Silence of the Nine

by T. Styles

  “Which women?” Kerrick asked. He had forgotten all about the group.

  “Those women there,” he said pointing.

  Hoping to win Peter over, Kerrick expanded his chest. “Oh, those women are not a problem. I assure you the only color they are interested in is green. You’re in my country now, my friend. Let me help you, like you will help me in America.”

  And like an African native leading other natives to the ship that would take them to America, and eventually slavery, he beckoned the beauties in his direction with a wave of his hand. They floated to the table like moths to a flame.

  When they stood above the men, their skin smelling like must and cheap perfume, Kerrick laid it on thick for show. “Why must you three do me and my friend the way you have all night? Can you be that cruel?”

  The main one, also the thickest of the crew, grinned. “And tell me, what exactly did we do?” She licked her lips and considered both men.

  “You have single handedly taken us away from our business meeting. All we have been able to do was have lustful thoughts of you.”

  All of them giggled. “We’re so sorry about that. Would you like us to stop?” the spokeswoman for the group responded.

  “Never,” Peter interjected.

  Kerrick laughed and continued his play before his new white friend ruined it all. He was also using the opportunity to show he could talk slick and close the deal, despite not being in sales. “What do you say all of us grab some drinks and see where the night will lead us?”

  The spokeswoman said, “That sounds like a plan to me.”

  ****

  The blue sky caught Kerrick as he walked through the door of his home. He hadn’t done anything so disrespectful since he asked for Thandi’s hand in marriage. Although he was a monster, he didn’t play when it came to Thandi’s love. He was consumed with guilt and would spend all night trying to convince her that this type of behavior would never happen again.

  Besides, Kerrick wasn’t interested in the other women. But Peter was and after entertaining the ladies at the bar, he convinced Kerrick to stay with him until the sex act was done. Peter knew he couldn’t handle all of the women by himself, but he refused to dismiss them either. So they rented a cheap motel, which stank of piss and old cum, and got down to business. Surprisingly enough, Peter was able to handle two women and Kerrick satisfied the third. He closed his eyes and envisioned his wife as he dipped in and out of her pussy but it didn’t work. He felt awful and could not reach an orgasm. So he chose to fake it.

  She was sexual and sensual but smelled of bad pussy and she had a habit of sucking his face, leaving trails of dried spit along the way, whose odor resembled that of vinegar. Peter and Kerrick even had sex with one of the ladies at the same time and it was the closest he ever wanted to get with another man. It reminded him of darker days. The only thing he was thinking about was getting back to his dear wife.

  The moment Kerrick opened the door leading to his house, he knew something was off. The tiny hairs all over his body stood on end and he was certain that Thandi was sitting in the living room waiting to take his head off.

  He took a deep breath, pushed the door open further and prepared himself for his fate. But instead of seeing Thandi, he was met with silence. Death silence.

  Hoping that she was asleep, so that he could creep into bed as if he’d been there the entire night, he continued down the hall leading toward their room.

  When he happened upon the closed bedroom door, he pushed it open. What he saw next brought him to his knees. He was lightheaded and his heart pounded as he looked at the horrible scene before him.

  Scrawled along the wall, above his bed, were the following words written in blood:

  BABY KILLER, WE WAITED ALL NIGHT FOR YOU. SO WE TOOK YOUR WIFE INSTEAD. BUT WE WILL BE BACK.

  Slowly his eyes rolled down to the blood soaked bed. He swallowed the lump in his throat and crawled toward the sheets. He snatched it off and it slid down slowly like it was doused in oil.

  There, in the middle of the mattress, was his wife’s corpse. The murder was gruesome. Her throat was slit, her breasts were removed and placed over her eyes and her intestines hung out of her vagina.

  Even in the condition she was in, Kerrick tried to pick himself up to hold her but he couldn’t move. Instead, he cried harder than a woman who had lost a child. He couldn’t fathom living without his wife yet now he was forced to do so.

