by Gary Sapp
forehead, all of her tattoos that covered both arms and ran up the side of her neck. Her last day on earth she had been dressed in overalls that would have fit a man twice her side and steel toe shoes. Her hair was cropped low. Roxanne was sure that she’d been mistaken for a very small man when people approached her from behind.
Roxanne went for her cell to call 911—
She heard a woman…or perhaps a male child scream from an area that they had just left behind.
Andre…when did he leave us…was holding one of the Choir Boys…a true boy who Dre’ seemed to know by name and had probably been a scout before the Peacekeepers had marched on Carver and shown him and his brethren the error of their ways.
Andre smiled at and talked with the bleeding boy as he found the strength to carry the child who probably weighed as much as he did. Dre sat him down as gently as he can as to not rock the boy who has death written all over his face. It is the same look your face has just relinquished, Erica.
The boy died in Andre’s arms and to her old school mate’s credit, he honored the boy by siting him on the ground as gently as he had sat him in his lap and closed his eyelids for him.
Oh my, God, will this ever end.
The boy had not traveled this lonely road towards death alone. Another child was walking aimlessly…a staggered step to his left…three wobbly strides to the right…
His left arm was missing from the elbow down and he had a river of blood pouring from his nose and both his eyes
And he was carrying a pistol in his other hand.
Andre cried out in a voice that didn’t sound a human. Champion had semi blanked out, as if the only way he will survive this day is for his mind to exist far away from the city of Atlanta…far away from the Carver Housing Projects. Roxanne wished she could have joined Champion in that place. She wished it with every fiber of her being.
The boy fell suddenly on his own gun.
And there was a shot fired.
Andre Knight no longer attempted to hide his pain or his grief. And he released both in cry that may have been powerful enough to wake the dead, including Erica. He crawled on his knees towards where the second boy met his end…but either wielded the strength in his knees, or the will to press on had forsaken him forever.
Roxanne gently put Erica’s head down, she put all of her burdens down and ran out of the dumpster and carried Councilwoman’s prophetic words with her by the time she reached Andre. If you want to see me suffer, come now Victor, come now.
Carver is going to experience a tragedy unlike any ever seen before. The wig wearing woman had said. And Roxanne had remembered the woman’s fat face brighten with sudden mix of pride and wonder. While at the same time Carver is going to experience a rebirth that will be glorious and long overdue. And Roxanne had yet to still decipher if the hysterical fit that had taken hold of Vanessa Davis had been a bout of laughter or crying. Carver is going to experience a purging that none of us shall ever forget.
Andre Knight had cried for a long time on the asphalt floor of Carver’s Housing Projects.
Roxanne Sanchez wrapped her arm around the waist of her old classmate, held him close…and cried with him.
Seth
After an initial hesitation, he had accepted Denise Prince’s invitation of dinner, coffee and company at the comforts of her apartment.
Sitting in the soft leather chair, Dr. Seth Dupree hesitated again…and again deciding that a second cup of coffee after a wondrous meal would justify a lengthy drive back to his hotel by the airport if little else. Originally, he had told her that he shouldn’t, that the hour was growing late, and he should be turning in to his hotel that was costing him a pretty penny after all.
She smiled but said that she wasn’t hearing that. She said they had been working hard for the last couple of days and deserved the chance to relax and let their hair down.
Now he was transferring the warmth of his cup to his lips, down his throat, in little swallows. Well, look at here; he had drained the cup to the bottom again. He uncrossed his legs and sat up as straight the love seat would let him. It was time for him to leave. It was time for him to go—
He heard the emergency vehicle speed by at the same time Denise did. By instinct he looked up at her as she cracked the blind to peer out ten floors down. He saw some of the life drain out of her hazel eyes and her mouth quivered. Erica Lovings, Denise’s adult child was missing. It had been one of the talks of the triage center since he’d arrived there. It wasn’t the only one, but the gossip about Erica was leading the pack of news items by a nose.
