by BL Burke
Perry moved in the back, the cage clanged on the wall and echoed through the van. He glanced up and pulled down the visor, a little car, a monopoly piece dropped onto the bags. ‘Odd’ he thought and put it on the seat.
Slowly he opened the glove compartment, a gun pointed at him, a forty-caliber Beratta; he gingerly pulled it out with two fingers on the barrel. A piece of paper fell out and floated down. Marshall snatched it and looked. In terrible handwriting, he read an address a block away. “Huh.”
What was just below it was a faded photo. Picking it up he instantly recognized one of the men. It was old, because the man looking back at him was younger, much younger than he is today.
“Hey, Perry?” Marshall said.
“Yeah, Spanx.”
“Come here for a sec,” Marshall said ignoring him. The one he knew was wearing a cap and gown; he had a huge smile on his face. The age screamed high school.
“You find something?” Perry asked, circling around behind him.
“Yeah, your graduation photo.” Perry took it from him then his eyes moved to the seat. He grabbed the monopoly piece.
“Eddie,” Perry said barely audible.
“Who?”
“My brother.”
Chapter 3
Eddie’s lips fluttered as the breath escaped him with a brisk whistle. A vision entered his brain, then disappeared. He tried to wet his mouth, everything was dry. He started to feel things as his mind came around. He lay on his back on something hard, head pounding inside his skull like the beating of some ancient drum keeping perfect time. He felt like he was in a dank basement, cold and moist and that smell.
Eddie’s eyes pulled apart, or he thought they did; his hand moved to his eyes and started to rub. It was dark… but there was a small light above his head.
“Wha…” he tried to say. “What happened?” His brain clouded like he had too much liquor. Eddie tried moving, his chest hurt and half his body was sore. “Ugh,” he said pushing through the pain he turned to his side and his stomach began to bubble. A second later, it passed.
Rolling to his front he pushed himself to his knees. Eddie felt a strain in his arms, they were weak. His wrists cracked and his elbows almost gave. He looked toward the light; it was too bright but he noticed the bars, like in the jail house.
His heart began to beat faster and his weak hand came up to his chest. He tried to settle himself, his pinky feeling something...a hole in his shirt? Reaching through, he felt a pain, right below his ribs.
Where am I? Eddie remembered the fight. He won, he took a few hits of Kieron’s stuff, a few drinks from the bottle.
He remembered the alley, no one out. Adeline pulling, he yanked her, “get back here,” she whirled around letting out a small whimper. He was a little drunk, a little high, then nothing.
He put out a hand to shield the brightness and looked up. Beyond the bars he saw the smooth concrete floor under the yellow light. White brick on the walls… no three of the walls. A mirror reflected the light making it seem there were two. A small red dot hung in top corner of the room. A surveillance camera, he’d seen them in quite a few Cop Shops.
The smell hit him again, his stomach turned, like a Port-a-John at the Brewers game. Three loud clicks then a loud woosh like an oven. Eddie pushed away. The sound was all around him.
“I don’t freak,” Eddie whispered, his heart started beating again. “I got this.” He was in lock up. Must’ve done something stupid when messed up. No problem, he could handle it. Eddie put his hand on the top of his head, he swallowed realizing he had too much hair.
He shaved his head every day... but now there was a quarter inch sprouting up porcupine style. He felt a shiver up his spine.
He looked to the walls and the back of the room. The same white brick. His tongue felt like it swelled up in his mouth, he could barely get any words out. He raised his head as he reached out for the bars, his palms were sweating. Pulling himself to his feet, his knees began to shake. Eddie stood, bent over like an old man. Arm over arm he straightened up.
Suddenly his knee buckled and he dropped. His other arm jumped out to catch another bar. His mind screamed. “I ain’t stupid, need my lawyer,” he whispered. “I never been stupid.” Eddie tried to raise his voice, tried to swallow, there was nothing left in his mouth.
He let out a series of grunts, trying to force words out of his mouth.
“Law...” he said, his voice trailing off. “Lawyer.” There was no answer.
