Trapped with a Way Out

by Jeffery Martinez

  "I'm comfortable with being referred to as Van King." Gripping his cane firmly, Abraham steadied his posture, but attempted to remove his own opposition towards the looming stranger named Jake.

  Unused to the name, Jake nodded after its peculiarity had worn away some.

  It was quiet for a time before Abraham moved his cane, leaning it forward and then back. "You're a friend of Vincentimir's?"

  The use of the name received a blink, but Jake recognized it and nodded again. Abraham paused and then nodded in return, eyes roaming as he thought. They moved between Vincent and Jake, examining the difference of height absently.

  "How long have you two known each other?"

  Not knowing if he should answer, Vincent said nothing, so Jake responded.

  11 and he's almost 19, no 18… "Six- About six and a half years."

  Richard's glare weakened as she heard this. William returned. Seeing her, Jake noticed the Christmas tree in the background. It distracted him. "Nice tree."

  Abraham's mouth twitched and then became a weak smile that William also wore. Rodriguez looked at the tree so his expression was missed, but Richard stared at Jake, her rigid antipathy for him slowly smoothing out to become mere distaste.

  "I think even you'd have to use a stool to put the star on top." Eyes went to Vincent's smirk. Jake looked down at the familiar eyes that were turned up at him. They made the giant sigh, still disliking the teen's childish comments, but admitting to himself that it was helping the situation so he looked at the tree again and didn't say anything. It was annoying sometimes, but not always…and he knew Vincent was saying stupid things on purpose…probably. He glanced down at Vincent again to find his attention shifted to someone else. Jake inspected the clothes again and realized who they must belong to. Brown went to Rodriguez next and received the green eyes when they realized they were being watched.

  "You came all the way out here to get Vincent?" Rodriguez's expressionless face dampened his voice with monotone.

  Jake chewed it over, hands hiding themselves in the pockets of his jacket. "You went all the way out there to go get Max?" He countered.

  While Vincent frowned at the conflict between the two, William' mouth creased at the name while some of Richard's glare returned. Abraham disrupted them. "Max?"

  Jake showed him Vincent with an inclination of his head. "That's Max."

  Abraham mused. "Why do you call him Max?"

  "It's his middle name."

  Blue blinked, but was still curious. "But why?"

  Jake looked at Vincent as if to rebound the question towards him, and shrugged.

  Vincent shrugged as well, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as it became stiff. "People just started calling me that."

  It's his street name. Abraham's eyes darkened but he did not allow his opinion to effect his expression as he nodded curtly.

  Richard's scowl spoke up, jarring Vincent's ease and causing him to stare at her, coming close to gaping. "Who named you First?"

  Astounded looks went to the woman while Jake's lips dipped into a brief frown, and he moved restlessly. The question was for Vincent, so the teen blinked, trying not to get angry or frustrated. He couldn't look at Richard for several seconds. He finally did, with a sigh. "Just people. No one specific…" It wasn't Jake.

  The woman refused to back down, one of her hands squeezing her arm as he teeth clenched and released. "Why?"

  "I already told Rodriguez." Vincent cut back a little sharply. "Ask him sometime. I don't want to broadcast it…" His eyes burned as he saw that Richard was not going to compromise. "You know, you've seen it, so you should know anyway if you think about it."

  Disturbed by the spiteful twinge in the teen's tone, the police woman was still not content. Rodriguez moved to try his hand at dissuading her, but his extended hand was brushed aside.

  Jake exhaled a breath quietly. "It's the animal sounds."

  Most did not make the connection as they gazed at the giant, minds working. Brown eyes momentarily peeked at Vincent who was looking away as his form of permission. Jake viewed his audience once more, swaying slightly on his feet in a controlled fashion, as his restlessness persisted…much like a planted sky-scraper. "Hisses, snarls…teeth…jus' habits of his." The way he bites during fights sometimes. Jake recalled a picture of a blood stained mouth…

  "I bite."

