Wrath James White

by Skinzz

  "What's this for?"

  "For college. You're gonna be on your own for the first time and you'll have expenses. Just take it."

  Mack hated when Jonas did shit like this. His generosity made it hard to hate him.

  "Thanks, man. But you really don't have to do this. I'll be alright. I don't leave for two weeks."

  "Well, you might need some things before you leave."

  Jonas put both hands on Mack's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Mack rolled his eyes but didn't resist.

  Why does he always have to take it too far?

  Chapter 21

  Bo's apartment, 1:25 pm.

  Someone was banging on the front door. It sounded like they were using a battering ram. All the hairs on Bo's neck and forearms stood on end.

  Fuck. It's the police!

  His stomach roiled and his eyes watered as he imagined being handcuffed and dragged off to prison.

  "Who the fuck is that?" Gia asked.

  Bo crept to the door, trying not to make any sound that might alert whoever was on the other side of the door to his presence. He reached the door and knelt to peer through the peephole. All he could see was a pale, cleanshaven scalp just below the level of the peep hole.

  Fuckin' Little Davey.

  "What the hell are you doing banging on my door like that, man? I thought you were the police."

  Bo unlocked the door and let Little Davey in. He stormed in and began pacing back and forth. He looked like he was about to scream or cry or both.

  "Did you hear about what happened to Skinner?"

  "Yeah."

  "His mom called my house. She said it was our fault!"

  Bo shoved his hands in his front pockets and shrugged his shoulders.

  "She called my house too. Freaked me out. You think she's right?"

  Davey turned toward Bo with homicide twinkling in his eyes like true love.

  "It wasn't our fault. It was those fucking jungle-bunnies, those crack-smoking gangbangers!"

  Little Davey opened his mouth to speak again then took a quick look down the hall at Bo's open bedroom door.

  "Is Gia here?"

  "Yeah, she's in bed."

  "Hi Davey!"

  "Hi Gia!"

  Little Davey looked at Bo.

  "Let's finish talking outside. Get dressed. I've got something to show you."

  Bo hesitated. He looked down the hall at his bedroom, feeling like he should race back into Gia's arms, grow his hair out, and donate his Doc Martens and his bomber jacket to Goodwill. Gia was right. He was getting too old for this. He would be twenty soon. He was old enough to vote, old enough to fight for his country, soon he'd be old enough to drink legally. Soon, he'd be old enough to run for public office.

  I'd be better off forgetting about fighting niggers in the streets and just become a Republican like every other racist in America, Bo thought. Not that all Republicans are racists but I've never met a racist that wasn't a Republican. I'd probably do a helluva lot more damage at the ballot box than I've done out here running around with Skinner and Davey.

  Something told him that going outside with Little Davey, hearing whatever he had to tell him, seeing whatever he had to show him, would be the worst mistake of his life. Perhaps it was the fact that Little Davey had done some crazy shit lately, first torching that old black lady and then stabbing that faggot. Perhaps it was because it was open season on skinheads these days. Two skinheads were dead in as many days and the punks in Philly were kicking the shit out of skinheads on sight. Or perhaps it was the murderous glee in Davey's voice when he told him he wanted to show him something outside, that twinkle in his eyes like a kid on Christmas morning. It didn't fit the circumstances. It meant that Little Davey had done something that he was proud of and whatever it was, it had something to do with Skinner. Bo's mind was spinning, trying to figure out what new act of mayhem the little sociopath could possibly have committed. Then his curiosity got the better of him. He grabbed his jacket.

  "I'll be back, Gia. I'm just gonna step outside for a minute."

  "Wait!"

  Gia ran down the hall and into the living room with a tan sheet and a red and white plaid blanket wrapped around her. She looked worried, like she was about to cry.

  "Where are you going?"

  "I'm just going to step outside for a minute to talk to Little Davey. I'll be right back."

  "Why can't you talk here?"

  Her eyes were wide and jittery. Her voice cracked on the verge of tears.

  What was she so worried about?

