Bury Me a G 3

by Tranay Adams

  When he heard feet hurrying down the staircase he whipped around just in time to see the second hit man. He stopped where he was and raised his head bussa about to open up Tiaz’ face.

  Bloom!

  The blast slammed the hit man up against the wall. He slid down to the steps wearing a grimace and clutching his gun. Behind him was a red splatter running down the wall.

  Seeing that he’d dispatched the gunner successfully, Tiaz advanced toward the kitchen, both hands gripping his powerful weapon.

  “Wheeze! Haa! Wheeze! Haa! Wheeze! Haa!” The first hit man’s vision came into place as his glassy eyes looked ahead, his cheeks swelling and releasing as his lips dribbled his blood.

  “Who sent chu? Let me guess, that faggot ass nigga, Don Juan, right?” The gunman nodded yes. “Why am I not surprised?” Tiaz asked as he descended upon him, barrel smoking. “The vindictive prick.” He shook his head shamefully. The hit man’s eyes shot to their corners seeing his .9mm within arm’s reach. His gloved hand almost grasped it when it was kicked aside, sending it spinning in circles. It clanked up against the refrigerator. The thug pulled the ski-mask off of the gunman’s head and tossed it to the side. He then racked the shotgun again and pressed it against his dome piece. He fished around inside of his pocket and pulled his cellular free. Flipping it open, he scrolled through the list of contacts until he found the name Don. He pressed dial and passed it to the hit man. His trembling gloved hand brought the cell phone to his ear, still wheezing.

  “What’s cracking?” Don Juan answered.

  The trigger man’s eyes shifted up to Tiaz who was wearing a stone face. “Tell ‘em ‘we fucked with the wrong one.’”

  He trembled all over realizing that he was on the brink of death. Closing his eyes briefly as tears ran down his face. He swallowed hard and said, “We fucked with the wrong one.”

  Tiaz pulled the trigger and thunder rumbled. Bloom! The gunman’s head disintegrated, sending blood and chunks of brain splattering all over the kitchen cabinets. His head hung and his chin touched his chest. His hand fell, but he was still holding tight to the cell phone. The screen of it was speckled with blood.

  Tiaz picked up the cell, sat the shotgun down on the table, and snatched a butcher knife from out of the knife block. Snikt! Cool, calm, and steady, he returned to the living room whistling where he dispatched the second hit man slumped on the staircase. His victim stared up at him with blood gurgling and bubbling inside of his grill, spilling over, dripping from off of his chin. When the roughneck stepped foot on the first step, he grabbed at his leg. He tried to plead with him, but the crimson fluid pooling his mouth stopped him.

  “Get cho fucking hand off of me, nigga!” Tiaz kicked his gloved hand from off his leg. He then kneeled down to him and pressed his head up against the wall. With a growl, he slammed the butcher’s knife into his chest bone repeatedly. Yanking it out and slamming it again, until it finally got stuck. He clenched his teeth, and twisted it around until half of it broke off inside of him. When that was done, he drove the broken half of the blade into his neck and dragged it around to the opposite end, spilling a river of black blood. The knife clanged when it hit the step. He wiped his red stained hands off on the deceased hit man, whose eyes were staring off into their corners. He picked up the cellular and said, “You missed mothafucka,” before disconnecting the call.

  Hurried footsteps snapped Tiaz’ head to the top step. He found Bianca with a towel wrapped around her ample bosom and holding a gun up at her shoulder.

  “You alright?” she asked, concerned, seeing the dead man at his feet at the bottom of the step.

  “Yeah, I’m breezy.” He nodded as if it wasn’t a big deal. “There’s one slumped inside of the kitchen, too. We’re gon’ have to get rid of these fools and get up from outta here. If they found this place then there’s no telling who else knows where we’re laying our heads.”

  “Okay. I’m gonna get dressed.”

  “Cool.” He hoisted the body up and carried it off to the kitchen. He laid it beside the cat whose head he’d blown off. He then went about the task of cleaning up. Afterwards, he and Bianca would dispose of the bodies.

  ***

  “We fucked with the wrong one.” The hit man said from the opposite end of the cellular.