  The additional information Vincent offered, bothered Abraham and William, and made Rodriguez wince. Richard's eyes grew wide, her jaw slack. For the first time in a long while, she remembered the scar on her hand. The memory made it burn as if branded by liquid nitrogen, and her hand became a fist in the crook of her arm. Her face seemed to lose all emotion while the sharpness of her eyes faded momentarily, seeing nothing. This left silence behind. Abraham watched his daughter, secretly uneasy about her expression. Only Rodriguez, Richard, and Vincent knew of the connection that had been made between his statement and the woman's scar.

  Richard's voice was quiet when she spoke again and her eyes were stationed across the room. "Alex, go check on Vincentimir's clothes."

  With a reluctant breath, Rodriguez left to follow her order. He pulled open the door of the drier, stopping the machine immediately, and bent down to test the clothes that tumbled to a stand still when the rotations halted. They were warm, but the jeans were a little damp. Another ten or so minutes and then they'd be done… Rodriguez crouched, his knees creaking as he looked at the clothes. His hand snatched up the socks, the sweatshirt, and the T-shirt, shut the door, and then pushed the resume button for the drier. Leaving the laundry room and returning to the living room/front door, he held the clothes in his arms as faces turned to him and Vincent started in his direction, relief clear in the pale features.

  "Your jeans aren't done yet, but I can lend you a pair of mine."

  The other teen took the clothes that were handed to him with a short nod, and the two went up to Rodriguez's room.

  Back with the company the two had left, Richard continued to watch the side of the room, her arms crossed over her chest. "William." The girl straightened up and looked at her mother. "In the refrigerator, the container with the pink lid, can you get it so Vincentimir can take it back with him?"

  The girl left and then only Abraham, Richard, and Jake remained. Unable to ask her elderly father to fetch something for her, Richard turned, letting go of her arms so that they hung by her sides. The woman went to the Christmas tree, taking the eyes of the men behind her, and she retrieved two rather short (height wise) rectangular boxes and then a cube-ish box, all wrapped with red, seasonal paper. The name Vincentimir was scrawled in black marker on each of them.

  Vincent's eyes lit up and he gawked at the gifts and then Richard when they were handed to him upon his return, with his damp jeans draped over his arm. William held the container of pumpkin bread and bread rolls in her hands, doubting Vincent's skill in holding anything else with any sense of control. She looked at Jake instead and timidly offered it to him, glancing at Vincent to show her logic. Jake looked at the girl for a moment, and then withdrew his arms from his jacket and accepted the container with the pink lid. Richard watched the exchange and then gazed at Vincent as the teen thanked her for the gifts, staring at them and then the woman with an awkward, weak laugh. Jake held the container in one hand, opening the front door with the other as the family said their goodbyes to Vincent. Brown eyed the pouring rain, leaving the door open until a gust of wind howled into the room, disquieting the others.

  Reluctantly, Richard bit her lip and looked back at the safe interior her home. She let her eyes go to the back of Vincent's head, turning the boy away from the door with her proposal. "I'll drive you to the car. You can't go out there with those," She indicated the gifts. "…and your clothes were just cleaned."

  Now her gaze went to Jake who was frowning back at her. She looked at the rain through the door again and then turned on her heel, leading the hesitating Vincent away. She heard Jake close the door and follo
w with his heavier steps, wincing as she knew that she was leading this…person…through her house. She bit down on the feeling, telling her son, when he followed, to stay with his grandfather and William. She'd be back soon, and she would be borrowing his car. Rodriguez stood in the middle of the hall leading to the garage, watching as Vincent stopped at the door to look back at him, still holding the gifts. He appeared worn and tired, but the illusion disappeared with a smirk and a wave. Then Jake went through the door and it was shut, so all Rodriguez had to stare at was the remaining gloom.

  Jake took the back seat with Vincent joining him for company while Richard's teeth grated together in frustration and distaste as she got into the driver's seat, inserting the spare key into the ignition, having swiped it up from a kitchen drawer on the way. The garage opened and Richard looked back in order to back out, but she paused, blinking at Jake who was obscuring her view. He noticed and leaned to the side, clearing the window of obstruction. She pulled out of the garage and drove down her driveway and through the gate to enter the public road.