  But Bo could feel it too. There was something evil in the air, in the air around Little Davey. He still had that insane smile on his face as he watched the exchange between Bo and his girlfriend.

  "Because he needs to show me something outside."

  "Then I'm coming too."

  She dropped the sheets and reached for her coat. She was wearing nothing but a bra and panties.

  "Gia. Put some damn clothes on. It's too cold out there."

  Little Davey stepped in front of Gia, turning his back on Bo. His eyes were all over her and it was making Bo uncomfortable and beginning to piss him off. He still had that insane smile on his face.

  "This is personal business, Gia. You can't come with us. He'll be right back. I promise. Don't worry."

  Gia looked at Little Davey and Bo could see something in her snap. That crazy look on Davey's face had ratcheted her anxiety up to full panic. Bo knew he needed to step in but a part of him was hoping she would talk Davey out of whatever he was about to get Bo involved in. She pushed past Davey, still in her underwear, and confronted Bo again.

  "No! Bo, don't go. Just stay here with me. Don't go with him, Bo. Something's not right and you know it!"

  She waved a finger in Bo's face then pointed it directly at Little Davey, emphasizing the mad expression on his face to punctuate her point. Bo gathered her in his arms and kissed her.

  "I'll be right back."

  He turned and walked out the door with Davey right behind him. He could here Gia weeping as he closed the door. It broke his heart and increased his sense of foreboding. Again, he had the urge to run back inside, back into Gia's arms and forget about Little Davey and the whole skinhead lifestyle and again he fought it.

  They walked down the stairs and out to the parking lot. Little Davey's car, his father's car, a big blue and white '59 Ford Fairlane, sat at the far end of the parking lot under a tree by itself. A knot twisted in Bo's gut.

  "It's in the car. You're gonna love this!"

  Bo stopped walking. He felt like he was about to be sick.

  "What's in the car, Davey?"

  Little Davey grabbed Bo by his left arm and dragged him forward.

  "You'll see. It would ruin the surprise if I told you."

  Little Davey fished out the keys as they approached the car. He led Bo around to the trunk. The car shook and Bo's stomach twisted again. He shook his head and backed away.

  "Uh uh, Davey. I don't want to see this, man."

  "See what? You don't even know what I'm about to show you."

  But he did know. He knew exactly how Little Davey's mind worked and so did Gia. That's why she'd been so afraid, why she didn't want him to follow Little Davey out to the parking lot.

  Little Davey popped open the trunk with a flourish. Just as Bo had suspected, there was a naked black man, gagged and bound with duct tape. His eyes widened and he began thrashing about in the trunk as soon as he saw the two of them staring down at him.

  "Shut the fuck up!" Little Davey said, then he grabbed the sides of the trunk and lifted himself to kick and stomp the guy a few times until he stopped squirming. Bo looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching them. The parking lot was empty. Everyone was either at work or inside their apartments avoiding the cold.

  The guy in the trunk had a tapered "block" haircut that leaned to one side like Gumby. It had lines, lightning bolts, and a big money sign cut into it. He wore a gold crucifix
in his left ear. Bo was surprised that Little Davey hadn't already ripped the earring out. There were a few cuts and bruises on the guy but nothing like what Bo would have expected Davey to do to him. That only meant one thing, he was saving the worst of it for later. He was saving him for Bo.

  "Jesus Christ, man! Who is he?"

  "You mean Gumby? He's one of the niggers that killed Skinner. There were three of 'em. The police kept two of 'em and let this one go. They let him go right while I was standing there, trying to get one of the detectives to talk to me. Can you believe that? I followed him from the station and forced him to get in the car."

  The guy was kind of big. Bo looked at him and then at Little Davey.

  "How'd you get him in the trunk? How'd you get his fucking clothes off?"

  "With this!"

  Little Davey lifted his jacket to show the Colt revolver in the waistband of his jeans, tucked behind his vintage Nazi SS belt buckle.

  "What are you going to do with him?"

  Little Davey scowled.

  "What the fuck do you think? We're going to torture his ass then burn him up like the old lady in the train station."

