Shadows of Our Society: (Shadow Purgers Series, Book 1.5)

by N. Phillips

  SHADOWS OF OUR SOCIETY

  By

  N. PHILLIPS

  SHADOWS OF OUR SOCIETY

  by N. Phillips

  Copyright © 2021 N. Phillips

  All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: ShadowPurgers@gmail.com

  Cover Design by Ira-Rebeca

  @http://www.fiverr.com/rebecacovers

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 1

  In a classroom full of kings and queens, music made me feel like a god among mortals.

  Alright, maybe not exactly like that, but my best friend Tory could relate either way. He was this godlike gamer in the online fighting game community, and everyone on and off social media loved and respected him. Bro had the skills, I tell you.

  But right now, his mind was more on smashing chicks than buttons. He double tapped the shoulder of a girl sitting at a desk in front of him while wearing his snapback—knowing damn well the teacher would tell him to take it off seconds later. I could only imagine what corny lines he was sending her way, but I didn’t care enough to turn down the volume on my wireless headphones. The song was getting to my favorite part.

  What did make me hit pause on my phone was the new girl on the block sliding into the room thirty minutes after class had started. She would have made it to her seat unnoticed had the teacher not looked up from his laptop and spotted her inches away from her desk.

  “Ashanti, how nice of you to join us,” he said with a cold stare behind his glasses. He always tried to sound nice, but his face was too stiff and mean-looking to fool anybody.

  Ashanti smirked. She had this chill, hip vibe about her that radiated confidence, so it came to no surprise when I heard a few days ago that she was from Harlem, New York.

  “Yo, city girl,” one of the school’s football players, CJ, called out to Ashanti from the back row. “I’m havin’ this lit ass party later. You comin’?”

  “I mean,” she began with a smile, “I don’t really know anybody, so...”

  Jasmine, a cheerleader, sucked her teeth and said to her, “Then come back here and get to know us.”

  Ashanti stood up and strutted to the back of the room. The glow of her ebony skin was framed by her long box braids that even got the attention of a drug dealer in the room, and all that dude ever cared about was selling dope and hitting licks after class.

  It was crazy to think someone so beautiful came from a place so ugly. I’m talking about the city, where extreme violence and bizarre scenarios have been happening for months now. Rumors of demons and people possessing superhuman powers have all spread like wildfire on social media. Hell, there was even a video online of a girl with silver-hair fighting a demonic creature in the Bronx.

  You’d have to see it to believe it.

  “Zayn,” Tory called out to me from two seats away. He must’ve noticed my fixation on Ashanti because he started to laugh before he leaned toward me and said, “Damn, Z. She got’chu stuck over there. Just say somethin’ to her, bro. She only lives three apartment numbers away from you.”

  Correction: two apartment numbers away, but telling him that would only make it worse. The topic did make me question her constant lateness, though. I’d look out my window in the morning sometimes and even see her leave out for school before me.

  Not that I was a stalker or anything like that…

  Anyway, the bell rung after the next fifteen minutes flew by, and it was time to get the hell out of there. Real talk, the last days of school felt more like laid back study sessions than learning periods. Teachers would hand out course material at the beginning of class and not give a damn about what we did afterward. For us students, passing the exam in the next three weeks was all that mattered, really.

  I got out of my seat and stepped into the crowded blue and yellow hallway, where I was stopped by CJ, who had his arm wrapped around Jasmine. “You got me tonight, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there,” I replied. Whenever he threw these wild ass block parties every Friday night, he would always have me DJ because he knew how much I was into the whole thing. My playlists stayed updated, and I loved mixing different songs together and creating a wave of energy for everybody to ride.

  Music was my life. I would’ve gone crazy a long time ago without it.

  CJ and Jasmine went on ahead. Tory walked up behind me to say, “Yo, I gotta get home quick and do some streaming. I’ll catch you at the party later.”

  “Cool. See you there.”

  We gave each other a pound before he scurried down the hall, leaving me to head for the entrance of the school alone. I looked around for Ashanti, but there were no signs of her anywhere.

  Green grass and patterns of shrubs gave life to the small campus of Gold Eagle Academy, which sat at an intersection between multiple streets that led to different areas of Newburgh, New York. School buses were lined up and packed with students ready to go home, but being that my house was only five blocks away, I’d usually just walk there.

  A little off campus, though, a large group of students were outside the bodega where I’d grab my morning sandwiches before school. Something was going down, and after getting closer, I realized what was up.

  Petty beef.

  CJ and Jasmine were being confronted by a couple of dudes who I knew had gang ties. See, despite the two of them being in a relationship for a good year now, a video was recently leaked that supposedly shows Jasmine having sex with one of the guys at the scene. I say supposedly because the face of the girl in the video is never shown, and it wasn't the golden blonde hair, caramel skin, and slim figure matching Jasmine’s appearance that led to speculation, but the flower tattoo on the girl’s ankle—which was identical to Jasmines.

