Ana Rocha_Shadows of Justice

by Ammar Habib

  There’s no backing out now, Ana.

  The leader is no longer leaning against the fence. They’re watching me as I near them, watching with the eyes of hyenas. They’re all taller and seem stronger than me. They think that I’ll be powerless against them—I can see it in their gazes. My heart pounds faster and faster with each step.

  Ba-dum—ba-dum—ba-dum!

  My mind screams for me to turn back around, thinking that there is no good outcome from this. Keep yourself together, Ana. With each step, I feel like I’m walking further and further into a den full of rabid animals that are waiting to pounce on a prey.

  But today, I’m not going to be anyone’s prey. I maintain my composure, at least on the outside. Don’t show any hesitation, Ana. And definitely don’t show any fear. Right now, you own these streets. Perception is reality, and you belong here. You have no reason to be afraid of them, but they have every reason to be afraid of you. Walk like these streets are yours and act like they’re yours, and these punks won’t dare do a damn thing.

  I’m not even ten steps away from them. They break formation and step towards me as one of them speaks. “Where ya goin’?”

  “You lost, girl? Ain’t ever seen you ‘round here,” the leader snickers as he runs his hand through his dirty hair. “You look like you could use a friend.”

  I respond coldly, gaze locked with the punk’s. “Beat it or you’ll all have another thing comin’.”

  They don’t. The leader stands in front of me and his boys fan out, trapping me in a semi-circle. “Don’ be like that. We jus’ wanna give you a nice, warm welcome.”

  I stare at his vile face dead in his eyes. Without missing a beat, I lift the tails of my shirt up a bit, revealing the gun strapped around my waist. “Back off before I paint these streets with your guts.”

  Seeing my gun, the leader instinctively steps back and slightly raises his hands. His lackeys follow suit. By his reaction, I know none of them are carrying anything more dangerous than a pocketknife. “Alright, alrigh’. No need for any mess. We jus’ wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

  “Some welcome.”

  They part for me I walk right passed them without shooting them another glance. I hear them whispering behind me, but I know it’s nothing but a bunch of hogwash coming out of their mouths. Next time they see someone like me, they’ll think twice before trying anything.

  The further I get from them, the more my heart calms down. Finally. I can’t believe it went that well. The back of my mind was preparing for a brawl, figuring out the best ways to take each of them down. Luckily, it didn’t come to that.

  Oh Lord, if only my mom could see me now: walking through Third Ward with a Glock strapped to my waist. She’d never believe it. I don’t know if I fully believe it right now. But it’s happening. And I’ve survived… at least so far.

  ***

  Trails of sweat continue running down my arms and neck. I will never get used to this Texas heat. I make it to the area behind the townhouse without any more incidents. Thankfully, I don’t cross paths with anything else: humans or animals. The only people I saw were a handful of women that were too far to be any trouble. That’s the way I intend to keep it.

  Even so, my heart rate is still beating rather quickly. It’s not as bad as when I walked into that pack of gangbangers, but it’s still far from normal. And my nerves are just as bad. The entire way here, I keep having the sensation that somebody is stalking me and that I’m being watched. But every time I look behind me, there’s nothing there. The echo of my own footsteps seems to be getting my nerves excited. Dear God, please let that be the case.

  On the backside of the complex is an abandoned gas station. It’s been out of commission for some time now. The grass is overgrown, and there are weeds everywhere. The windows are all reinforced with metal bars as can be expected, but many of them are cracked or smashed up. The walls are weathered along with the paint, which is only a shadow of its original self. The entire infrastructure seems to be falling apart. The store’s sign is gone, but it’s easy to see where it once stood. The inside of the store is nothing but empty shelves. It looks like even the light bulbs have been stolen, making it all mirror the scene from a post-apocalyptic movie.

  There doesn’t seem to be a reason for anybody to come near here. But it’s just what I need. Turning towards the ancient tree that’s casting its shadow on the forgotten store, I make my way there. The tree holds countless branches—many of them sturdy and thick—making it the perfect place to watch the townhome from.