  The rage. This had stolen any chance of him being human.

  Which one of his victims was responsible? There was something sticking out of Thandi’s mouth, between her teeth. He pulled himself up onto the bed and removed a red ribbon. His eyes widened and he touched his arm. It was the first time he realized he had lost the ribbon that he placed on earlier yesterday.

  It must have fallen off of his arm at Afua’s house. Her husband was responsible and he had no doubt he would be back. After all, Kerrick had stolen his wife’s life and his only child. He was sure Afua’s husband would risk it all to seek revenge.

  Kerrick eased onto the bed and lifted his wife’s head. Blood soaked his clothing but he didn’t care. He was already a monster but now he would be far more evil. He was certain that he would never love another woman like he loved Thandi.

  “Thandi, please forgive me,” he cried. “I’m so sorry my secrets have cost you your life. And I will never love another like you. I just hope that you forgive me.”

  Afua was right, he would never touch his wife’s lovely face again. Her beauty was stolen and ripped to shreds.

  With a broken heart and mind, he knew he had to disappear to a place far away from his enemies.

  America.

  ****

  Kerrick walked down Reisterstown Road in Baltimore City on the way to the bus stop. He had been in America for three months and decided it was time to reach out to Peter Cramer, the man he shared drinks with at the bar and a bed with in the motel with three beautiful whores.

  When the bus arrived, he paid his fare, stepped on and walked toward the back. Sitting next to the window, he watched the landmarks and the structures exclusive to Baltimore appear and disappear as they drove by.

  America had been unkind to Kerrick in the months he’d been there. He was ridiculed for his skin by the people who resembled him most. His accent was not as thick as that of the people in his country, because he had been working to sound more American all of his life, but it was still different. To make matters worse, since his wife was murdered he couldn’t focus in college and his grades suffered drastically. Things were so bad they were threatening to revoke his visa.

  It didn’t take Kerrick long to learn that losing his wife had crippled him. He missed their long talks. He missed the way she smiled whenever he came home. He missed his life with her. But that life was over and he had to find a way to move on.

  When he made it to the block where Cramer Construction and Associates stood, he rang the bell and got off of the bus. When he walked up on the building, he was mesmerized. At the end of the block sat a gray building with gold accents, which stood as tall as the clouds. The words “Cramer Construction” glistened on the building’s surface as the sun bounced off of them.

  Hopeful, he pulled the large glass door open and walked up to the receptionist sitting behind a cream marble counter. Before approaching, he glanced down at himself to be sure he was presentable. He was wearing blue slacks that rose dangerously high on his ankles and a white shirt that was riddled with wrinkles. Without his baby smuggling job, he was broke and barely had enough money to buy anything to eat, let alone a new suit. Had it not been for the thrift store a block down from the room he rented, he wouldn’t have had anything decent.

  Kerrick grabbed the pen off the counter and his hand shook as he signed his name on the sign-in sheet on the receptionist’s desk. When he was done, he dropped the pen and it rolled into her lap accidently. He was all thumbs. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I’m here to see Peter Cramer.”
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  The receptionist’s pale skin wrinkled on her forehead and her upper lip tightened, causing vertical dips. She picked up the pen and slammed it on the desk. “And you are?”

  “Kerrick Khumalo.”

  “Is he expecting you?”

  “Yes,” he lied.

  The woman scrutinized his crinkled attire and said, “One moment please.” She grabbed the phone, dialed a few numbers and spoke to someone on the other end. She had mastered the art of concealment because she spoke so low Kerrick couldn’t make out a word she said. When she was done, she slammed the phone down and said, “He doesn’t know you.” She proceeded to read the book on her desk.

  Kerrick felt hollow inside. Although he met Peter once, he was sure that what they experienced in Zimbabwe would stay etched in his mind forever. Unless he slept with a lot women in Africa with the help of male natives.

