By the time Scar got back downstairs, Flex had Arnold restrained and lying on the ground. Fear was all over Arnold’s face. He never thought he would be in a situation like this. He was a simple man who lived in the country because of the quiet life it afforded him. He loved his wife and his life, and he never harmed anyone. Never would he have imagined dealing with monsters like Scar and Flex. Their evil was too much for Arnold to comprehend.
“Pick him up. Take him out back,” Scar instructed.
Arnold fought back as best he could, but he was running out of strength. His muscles were feeling heavy and unresponsive. Flex tried picking him up, but Arnold wouldn’t stay still and was making it too difficult. Flex punched Arnold several times in the face until Arnold was unconscious.
Scar and Flex picked him up and carried him deep into the woods behind the house. Along the way, Arnold had woken up, but he was still so dazed he wasn’t able to do anything. He tried to pay attention to where he was and how long they had travelled, but it was useless. His brain was too hazy to figure anything out.
“A’ight.” Scar stopped walking and let Arnold go. Flex did the same.
Arnold landed with a thud on a bed of pine needles. He looked up from the ground and could see that tall pine trees surrounded them. He knew exactly what part of the forest he was in. This was Arnold’s favorite place to stroll by himself.
He watched as Scar and Flex hovered over him. They were discussing something, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Everything was muffled, like he was wearing earplugs. He was having trouble focusing his eyes. It would all become blurry when someone moved. The punches to his face must have dislodged a nerve in his eyes.
Scar looked down at Arnold. “Damn, this sorry fool. You think he really was being nice?”
“I don’t know. Either way he a dumb mu’fucka. He should have just kept to his self,” Flex answered.
“You right. This shit is the real world. It ain’t no TV show from the fifties. Not everybody be wanting their neighbors all up in they business.” Scar looked down and studied Arnold’s swollen and bruised face.
Arnold looked at Scar and pleaded with his eyes. His body ached and his head was throbbing. Scar’s face was blank. Arnold could see that anything he did now to survive was useless. He didn’t want the last thing he saw to be the face of a monster, so he moved his gaze to the trees. Arnold loved the land and always felt at peace surrounded by these trees. He was now looking to the trees for comfort in his final minutes.
“Wrong place at the wrong time,” Scar said to Arnold.
Two shots rang out and echoed through the forest. Arnold lay motionless, with two bullet holes through his head. The blood poured out of the holes and seeped into the earth. Scar and Flex stood in silence as they examined the corpse. After a few moments, Flex broke the silence.
“Oh shit. You almost blew that mu’fucka’s head clean off.”
“Go get some shovels. We need to bury the body,” Scar instructed.
“For real? Some bear will probably eat him if we just leave his ass.”
“Just do what I say.”
“A’ight,” Flex begrudgingly agreed.
Flex left Scar there and started the trek back to the house. He didn’t see the point in burying the body. It was just some stupid white boy who the animals would tear to shreds. No one would find him before he was ripped up and unidentifiable. Burying him was more work than they needed to be doing.
Flex was getting sick of having to take orders from Scar. There were a lot of things that Flex would do differently. To Flex, not only would they be different, but they would be better. Flex would ride with Scar for a little while longer, but it would soon be time to branch out on his own.
Before he could go out alone, he would need to figure out an escape plan. He still had loyalty to Scar and wanted to avoid the usual murdering of the king to take his throne. He wanted to find a way for both of them to split the kingdom evenly.
While Flex navigated his way out of the woods and contemplated his future, his phone started ringing.
“What’s good?” he answered.
“What the fuck? I been calling your ass like crazy and your phone be off,” said the young corner boy.
“Nah. I’m out in the middle of nowhere. Reception is shit. What’s so urgent you keep calling?” Flex asked.