  Bloom!

  Don Juan’s eyes shot open and he nearly choked on his champagne. He listened attentively as he heard Tiaz’ whistling and then him saying, “Get cho fucking hand off of me, nigga!”

  Then there was the growling and stabbing. Afterwards, the thug came on the phone. “You missed mothafucka.” The call was disconnected.

  “Fuck!” Don Juan threw his bottle of Belaire into the wall and it exploded, sending black shards flying everywhere. He’d just heard the roar of Tiaz’ shotgun when he murdered Chance. He didn’t know how the young niggaz had found the man that had been the pain in his ass, but he was happier than a jailhouse sissy. He was counting on them to shut his lights off, but boy was he in for a surprise.

  “What happened?” Lil’ Stan’s forehead creased with concern.

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned around to his second in command. “He whacked out Chance and Ralo.”

  “Hell they miss this nigga? They were right on ‘em just a minute ago.” He said all riled up. He couldn’t believe the young wolves were so close to having Tiaz’ people draped in all black and ended up on the wrong side of his gun.

  “I don’t know.” Don Juan looked defeated as he massaged the bridge of his nose and shook his head. He then looked up at the ceiling. It was like he was talking to God when he said, “Fucking amateurs.”

  “Don’t even trip. We bound to get ‘em, one of the homies will murk this fool.” Lil’ Stan stated confidently. “A hunnit racks. Who couldn’t use that kinda loot?”

  “You right, you right.” Don Juan gripped his shoulder and patted him on the back. He was grateful for having such a stalwart soldier in Lil’ Stan. The young nigga was loyal, fierce, and followed orders to the T.

  Lil’ Stan’s eyes followed his boss as he headed up the spiral stairs of the mansion he’d rented. His head was bowed and he was dragging his feet. This thing with Tiaz was really weighing heavily on his shoulders. He knew he couldn’t get a decent night of rest until the South Central terror’s name and face was scrolled across an obituary. The thug had killed several homies, murdered his wife, violated her corpse, kidnapped his son, and attacked his traps. Lil’ Stan knew exactly what Tiaz was doing. He was causing Don Juan great emotional pain and stress before he ultimately delivered the Death Blow.

  Tiaz is one of the most ruthless niggaz I done came across in a minute. A nigga don’t like ‘em, but I can’t help but to salute his gangsta, he thought before standing to his feet.

  “Yo’ Don!” His voice echoed throughout the mansion causing the Trap God to stop and turn around, throwing his head back like ‘What’s up with it?’ “We gon’ get this nigga, we just gotta stay focused.” He quieted and waited the Top Dawg’s response. He licked his lips and nodded before carrying his tall frame up the stairs.

  Don Juan retreated to the baby’s room where he approached his son’s crib. A slight smile creased his lips as he stared down at his baby boy lying peacefully asleep. His booty hiked up and his tiny fists balled. He looked so beautiful and serene in his current state. He reached his hands into the crib and picked his offspring up, laying him against his chest and kissed the top of his curly head. The baby nestled closer to the warmth of his dad, sleep undisturbed. Don smiled as he carried the little dude out of his room and headed into his study where he laid him inside of the extra crib in there. Afterwards, he decided to make himself a drink.

  He placed a glass on the desk, dropped a couple of ice cubes into it and poured up the Louie XXIII. He took the bottle of the expensive dark liquor to the head before sitting it back down on the desk. Picking up the glass, he swirled the alcohol around inside of it and carried it over to a book shelf. H
e pulled on one of the books and the wall beside it shot up into the ceiling. This was the panic room. A panic room is like a safe haven in the event of a break-in, home invasion, tornado or terrorist attack. Don Juan had the place made up like a Man Cave so he’d feel comfortable in case anything popped off. The space was encased in concrete so there wasn’t any way in hell anyone was getting in, but whoever was on the inside could get out.

