As he stuffed his bloodied clothes in a garbage bag, Stefan heard a noise outside the basement room door. He rushed to wipe the counter of blood and guts and put the rag in the bag too. He’d hide the bag for now and will get rid of it later.
When he approached the door, and saw it was not latched but opened a few inches, he swore under his breath. Was someone watching him? He was sure he shut the door all the way. Of course he did! Was Terry spying on him? Yes, who else would it be?
He stepped out of the room and his sneakered foot landed in a puddle of vomit. “I’m going to kill you!” he said, his voice fierce. He sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time. He didn’t care how much noise he was making. “I’m coming for you! You better hide, scaredy-boy.”
He’d almost made his way to the third floor but his parents’ return home from their night out interrupted his plan.
“My goodness, Stefan, you’re still up?” His mother’s words slurred from too much wine.
Of course, he couldn’t beat the crap out of Terry in front of his parents. He’d get back at him later with another plan. Nobody was going to stop him from his dream. Nobody.
Chapter 25
Barry’s Closer to a New Body - Oakland
Several days later, Joey and Jenny walked through Warehouse Row, listening to J. Cole, Drake, and Kanye West popping out of car speakers at top speed, competing for air space, the young and energetic crowd twerking and dancing to the hip-hop music. Joey’s hand squeezed Jenny’s when he felt her shaking with nervousness. A tall black man bumped into her, sloshing beer onto her blouse.
“My bad,” he said as he backed away, palms up, shrugging his shoulders. He turned and quickly disappeared into the crowd.
“Come on,” Joey urged, pulling Jenny forward, cutting a tight trail through the throngs of party-goers. They came to a dead-end against a wall of people when they heard tires squealing in front of them. Jenny coughed as a cloud of smoke billowed above the crowd’s heads, aftermath of burning rubber and exhaust from several drivers performing up ahead of them. Joey dragged them to the front of the crowd, pulling Jenny close to him and protectively placing his arm around her.
In an empty spot in front of them, a white older BMW convertible was currently smoking his tires, the twenty-something-year-old revving up his motor, staying in place with back tires spinning. The mob cheered the driver on, and soon a few guys, not being able to control their excitement, sprang from the crowd and jumped onto the back of the car. The driver and unintended passengers whooped and hollered as the car began driving circles around the tight space, the arc getting bigger and bigger, the driver expertly holding the arc.
After a few passes, the arc got bigger. The spectators stepped back giving the car more room to drift. More men began hopping onto the car, hanging on with tight fingers to the door’s edges. One reached down and opened the passenger door. Hanging onto the door handle, the guy swung around with the car, his body building momentum, his swinging feet hitting a few observers until he lost his grip and swung off into the crowd. The passenger door slammed shut when the driver stomped on his brakes, stopping within inches of the crowd. They roared their approval, and with pumping adrenaline, descended upon the car, jumping on the roof and hood, spraying cans of beer, laughing and hollering.
It took Joey’s strong arm to maneuver themselves through the crowd. “I feel like a fish going upstream,” he said. Jenny couldn’t hear him with the loud bass rumbling from the hundreds of cars parked around them, the squealing vehicles and noisy crowd drowning him out.
“Follow me!” he mouthed as he pointed to the dark, shadowy section of Warehouse Row.
They both heaved a relieved sigh as they emerged from the main crowd and gained a little breathing room. They found themselves in a walkway with cars on either side of them. This was affectionately known to the locals as “Peacock Lane,” where the older, more mellow crowd showed off their cars. These cars were their owner’s pride and joy as Joey and Jenny witnessed many of the men polishing them to a mirror-like shine.
They continued walking towards Warehouse Row. The streets were full of diehard attendees of the sideshow who used the occasion as an excuse to travel to Oakland to buy and use drugs. Joey and Jenny walked past groups sitting in front of small fires, some of them staring vacantly as if they were well into their journey to Candyland. Girls in tight tank tops and shorts swayed and danced around the fire.