Eddie knees shook as he pulled himself back up. In front of him, his cage, he heard movement, a squeak and something shuffling in the darkness. His head snapped up.
“Hello?” his voice quivering.
Something was out there, in his blind spot. A tap of steps echoed off the walls. He waited for what seemed like an hour.
“I want my lawyer.” he said. There was a small laughter that started to rise, but almost immediately was broken up by a cough.
“Who’s that?” a man’s voice came from the beyond the light.
“Where am ?” Eddie called back. “Let me out of here, I ain’t do nothing.”
“We all done something,” the satisfied echo bouncing off the walls. “You think I can do something about your present predicament?” The voice was familiar, someone he knew, but it was raspier. He heard more movement in front of him, in the light all he could see was an empty concrete floor then the light blinded him. “What’s your name, newbie?”
“Eddie Jefferson... what the hell do you want with me?”
“E?” the laughter was gone and the voice hit home. “Shit, bastard got you too?”
“Who that?”
“It’s Darnell.”
“Skitter?” Eddie asked, as he gripped the bars with both hands. Skitter’d always been the skinny little quick guy running from place to place.
“I hate that name you know, always had.” Eddie was straining to try and see him. “How long I been here? Lost track of everything.”
“Where?” Eddie felt his arms gaining a little strength; his legs locked at the knee.
“How long?” Darnell asked.
Eddie barely registered it. His heart was racing, “Why we in prison? What’d we do?” he nearly shouted.
He heard a sigh. “We ain’t in prison, homes. We in hell.”
“I ain’t dead?” He almost collapsed again. Was this what a ghost felt like? Cold and weak and confused?
“Nah man… not yet,”
“It smells like hell.”
“That the truth. The best I say, we in a prison of sorts.”
“You said we wasn’t?” Eddie asked, his nerves getting stronger. Never show fear.
“Not a normal one.” “What the hell does that mean?” he thought. He felt his throat start to dry again; he was losing his voice.
“Anything to drink ‘round here?” Eddie asked. “I can...”
Metal scrapped beyond the light. “Should be a bowl of water in there, on the ground.” He heard a soft sound like a gong, “next to your shit bucket,”
“Shit bucket?” Eddie, still holding onto the bars looked, he saw two objects in a far corner, a five-gallon bucket… and a metal dog bowl. The reflection of the light bounced off water in the bowl. He dropped to his knees and crawled to it. Lifting it to his lips he felt the surge of warm water cascade down his throat.
“Mine says ‘Shadow’,” Darnell said.
Eddie set down the dish, his said Shadow also. “Who the hell is ‘Shadow’? Why the hell we here?” Skitter coughed. He heard more movement from Darnell… and the random soft clicks of something mechanical.
“A dog,” he said. “How long I been gone, homey?”
Eddie cracked the fingers in both hands, the echo bounced around the room. Eddie thought for a moment. “I don’t know, I ain’t seen you in like a minute.”
“In REAL time, E. No stupid minutes.”
“Week or two?”
“That it?” Darnell said, “Feels like a damned year.
Hadn’t seen the sun in… a forever,”
“Where are we?” Eddie asked. He was worried, “Skitter, where the hell are we...”
“Do you remember the green room? That’s what he calls it. J-Mo remembered it... like a broke doctor’s office. Gettin’ us all nice an pretty for the stage.”
“Who calls it? What room, what is this place?” Eddie sat down Indian style, it calmed him.
“He calls it his ‘Gate to Hell’,” Darnell said. “A step before entering the underworld.”
Eddie felt a lump in his throat, he forced out the question but he remembered. “Who?” He was outside his van, Adeline was in the cage. Someone called his name. The man, he’d seen him before.
“J-Mo figured he was in the room for a few days at least...”
“J-Mo... you mean Javier? Titan’s guy?” Eddie asked. A pit bull that looked almost identical to Adeline but a little broader.
“Yeah.”