When she found his gaze again, he saw her need for human companionship rise to a new level, almost a palpable hunger. He didn’t need his wife’s background in Psychology or Sociology to understand that. He allowed himself to sit back until he found that comfortable spot in the chair again.
They had found a professional chemistry almost from their first shift working together. Seth had participated on these specialized emergency responses and trauma teams most of the second half of his career. He though that the cooperation of some of the state’s finest medical personnel was not only a good idea, but a necessity after the 911 attacks all of those years earlier. And then centering the state’s efforts in and around the capital in Atlanta made even more sense. The city was the home for the country’s defense against infectious diseases and likely was the lone target for any foreign terrorist plot they may involve biological, chemical, or nuclear weapons.
Still, no one including Seth could have expected to see what they’d seen happen over the last few days.
A doctor named Greenwood, who had the smell of salami and Italian bread flowing from his pores, had teamed Seth with the head RN over this particular unit which happened to be Denise Prince. She was an excellent nurse, yet, Seth found himself even more impressed with her leadership and organizational skills. And we needed every bit that you could offer. There were the burn victims that were flown in from The Andrew Young Youth Center bombing and the law enforcement personnel that ran over the mines when Serena Tennyson had been apprehended.
Seth had foolishly allowed himself to believe that the hostilities had ended when she was taken downtown. I can finally get on to my business of finding Angel, and trying to rebuild our life together. The Gray man had remembered saying then. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
He’d done countless surgeries in the days treating those gunshot wounds. Most of these victims came from the Fox Theatre after the siege there was ended by the FBI and then another round of cops were brought in when Serena made her daring escape during transport out of Atlanta…if the news people could be believed.
And then the impossible happened.
It got worse.
A House of Chains had sent…what they were called…the Peacekeepers into the Carver Housing Projects to attack some area drug dealers. Hundreds of mostly wounded young people were brought to the trauma center. Most never left…at least not alive. And my God, what was the cutting off of the heads about.
Three of his nurses had to be relieved of duty when the first torso’s arrived without their owners head. Medical people are trained to see and likewise treat anything.
They had no idea they were operating in the middle of a war zone.
He looked at his cell phone…there were no calls or messages from Angel again today.
But there was a call that he had made. He had almost made it from his home back in Macon but didn’t. But he had finally called her after all these years.
She had picked up the line after the house phone had ringed five or six times.
Hello. Hello, is anyone there?
He had only let her hear his breathing.
It’s you isn’t it. I thought that we agreed that you wouldn’t call me again, Seth.
He had finally responded, his breath still heavy in his throat. I’m sorry. I know he’ll hurt you if he catches you on the phone—
No, Seth, He’ll kill me if he catches me on the phone. Look…listen�
�I’m going to say this to you again, Seth, and then I’m going to hang up ok?
What? He had wanted to know.
It’s not your fault, Seth. You have to let it go. It’s not your—
And then he heard what sounded like a door that banged against its hinges. He heard a roar of disapproval from the man who had entered the room.
And then he had heard her scream before the line went dead.
It’s not your fault, Seth. You have to let it go.
But she was so wrong…so wrong indeed.
Seth had called the four of them up even after his parents had warned him not too. They didn’t mind him having his friends over to the seaside house, but no drinking, no drugs, and definitely no boating was going to be permitted over the weekend while they were out of the country.
By legal standing, he was 19 years old then, an adult, but he still lived under their roof, at least part of the time when he was home from Durham and Duke University. And where were you guys off to that time anyway? He knew his mom’s inheritance and his dad’s businesses and investments netted them an allotment of about two or three grand trips a year from their home in Savannah to the more exotic ports of London, Paris and Rome.
But they weren’t going to tolerate any nonsense from him, especially his love of boating, not with a late season storm brewing in from the Atlantic. Savannah was well in sight for nor’easter like conditions and some beach erosion only if they were lucky.
Seth had even had the