“Why couldn’t we have driven through?” Jenny stopped to pick a small pebble from her shoe.
“You’ve asked me that like, what, five times? We stick to our plan.”
“Jesus, don’t get butt-hurt. I’m just sayin’.”
Joey sighed and turned. He took Jenny’s face between his palms. “Let’s be a team here, okay?”
Embarrassed at her outburst, Jenny nodded. Joey noticed her brows furrow with anxiety as she glanced to the small crowd huddled around the nearest burn barrel. The vibe here wasn’t as happy as what they had just waded through.
“Don’t you worry about those guys, honey.” Joey wrapped his arms around Jenny and hugged her close. “I’ve got my secret magical rock. It gives me superpowers.”
Jenny giggled and gazed up at him. “I love you, boyfriend.”
“I love you too, hon. Let’s go and find Barry.”
When they arrived at their designated meeting spot a couple of blocks over, they spotted Barry’s van and glanced inside. It was empty.
“Damn it. Where is he?”
After Joey’s outburst, they heard a squeaking and turned around. Barry was headed their way in his wheelchair, muttering, “Damn uneven piece of shit…”
“Barry, what’s wrong?” Jenny searched Barry’s eyes for an answer.
“Have you ever had to wheel yourself over broken glass, garbage, dirt, and rocks?” Barry cracked his knuckles. “No, I didn’t think so.” Barry threw the wrench he had in his lap to the ground and swiped a tear away from his cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” said Jenny. She bent down to give Barry an awkward hug.
“But this operation is way too experimental. You said so yourself,” Joey said, acknowledging their brief conversation last night after Jim had gone to bed. Barry had told them he wanted to get into the warehouse to confront the doctor. He’d heard Farkis was doing a research operation on a select few, and Barry had told them he wanted in. “How do you know it’ll work?”
“Who cares if this stupid operation works or not?” Barry laughed sarcastically. “At least I’ll have a chance at life. I don’t have much time; I was supposed to be dead two years ago.”
“It’s possible you’ll beat it,” Jenny said breathlessly. “You’ll be like the smart guy, Stephen Hawking and be one of the few to—”
“See me, Jenny!” Barry cried as he spread his arms. “Even you had a hard time giving me a hug. I want more than pitiful stares. I want a wife! Hell, a girlfriend would do! I want sex! Yes, don’t act so shocked. To be able to make love to a woman… God… I miss that.”
Their conversation was interrupted by gunshots, ringing out from the direction of the car show. Then they heard screams.
“Oh, geez… They’re killing each other,” Barry said. “I want to live, and they’re killing each other.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
He continued to his van and opened the back. “Come on, let’s get to work.” Barry gestured to some jumbled tools. “Come on, pretty boy,” he nodded towards Joey, “grab the drill. And pretty girl, grab the oil there and hand me the headband flashlight.”
After they’d retrieved the tools from Barry’s van, they rushed over to the steel door.
“What, you’re going to drill directly into the door?” Jenny was incredulous. “I mean, it must be at least three inches thick.” She glanced around nervously. An eerie quiet blanketed them and all she could see was darkness.
“As long as we stay steady and keep dripping oil on it, we can do it,” Barry responded, pulling on some work gloves. He p
ulled on some goggles and strapped the headlamp over his forehead. “Since we’re working with boy toys—battery-operated tools to you, young lady,” he said, nodding towards Jenny, “this might take a while.”
Barry started the drill. He instructed Joey to hold the oil can so it would be a continuous drip where Barry was drilling.
“Of course, you and Jenny will have to take over once we need to drill higher since I won’t be able to reach it.” He winked at Jenny now that he was in a more hopeful mood, knowing he was closer to getting to the doctor. “I’m sitting in a wheelchair, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Hey, stop flirting with my girlfriend,” Joey said. Barry wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not.
“Stop drilling!” Jenny said as she touched Barry’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Joey noticed her hand trembling.