  I perform one final sweep to make sure that there’s nobody nearby. It looks like I’m in the clear. With my messenger back still hanging off of my shoulder, I reach up and grab the lowest trunk of the tree. I easily pull myself up onto it. As I do, memories of my childhood flash through my mind. Angela and I climbed trees all the time. We would sit in the branches for hours while drawing, telling stories, and reading novels. The flood of nostalgia overruns my thoughts as I relive those golden days.

  I never imagined it would be a skill I’d use to bring down criminals. I come onto the first branch before continuing higher. I scale with ease, having climbed trees hundreds of times before. With my foot firmly on the first branch, I grab the second and pull myself up onto it. I do the same with the third without missing a beat. Climbing trees is something that has never been tiring to me. If anything, it was one of the best ways to clear my mind. I step up onto the fourth branch as I reach up and grab the next one. It’s thinner than the others but should hold my w—

  It breaks.

  Oh God! It all happens in slow motion. Still holding the broken branch, I feel myself falling downwards. Instinctively, I grab the nearest one with my free hand. My entire body weight suddenly goes onto my hand, but I somehow hold on as my body violently lurches to a stop. I let go of the broken branch and watch as it falls onto the tall grass below. Hanging with one hand, I look away from the fallen branch and back up towards where I need to go. My palms sweat like crazy. I take a deep breath and let it out.

  Calm down, Ana. It’s just a hiccup. Keep moving.

  Letting out a low groan, I reach up and my second hand grabs ahold of the branch before I pull myself up onto it as if I’m doing a pull-up at the gym. Coming onto the branch, I stand on it while holding onto the tree trunk. I let out a few more breaths, calming myself down. Again looking down at the fallen branch, I know that could have easily been me. But it’s not. My gaze returns to my destination. Almost there.

  I scale one more branch higher, just to ensure I’m out of sight. The last thing I need is to be seen while I’m keeping tabs on the townhouse. I make it there with no more problems and take a seat on it, leaning my back against the trunk. It’s more than sturdy enough to hold my weight and there are enough branches and leaves around me to keep me shrouded. My vantage point gives me a perfect view of the target. I should be safe here.

  I do a quick scan of the tree to make sure there aren’t any other occupants here. The main thing I’m worried about is snakes. Garden Snakes won’t be a problem since their bite hurts less than sandpaper, but a Copperhead would be a very different story. However, the only thing here are a few flies buzzing around me, but I don’t mind them. Better them than snakes. Or even worse, mosquitoes. I can’t stand those blood suckers.

  Taking a deep breath, I wipe the sweat off of my brow. After all this is over, I’m going to need a cold shower. A nice and long cold shower. But that will come later. Right now, all I need to do is sit and wait. The hardest part of all this is over. At least, I’m hoping.

  The building is hard to see in detail from here, but my camera can zoom in and see the building clear as day. I quickly whip the device out of my bag and bring it to my face. I focus the lens onto the back of the building and do a quick scan of it. The rear appears just as bad as the front, weathered and unkempt. It seems like all the windows have their blinds closed—

  My heart skips a beat.

  One of the
window’s thick blinds is not fully closed, giving me a small peephole into the townhouse. It’s only a crack, almost too small to give anything away. But with my camera, I can get a glimpse of the building’s interior.

  I focus the camera on the crack and zoom is as far as it’ll go until my entire vision is solely on it. There’s nothing there now, except for the room’s wall. But I have all the time in the world. If there is something, I’ll see it in no time… hopefully.

  ***

  This is the longest hour of my life. I feel like a stalker sitting up here in a tree and watching the window through my camera. Outside of a few stray cats walking by and the flies buzzing around me, there’s been nothing to report. Nothing has entered into view except for the bare wall I’ve been staring at for God knows how long.

  My heart has calmed downed since settling on this branch. Sitting up here and actually doing the reconnaissance work feels a bit surreal. It’s like I’m in one of those spy movies, watching the enemy. I bet I could even teach James Bond a lesson or two about spying. But then again, I don’t think he’d be caught dead in a down-ridden area like this.