  "Left."

  She turned left after hearing the deep voice in the backseat. They followed the road, no one willing to speak. Eventually Jake informed Richard that she should slow down, and then she turned off the road and found an unfamiliar car parked where passing headlights wouldn't give it away. Staring at the car, her fingers tapping on the steering wheel, Richard listened to the sounds of the leaving passengers, feeling the car shift as their weight was removed. Vincent must have told her goodbye without her knowledge, because he peered at her window with a strange expression, standing in the headlights that illuminated the unending cascade of rain falling from the black heavens. He waved to her and she heard a muffled 'thanks for everything Chief…sorry about your Christmas', and then the boy turned with scrunched shoulders and quickly went to the passenger seat of the unfamiliar car. The red glow of the back lights, was observed. Gradually, Richard circled back to the road and then pulled onto it. Behind her, she saw Jake's car turn in the opposite direction and transform into two dim, red lights shining the night. Her windshield wipers beat before her, the only sound disrupting the perpetual silence in her mind.

  Never appear to be human. If God or Christ or even the man who came to be known as Buddha were seen as mortal and plain human beings, their names would not be known today for humans would never follow a simple mortal so much like themselves. Immortal, heavenly, enlightened, anything but what is common. The Mandate of Heaven, the Chinese emperors of the past; the pharaoh who was seen as a god himself; they are rulers that had almost an infinite amount of power because they were above humanity, idols, gods, something that could be followed just as billions of humans follow a god in their present religion. Kings and queens with royal blood, more than the typical human. Even the presidents, human but elite in some manner. Though the presidents are weak compared to the rulers of old, those who could wage wars, religious crusades, genocides with a roaring following marching in their name. Those that were believed to be more than human, were the most powerful men in history.

  Walter C. Ramos rarely, if ever, appeared to be human before his subjects. He could wear masks, weave spells that made others believe that he was common so as to blend in with society, a ghost in the underworld of criminals. That's what his followers believed. Walter was feared, admired, idolized, even worshipped. If he asked for quiet in the midst of a blazing battle, the dying would stop praying, the crippled would stop screaming, the frightened would stop weeping, and even the remaining bullet casings that fell from the air would not make a sound as they hit the ground. Walter was god. Jake's father and other elite men who could not easily blend into a crowd, served as leaders below him. A younger group, Junior Leaders, mirroring the elite men, led the younger members. There was a treasurer in charge of money laundering and keeping track of profits, a man in charge of arms trafficking, another in charge of drug trafficking, another in charge of recruiting and social relations between the leaders and the other members, another in charge of keeping political influence and leverage on the law with information that could persuade legal officials, judges, and juries to look the other way, another for gathering intelligence pertaining to whatever was of interest, etc; and all of these men had members of descending rank below them that they could give orders to.

  More than an average gang, Walter C. Ramos ruled over a government, an empire. His blood, the blood of a manifested god, was supernatural. The only individual to share a part of it was his nephew, a demonic being with white skin, flaming crimson eyes, and a way of fighting that was inhuman, beastlike, and terrifying. The demon did not cry out even once when he had been beaten in the parking garage. When looked down upon afterwards, there was an account that the teen had smirked with his hellish eyes swirling with fire from another world, blood painting his white skin red as it ran from a scrape on his forehead. There were even rumors that once a woman had seen the man's nephew on a dark street and she had given a cry and then died, clutching her heart. The blood of Ramos was the blood of a creature that had no share with humanity.