  When the wall shot up into the ceiling, the blue illumination from several TV screens shined out from the dark room. Don Juan entered the room and turned to his right. He lifted the small square glass case up and pressed the big red button. There was the sound of air compressing and then the wall slid back down. Don Juan took a sip of his drink and sat down at the sectional desk before a row of small televisions. These televisions were to the surveillance cameras that monitored the inside and outside of his estate. Don Juan pulled open the desk drawer and dipped his hand inside. When it came back out, he was gripping an automatic handgun with a silencer attached and an infrared laser sighting. He didn’t even bother to check it, because he already knew that thang was cocked, locked and ready to get off, if need be. He sat the black tool down on the desk top and grabbed two extended fully loaded magazines, which he sat beside it.

  The Trap God focused his dark brown eyes on the rows of televisions as he took sips from the glass. He’d already lost his wife, so there wasn’t any way in hell he was going to lose his son behind this war with Tiaz. See, he was more than willing to lay down his life and anyone else’s to protect his prince. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind that gunfire was going to be exchanged until either he or his enemy was lying in a puddle of their own blood. The only thing he could do was hope that after the smoke cleared he was the last man standing.

  Chapter Ten

  The Next Day

  “This should be quick,” Tiaz said, buttoning up the shirt of a janitor’s uniform. He was in the back of the stolen van getting dressed. “But if I’m not back in twenty minutes, you get the fuck from up outta here, you hear me?”

  “No.” She told him, sitting behind the wheel.

  “What?” His face scrunched up.

  “I’m not leaving you here. We’re a team. When you’re done I’ll be right out here waiting on you.”

  “Alright then.” Tiaz cracked a grin, happy to have a down ass bitch riding shotgun with him. He smacked a cap on his head and adjusted it at the brim and the back. He pulled out his gun and checked its magazine for a fully loaded clip. Satisfied, he smacked that ho back in and racked it. Brand new strap, for a brand new murder. He tucked his head bussa in the front of his pants and threw his shirt over it. Afterwards, he reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a detonator. He looked into the side view mirror where he could see the entrance of the hospital. There were visitors walking through the door and being checked at a metal detector. A couple of security guards stood off to the side taking inventory of everyone that crossed the threshold.

  Yesterday, he’d snuck into the hospital and placed bombs in the restrooms of the thirteenth floor. The explosives weren’t enough to take out the floor, but it could cause some damage if someone was in close quarters. He’d placed them there to create a distraction. This would give him a sufficient window of time to slip inside undetected and with a ratchet. The perfect plan!

  Tiaz looked back and forth between the detonator and the side view mirror, watching the hospital entrance. He pressed the red button and Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! The bombs went off in a domino effect on the thirteenth floor. From the outside, a mesh of screams and cries could be heard. Not even a minute later a rush of staff and visitors came flooding down the corridor in pandemonium. Tiaz hopped out of the van and made his way toward the entrance of the hospital. He navigated his way through a herd of people running for their lives, bumping into a couple of them along the way. Stopping, he looked up at the twelfth floor window and locked eyes with Chevy. She looked to be shocked to have seen him there. He smiled evilly and darted inside of the establishment, shoving people out of his way in a hurry.

  ***

  “He’s still out there and he’s not gonna stop until he knows I’m dead.” Faison told Chevy.

  “I know and I’m not gonna let that happen.” She squeezed his hand gently and patted it with her hand. “I already called those people of yours. They said they’d be here in an hour. We’re gonna be safe. Even if he does know where we are and he just so happens to get past security, your wild ass cousins are gonna be right up here waiting for him.”

  Faison closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m tripping. JT and my cousin, Lil’ Chris, don’t play no games, especially when it comes to family.”

  “Oh, believe me I know.” She raised her eyebrows and gave him a knowing expression.

  Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Thunder erupted five times in a row startling both Chevy and Faison. The entire building quaked. Faison was nearly thrown from the bed and Chevy almost fell to the floor. Right after, they heard screams and hollers along with stampeding feet. Someone came over the loud speaker announcing to the hospital staff and guest what to do, but they couldn’t hear it over all of the noise. Chevy got to her feet and rushed over to the window. When she looked down, she saw people pouring out into the parking lot. A janitor was walking against them heading in the opposite direction of the crowd. Feeling a pair of eyes on him, he stopped and looked up at her, locking with her gaze. A creepy smile etched across his lips and she instantly realized who he was.

