The ants milled about in a cluster – not willing to take the now deadly route - and worked their way farther down the blanket until they found the small styrofoam bowl of sun-stale coleslaw.
As Morgan watched the ants, the sounds of Greg and Sam tossing a football faded from her mind.
“Way thanks, man,” Sam said, as Greg’s throw slid to a stop on the towel of a sunbathing girl. She lifted herself up from the towel with one hand, and Sam was treated to a tantalizing view of her oiled breasts as he smiled and bent to pick up the errant ball.
“Sorry, ma’am. My friend’s a bit spastic today. It won’t happen again,” Sam said in his best sexy voice before standing and turning away with a blinding grin on his face. Throwing the ball back towards Greg, he deliberately nailed a small brown poodle that was about to mark a tree. The dog yelped, and the rather large woman at the other end of the leash frowned the entire time it took her to walk down the hill.
Greg found another target for their game. He threw the ball wide of Sam and it struck Denise. She and Tim were trying to use a small cluster of hedge bushes for concealment.
“Quit fucking around, ass holes.” Tim sat up from beneath Denise, and stabbed the offending football with his pocketknife, before throwing it back in their direction.
Denise made a point of rubbing her bottom before smiling coyly in their direction, and then lowered herself back down behind the bushes.
“He shouldn’t do that around the kid,” Sam said quietly to Greg as he picked up the deflated football.
“Why not? It’s not like she ain’t seen it on the TV,” Greg said in a puzzled voice. They’d moved back up the hill to the picnic spot where Morgan was again killing unsuspecting ants.
“She has a crush on him.” Sam stopped moving once Greg caught up.
“Hell, everyone has a crush on Tim. Why’d you think we stick around this crazy setup?” Greg grinned and punched Sam in the arm to distract from the pain in his voice. They both laughed and continued up the hill. Neither one noticed Morgan pause in killing the ants.
“The lovebirds are done.” Greg nodded down the hill to where Tim was standing up behind the bushes and buttoning his pants.
Denise came into view, and looked around blushing as she straightened her dress. Tim said something to her as he started walking up the hill toward the others, and Denise blushed even redder.
She moved to follow him, picking twigs and such from her hair, and caught up with Tim when he paused to pick a half-bloomed stem of lilacs from one of the bushes that helped conceal them. She smiled and started to straighten her hair as they crossed the open space up the hill.
“Here, kid,” Tim said, kneeling beside Morgan.
Morgan felt her face grow warm. She tried to break eye contact with Tim as he leaned close and slid the lilac into her hair just above her ear.
“Shit.” Denise threw herself onto the ground between Greg and Tim and continued to comb her fingers through her own tangled hair.
Morgan sat, still holding Tim’s eye, with her back against a tree. The smell of the flowers made her dizzy, and the only escape she could find from Tim’s gaze was to close her eyes. She felt herself drifting toward sleep. She could feel the sun, hot against her legs, and hear the others talking. She thought that the day should last forever.
“Sometimes I’d swear you care more for her than you do for me.” Denise wasn’t quite whining, but Morgan could hear the pout in her voice.
“Yeah, so? What’s your point?” Tim’s laughter was joined by Sam and Greg.
“You can’t love her, she’s only twelve years old. That would be sick.” Denise sat upright and glared at Tim.
“It’s not sick. At least I don’t think it is. I’ve waited a year so far. I’m willing to wait until she’s legal. Hell, I’ll wait forever for her. She’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see. I’ve been in love with her since the first time I saw her. I’ll always love her.” Tim was smiling at Morgan’s slumped form and didn’t see the pain on Denise’s face.
“You’re just making time with me until you can have her, you bastard.” Denise stood up. Tears filled her eyes, and she turned and ran before the silent men could see them.
Morgan felt a smile build within her, and she allowed her body to fall toward Tim.
Tim caught her as she drifted down, and offered his leg for her head to rest on.
