I headed back to Trinity and did a quick clean up, then searched out my girl in the many rooms of the building complex. I found her with Jamie and Bobby in an office getting ready. She looked fantastic. When I walked into the room she had her back to me, and when the two girls looked up she turned to face me like a supermodel. Though still wearing her boots, she now had on leather pants, a long teal turtleneck sweater, and a black leather jacket. Her belt was still covered in knives and she had a machete on her hip and Ice Pike close to hand. She looked like a high-fashion warrior princess.
She’d been standing over Bobby helping her with her makeup but when she saw me, she walked over and kissed me.
“Wow, you clean up real good.” She winked at me. “Belle of the ball, baby,” I said. We kissed again.
“Did you get worked out what you needed to get worked out?” she asked.
“Not completely. Listen, tonight I’m going to call a meeting with several of the guys. I don’t want you to be a part of it.”
She looked up at me questioningly and I just shook my head. “It will help work out the things in my head. We have to deal with this black truck guy tonight and I just don’t want you to be a part of it.”
She had her palms resting on my chest. With her right hand she slid her fingers into my long, scruffy beard and looking into my eyes she whispered, “Ok.”
We talked a little more about nothing important and I excused myself to go get ready. I asked her to have everyone ready to go in an hour, to be lined up at the south doors ready for the parade. Then I went down to the locker room and stripped out of my clothes and showered again. I grabbed a pair of clippers then trimmed my beard down to a fashionable, less wild-man-from-Borneo look. Actually, I thought it made me look a little like Hemingway. My wiry hair I brushed down over my face, then bent over and took a pair of scissors and clipped a straight line across it, leaving about four inches on the floor. When I flipped my hair back over my head, I had a nice straight line of hair just skimming my shoulders. I pulled it back into a ponytail and tied it. Humming all the while, I grabbed a new clean shirt and jeans, splashed on cologne, slipped into a sports jacket, strapped on my weapons belt, and hitched Harold over my shoulder, pleased with myself.
When I got to the hall, there were a lot of people lined up, singly and in groups. Couples mingled and talked. All were dressed in their current finest. We marched out of the building in a loose parade and I believe we cut a fine sight, some forty people dressed up and brandishing weapons walking in a line down the street. We left Trinity Episcopal Church and marched down Spring Street. Everyone was laughing and joking till we got next to the governor’s mansion, then we all fell silent and walked past it as quickly as we could. We’d have to deal with that place very soon. On Twentieth Street, we turned right and traveled two blocks to the Faith Temple Missionary Baptist Church on Broadway.
Joseph was waiting for us at the door. The girl I’d seen him with earlier in the day stood just inside the door. Joseph was, as always, immaculate. He had on a black three-piece suit and his shoes were shined like mirrors. He had a gold chain around his neck with a large cross hanging down. And as usual, his hair was clipped close to his scalp and his beard was sculpted to hairline fineness.
His girlfriend was passing out glow sticks and glow bracelets, toy bubble blowers, party poppers, strings of beads, rubber ducks, unfilled balloons, bags of small plastic toy soldiers and stuffed animals, horns and noisemakers, and any other kind of cheap New-Year’s-Eve-type party favor they could scrounge up as people filed in.
I led the procession into the darkened cafetorium. Then I walked to the center of the room. On the far side was the stage and a dim light revealed a pile of equipment silhouetted to the side. A small figure stood there and flicked a switch that threw a spotlight on me as everyone gathered into the large room. As people formed in a loose circle around me, I noted that Joseph and Jr. had lined the sides of each wall with tables and chairs, providing a nice area for people to sit down. When I thought most of them were in the room, I held up my hand and Roland darted out of the shadows, handing me a microphone, then darted back into the shadows and back to the stage.
“Welcome to the Apocalypse After-Party!” I exclaimed and got a round of Wooos from the crowd. “It has been months of struggle, but we are here. We’ve all lost someone near and dear to us, but we are here. We’ve struggled and scavenged for food, but we are here.” A few people in the crowd caught on and chimed in on the last bit.
“We’ve fought the elements at their harshest, but we are here.” A larger group of people joined in on the chorus at this point.
“We—we’ve fought zombies one on one and in large groups, but we are here.” More people shouted with me.
“WE HAVE FACED BAD PEOPLE WHO WANT TO HURT US, BUT,” I held the mike out to the crowd and they responded in unison, “WE ARE HERE!”
“And don’t you forget it,” I reminded them to a round of applause. “Most of you are kids, you should be playing ball and making out in the back of cars.”
Someone from the crowd shouted, “What makes you think we aren’t?”
“God, I hope you are. If not, I’d be worried. But you all have been asked to grow up very fast. I’m very proud of what you’ve done and where you are. It’s amazing, truly amazing. So tonight, we celebrate how far we’ve come and how far we’re going. TODAY, WE. ARE. HERE! Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die. BUT TONIGHT WE. ARE. HERE!”
