless, he turned on the radio. Derek’s thoughts were still swirling, and he was unable to fully focus on the radio. Soon, though, he found himself listening carefully when the DJ came on with a breaking news story.

  Disgraced former judge Tiphani Fuller has been found dead. Police believe she was the target of a car bomb explosion in Baltimore this afternoon. Miss Fuller is the third government figure to be killed by a car bomb within the last few months. All government agencies have been put on high alert... .

  Derek stopped listening after that. He was stunned. He didn’t know how to feel about it. At one time, Tiphani had been the love of his life. He was going to grow old with her. They were going to watch their grandkids together. He had been devastated when he found out that she was fucking his brother. It was the start to this whole mess that he was now in.

  He thought back to everything that had happened. This thing had gotten out of control. There had been too much death and mayhem, and now it needed to end. Derek was tired of fighting. He just wanted his children back and to keep them safe.

  He chuckled to himself as he thought about it. He couldn’t believe that he actually felt a little sad at hearing of Tiphani’s death. His emotions were definitely mixed. Part of him was sad; the other thought she finally got what she deserved.

  The only thing good that came from that woman was my children. Derek made a deal with himself: from that point on, he would never think about that woman ever again.

  Getting back to the house, Derek started feeling more in control. He felt that he now had a better handle on how he would find his children. Instead of relying on Day, he would take matters into his own hands, and he would come up with a better plan than the ones he’d tried today. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.

  He went directly to the basement. He wasn’t sure if Halleigh was dead from his last punch, but in case she was alive, he wasn’t taking any chances. He cautiously opened the door. History was not going to repeat itself and have Halleigh sneak-attack him again.

  To his surprise, when he opened the door, he found Halleigh sitting on the bed, her hands still handcuffed behind her back. She looked like hell. Her face was swollen and bruised from the punches Derek had landed. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were bloodshot.

  “You got up.” He entered.

  “Fuck you,” she spat.

  “Thanks for not attacking me when I came in.”

  “I would have killed you if my hands weren’t cuffed.” Halleigh was done with etiquette. She had taken too much abuse, and her hopes for escape were fading.

  Derek approached her carefully. He could see the wildness and uncertainty in her eyes.

  “Back the fuck away from me,” Halleigh warned.

  “I’m not gonna touch you. Turn around. I’m taking your cuffs off.” He held his hands up so she could see the key.

  She contemplated whether to trust him. She was his prisoner; she figured she had no other choice. Reluctantly, she turned to give him a clear view and easier access to the cuffs.

  She held her breath as he inserted the key and unlocked the cuffs. They easily slipped off her wrists and Derek threw them on the bed. Halleigh’s breathing relaxed a bit as she rubbed the sore spots of her wrists where the cuffs had dug in.

  She was a bit confused by Derek’s attitude. His demeanor seemed different. He was less on edge and seemed almost at peace.

  Derek started to walk back toward the door without saying a word. As soon as he turned his back, Halleigh reached under the mattress and pulled out the sharpened toothbrush. While Derek was away, she’d tried to sharpen the toothbrush on the metal of the handcuffs. Not being able to see what she was doing made it a difficult task, and she did the best she could. It was an uneven job, and she would have liked it to be sharper, but it would have to do.

  She jumped up and lunged at Derek. With all of her strength, she tried to plunge the toothbrush into his neck. At the last second, he moved out of the way, and she jammed it into his shoulder instead.

  Derek screamed out in pain as he flipped her over his shoulder and onto the floor. Halleigh had the wind knocked out of her, and as she writhed in pain, Derek pounced on top of her.

  They were in a familiar position, Derek on top of Halleigh, pinning her down. Halleigh looked into Derek’s eyes and saw evil. He reached back and pulled the toothbrush out of his shoulder. Blood immediately came oozing out of the wound. He raised the toothbrush over his head, and with all the rage and force in his body, he brought it down, directed at Halleigh’s head.

  Halleigh closed her eyes and braced herself for the certain death about to overtake her. She heard a loud thud in her ear. She waited to feel the pain of the toothbrush entering her face, but she felt nothing. The only sound in the room was Derek’s heavy breathing.

  Halleigh opened her eyes and saw him still over her, wild-eyed and panting. He had slammed the toothbrush into the floor right next to Halleigh’s left ear. His hand was still wrapped around the handle, and the toothbrush was stuck into the carpet.

  “Why the fuck you keep attacking me? I was going to let you free.” He pulled the toothbrush out of the carpet and got off Halleigh.

  She was speechless. She had been certain that she was about to die. Unsure of what was happening, she stayed on the ground. She didn’t want to provoke Derek into another attack.