Morgan squirmed about, looking for a comfortable spot.
“God damn. I thought I just took care of that problem.” Tim chuckled to the uncomfortable laughter of the other men.
“So, how did you meet her?” Sam asked from his reclined position.
“Meet the burglar man.” Greg theatrically waved his hand toward the smiling Tim.
“No shit, how did you meet her?” Sam held his smile as he asked his question again.
“No shit. I broke in. Tuesday, 1:00 AM, no lights on, TV playing with the sound way down. I figured whoever was home was fast asleep. She was on the couch, swallowed up by the cushions and hidden in the blankets. By the light of the TV set, she looked like a doll. One of the finest porcelain dolls you could imagine.” Tim stared down at Morgan’s still form as he talked, and she listened to him.
“The burglar.” Sam shook his head in disbelief.
“Yeah. I turned the TV off, and this soft little voice said; ‘turn it back on’.”
Morgan drifted off to sleep.
#
“Did my little sister change lovers?”
Morgan heard her brother’s voice and didn’t realize she was awake until Tim tensed beneath her.
“Get lost, asshole.” Greg rose and moved down the hill toward the group of Asian youths, who stood laughing on the trail below.
“She’s the world’s youngest nymphomaniac, that’s what she is,” her brother said, and Tim raised Morgan’s head and placed a coat beneath her.
“The man said get lost, asshole,” Tim said, moving to stand beside Greg.
Sam was already there.
“Does she keep you well? Her little sex slaves,” her brother said with a callous laugh, and Morgan sat up to look where her brother and his four friends were moving apart.
They were putting a few feet between themselves, and Morgan could see a knife shine in her brother’s hand.
“Damn you,” Tim said, and he drew his own knife. The two groups eyed each other as they maneuvered to find the best advantage, each waiting for the other to make a mistake.
“I wonder if our father would like to know that you’re paying someone to go to school for you,” Morgan said in Chinese from behind Tim.
“Fuck you,” her brother said in English, without meeting her eyes.
“Is everything OK here?”
Two police officers stopped their bikes ten feet away from the groups and waited for an answer.
“No problem, sir, they were just leaving.” Greg said while continuing to stare at the five in front of him.
“Yeah, right.” Morgan’s brother laughed and walked away. The laughter of the group echoed off the hill.
“Is that your brother?”
Morgan looked at the female officer in front of her and recognized her from three years prior. “Yes,” Morgan said and dropped her gaze.
“I’ve dealt with him before,” the officer said to her partner. “I’m sorry kid. Good luck.”
Morgan held her arms tight about her as the two officers rode away.
“Put your coat on,” Greg said to Morgan with a frown, to fill the silence that built as the cops rode away.
The sun was behind buildings to the west of the park, and it was beginning to get chilly in the artificial twilight.
Morgan turned and walked to where they had been sitting. Her coat was in the pile with several others. As she picked it up, she noticed Denise’s coat. “She’ll come back,” Morgan said as she held up the sleeve of Denise’s coat for the others to see.
“Hey baby doll, they always come back,” Tim joked.
Greg made eye contact with Sam, and smiled sourly as he grabbed his own jacket.
“It won’t hurt to take Fifth Street out and head down Grand. If she’s on her way here from her home we’ll catch her,” Sam said, as they walked down the hill. Like Tim, he wore no coat. He had a faded BDU shirt on, his name tape still in place over the pocket, though no rank or service tapes remained.
Tim wore a black cotton sweatshirt with “VISUALIZE WORLD POLICE” barely readable in peeling press-on letters.
“Have to turn when Grand meets Thirty-eighth. I’ll be damned if I’ll go any farther out of my way for a pouting girl.” Tim took the lead as they exited the park and started walking down the busy avenue.
Morgan always marveled at how calm it could be within the tree enclosed park, and how busy it was on the street.
“I hear you man.” Greg grinned now, the reflexive, angry smile that always made Morgan just a little afraid of the tall, black man.