“This cat Day be around here asking about you. Say for me to give you his number if I see you. You want me to murk that dude?” The corner boy was hoping the answer would be yes. He saw this as an opportunity to gain some street cred. He would have done it already, but he wanted to make sure that was what Flex wanted. He saw Flex as his way to move up, and he would do anything Flex wanted.
“When was this?” Flex stopped walking.
“Yo, a few hours ago. I been trying you ever since. This ain’t the first time this nigga be around here. First time, I ignored his ass and threw his number out. What you want me to do?”
“You keep his number this time?”
“I got it.”
“Text me that shit. Sit tight and don’t do nothin’ right now.”
“A’ight.” The corner boy hung up.
Flex received the text as he was making his way back to Scar and the dead body. Scar was sitting next to Arnold on the ground, looking up at the sky when Flex came back.
“Where the fuckin’ shovels?” Scar asked.
“Change of plans. Day surfaced, and he lookin’ for us.”
“What?” Scar stood up.
“Got a call from my boy. He gave me Day’s number. Says Day been stopping by, asking questions. What you wanna do?”
“Call that disappearing mu’fucka,” Scar said.
Flex dialed the number.
“Where the fuck you been, nigga?” Flex started right in when Day answered.
“Flex?”
“Who the fuck you think this is?”
“Yo, I’m glad I finally found you. Shit’s been crazy,” Day said.
“Like I asked, where the fuck you been?”
“I heard they raided Scar’s place. I ain’t know what was goin’ on, so I went underground. Once I figured it was safe I came out, and I been looking for you ever since. You ain’t easy to find. Niggas went deep into the shadows.”
“I been right out in the open,” Flex told him. “Fuck them pig mu’fuckas. They can’t touch me.”
“Where you at? I need to get some work in.”
“Hold up, nigga. You disappear and you think you can just come back like that? I got to run it by Scar.” Flex looked over to Scar. Scar nodded his head.
“Come on, man,” Day asked. “My pockets be light since all this shit went south.”
“It ain’t go south for me. I don’t let nothin’ affect my paper,” Flex bragged. “I’ma text you where to meet. You best be here pronto, nigga.”
“Tell me where to go. I’m leaving now.”
“And don’t be thinkin’ of comin’ here with anyone other than your own self.” Flex ended the call.
“What you think?” Scar asked Flex.
“You know I never trusted that nigga.” Flex frowned.
“Let’s see what he got to say for his self. We’ll bury this fool later.” Scar started back toward the house.
Betsy was standing at her kitchen sink washing dishes when she heard two loud blasts echo through the woods. Her nerves were on edge, and the sound startled her. The plate that was in her hand shattered when it hit the floor. With hands shaking, she made her way to the living room and picked up the phone. She dialed the phone and waited for an answer on the other end.
“Yes, this is Betsy over on Shunpike Road. Can I speak with Officer Maki, please?” She waited for the officer to transfer her call.
“Hello, Betsy,” Officer Maki answered.
“Hello, Adam. I need your help. Arnold is missing, and I think my new neighbors have something to do with it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I haven’t se
en Arnold, so I went to our new neighbor, and he acted very strange. I didn’t get a good feeling from him. There was an evil to him. I think I just heard two gunshots in the woods, and I’m terrified that it ...” Her voice trailed off and her eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t bear to bring herself to say the words she was thinking.
“Betsy, it’s all right. I’m sure Arnold is fine,” Officer Maki assured her. “He’ll show up. But I’ll go over and check things out. Can you give me a description of your neighbor?”
“Yes. He is a large black man, and he has this unsightly scar that disfigures his face.” She sniffled and dabbed at the tears in her eyes.
“Betsy, did you say he has a scar on his face?” There was concern in his voice.
“Yes.”
“Do not go near that house again. Do you hear me? Stay away from that man.” Officer Maki’s tone had changed from reassuring to alarmed in an instant. There had been a statewide bulletin sent out with Scar’s picture on it. If Officer Adam Maki was right, the state’s most wanted man was hiding out in his little town.