  Halleigh watched as Derek walked to the door. He stood there and stared at Halleigh like he was waiting for her to do something. She didn’t know what he expected, so she stayed put.

  “Go! Get th
e fuck out of here. You’re free. This thing has gone on long enough. It’s between Scar and me.” He motioned for her to go through the door.

  Halleigh slowly got up, unsure if Derek was telling the truth or fucking with her emotions. She hesitantly walked past Derek. Walking up the stairs, she was still nervous, half expecting some surprise attack at the top of the staircase. She got to the top and was relieved when nothing happened. Her body began to relax.

  Derek kept his distance as he followed her up the stairs, so as not to spook her. She found her way to the front door of the house.

  “Wait,” Derek said.

  She stopped, thinking that was the moment when he told her he was lying. She felt defeated.

  “You need some clothes.” He went to the bedroom and came back with a sweatshirt and sweatpants.

  “Thank you.” She took the clothes and put them on. They were too big for her small frame, but she tightened them as much as possible.

  “Go back to your son and tell him you love him.” Derek smiled weakly. Sadness swept over him.

  “I will. You do the same.” She walked out the door not having a clue how to get back to her house. She didn’t care. She was seeing the sky for the first time in a long time. She was free.

  Derek watched her run down the long driveway until she was around the bend and out of sight. He was feeling melancholic. There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  This is not going to end well, he thought as he went to tend to the wound in his shoulder.

  Chapter 12

  Stay Away From the House

  Talisa and D.J. came barreling through the front door with toys filling their arms. They ran directly to the living room, dumped their toys on the floor, and energetically ripped into them. Flex followed, looking exhausted. The kids had him running all over the toy store. He was afraid of what Scar would do if anything happened to them, so he had been extra cautious, not letting them out of his sight.

  “Ay yo, Scar,” Flex called out.

  Scar came lumbering down the stairs when he heard the ruckus the kids were causing.

  “Look at my new dolls.” Talisa presented them to Scar.

  “That’s nice.” Scar brushed her off.

  “Where is Charisma? She said she would play with me,” Talisa asked.

  “Charisma, get your ass down here!” Scar yelled up the stairs.

  Charisma quickly came down like an obedient dog.

  “I got new dolls. Look. You want to play?” Talisa asked Charisma.

  “Play with the kids,” Scar ordered.

  “Sure, I’ll play with you, honey.” She pursed her lips at Scar and sat on the floor to play with the toys.

  “Speak to me in the kitchen,” Scar said to Flex.

  They both moved to the kitchen and sat across from each other at the table. The pile of cash was between them, still covering the tabletop.

  “What we gonna do about the white boy?” Scar asked.

  “We got to get rid of his ass,” Flex said matter-of-factly.

  “Goddamn.” Scar shook his head in disbelief. “Why this fool had to be so nosey? I came out here to lay low and not attract any problems. Then this mu’fucka come snoopin’ around.”

  “Maybe that fool is dead already. I’ll go look.” Flex got up to go to the basement.

  Arnold started writhing around the moment he saw Flex. He strained against the ropes tied around his wrists and ankles. The chair he was sitting in was bucking back and forth. He was unable to speak or scream because of the gag stuffed in his mouth.

  “Calm down, nigga. Ain’t no sense in you actin’ all crazy. Your snooping ass ain’t escapin’.” Flex stood in front of Arnold and smiled. He enjoyed watching the struggle.

  Flex slapped Arnold across the face, which stunned him and stopped his struggle instantly. Arnold just stared at Flex in shock. The slap knocked him back into reality. He realized it would be better to relax and cooperate than to fight.

  He had no idea how long he had been down in the basement. If only he could speak to them, he could tell them he wouldn’t tattle on them. He would tell them that it was their business, not his, and they could use drugs if they wanted. Arnold wanted to tell them that he had smoked a little marijuana when he was a teenager. He figured it would show them he understood and passed no judgment against them. He wanted to assure them that he would not turn them in. If only they would take the gag out of his mouth, he figured he could make things right and be back home.

  The doorbell rang as the two men stared at each other.

  “Keep quiet.” Flex went upstairs to check things out. He stuck his head out the basement door. “Yo, Scar. Who the fuck is that?” he whispered.

  Scar cautiously peeked through the window. Standing at the front door was a woman in overalls, her brown hair in a bun on top of her head and a worried look on her face.

  “It’s some white bitch,” Scar whispered back.

  She rang the bell again.

  “Ignore her,” Flex said.

  “Nah. I’ll get rid of her.” Scar went to answer the door.