“Where he at?” Eddie said. There was silence from Darnell, “Is he here?” There was nothing but silence and the metal taping. “Skitter?” Eddie shivered.
“He ain’t here, homes.” Darnell said. There was a long pause, like a moment of silence.
“He get you with the dart gun?”
“What?”
“Hole in your chest?”
“Yeah,” E said, feeling the scab. He remembered seeing the man raise the gun, Eddie was too slow to react. But there was no explosion, just a sound of air shooting out.
“Got me with the dart gun… J-Mo with it, too.”
“Where?”
“Chan he got with a Taser.”
“Who’s Chan?”
“He was some Asian, didn’t know him on the outside, messed up face…”
“Where are they? Did they get out?” He heard a creak above him, his eyes shot up toward the ceiling… it looked like wood, ten feet above him.
“Kinda,” Darnell said. Perry heard a drip of water, it sounded far away, with little light he could feel more, hear more.
“The hell does that mean?” Eddie looked towards the voice, suddenly he could see bars on the other side.
“He makes us fight E, til death. I killed Chan and J-Mo,” Darnell said, but there seemed to be no sadness in his voice. Eddie heard him take a deep breath like a weeping woman. Hands poked out of the bars, then he saw Skitter’s eyes; they were deep and angry. “I gotta kill you too… bro.”
Chapter 4
“Chief wants you in the office,” Leroy said. James faked a smile. He wasn’t in a little trouble, chief would tear him up in front of the rest of the station if that were the case. No, this was big time, and he understood why.
James pushed his way off the old recliner and dropped his feet to the ground. At least he was already packed. He didn’t want to throw his stuff together in front of his station mates, most sad to see him go. All but Austin, his smug stupid face, grinning and trying to use that marble in his head for a final jab.
Leroy walked ahead of him dragging his feet, the sound just added to the torture. An occasional glance back was all James got from his friend. This was the perp walk, the walk of shame, the long road to the gallows combined.
The smell of maple sausage came from the kitchen as they passed, he felt his stomach growl. They turned down the hall to the chief’s office. Right, past their own hall of heroes, pictures of fallen firefighters, brother’s whose lives ended too early. They glared at him with disgust.
“We gave our lives for people,” he could almost hear them say. “What did you do?” James didn’t know. His chest hurt. Save lives, that’s your duty. These men were Heroes, like the soldiers on the front lines, the Rangers, Pararescue… the Navy Seals who took out that piece of shit Bin Laden. I am weak compared to them.
The dark brow of Curt Braun, a burly man who gave his life just weeks before James was hired on was the last photo. He seemed the most upset. James looked toward an empty space where one day another’s face would look back at him...who would it be? Because of him, it could’ve been Leroy or Austin. His chest thumped again. He looked away.
They took the last corner and stopped quickly. Austin stood just outside the chief’s office. He stared out of the tall window over the neighborhood. He pretended to be oblivious to their presence.
He fiddled with the window latch as Leroy knocked twice on the chief’s door. The window jumped up as the springs vibrated.
“Come in,” they heard from beyond the painted glass window that read CHIEF TONY DANES.
“Can finally breathe,” Austin said as a gust of air blew in. Leroy held open the office door with James going inside.
“You can go,” the chief said to Leroy.
Leroy nodded, the door slammed too loud behind him. The chief had his eyes on a piece of paper; James caught the whiff of the wintergreen chewing tobacco. The office to someone without a sense of irony would’ve been labeled a fire hazard with all the loose papers lying around. No one ever said anything. He could see two with his name on them.
“Sit.” Chief said from the other side of his massive desk. James sat down and heard the crunch of his pants on the leather. Chief raised an eyebrow over his glasses.
“It was the chair,” James said, his voice almost shook as he spoke.
Chief Danes nodded. James couldn’t read the expression on his face, angry, confused, sad... constipated maybe? Though that would probably make him angry as well, so James hoped it wasn’t that. The chief was known for his humor, his ability to relate with guys half his age, but also for being a damn good Santa during Christmas.