  “I hate to bother you,” he smiled. “But can you tell him I’m the engineer that introduced him to three friends one night in Mutare? Zimbabwe? I’m sure he’ll remember me then.”

  “He said he doesn’t know you. Now unless there’s anything else, I’m busy.”

  He observed the book and grew angry. “I understand,” Kerrick said forcefully. “But it would be a shame for me to really be a friend only for you to be treating me so disrespectfully. I would hate to have to tell Cramer about your behavior once we reconnect. You could lose your job and I don’t want that.”

  The receptionist rolled her eyes. She didn’t think Peter would really fire her but it was not a chance she was willing to take. Besides, how would she buy the pint sized vodka bottles she kept under her desk if she was unemployed?

  More annoyed, she picked up the phone and whispered something into the handset. When she was done she slammed the phone down, scrutinized Kerrick and said, “He’ll be down in a moment. Wait over there.” She pointed to a burgundy leather sofa against the gray marble wall.

  Kerrick ambled over to the couch and waited. An hour later, the elevator dinged and Peter strutted out. He was dressed in a crisp brown designer suit. He had a jutting chin and when he spotted Kerrick he gave him a nod before placing a fake grin on his face.

  Kerrick stood up to greet him.

  Peter strolled up to Kerrick, extended his hand and said, “Hello, there.” Kerrick shook his hand. “I see you found me, Kerrick.”

  Kerrick noticed how Peter wiped his hand after the shake and he tried not to get offended. He didn’t recall Peter wiping his dick after they had sex with one of the women at the same time, or his balls when theirs touched.

  Peter placed his hand on his chin as if he was pondering something.

  “Yes, I have. I’m sorry if this is a bad time.”

  “That depends. What do you want?”

  Kerrick caught his snappiness and was offended. But he made up his mind not to let his behavior destroy his opportunity. He was there for a job and he needed to remain professional. “I’m in town,” Kerrick announced as if Peter wasn’t aware.

  “Good for you,” he replied dryly, uninterested.

  “Well…I was hoping that you could use me in your engineering department. You know, like we talked about.”

  Peter stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You finished college already?” he looked behind him to see who was watching him keep time with the strange African in the lobby.

  “No, it’s a long story,” Kerrick laughed to ease the mood. “And I really don’t need a degree because I know so much about the field already. Just give me a chance.”

  “Well to work for me you’ll need a degree.”

  “Okay, I’ll get one.” Kerrick cleared his throat and his eyes roamed toward the angry receptionist who was staring over at them. “But you also said you could use interns.”

  “Even if I could, you wouldn’t be paid.”

  “But I’m in a bind now. I’m living in a two-bedroom apartment with this woman who—,”

  “We’ve reached our quota, Kerrick,” he said cutting him off. “I really am sorry.”

  Kerrick leaned in, not certain what he meant. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that we’ve reached our minority quota for the year.”

  “Minority quota?”

  “Negro quota,” Peter yelled, tiring of his guest. “Okay?” He paused. “We’ve hired enough Negros for the year and aren’t interested in hiring any more. Now I’m sure Nancy has your information. If something changes, I will contact you but please do not come back here again.” He looked him up and down. “You’re embarrassing.” Peter stuffed his hands in his pockets and stormed off.

  Kerrick watched him until he walked into the elevator and disappeared from sight. He had waited three months to visit him, until he was able to afford a suit and it was all for nothing. The disappointment weighed on him like an ant caught under a brick. The possibility of having that job was all he had to look forward to and now it was gone.

  Angry at the world, he strolled toward the receptionist’s desk and looked down at her. She was certain that he was about to give her his personal information like Peter said in the conversation, and since she could tell by Peter’s attitude that he didn’t want to be bothered, her intention was to be extremely rude.

  Kerrick placed his hands on the counter. He clenched his fists and glared down at her. “Back home I would take women like you and gut out your insides, while watching the blood pour from your body.” He paused to allow his words to sink in. “If I ever see you alone on the street, you will feel what I think about you in this moment. And it will be the most painful thing you ever experienced in your life. I guarantee it.”