  Those that could recall Vincentimir Max Ramos as an elementary school and middle school student had lost the image of the boy in his younger days only to see what he was now. But, unlike Walter, they had never seen the boy make a grown man scream in fear and beg for mercy in the form of a swift death. Unlike Walter, Jake, a Junior Leader, and Jake's father, a Senior Leader who oversaw arms distribution and trafficking, knew that Vincentimir was not a god. But, he was not a normal human, for unlike the Angel of Death, First did not look like a human, the genetic mutations that altered his body changed his physical capabilities. Yes, the youth was a mutated lamb that could be seen to grow claws and fangs with which he would devour and slaughter the normal, helpless lambs around him. Even a child with flaring scarlet in his eyes and blood smeared over his face, dyeing his bared teeth red…even as a child, only a mutated lamb of an innocent nature, he could imprint nightmares in a mind. For everything that came to pass between Jake and Vincent, the pale teen was forever isolated in Jake's mind as being perpetually different

  But from afar, any man may denounce a god. Walter was removed. Vincentimir seemed to be growing more scarce, seen less of, heard less of, no orders from him to direct the others. Godly rulers in far away castles were absent in the minds of serfs, knights, and feudal lords. But when they are to be present, these rulers must not live among the common. They must be mysterious, able to disappear and make themselves known when they desired, ghosts in the underworld, chained to no single dimension.

  A people without a god, a kingdom without their king, a government and country without their leader; who do they turn to when they lose their grasp on a rope leading them through the darkness?

  They may find a relic to stand in the place of their god.

  *~*~::..+..::*~*

  It was quiet, the low hum of the motor sending the car down the road. The sky was dark with mountainous clouds climbing over the horizon, outreaching the trees. Highlighted by the moon, the curves and shapes of these clouds were whitened to a ghostly pearl that would seem to shimmer if observed from the starry night above them, but for the rain and the closeness of the clouds that blocked out the moon, the Earth could not view the effect of the moonlight. Any magnificence possessed by the clouds was blurred as cascades of angered water fell upon the windshield, a continuous flow of rain being parted and pushed aside by the windshield wipers, acting as the prophet Moses to allow the driver to see the road and direct their journey with less risk. Jake watched the road, oblivious to the black shapes that swiped through his vision, up and down and up and down, again and again and again, a beat that fought and coaxed the water running over the glass. Vincent's eyes were turned to his side window where the darkness gave him a shadowed reflection of himself and the driver, but he was looking through these false images to see past the rain that dribbled down the glass, seeing the darkness of the storm. He wondered if there would be a crack of pierci
ng lightning that would illuminate the sky. But besides the darkness and the wind, the heavens were without an image or a voice.

  Brown eyes caught a side glimpse of the teen with the storm beyond him, and then sought the road with the line of yellow reflectors that split the asphalt path down the middle. Restlessness came again to worry his fingers, shifting them over the taut leather of the steering wheel. His teeth were clamped together, his expression made plain as the stiff muscles were limited in what else they could produce, focused on keeping his jaw shut. The man blinked, his brow jumping and his jaw relaxing all at once. Jake let himself take a breath, preparing to confront the 'thing' that had erased the frustration Vincent had inspired. His eyes closed, for as long as they dared, and then opened to view the road with the yellow line of reflectors ahead. How should he begin? Another moment was wasted on this thought. He could say nothing…just surprise the kid, but he should tell him. It looked bad on his part not to tell. It would make it worse…so he would have to say something. Jake exhaled slowly and saw the yellow reflectors in his vision. "We're going to my place."

  Vincent sat up a bit in his seat, his neck turning so that red could peer at Jake in the dimness of the car. There was a pause. "You need to get something?" The teen blinked and then shrugged, turning back to his window to watch the darkness. "I don't mind. You can drop me off after whatever you need to do." Basically, I'm just enjoying the fact that you're not chewing my ass off right now, Jack-bean. You're not mad at all… Questioning red flicked to Jake now as Vincent finally passed his thankfulness and registered the oddness of the quiet in the car, Jake's calmness. He watched the man and noticed when Jake glanced at him and then looked away quickly, not expecting Vincent's gaze. The man's face was blank. The quiet and dimly pulsing foreboding weren't out of place given the circumstances. Was he tired? Vincent felt his own fatigue settle as lead in his limbs. It had been a long day… His eyes had slowly resumed their search through the night while quiet had persisted for over a minute. Now it came to an end and Vincent's attention forsook the window when Jake's low tenor was heard over the hum of the car and the patter of the rain.