He wondered what he was reading and by who. Leroy stating, ‘I watched him push the guy into the fire,’ or Austin blaming that and all of the stations problems on him, ‘no funding, James’ fault.’ James clenched his fists, thinking about Austin sticking his ear on the glass outside trying to be the first to find out he was fired.
He felt the coming tinge of pain. James looked down and watched his right arm stretch out with a soft pop in the elbow.
“Is it feeling ok,” the Chief said not looking up.
“Sir?”
“The arm.”
James looked down at it again and made a fist. “Yes, sir,” as respectful as he could, “just a little nervous.” The Chief looked up.
“And why would you be nervous?” Chief said, his piercing blue eyes asking more questions than his mouth ever would.
James tried to clear his throat. He idolized the chief who believed in playing fair and giving the best and the brightest a chance and not caving to the wind driven politics. He hated the lazy, spoiled people who sat around and expected things to be given to them for no reason. James could recall numerous rants about it, usually with the help of one of the three wise men: Jack, Jim or Jose, and sometimes dressed as Santa.
“Is it because this morning you ran into a burning building, with no equipment and no back up?” It was subtle, but he could feel the anger. “Do you want to be on the wall that much?” he growled. “If that is what you want, I can easily do that for you. I can just throw you in any old fire and let you either come out a hero or die trying. Respirator? No need. Flame retardant suit? Why bother. James fricking Webb is here to save the day.” He dropped the paper and started to clap loudly.
James felt the tension in his elbow. It sounded like something the chief would throw out as a joke, but the look on the his face said, ‘Don’t you laugh.’ James was silent, his eyes dropped to a blue splotch on the old floor six inches in front of his feet.
“Are you ready to die?” the chief said, his voice becoming louder. “You might as well just put a gun in your mouth then and save me the damn paperwork. Provided it’s not here.”
“No, sir,” James said softly.
“No what?”
“No, I am not ready to die,”
“Well, that’s the shit of it isn’t it? All you young people think you’re invincible, just wanting to be heroes without the bothersome little detail of fucking mortality. This
job, as we all believe in it and we would die to save a life, now you say you won’t.” James just realized this is the first time he heard Chief Danes swear.
“That’s not what I meant,” James said, a pounding coming to his head.
“You just said it, is basic English confusing you? Did you grow up in some third-world shit hole, speaking Arabic or whatever the hell version of English those red coats use?”
“No, I wouldn’t shoot myself is all,” James said. “That’s not the way I’m going out.” His voice got louder, he could feel his heart beat faster. “I’ll go into that fire with any of those guys out there, even Austin. I ain’t an adrenaline junkie; I ain’t a hero, I know that, I was just trying to do the right thing.” He felt his face get warm, the tension in his arm was gone. His foot start tapping quickly on the ground.
“That so?” The chief leaned back in his large black chair and stared at him. In his normal soothing voice, he inquired, “Can you prove it?”
“How?”
The chief’s eyes again looked through James. “That’s for you to figure out.”
“Okay...” James said, more confused than ever.
“Prove it to yourself.” He paused. “There’ll be an inquiry. I spoke with the fire commission; they’ll be taking it from here. Until they render their decision, you are on paid leave.”
He heard a loud groan from outside the office behind him. James didn’t know what to say, he looked at the chief’s wall. He noticed a picture of him shaking hands with the governor, a former fire commissioner and an ex-President.
“Now get out of here, go home… do your animal loving or whatever it is you do,” the chief said. James stood up and turned toward the door, he reached for the handle and twisted around.
“Thank you, sir,”
“What you did was brave. I would’ve probably done the same thing... trying to save a life at risk of my own. It’s commendable.” His blue eyes were back to their grandfatherly state. “But I wouldn’t have been stupid.” He pointed directly at James. “You were.”
“I know,” he started to breath normally.
“It’s too bad the guy didn’t make it... you could’ve been on the news, we would have almost no choice but to give you tanks.” The chief grabbed his tin of wintergreen and a plastic bottle. “Now get out of here.”