  As much as I try to keep focused on the townhouse, my mind continues to wander. The main thing I’m concerned about is what somebody would think if they saw me up here in this tree. Probably that I’m some ex-girlfriend stalking their former man. At least, that’s what I hope they’d think. Otherwise, things could get rather complicated.

  At first, I attempt to swat at the flies buzzing around me. But it doesn’t take me long to give up on that. They don’t bite. And I’d rather be dealing with them than anything that does bite. A nice long shower after all this will get rid of anything they leave on me. Oh God, a cold shower sounds so nice right about now.

  It’s scorching. And being in this tree seems to make it even hotter. The humidity is just icing on the already unbearable cake. Streams of sweat run down my face and body. I wipe myself down with the towel from my messenger bag a few times, but now it’s drenched as well. And the thought that Bryan is probably sitting in the car with the A/C blasting while I’m up in this hellhole makes my blood start to boil. I picture him smiling to himself as he stares at the townhome through a pair of binoculars or something. He could’ve done this as easily as me. I’m sure he knew exactly what he was doing when he sent me out here. I swear, next time I see him, I’ll—

  What’s that? Looking through my camera lens, I see a figure finally come into view through the window’s small slit. Please don’t be daydreaming, Ana. After a long moment, I’m sure I’m not seeing things. Somebody is really there.

  His back is turned to me. The back of his head looks just like Moore’s, but I can’t be sure. I barely notice something on the right side of his neck. It’s hard to tell, but from what I see, it can easily be the tattoo that Moore has.

  My heart starts to quicken its pace. This time, it’s not caused by fear. Instead, it’s from excitement. As I push the camera harder against my face, my hand starts to tremble a bit, but I quickly regain control over it.

  Turn around, Moore.

  Is he talking to someone? Looks like it, but I can’t see the other figure. My heart begins beating faster—and faster—and faster with anticipation. It feels like it’ll burst out of my chest at any moment now. And as my heart rate spikes, my breaths instinctively start to quicken as well.

  Come on, turn around already.

  He’s still talking. I press my face into the camera, as if looking harder at him will make him turn around. Yeah, that tattoo is definitely the one he had in the photo. It’s got to be him.

  Look my way, Moore. Just for a second.

  He doesn’t. He keeps the back of his head facing me and continues speaking to somebody. The longer it takes, the faster my heart races. I’m going to get a heart attack waiting for this punk to turn around. For the love of God, just look my way for one second. He stops talking. At least, it looks like he does.

  Wait, is he doing it? This could be it.

  Yes! He slowly turns his head so that I can see the right side of his face. I press down on my camera’s trigger and it takes nearly ten photos in quick succession. He continues turning his head until he’s nearly facing my way. I keep my finger pressed down on the button and my camera continues capturing countless images, one right after the other. And as it does, I find myself staring right at the face of Raheem Moore.

  Bingo!

  He looks just like his picture. The only difference now is his hairdo. I’m too far for him to be able to see me. But I’ve gotten more than enough looks at him. I quickly place my camera back into my bag as I whip out my radio. Pressing the button, I bring it close to my face. “You there?”

  There’s brief static. “Shoot.”

  “I got what we came for.”

  Bryan is silent for a long moment. “Great job. Where are you?”

  “In a tree directly behind the compound.”

  “Go to the corner on your left. I’ll pick you up there.”

  “Got it.”

  Putting the radio away, I sling my bag over my shoulder and begin to scale down. As difficult as climbing a tree is, it can sometimes be more difficult coming down. But today, I have no problems and don’t miss a step as I head towards the ground. My excitement seems to make my instincts even sharper. Stepping onto the lowest branch, I do a small jump and perfectly land crouched down.

  I rise to my feet and dust off some debris from my pants. I’ve made it. I survived the mission. I can’t believe it—

  “What were you doin’ up in tha’ tree?”