  The man's eyes flew open and he began to squirm and yell against the duct tape secured around his mouth. His muffled screams and terror-stricken expression sent chills up Bo's spine.

  "How do you know he did it? Maybe the cops let him go because he didn't have shit to do with it. How do you know that he was even one of them? Did they say or did you just grab the first black guy that walked out?"

  There was brief expression of confusion on Little Davey's face, a moment of doubt then his face filled with rage.

  "No, this fucking coon did it, him and those other niggers, and we're going to make him pay. For Skinner. Now get in the car!"

  Bo wrinkled his brow and grimaced. He slowly shook his head.

  "I'm not getting in that car with you. I've got Gia upstairs waiting for me.

  Little Davey put one hand on the gun in his waistband and grabbed Bo's arm with the other. Bo wasn't sure if it was meant to be a threat or if grabbing the pistol was just a reflex.

  "Get in the damn car before somebody sees us!"

  Little Davey shoved Bo toward the car then jumped behind the wheel and slammed the driver-side door. Bo stood outside the car with his hand on the door handle, trying to decide what to do. He looked up at his apartment window. He thought he could see Gia peering out at him.

  "Get in the fucking car!"

  Bo took a deep breath then opened the car door and slipped inside. Little Davey gunned the engine, backed out of the parking space, then took off out of the parking lot.

  "Where are we going?"

  "To the woods. The Unrest is having a meeting in the woods behind the old high school."

  "You can't do this at the meeting. Somebody might say something, tell the cops. Just because they're our brothers doesn't mean they can all be trusted with some shit like this. Do you know how many years you'd get for kidnapping."

  "You mean, how many years we'd get. And we aren't just kidnapping him. He dies today. But don't worry, the meeting isn't until four o'clock. He'll be dead and buried by then. Nobody will know anything except you and me."

  Little Davey looked at Bo for a long moment. His eyes weren't on the road and he didn't say anything. He just stared into Bo's eyes, reading his face, like he was waiting for him to say something, to confess, like he was trying to look into his brain. Bo squirmed uncomfortably but kept his mouth closed. Little Davey slowly turned his eyes back to the road.

  I am so fucked, Bo thought. Why didn't I stay in the apartment with Gia? I knew some shit like this was gonna happen. My life is over.

  They drove toward the high school with Bo shivering in his seat, imagining being gang-raped by big black muscular convicts before finally getting shanked in the shower or being led to the gas chamber. He looked out at the road as it rushed by, wondering how much damage he'd take if he jumped out of the speeding vehicle. He looked at the gun in Little Davey's waistband. Davey's hand was still on the butt. Bo wondered if he could get the gun away from him without being shot.

  Then what? Shoot him? Turn him in to the police and save one of the guys that murdered Skinner? The entire Unrest would be after him if he did something that stupid. Like it or not, he was stuck.

  I am so very fucked.

  Chapter 22

  Einstein Medical Center, 2:15 pm

  Mack took the bus to Broad Street and Erie Avenue, to Einstein Medical Center where Miranda was still being treated. It had been days since he'd last seen her. He needed to say goodbye, make sure she was okay, before he left for college and before he went to the concert at City Gardens where he was certain The Unrest would be looking for him and Jason. One way or the other, this might be the last time he saw her.

  Mack remembered the money Jonas gave him. He spent two dollars of it to ride the bus. That left two hundred and forty-eight dollars. He still couldn't understand why Jonas gave him the money. Was he trying to make me feel guilty so I would stay home or is he just trying to impress my mom so she won't throw his ass out again? Mack wondered. He'd gone through all the money he made during the summer, buying beer for Jason and the rest of his friends. He would have gone to Ohio without a dime in his pocket if Jonas hadn't been so generous. Mack took the money out and counted it before stuffing it back in his pocket. He looked down the block and then across the street at the hospital. He smiled and warmth spread through his cheeks, as an idea took hold of him.