Morgan stared at Greg as they walked. She moved to put her hand in his and was rewarded with a gentle smile. The sincere expression transformed his face from hostile and withdrawn into one of pleasant surprise.
“What time is ShaTilla coming tonight?” Morgan asked Greg.
“She isn’t.” The angry pain was back in his eyes.
Morgan peered at him and watched as he stared down several youths who lounged in possession of the corner they were approaching.
“Genevieve is going out of town this weekend.” Greg never paused as he approached the intersection, and the walk signal blinked on just as Morgan stepped off the curb.
“ShaTilla could stay the weekend with us.” Morgan turned her attention from Greg, and watched as Tim helped himself to the contents of an unsuspecting woman’s purse.
She was short, at least a foot beneath Tim’s five foot ten inches, with bleached, brittle looking hair sticking up over six inches. Her thick makeup reminded Morgan of a program she had watched on burial preparations.
Tim winked at Morgan as he finished his inventory, and then placed something into her bag, before walking off, whistling.
“I’m working doubles all week long, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll tell the bitch to drop her off before she leaves. Thanks.” Greg smiled down at Morgan’s head as they walked past the targeted woman.
A few feet ahead of them, Tim hung up a pay phone and turned to lean against the wall. He pulled out the smallest of his pocket knives and started to clean his fingernails. Tim nodded toward the woman in answer to Greg and Sam’s questioning looks.
She was approaching the front doors of a large bank.
“Remember that pea-shooter I copped off that vine dealer last week?” Tim continued to stare it his fingernails, a feral grin haunted his face.
“The one I told you to throw in the river? Man I told you not to be holding no damn gun around me. I ain’t going down on some Federal crap. I don’t care how much it’s worth on the street!” Greg growled at Tim.
“Neither am I. On the other hand, I’ve been hearing tell about some upstreet, liberal bitch who’s doing a lot of banking for the Vinetta cartel. I think she’s about to be introduced to a few feds herself.” Tim nodded his head toward the chaos at the entry to the bank.
The woman walked through the first of the doors, only to find the second would not budge. The entry doors locked with a very audible click, and she was pounding on them hysterically. Her makeup was running down her face, and as Tim pointed her out, several police cars pulled to a stop in front of the building.
“Are you sure she’s the one?” Sam asked as they turned and continued down the sidewalk.
“Damn straight.” Tim grinned and showed Sam a bank deposit bag. It bore the distinctive logo of a laundromat not too far from their apartment complex. It was common knowledge on the street that the business was a cover for drug traffic.
#
“Let’s go home.” Morgan was sitting on a bus bench on the corner of Grand Avenue and Thirty-Eighth Street.
Tim was staring in the window of the adult bookstore Greg and Sam were leaving.
“Sure, sweetheart,” Sam said as the three men exchanged grins before heading down the next alleyway toward home.
Denise was entering the alley from the opposite opening and Tim sped up to meet her.
There was no bright light, or loud sound, only a growing darkness that obscured Denise and then Tim.
Before Morgan could stop her forward foot from touching the ground, she was within the darkness.
#
When the darkness left there was only pain.
“It’s a dream,” Morgan heard her own voice say as she sat up and looked about her.
The room was small. Tim was lying on top of Denise. Morgan was sprawled across both Greg and Sam. Sam was sitting with his back to a wall. Greg was moaning under his breath, but his face was turned away from her. Tim propped himself up on one elbow and tried to wake Denise.
Morgan continued staring about at the white glowing walls as Denise gasped, then grabbed Tim, and began to cry. The room was no more than an eight foot box she decided. A recessed circular hatch drew her attention to the ceiling above them. Sam followed her gaze and stood to reach for it. Tim was bumped in the shuffle, and shrugged off Denise to try and help turn the obvious handle. Greg sat up, and Morgan gasped when she noticed the deep gash on his cheek. A clear, dry coating covered more than half of his face, but the purple of a forming bruise could be seen.