On cue everyone joined in after I shouted “tonight” and as they finished the phrase, the spotlight that shone on me shifted up, striking a mirrored disco ball, and the floor began to vibrate with a heavy bass beat. Then the words of Sly and the Family Stone’s “Higher” broke out of the stack of speakers from the stage.
There was a round of laughter and applause, and then people started dancing. I beckoned my girl over to me and we danced. We danced among glow sticks and party horns. We danced for two or three songs, then I had to have some water, so we left the floor and after drinking a bottle, I went to find Joseph.
I wanted to make certain that the guards we’d posted around the neighborhood were well armed and rotated often. I didn’t want the cold to get to them and I especially didn’t want anyone to miss out on the party.
My days of partying when I was in college and what these kids had in mind as a good time were two very different things, it seemed to me. We had no alcohol to speak of, no drugs, but there seemed to be a wilder, more uninhibited feel to the way these kids were burning off months of pent-up energy. I’d thought about trying to control it, but hell, they deserved to let go. I kept up a survey of the room and saw some people from the neighborhood come in, mostly adults, and join in the celebration. Lights flashed, bubbles filled the air. The music had changed from the stuff I’d brought to newer music I’d never heard before. Good, they were making the party their party.
When I saw Shaun and his family come in, I took a quick mental check as to where my key people were and saw that everyone was here.
Probably two hours into the party, I got on stage and made a tribute to Steve and the other fallen, then led the crowd in a ribald round of his favorite song, Garth Brooks’ ”Friends in Low Places.” I wished I could remember what I said to them. All I know is I tried to keep it short and upbeat. Roland was smart and with me on this, because as I talked he played the song in the background and when it got to the chorus, I just started singing along with it and encouraged everyone to join in. To my surprise, when the song was over everyone shouted, “WE ARE HERE.”
We’d just come off the dance floor again when I saw my bathroom buddy from Paris Towers standing in the doorway of the cafetorium. It took me a few minutes to gather everyone, but I eventually had Eddie, Donny, Shaun, Uncle Andrew, Joseph, and Keith with me. We’d gathered in an office at the end of a hallway. The room was small and cramped as we stood around the giant desk that took up most of the space. Behind the desk was a picture of Jesus kneeling at a
rock praying as beams of light rested on his shoulders. There was a desk lamp and an overhead florescent strip. As everyone settled down in the room, I went over with them everything that had happened that day. The photograph with the men from the black truck lay on the desk as I told them about killing Danny, Patrick’s son. Then, they all looked at the photos from the shoebox as I told of the assassinations of James, Patrick, and the man with the tattoo on his neck.
“So we still have three out there somewhere,” stated Shaun.
“One of them is at the party tonight,” I said and told them how he tried to reach out to me in the Paris Towers bathroom.
“Hell, let’s go get this guy,” said Donny, standing up.
“We don’t need to get rowdy at no party, not tonight,” cautioned Uncle Andrew.
“You got something in mind, Uncle Andrew?” asked Eddie.
“No. I got nothing, I just know we don’t need to start no fight tonight.” His deep voice vibrated in our chests.
The conversation became a heated debate till we settled on a course of action. I went back to the party and searched our guy out. He was hanging around the drink table that was loaded with bottled water, Kool-Aid, and big cans of punch. I asked him if he was having a good time and we chatted for a few minutes. I apologized to him for my outburst in the Paris Towers bathroom and started to leave. Then I turned to him and asked if he could help me with something.
“Sure, anything,” he said and I put an arm around his shoulders to pull him near and started talking into his ear as if I didn’t want others to overhear what I was saying, or as if I wanted him to hear me clearly over the noise. I mumbled my first words, then said more clearly, “And that’s what I need your thoughts on.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” he replied. I looked around and motioned him to follow me. I led him down the hallway to the same office everyone was waiting in. Outside the door I warned him, “I have several of my people in here and we’ve been debating for an hour on how to handle this, that’s why I want you here. I want a person who isn’t involved to give us their view, what you think. You good?”
He grinned and said, “You can count on me, I’m happy to help.” I opened the door and let him go in first. I shut the door behind me and suggested he take the chair behind the desk. As he moved over there, I introduced him to everyone and he shook hands with each, then sat in the chair.
“Here’s our problem,” I said. “Donny, hit the lights.”
Donny hit the wall switch, leaving only the desk lamp on, throwing the majority of us into shadow. I sat down in the chair across from him and pulled out the group photo and looked at it again. “We have a problem with this black truck and the guys in it. Do you know them?”
“I’ve seen them around, I know they’re trouble,” he said.
“But you don’t know any of them? You’ve never talked to them?”
“No, why?”
I placed the black truck group photo in front of him with my index finger squarely above his head and looked at his face. A range of emotions crossed it in a second. He knew we were accusing him of being one of their numbers.
“Ok, I knew them, but that was a long time ago.”
“We’re not fucking around here,” I said to him.
“I’m telling you the truth,” he said calmly.
“How long ago?”
“A few years.”
“Danny is dead,” I said, pointing to another face in the picture. Andrew threw a photo he held onto the table in front of this guy. The photo had him and the spiky-haired leader holding up two semi-automatic rifles propped on their hips.