  Flex retreated behind the basement door, but kept it opened just a crack, so he could hear what was being said.

  “Can I help you?” Scar greeted the woman.

  “Hello, I’m Betsy, your neighbor. Arnold is my husband.” She smiled weakly.

  “So what?” Scar answered rudely.

  “Well, I came home this morning from the post office and Arnold wasn’t there.”

  “What that got to do with me?” Scar was trying to be as rude as possible so she would get the hint and leave.

  “I thought he might be out in the fields, but after a few hours I started to get worried. I went out there, but I couldn’t find him. I called all of our friends, and no one has seen or heard from him.”

  “He probably ran out on y’all.”

  “No. His car is still in the garage, and I don’t find you’re comment funny. Have you seen him today?”

  “He ain’t been over here, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

  Betsy looked into Scar’s eyes. She had a bad feeling about this man. It wasn’t just the scar on his face that frightened Betsy; it was something behind his eyes. There was a danger lurking in this man. There was no reason for him to be so rude to her. She was worried about her husband and just wanted to find him. She wasn’t expecting such attitude from her new neighbor, especially after her husband had gone out of his way to welcome him to the town.

  Flex crept back down the stairs.

  He pulled a gun on Arnold. “It’s your bitch. She snoopin’ around askin’ questions about you.”

  Arnold began struggling wildly and trying to scream. He was hoping to make enough noise so Betsy could hear him.

  “You best stop with that shit,” Flex seethed through clenched teeth.

  Arnold ignored his warning and continued trying to alert Betsy.

  Flex cocked the gun and pointed it at Arnold’s head. “I’m warning you, nigga. If you don’t stop, I will go up there and murk your bitch.”

  Arnold stopped flailing and his scream turned to a whimper. Flex quietly sneaked back up the stairs. He peeked through the crack in the door. Scar was standing at the door, holding his gun behind his back. His finger was on the trigger, ready to shoot.

  “I’m starting to get very worried. This isn’t like him to disappear. Are you sure he hasn’t been over here?”

  “I told you I ain’t seen him. How many times I have to say it?”

  “I’m sorry to worry about my husband and think that you might be able to help,” she said sarcastically. “You have made it very clear that I am bothering you. I know this is asking a lot from you, but if you see him, tell him to come home immediately.” Betsy turned and went back toward her house. She was furious at Scar for his rudeness. Never had she ever experienced someone so cold. She sensed there was something going on at that house. She did not trust her new neighbor. Little did she know how close she had come to her husba
nd—and to death.

  Scar closed the door behind her. Arnold heard the door close and he started his screaming again.

  “I told you to shut the fuck up!” Flex screamed down to Arnold.

  Scar opened the basement door. “What the fuck you screamin’ about?”

  “This mu’fucka won’t stop squirming and screaming like a bitch.”

  Scar was heated from the confrontation with Betsy. He didn’t need no white bitch snooping around like her nosey-ass husband.

  “Let’s take care of this fool then take out his old lady. Get him ready to take outside,” Scar said.

  Arnold went crazy. His eyes were bloodshot and tears were streaming down his face. His throat was getting raw from his attempted screaming. The ropes were cutting into his wrists and ankles and causing them to bleed. Arnold didn’t feel any pain at this moment. The only thing on his mind was getting free and saving his beloved wife.

  Flex tried to subdue Arnold and release him from the chair. He attempted to untie Arnold’s left hand and hold it still. As soon as his wrist was free, Arnold wrestled it away from Flex and removed the gag from his mouth.

  “Please, please. This is a misunderstanding.” He was holding off Flex and keeping the gag away from him. “I won’t tell, I promise. I just wanted you to feel welcome.”

  Flex flipped the chair and Arnold onto his side. This temporarily halted Arnold’s speech, but he quickly started up again.

  “Let me go. I’m a simple farmer. I don’t know anything. I’ll leave you alone.”

  Flex wrestled the gag from Arnold. “Shut yo’ mouth.”

  Before Flex could stuff the gag back in Arnold’s mouth, Arnold screamed, “Help!” He screamed so loud that he strained his vocal cords, but to Arnold it felt like he had ripped them.

  Scar ran up the stairs. “Yo, Charisma, take them kids upstairs,” he yelled.

  “Uncle Scar, we’re not tired. We want to keep playing,” Talisa called back from the living room.

  “If you don’t go upstairs, I will put a serious beating on your ass,” he threatened.

  The kids could hear a different tone in their uncle’s voice. He meant what he was saying, and the kids obeyed at once. Charisma followed right behind, not wanting to get in the path of a raging Scar.