“Some fucking dream. I sure hope you wake up soon because your fucking dream punched me.” Greg shifted away from Tim and Sam, to lean into one of the corners.
“Shit! Now your damn dream is pissing my pants for me.” Greg started to jump up from where he had chosen to sit; Morgan watched his face turn pale as he settled for sliding along the wall away from the corner. The corner he leaned against contained a small fountain of water that shot up less than a foot, before splashing onto the floor and pooling in a mesh covered hole.
“Give it up, it ain’t moving,” Greg said to Tim, and moved to a drier spot.
“Never. You okay, man?” Tim turned toward Greg.
“I wanna go home, please. Just let me go home,” Denise cried in a plaintive whine.
“Yeah, I’m alive, for now.” The depressed looking Greg slid to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. His face was obscured from Tim’s quizzical look.
“I want to go home. I don’t want to be here. Please Tim, let me go home.” Denise continued to cry as Morgan put her arms around her, and brought the distraught older girl’s head onto her lap. The whine in her voice was replaced by a quieter sobbing.
“Thanks, kid.” Tim’s smile was forced.
“Hey, one more try, man. I thought I felt it give.” Sam was still trying to move the hatch handle.
Morgan felt a scream begin inside her as she watched first Sam’s, and then Tim’s outstretched hands disappear into darkness.
#
The darkness was quicker than her scream, and she woke up as it erupted from her throat.
“That’ll be the five AM wake-up call. C’mon folks, breakfast time.” Greg said leaning against a wall, the bruise on his face even bigger.
“Food?” Denise sat up; Tim lay beneath her, frowning at the placement of her elbow.
“I lied. Plenty of water, though.” Greg gestured toward the corner the unconscious Sam lay in. The small fountain now fell from the top of a wall and was pooling around Sam’s legs. The hatch was on the opposite wall.
“He’s alive. Nasty bump though.”
Greg’s cavalier attitude was beginning to irritate Morgan, and she could see that it was angering Tim.
“You could have moved him.” Tim moved toward Sam.
“Where?” Greg gestured about the box, and Morgan realized that, until Tim stood, he and Denise had blocked off the center of the room, leaving her alone in the small open area.
“Forget it, let’s move him now.” Tim reached toward Sam’s inert form.
>
“What about his neck or back?” Morgan asked in a whisper.
“Shit,” Tim said, and straightened up without touching Sam.
“The damage is beyond done.” Greg never moved from where he sat.
“Just what is your attitude, asshole?” Tim lunged toward Greg, even as the darkness began to build.
Morgan saw Greg smile as Tim fell to his feet, and then the darkness and the pain returned.
#
Morgan woke to find her head resting on Greg’s lap. “You saw them, didn’t you?” She asked in a whisper.
“Yeah. You too?” his voice was hopeful as he wiped tears from his face, and handed Morgan the wilted lilacs she had forgotten.
“No. But the darkness lasts longest for Sam, and then Tim and Denise. You’re always awake before me. And they hit you.” She reached a hand up and touched the bruise that had spread to cover the entire side of his face underneath the protective coating.
“Yeah, well, remind me not to be a hero next time.” Greg took Morgan’s small hand in his larger one, and helped her to sit up.
“I don’t recall you being a hero the first or second time. Asshole,” Tim said as he moved toward the still form of Sam.
“Fifth,” was Greg’s response as he moved his legs to allow Tim to lay Sam flat.
“What?” Denise sat up, rubbing her neck with one hand, and smearing what was left of her mascara with the other.
“I’ve woken up five times so far. Each time the door is somewhere else and we’re in a tangle. I was half conscious one time. The pain and pressure made me wish I had ridden through like you sleeping beauties.” Greg reached beside him, and cupped some water from the fountain that now poured out one wall several inches up from the corner and pooled at the bottom.
“What did they look like?” Morgan asked, loud enough to silence Tim.
Obligations Page 20