  The receptionist looked into his eyes and her body shivered. She clamped her meaty thighs together to prevent from pissing on herself.

  When he took her heart, and was sure his black face would haunt her dreams forever, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away.

  Kerrick knew that after that utterance, he could never come back. He would have to think of another plan to be successful in America. What line of work could a man discover that would make him rich and powerful? He didn’t have an answer but he was sure he would find it.

  CHAPTER 2

  KERRICK

  1966

  Baltimore, MD - America

  “He’s sudden, if a thing comes in his head.”

  -William Shakespeare

  The heat was on blast, making it hard to breathe in the small bedroom. Kerrick, who changed his name to Damien Trevor to prevent the immigration authorities from finding him because of his expired visa, and to fit in with Americans with a more traditional name, was on a fragile twin size bed eating a seventy-year-old woman’s pussy. Emma smelled of dried urine because she hadn’t taken a bath in two days and she moaned so loudly he was certain the neighbors could hear her.

  Kerrick did all he could to encourage her to bathe before she forced him into sexual predicaments in lieu of rent, but nothing worked. He was starting to believe that she enjoyed having him do disgusting things in order to control him. And to see how badly he wanted to stay.

  Her soft, wrinkled legs were spread so wide her bones cracked. “Lick it harder, Damien,” she yelled. Her yellow hand slapped him in the face. “Get it good.”

  Kerrick slurped up her juices as he continued to earn his keep.

  “That’s right, bush nigger. Lap that pussy up. Lap it all up. And pull my sweet lips back and suck that button too.”

  Kerrick pushed the lips of her vagina back and her clit popped up like a tiny seed. A white, doughy substance surrounded her clitoris and he lowered his head and licked that too. His mouth tasted as if he’d eaten a raw onion and he wondered when it would be over so he could wash her taste from his mouth.

  Emma grinned down at him because there was nothing the African wouldn’t do to stay in her home. He was her handsome slave and she had all intentions on keeping it that way.

  On the verge of an orgasm, she ordered him to lie on his back. Then sh
e pushed her pussy into his face until he could not breathe. She rubbed her pussy against his lips until a powerful orgasm squeezed out and placed a smile on her face.

  When she was done, he rushed into the bathroom, vomited and took a shower. He had taken one earlier in the day but when she stopped him at the living room door, right before he was scheduled for work, he knew he wouldn’t be comfortable unless he took another. When he was done with the shower, he brushed his teeth and mouth so hard his tongue bled.

  What had his life become?

  Clean, he slid into his clothes, grabbed his wallet off the dresser and left his room. Emma was sitting on the sofa pointing a huge remote control at the television. She stopped when she rested on the soap opera Guiding Light. A velvet robe was draped over her body and her hand clutched a beer.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, never removing her eyes from the television. She widened her legs so that he could get another look at her vagina if he so desired.

  Disgusted, Kerrick moved toward the door. “It doesn’t matter, Emma. I’ve taken care of you already. I’m done.”

  She rolled her head in his direction. “Don’t get sassy with me, bush nigger. The only reason you’re in my apartment is because I have allowed you to stay. Now I asked you a question. Where are you going?”

  Frustrated, he let out a loud sigh. Before answering, he glanced over at a picture on the wall of Emma when she was younger. Before age and years of cigarette smoking attacked her face, she was a beautiful woman. And not as lonely.

  Forty years ago she was married to Todd Jenkins, a banker who made quite a living for himself by investing in the real estate industry. But living in racist Mississippi made life difficult for the wealthy African American couple so they knew they had to move.

  After some thought, Todd and Emma relocated to the east coast, hoping that Baltimore City would welcome them. For a while, they were both pleased and life was good. Todd continued to invest in stocks and bonds and Emma found fulfillment in catering benefits and other special events.