  “We here now,” the guy who apparently slept with Jasmine said to CJ. “You was talkin’ all that shit on IG. Wassup?”

  CJ stepped to him, the two now in each other’s faces. “What’s poppin’, then?”

  Just as CJ balled his right hand into a fist, two security guards from Gold Eagle Academy approached and demanded we all go home. “Cut this crap out,” one of them shouted.

  The flock of students dispersed as the gang affiliates mocked CJ with laughter and walked away. Jasmine had told the whole school that she isn’t the girl in the video, and mostly everyone believed her, but going by CJ’s rejection of her hand-holding gesture after everyone was gone, I knew he thought otherwise.

  This would’ve been a typical day around here until I got a glimpse of something very, very strange. A dark, almost pitch-black shroud had engulfed the body of the guy that CJ was gonna fight. Within seconds, it vanished as if it was never there.

  My eyes squinted and jaw hung low to the side, thinking, maybe I’m tweakin’ and caught a contact high from the dude smoking some strong stuff in my fifth period class. But no, that darkness was real. Th
ere was no denying it.

  Whatever was going down in the city had made its way here.

  The clear view of the Hudson River meant I was entering the apartment complex where my mother and I resided. Because it was almost summer, the location was being invaded by groundhogs and geese that walked alongside the concrete trails that separated the fields of grass surrounding the area. Down the hill was the Newburgh waterfront that not only supplied a relaxing, beautiful sight of the river, but came with a variety of restaurants that were stationed along the strip.

  Nearing my apartment unit, I dug into the pockets of my black basketball shorts and took out the keys to the door. Upon entering the champagne-colored home, the fragrance of lavender scented Febreeze rushed into my nostrils that gave me a pleasant welcome. Mom sure loved her plugin air fresheners.

  While humming the tune of a song playing through my headphones, I made my way past the black sofa and TV in the living room to get to my bedroom. I was an only child, and my mom worked long hours as a home health aide, so most of my afternoons were spent chillin’ in the house alone whenever Tory wasn’t free to come by.

  So, with nothing else to do at the moment, I decided to get the music ready for CJ’s party. My silver laptop on the black table in my room had all the programs necessary to mix up something great. Knowing your audience is essential for making any good playlist, but I was doing this for the same group of party goers who only wanted to be wild, get drunk, and stay high, so I already had something prepared that just needed updating.

  Maybe calling myself a DJ was a lil’ extra, though. All I had was audio editing software and a microphone. Still, the concept of blending different tracks and creating a euphoria of sound made me feel good. The process became a means of escape from the world I lived in after my dad died from gang violence: A shot I heard with my own ears. A death I saw with my own eyes.

  That moment became a mental predator, chasing me every hour of every day in hopes of devouring my mind. Music was my protector in those times, shielding me from the assault that I could never truly run away from.

  To keep it simple, the whole thing was like fighting demons in my head.

  Those thoughts aside, the party playlist was finished after an hour of trimming and mixing tracks together. I had turned everything off once it was done, but the sound of muffled music crept into my ears from somewhere. It wasn’t coming from the wired earbuds connected to the laptop, nor was it playing from the wireless headphones synced to my cell phone, but from outside the apartment.

  I moved the brown curtains in my room to the side and peeked through the white blinds to see a black Rolls-Royce with tinted windows bumping 90s Hip-Hop in the complex. The music stopped just as a heavyset bald man with a bushy beard stepped out of the car. He made his way toward an apartment unit.

  Which one? Ashanti’s place.

  To my surprise, she walked out of the house and approached the man before he could reach the door. The two began to converse, but I couldn’t hear a damn word. What I saw next though made the hairs on my neck stand.

  The black shroud.

  The gloomy, straight-up horrifying shroud had returned, only it was surrounding the man this time and appeared much larger than before. What was going on, I had no clue, but the man soon walked inside Ashanti’s place, easing my nerves enough for me to think clearly.

  I continued to peek out, not expecting what happened next: Ashanti looked up at my window. The second she did, I crouched down and hid behind the air conditioner in the vent below my window. “Ain’t no way she saw me,” I mumbled with my heart racing. “Nah, absolutely no way.”

  I waited a minute before fully standing and looking out once more, but Ashanti was gone, and I was left with so many questions. One thing was for certain, though, and it’s exactly what I had assumed earlier.

  Whatever was going down in the city had made its way here.

  CHAPTER 2

  A nap was the plan after hours of thinking about what I saw, but that decision ended up being a mistake. Not only had I overslept and woke up 15 minutes before CJ’s party, but my mind fell victim to a nightmare: the same horror that preyed on me for years.

  It was always the same thing. A gun would be pointed low, the weapon unable to stay still due to the shaky hand of the wielder—whoever that may be. There was never any clear view of the person.