“I keep seeing shadows darting around. When will we be done here? I want to go home now!”
“Honey, we have about…” he glanced at Barry, who flashed all ten fingers at him, “ten more minutes. We’ll—”
He was interrupted by shouting voices.
“What are they saying?” Jenny’s voice shook.
“Shh,” Barry hissed. He cocked his head. “I can’t make out the words.”
A bang to their left cut their concentration. A man came out of the shadows and rushed up to them. Barry held the drill with both hands in front of him as if it were a gun. “What do you want?” he demanded.
The man held his hands up in the air. “Don’t shoot! I wanted to tell you Headbanger’s on the way.”
“Headbanger?” Joey echoed, racking his brain, trying to figure out where he’d heard that name before.
“Yeah, Headbanger, he loves to grab newcomers. Healthy people. He kills,” the stranger said cryptically. His body tensed, seeming to hear something they couldn’t. The whites of the man’s eyes suddenly flared in the light of Barry’s headlamp. “Run, Headbanger!”
“Headbanger!” Jenny heard in the distance, as if there were echoes throughout the narrow streets. The man ran away, his oversized shoes flopping loudly against the asphalt.
Barry switched off the headlamp and placed his tools on his lap. “Come on, let’s get out of here! I don’t like this.”
“I agree,” Jenny started, headlights flitting over the buildings in front of them. “A car’s headed our way!”
Joey grabbed Barry’s wheelchair’s handles and started pushing him away from the door and to the dumpster they had hidden behind only yesterday.
“This is getting old,” Barry said.
The dumpster was full of construction debris and other illegal dumping, and was too heavy to move away from the alley wall this time. Barry’s wheelchair wouldn’t fit behind it.
“Leave it,” said Jenny urgently.
“No,” Barry answered, “my coat!”
“We’ll get it later,” Joey said as he hoisted Barry up out of his chair, wrapping his arms under his armpits. With Barry’s almost useless legs dragging behind him, since he didn’t have time to plant them firmly underneath him, Joey dragged him behind the dumpster. Jenny squeezed in beside them and Barry draped one of his arms around her shoulders. Between them, they held Barry up as they stood behind the dumpster, peeking over the rusted rim to see what was happening. They watched as a black Cadillac Escalade drove up and parked in front of the steel door, its speakers pumping out loud rap music.
The vehicle was turned off and a door opened a moment later. A big Samoan laboriously climbed out of the passenger side. His face was cloaked in shadows. The driver’s door slammed and another big man came around to the front.
Jenny gasped. “Detective!” She clapped her hand over her mouth when she realized she had uttered out loud.
The two men glanced around. “What was that?”
“How in the fuck would I know, moron?” one responded.
“Shuddup, would ya?”
The Samoan fumbled around in his pants pockets and turned on his cell phone. “When will they get here?”
“Senator said any minute.”
The Samoan chuckled. “The only time I have to deal with politics is when I give this guy money for his so-called voter registration.” He used his cellphone’s light to see the wad of money he pulled out of his pocket. He took some bills from the roll and shoved them into his other pocket.
“Come on. What are you doing, Rock?”
“What Detective,” Rock said, chuckling, “you got religion all of a sudden?”
Detective snickered. “The only religion I believe in is taking care of myself,” he commented before he punched Rock in the gut. “Now, give me a share of the wad, or you’ll be getting another.”
The punch caught Rock off guard and he leaned over and gagged. With his body still bent from the blow, he held his arm straight out, his fist tightly holding the thick fold of cash. Detective grabbed the cash from him, pulling off a few bills for himself and stuffing them in the front pocket of his jeans.
Barry muffled a cough caused by swirling dust.
Rock placed his hands on his knees. “Go see what’s going on over there.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! It’s probably only a homeless bum sleeping off a bottle of wine.”
“Do it! Do you want Mobydick on your ass?” Rock knew that was the ultimate threat anyone could tell someone around these parts.
“Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties in a twist!” Detective selected the flashlight app on his cellphone, holding it high and pointing the beam of light in the direction of the dumpster.
Jenny rubbed Barry’s back, trying to get him to calm down. Her shoulders ached from holding up his weight, thinking Joey must be feeling the same. Joey’s palm was over Barry’s mouth, his own mouth near his ear. “Come on, buddy. Hang on.”
Joey took another peek over the dumpster and noticed Detective was getting closer. He needed to think of something to distract him. He leaned behind Barry and whispered to Jenny.
“You’re going to have to handle Barry’s weight for a second.” He whispered to Barry to hold onto Jenny’s shoulders and Jenny grabbed him around his waist. Barry gripped the top edge of the dumpster with one hand and held onto Jenny’s neck with his other arm.
Joey reached down and felt around for anything heavy he could throw. His fingers found a round pebble. He crouched beside the dumpster, throwing the pebble as hard as he could. A loud clang sounded from whatever it hit.
Detective swung around and headed to the sound. Rock opened the passenger door and rummaged around for a few seconds, coming back out with a flashlight. He rushed over to where Detective was, shining his light around.
Barry and Jenny held their breath as the men walked closer to the steel door where they had been drilling.
“Found something,” Rock said as he bent down and picked a small object off the ground. He shined his light on the object in his hand.
“What is it?”
“It’s a drill bit. My uncle was a steel fabricator. This is a special bit for steel…”
They both shone their lights towards the steel door and walked closer to inspect it. Joey shimmied his way back behind the dumpster, hissing out, “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here!”
“I need my wheelchair and coat!” Barry protested.
“No time. Leave it!” Joey pulled Barry and Jenny out from behind the dumpster. He bent down. “Jenny, get him on my back. Hurry!”
“Hey, you!” Rock shouted as the trio ran.
Headlights washed over the side of the building again. A black limo pulled up behind the Cadillac.
“Forget about them for now, Rock, the senator’s here. They’re probably homeless wanting money.”
“Losers!” Detective said at the shadows as he pocketed the drill bit.
Chapter 26
Corrupt Senator - Oakland
Senator Terry Evans unfolded himself from the back of the limo and stretched. “Keep an eye on these goons,” he said into th
e hidden microphone clipped to his collar. He received an affirmative in his earpiece from the bodyguards beside the limo and from the guards in the car behind them.
“What’s up, guys?” he called out as he approached the waiting men with an outstretched hand.
“Senator,” one of them said as they shook hands. The other man only nodded.
The senator cringed when he was confronted by the tattooed-faced man. The gangster always did give him the creeps. He camouflaged his true feelings by lifting his collar around his neck and shivering as if he were cold.
“I heard through the grapevine someone got shot here the other day.”
“Those crybabies,” mumbled Rock.
Detective jabbed him with an elbow. “Shut up, would ya, Rock?” Detective wasn’t about to disclose they were guarding the area with hunting air rifles. He didn’t care how crooked the senator was. He was sure some people would frown on using hunting pellets on humans.
Senator Evans continued as if they hadn’t said anything. “It’s a good thing I have a head police officer reporting to me. I told him I would take care of the situation so no one would come over here to investigate.”
The two didn’t have any response to this. The senator cleared his throat to catch their attention again. “So, my voter registration money?”
“Oh. Yeah, senator. Sure. Here’s the cash. All of it.”
It was Rock’s turn to jab Detective in his side this time.
The senator ignored the remark as he stuffed the wad of cash into the pocket of his oversized trench coat. “The office of the senator thanks you.” The men laughed, always trying their best to be polite to the senator, per their boss’s instructions.
“Um, one more thing, guys,” he said, trying to keep his voice sounding casual.
The security guards tensed. Casual-sounding voices meant something was coming they wouldn’t like.
“I have instructed my people to call KTVU news if I’m not out within thirty-five minutes,” he said as he pointed to a nearby Jeep. Two people were leaning on its bumper, both holding camcorders.
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