“Flip it over,” Andrew’s voice rumbled. I did. There on the back of the photo was the date. The date was scrawled in blue ink; it was less than a year ago. “Years ago. Huh?” Andrew growled.
“Danny is dead,” I said flatly. “I killed him this morning.”
He sat there in silence. Eyes darting between photographs. You could tell he was trying to determine what we knew and just how much danger he was in.
“Patrick is dead too, this afternoon. Along with this guy.” I pointed to the guy with the tattoo on his neck. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the photo. I moved my finger over to the big burly man with the pockmarked face and scraggly beard. Tapping his face, I continued, “We got James too.” His face went chalk-white. I moved my finger to the man I didn’t know, who was skiing behind the truck a few weeks ago, and asked, “Where is he now?” I didn’t like the twinkle I saw in his eyes when I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, unable to conceal a grin.
“You don’t? We do,” I said, and saw a moment of doubt cross his face.
“We should have word any moment now about him. That leaves this guy.”
I tapped the face of the spiky-haired leader. “And you.” He glanced up at me and was about to speak when a knock came at the door. Donny opened it a little and my girl stuck her head in the door. I immediately stood up and went outside.
“What’s going on in there?” she asked.
“We’re taking care of some things,” I said.
“What things?”
“Can I tell you about it later?”
“Give me a hint?”
“Black truck things.”
“And the guy?”
“A black truck guy. We’re trying to get information from him. I’m trying to spook him into telling us something.”
She nodded and then gave me a kiss and went back to the party. I came back into the room and sat down. “It’s just you two now. Anything you want to tell us?”
He glared at me.
I’m hesitant to chronicle the events that took place next. History may call us criminals for it, murderers. Or, history may say we did what was necessary to protect ourselves. Before I went to get him from the party, we’d debated what to do about him. Eventually we drew straws and depending on the evidence provided as to his innocence or guilt, we’d decide his fate.
We spent a few more minutes trying to get information from him, but he wasn’t talking. He was defiant, his carefree smile transformed into a scowl. Several of us tried to assure him that we were really trying to help him and were giving him every chance in the world to prove his innocence. Finally he muttered, “I knew we should never have let so many of you live without hooking you on the drugs. I knew this would come back and bite us.” At this, we closed ranks on him so there was no escape from his chair and we bound him to it.
I won’t say who the executioner was, because it doesn’t really matter. Seven good men pulled straws. Six men watched. Six men carried the body out of the church and dropped it in the dumpster behind the building. Then, we all walked back to the party as if nothing ever happened. I’ll never say who the executioner was because we’re all to blame for this death. But I believe we did it for the right reasons.
I saw my girl on the dance floor and joined her, trying to act like nothing had happened.
“You alright?” she asked.
“No. But I’ll get over it.”
“Want to talk?”
“NO!”
I didn’t feel much like dancing either, but I needed to move and I kept moving till I was sweating again. Probably an hour later, I’d spent the energy I had pent up inside me and went over to the tables to sit for a moment. We were sitting there watching the people in the crowd when Jr. jumped in front of us. He was doing some kind of dance that looked akin to a frog dancing the Watusi, but with more arm-flailing. At the end of the song, he pointed a hand at me and shouted “Like a boss!” and then darted back into the crowd. I had no idea what that was about.
Uncle Andrew and Mrs. Greenbaum started a stroll and it took the kids a moment to catch on, but when they did, everyone wanted to join in. Roland became DJ Grand Master Rolo that night. There was one point in the night, early on after we dealt with the black truck guy, when he played a mash-up of Stevie Wonder’s song “Higher Ground” that was amazing. He’d mixed together Stevie�
�s version of the song with the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ version and Play for Change’s version.
He’d pause the song and let the crowd sing “Till I reach a higher ground!”
Someone in the crowd started a chant of “We’re still here” during the chorus so it became:
Till I reach a higher ground,
We’re still here!
We’re still here!
I thought to myself that they hadn’t only found a new battle cry, they’d found a new anthem. Looking at their young faces, I was so proud of them. They’d come a very long way in a very short time. And they all looked so innocent. I sought out the faces of Eddie and Donny, Keith, Shaun, Andrew, and Joseph. Although each was having fun, you could see in their faces they were tired, weary of the responsibilities they’d shouldered. They, most of all, needed tonight. They needed an outlet for all they’d taken on, and even with all my good intentions of giving that to them, I’d forced them to make a life-or-death decision in the middle of a celebration. I suddenly felt that same weight again on my shoulders that I saw in their faces. I fumbled around in my jacket and found the pack of cigars. Fishing one out, I went outside to smoke. I made my way through the rectory and found a side door that led to the street. Out there, I took a seat on a flower planter that lined the path to the sidewalk.
My girl appeared next to me and took a seat next to me on the planter.
“Feel like talking yet?” she asked.
“Naw,” I muttered. We sat there in silence for a while, then I asked her, “What do you think about leaving?”
ZWD: King of an Empty City Page 31