  The gun would then fire, killing my dad. The loud bang from the trigger being pulled and the blurry scene of the murder would play over and over until I woke up in a cold sweat with my heart pounding in my chest. What’s more is that the nightmare doesn’t fully go away after I open my eyes. It fades into the background of my mind, still clawing into my thoughts and affecting my life. Only the sound of music grounded the beast in my head, and it’s what I had been listening to at the edge of my bed for the past five minutes after I had awakened.

  The opening of my bedroom door made me pause the song. My mom entered the room wearing her work attire, which always consisted of colorful scrubs and white sneakers. She narrowed her eyes at me before speaking.

  “It was so quiet in here, I thought you were sleeping. Did you eat anything?”

  “No, but I got a party to get to real quick. I’ll grab somethin’ before I head out, though. How was work?”

  She scoffed. “It’s over with. That house is always hot as hell, too. I’m going to get cleaned up and relax. Make sure you eat.”

  I never told my mom about the nightmares. Stupid, I know. I needed help, clearly. But I never asked for it, and I wasn’t sure if I ever would.

  After she left the room, I looked at the messages on my phone from Tory and CJ asking where I was. I texted them both, omw, before hopping off the bed and going through the clothes in my closet to find an outfit. I decided on black jeans and a blue Nike shirt to match my blue and black Foamposites. The drip was crazy.

  With my laptop and microphone in my backpack, I left out of my room and grabbed an apple off the living room table before heading out the front door. CJ lived in The Heights, which was about a good fifteen, maybe twenty-minute walk from my place. There was no way I was gonna make it on time, but I hurried through the night streets with one question in mind.

  Was Ashanti gonna be there?

  Arriving at CJ’s house and entering the front door, the scene was exactly what I had expected it to be in the early hours of the party: quiet and civil. Yup, just a small crowd with simple conversations. That was all gonna change in a couple of hours, though. Especially now that I was there.

  “‘Bout damn time,” CJ greeted me with a dap as I walked into the living room. He had on a green Gucci shirt that matched the walls of the house. “I was ‘bout to have Marcus handle the music, and you know he be listening to garbage.”

  “Nah, he be playing some cool shit,” I told him. “He listens to music that make you think, somethin’ you ain’t used to doin’ because you get by just from throwin’ a football every year.”

  He laughed and nudged me on my arm with his fist. “Yeah, aight. You ready to do your thing?”

  A nod led to us stepping over to the large speakers in the living room. The process of handling the music was simple, really. All I needed to do was connect my laptop to the sound system and let the tracks do their thing. My microphone was only used on rare occasions whenever I needed to say something to the crowd or when CJ got wasted and wanted to blurt out stupid shit to everyone.

  As I’m setting up the equipment and surveying the few people that are in the house conversing, I noticed Jasmine wasn’t there and decided to ask CJ about her.

  “Your girl ain’t here?”

  He looked away and answered, “Nah.” Just as he did, a light-skinned chick with braids walked up to him and placed her hand on his arm with a smile. He continued, “She’s always busy, bro. It is what it is, you know?”

  I didn’t know seeing as I’ve never been in a relationship, but a shrug from me was all he needed to walk away with this other girl on his arm.

/>   After getting the music started, the party got a little live with people going from moving their mouths to moving their bodies. As more students from Gold Eagle Academy came through, things only got more active with drugs and alcohol ready to make their presence felt.

  “Yo, Z. I need you over here for a minute.”

  Tory called out to me from the other side of the living room. He was sitting on a gray couch with a few boys from our school, one being Marcus, a student on the wrestling team who he loved to debate with.

  With the music doing all the work, I was free to walk over to them and participate in the conversation. Tory had turned his hat to the back, which meant he was in a serious mood. I wasn’t surprised, though; these small disagreements with Marcus always got him heated for some reason.

  “Bro,” he addressed me while looking at Marcus, “This dude said pro wrestling is better than MMA. Can you believe that shit?”

  I chuckled and shrugged, trying not to get in the middle of it. Marcus sat up on the couch and matched Tory’s intensity with a hard stare.

  “Let’s go on social media and ask the world which is more entertaining,” he suggested. “You don’t wanna do that, though.”

  “I don’t need to do that because I know I’m right and you wrong,” Tory argued back. “You buggin’, my guy. This ain’t no discussion.”

  Marcus waved him off and leaned back. “Yeah, okay. All I know is, if I had to choose between being a pro wrestler or an MMA fighter, I’m goin’ with wrestling all day. That shit’s my passion, so you can take your weak ass opinion somewhere else.”

  Tory, as usual, disagreed, and I listened to them banter for a while until it was time to make my way back over to the laptop. After sliding through a flock of vapers having a good time, I saw someone standing next to the speakers who made me freeze on the spot. She was in a position where I had to say something to her.