  The Einstein Medical Center took up more than a block, stretching from Erie Avenue down to the next block. It was one of the first hospitals in the country to perform heart transplants and boasted some of the best specialists in the country from every discipline. But instead of crossing the street to the hospital, Mack took a left down Broad Street toward the retail shops. He walked another two blocks before he found what he was looking for.

  An old jewelry pawn shop called Hechtman's stood between a music shop and a pizza joint. The window looked like a burglar's dream. It was filled with gold necklaces, watches, bracelets, and diamond rings. There were scratches on the glass from where someone had tried to smash through it. The glass must have been thick as hell.

  Mack walked in. There was a locked iron security gate beyond the door and Mack had to press a doorbell and wait for the shop owner to look him over before buzzing him in. Mack didn't know what the guy was looking for. He doubted that anyone ever walked up to the gate wearing a ski mask and carrying a shotgun. He wondered who Mr. Hechtman didn't let in if anyone.

  Mr. Hechtman was probably in his late sixties. He wore a blue cardigan over a white shirt ala Mr. Rogers and had thick horn-rimmed bifocals and a white mustache that twirled up on the corners. His jewelry store/pawn shop had been there as long as Mack could remember. He'd come in here with his mom on several occasions and suspected that more than a few of his birthday presents had come from the old store, including the onyx ring he'd received for his eighteenth birthday and the gold necklace his mother had given him for a graduation present.

  "How can I help you?"

  "I need a ring."

  "What kind of ring?"

  Mack looked down at one of the display cases at an array of big, gaudy, long out-of-date styles with rubies, opals, sapphires, diamonds or emeralds in them. Most of them looked like something his grandmother would have worn. There was a big display of engagement rings and Mack pointed to one small diamond solitaire with a plain gold band.

  "How about that one? How much is it?"

  "That's a quarter carat, Marquis cut, diamond solitare with a 24 carat gold band."

  "How much?"

  "Three hundred dollars."

  "I've got two hundred."

  Mr. Hechtman, at least that's who Mack assumed he was, looked at Mack then smiled and nodded his head.

  "I'll let you have it for two hundred and fifty."

  Mack dug in his pocket, pulled out his wallet and removed all the cash h
e had except for ten dollars to get into the show. He slapped it down on the counter.

  "This is all I've got."

  Mr. Hechtman counted the cash. Two hundred and thirty eight dollars. He looked Mack up and down as if appraising his worth. For a moment, Mack was afraid the old guy was going to proposition him for sex or something.

  "You love this girl?"

  Mack nodded.

  "Yes, sir."

  The old man raised an eyebrow.

  "Is she pregnant?"

  "No, sir. She's in the hospital. She's in a coma."

  The old man looked down at the ring and nodded again.

  "Okay. You've got yourself a deal. But here. You're going to need a really nice case. You want to make a good first impression. What do you think of this one?"

  He pulled out a small white satin box trimmed in what looked like gold. He put the ring inside it and handed it to Mack. He scooped the cash off the counter and quickly separated the twenties from the ones and fives, sliding the bills into their slots in the cash register.

  "Good luck."

  "Thanks, Mister."

  Mack left the store. The air felt crisper, colder, refreshing rather than bitter. It smelled fresh despite the glut of cars racing down Broad Street, belching exhaust fumes and the inconsiderate smokers blowing out nicotine clouds as they hurried past. Mack couldn't stop grinning as he walked toward the hospital. There were butterflies in his stomach. He only hoped that Miranda was awake.

  Finding his way to the Brain Trauma Unit was more difficult than Mack remembered from his last visit. He couldn't remember which hallway to take. No one at the hospital seemed to know where it was and he kept getting sent down long hallways that lead to nowhere. After finally making his way to the recovery ward he was told by the nurses that Miranda had been moved to the Moss Rehabilitation Research Institute on Tabor Road. After another bus ride, he finally found her.

  Mack stood at the nurse's station with the ring in his pocket, wishing he had brought flowers and feeling foolish for even thinking about it. He was told where to find her by the first nurse he asked, a woman in her thirties with red hair and huge breasts that Mack couldn't stop staring at. He thanked her for the directions but he hesitated. She smiled at him.