Chapter 13
Crack Effort
Mathias crept out from behind the dumpster after the anonymous car drove by. He put his gun back in his pocket and looked up and down the block before continuing on his way to the dope house. He had become increasingly more paranoid after his run-in with Cecil. Everything was starting to frighten him. He saw danger in every car that passed and every person who looked his way. It didn’t help that he had graduated from snorting cocaine to smoking crack. He had convinced himself that it calmed his nerves, but it only made him jumpier and more agitated.
He hated to have to go outside. The only time he left his house was to buy more crack, which was becoming more and more frequent. He was dipping into his savings to feed his habit. He had all but given up on looking for new employment. All of his old allies were now enemies to him. No one would take his call. He had even applied to a local fast food restaurant, but they could see “crack fiend” all over his face and wouldn’t even interview him.
Mathias’s eyes darted from side to side as he scurried down the street. The quicker he got to the house, the sooner he could be back home safe and sound. He would have preferred to drive, but he had traded his car to his previous dealer for three months of free crack. Their deal ended almost immediately, when the dealer got pulled over, got into a shoot-out with the cops, and was killed.
He made it to the building and knocked. A set of eyes peeked through a slot in the door.
“What?” the person behind the door barked.
“I need weight,” Mathias answered.
The door opened halfway, and Mathias slipped through. There was another man standing there, who led Mathias down a dark hallway to the back room. There sat a fat man behind a table. He was surrounded by another three dudes, all holding automatic weapons.
“Speak,” the fat man said.
“I need four eights of rock.” Mathias was on edge. The three men with the weapons were making him nervous.
The fat man pulled a shoebox out from under the table. He removed four eight balls of crack and placed them on the table.
“There you go, big man.”
Mathias pulled out the money and laid it on the table. The fat man counted it.
“All good. Take yo’ shit and get the fuck out.”
Mathias obeyed. He quickly took the bags stuffed them in his pocket and hightailed it out of the house. Once outside, he rushed to find a place to take a hit. He was all worked up and needed a hit to make his mind right.
He found an alley and ducked in, then sat behind a dumpster and prepared the pipe. The first hit went into his lungs, and Mathias was flying high. He sat there with his eyes closed, enjoying the ride. Then he felt a kick to his ribs. He opened his eyes to see a skinny little teenager standing over him.
“Give me your shit, crackhead.” The boy kicked Mathias again.
Mathias scrambled to get away from the boy. The boy kicked him again. Mathias was trapped between a wall and the dumpster. He had nowhere to run.
“I said give me yo’ shit or I’ll kill you.” Another kick to the head.
Mathias got lightheaded. He fumbled in his pockets. The boy backed up, thinking Mathias was going to give him the crack. Instead of the crack, Mathias pulled out his gun and blindly shot at the boy. The shot hit the boy directly in the chest, bringing him crumbling to the ground.
Mathias jumped to his feet. His eyes were wide with fear and surprise. He had never shot anyone. He watched the blood drain out of the boy’s chest, staining his white T-shirt red. The boy was making gurgling sounds as he struggled to breathe.
Out of panic, Mathias ran as fast and as far as he could go. When he could no longer run, he slowed to a walk but kept on moving. He needed to create as much distance between the shooting victim and himself.
Unable to go any farther, Mathias found some shelter in a small park near City Hall. He was panting and sweating. He found a corner of the park and sat under a tree that would do well to hide him from prying eyes while he smoked his rock. He wiped the sweat from his brow and packed his pipe.
The anticipation of the high made Mathias forget about the incident he had just run from. He torched the rock and inhaled deeply. The smoke penetrated his lungs, and the chemicals entered his blood stream and shot straight to his brain. He felt the rush of the crack surge through his body. He took another hit, then another.