  “Tiaz.” She gasped. Eyes wide, mouth open. Her hand pressed against her chest.

  She kept her eyes on him until he went darting towards the building, knocking scared people out of the way, trying to clear a path to the entrance. Chevy whipped around. Worry emerged on Faison’s face when he saw the shocked expression she was sporting.

  “What’s the matter? What’s going on?” He panicked, heart monitor going crazy.

  “He’s here!”

  “Who?”

  “Tiaz. We’ve gotta get chu outta here.” She ran out of the door and ran straight into a surge of people, all fleeing for their lives. No one was paying attention to the hospital staff that was trying to restore order. Men and women were shoving people out of the way and trampling over them, not giving a fuck if they were hurting them.

  Chevy tried getting help from someone out of the staff, but they weren’t paying her any attention, because they were too focused on trying to get people to leave the hospital in an orderly fashion. She stopped where she was and her eyes scanned the crowd flooding in her direction, searching desperately for someone that could help her get Faison out of the room before Tiaz arrived.

  “Fuck it!” She ran back into the room, pulling the patches free from Faison’s chest.

  “Aye, what chu doing?” He winced, feeling pinches as the patches were yanked from off him.

  “I’ve gotta get chu outta here before he comes up.” She took cautious looks over her shoulder as she removed the IV from out of his hand. The entire time her heart was beating wildly inside of her chest.

  Chevy knew that Tiaz was a tyrant willing to do any and everything in his power to crush the people he felt that had wronged him in some way. She understood better than anyone that he wouldn’t have any problem killing her or Faison and he’d probably be vicious because of what he’d been through with them. With this knowledge in mind, she was going to do whatever she had to do to protect herself and Faison, even if it meant going toe to toe with the vindictive killer. There wasn’t any way in hell that she was going to lose him again. She’d just recovered him from the hands of Death.

  All she was worried about now was getting a weakened Faison out of bed and finding somewhere for them to hide, until she figured out how she was going to get out of the hospital undetected.

  ***

  Tiaz came through the staircase door, bumping into droves of people going into the direction from which he came. He pulled his silenced g
un from the front of his pants and made his way toward the corridor. Going down the hall, he met a surge of hospital staff and patients, getting clipped at the shoulder and dropping his weapon. Fuck, he thought. His head moved all around as he searched the floor for his gun. Not being able to spot his piece beneath the stampeding feet, he looked up and down the corridor. When he spotted a metal push cart with surgical tools which someone had abandoned, he started in its direction.

  As he walked past it, he swept up a scalpel and stuck the blade inside of the sleeve of his shirt’s cuff. Tiaz’ head moved from left to right looking for Faizon’s room number. When he spotted it, a grin curled the corner of his lips and he rubbed his hands together mischievously. Taking a cautious look over both shoulders, he snatched the scalpel from his sleeve. The lights in the hallway deflected off of it and it twinkled.

  His massive hand pressed against the door and he made his way inside, eyes peering around the dimly lit room. Figuring that his target was hidden behind the curtains, he drew the curtains back and found an empty bed. His forehead wrinkled and he whipped around. He sniffed the air and inhaled the scent of perfume. The scent was familiar, very familiar. He’d smelled it before on Chevy. It was her fragrance. Chanel #5.

  Tiaz followed the aroma out of the room and into the corridor where he made a right. He hurriedly jogged down the hallway. A herd of people came stampeding across his line of vision at the opposite end. He made a left just in time to see the restroom door closing. Ah ha, he thought inside of his head, a devilish smile came across his face. He did tricks with the sharp instrument between his fingers, real fancy like, maneuvering it like a mini baton. He jogged down to the women’s restroom door and kicked the door open. It bounced off of the wall. His head snapped from left to right, looking for his prey. Suddenly, he jumped down to the tiled floor and looked under the stalls. He was smiling until he didn’t see any feet underneath. Quickly, he jumped back up to his booted feet and made his way down the line of stall doors, kicking them in one by one.