  I freeze. For a long moment, I can’t move and feel some color leave my face. Please don’t be happening. Not now when I’m so close to being in the clear. I slowly turn around and arrive face-to-face with the source of the voice: a man. He’s large and overweight, but his posture says that he can handle himself. His face is gruff, his hair long. His eyes display remnants of drugs. There’s not even three feet between us. How the hell did I not see him?

  I realize what’s in his hands: a knife. Oh, crap.

  “I saw you up there in tha’ tree. I was waitin’ for you to come down.”

  How the hell did I not see this idiot? You let your guard down, Ana. Think fast.

  “How-a-bout you give me your bag?”

  The bag has my camera. My gaze goes from his knife and back onto his face. C’mon Ana, think.

  His eyes travel up and down my body. “Bag now missy… or I’ll be taking more than that.”

  I slowly sling the bag off of my shoulder. His focus stays on it. I would give it to him without a fight under any other circumstances, if only to keep my cover. But I need the camera. He has his knife out, and its tip is pointed directly at my guts. He’s too close for me to go for my gun without risking it. He’s too big for me to take down in a fair fight, even without his knife. Think, Ana. Where’s my advantage? The bag’s strap is off my shoulder and in my hand now.

  I got it.

  Raising the bag up an inch, I break the silence. “This bag?”

  “Yea.” He reaches out for it. “Nice ‘n slow now.”

  “Here ya go.”

  I don’t think. I swing the bag like a mace and it slams right into his face. He stumbles backwards, dropping the knife as he does. He’s completely dazed and spits out some blood. I step up and cock my leg back before slamming it right into his stomach. He roughly falls backwards and onto the overgrown grass, groaning as he does.

  He’s mine now. I give him a good, swift kick to the head with everything I’ve got. The thug’s lights go out.

  I take a deep breath as I turn around. Slinging the messenger bag back across my shoulder, I leave the unconscious mugger behind. I wish I could arrest him. But that would blow everything. At least he’s learned his lesson. Just like those other punks, he’ll think twice next time he’s about to mess with somebody.

  Chapter 8

  The Bust

  “What have we got?”

  As we drive back towar
ds the highway, I rummage through my messenger bag. Being in this car, safe from the outside world, finally gives my heart and mind a rest. Pulling the camera out of my bag, I examine it. The lens is shattered while the focus rings and f-stops broke clean off, but the rest is still intact. “Moore was there. I got a pic to prove it—actually I got a lot of pics… but I may have busted the camera. Film is okay though.”

  Bryan raises his eyebrows. “…broke the camera?”

  “It’s a story.”

  “Is it worth telling?”

  “Maybe some other time. Unless you want to hear about me using it to club some punk down. But I’m sure you had more exciting stuff happen to you while you were sitting in the car for an hour.”

  He slightly smiles. “Thank God we’re not paying for the camera. They cost a fortune.”

  “I bet they do.” I take a deep breath, feeling my heart finally settle back at its normal pace. I can see the highway from here. “So what’s the plan?”

  “Get back to HQ. I’ll contact Judge Bradley about the warrant. Even without the photo, your word should be enough to get it. But the photos will definitely seal the deal. We’ll have SWAT raid the place as soon as possible.”

  “Will we be there?”

  “I’ll be there overseeing it, but I want you to go home.”

  “Bryan—”

  “You’ve had a rough day. I know it took a lot out of you. Take a breather and a cold shower. I got a glimpse of the personnel at the stash house. Raid should go down like clockwork.”

  I want to be there when it all goes down, but I don’t have the energy to argue right now. I’m too exhausted to do that. “Whatever you say.”

  ***

  I get home a little past lunchtime. Like Bryan suggests, I take a cold shower. The water rinses everything away: the dirt, stench, sweat, and even the nerves—at least for a little while. Not planning on going anywhere for the rest of the afternoon, I have the rest of the day to myself. I finally realize how famished I am with the mission now over and the adrenaline gone. The entire time I’m in the shower, my stomach continuously growls and clenches down on itself.