Mathias couldn’t stop himself. He kept hitting the pipe, smoking the rock, and then repacking for another round. He finally took a break, but only because he was jittery, uncomfortable, and mumbling to himself. He was sitting under the tree, scratching all of the itchiness throughout his body. He had burned through an eight ball in under an hour.
“Keep it moving, buddy.” The policeman standing over Mathias startled him and made him jump. The former mayor hadn’t tended to his hygiene in a while. His clothes were tattered, his skin was dirty, and his beard was overgrown. The officer, not really paying much attention, didn’t recognize Mathias.
“What?”
“You gotta move. Can’t stay here,” the officer replied.
“This is a public park. I can sit wherever I want,” Mathias countered.
“Not today you can’t. Get up.”
“I know the laws. You can’t kick me out of here.”
“Yes, I can and I am.”
“Well, I’m staying, and there’s nothing you can do.”
“I’m warning you. If you don’t stand up now and vacate the park, I will arrest you.” The officer unlatched his handcuffs from his belt.
Mathias contemplated standing his ground and continuing to argue, but saw that he was pushing his luck. If he got arrested, he would be frisked, and then he’d be without his beloved crack. He definitely didn’t want that to happen. Mathias begrudgingly obeyed the officer.
Before walking away, Mathias took note of the officer’s name. “Bullshit beat cop. I’ll get him fired when I’m back in power,” he mumbled as he skulked away.
“What did you say?” the officer called to Mathias.
“Nothing,” Mathias shot back and kept on moving.
Mathias was still mumbling to himself about his run-in with the officer as he walked into a crowd of reporters and citizens gathering in front of a podium at the entrance to the small park.
“What’s this?” Mathias vigorously scratched his neck.
“The governor is going to give a speech.” Disgusted by Mathias, the photographer eased away from him.
Mathias’s body tensed up and his heart began to race. This was the reason he was being kicked out of the park.
It’s not enough for him to ruin my career and force me out of office. Now he has to humiliate me by kicking me out of the park. Mathias was exaggerating everything in his mind. The governor had no idea Mathias was anywhere near the park. The copious amounts of crack were starting to affect Mathias’s common sense.
The anger coursing t
hrough his body caused Mathias to become even more fidgety. He couldn’t stand still. The man who had destroyed his life and backstabbed him was going to be in front of him at any moment. Should he leave, or should he stay? He couldn’t decide what to do. This could be his chance to humiliate the governor in public and get his position back. But how could he do it? His mind was unclear and unfocused, which was making him more and more agitated.
Mathias looked up to see the governor’s motorcade pull up across the street. A rush of excitement came from the crowd as the reporters saw the governor exiting his car. Before he knew it, Mathias was pulling out his gun and running across the street.
“You ruined my life, you backstabbing piece of shit.” Mathias started shooting with the precision of a blind man. The bullets were flying in every direction.
Screaming and shouting could be heard as the crowd scattered. Like a well-choreographed dance, police officers jumped on top of Governor Tillingham to shield him; others covered members of his cabinet, and the rest surged toward Mathias. Making it farther than one would think, Mathias emptied his gun of bullets before being violently tackled to the pavement.
“Drop the weapon!”
“Get the fuck off of me!” he shouted
“Stay down! Arms behind your back! Don’t move!” Officers were shouting at him from every direction.
“Leave me alone! I order you! Do you know who I am? That man is a criminal.” Mathias struggled against the weight of three cops. They had pried the gun away from him and cuffed his hands behind his back. They were going out of their way to handle Mathias as roughly as possible, pressing his face into the pavement as they frisked him.
“A fucking crazy crackhead.” One of the officers pulled out the crack from Mathias’s pocket.
“That’s not mine.”
The cops jerked Mathias up and shoved him into a black Suburban with the darkest tint on the windows. They all piled in and sped off in a caravan of police cars and SUVs, lights and sirens at full strength.
“Enjoy the view out the window now, crackhead. It will be the last time you ever see the outside world. Your life is over.”
Baltimore Chronicles Page 10