P1 Ch 2

THE STREETS

The moon was half up over the city skyline. The brisk October chill showed through the car exhaust mist. The alley smelled of urine and garbage. Drew had the feeling that someone was watching him. He looked over his shoulder, he looked to the left and right, nothing was there. His gut told him to be cautious. This was the last kilo he needed before getting out of this life. One last score, and he was finished. One last grind. The familiar streets that Drew once called his home were as vacant and inhospitable as being caught in the middle of a frozen desert. Something was not right. Things were too quiet. Drew quickened his pace to the next side street.

As he turned the corner around the next alley, he immediately froze at the sight of blood on the brick wall. Two perfect paintball shots of blood, with only a few streams oozing down the mortar joints. The tattoo on the left arm of the one lifeless body identified the man as Drew’s Mexican connect, Raffie. The designer jeans and pressed t-shirt of the other man told Drew that this was one of Raffie’s associates. Who the hell would have taken out these guys on their own turf? What the fuck had I gotten myself into, Drew’s mind paced. “Slow and steady, D” Drew breathed to himself. He looked up the alley, down the alley, around the door openings. He could see nothing, no one at all. Time to get the hell out of here, he thought; but first, let me just check. Nothing on Raffie, nothing in his coat, nothing beside him, and nothing on his associate. Damn, someone else took my package of brown, Drew reflected as his feet began moving away slowly. Ten feet, twenty-five feet, fifty feet, his paced picked up as he was clicking the feet by. Moving out of that alley and back onto the side street where he began. Closer and closer to the running, black BMW and home free. One hundred feet away, fifty feet away, twenty-five feet away… Drew never saw the figure behind him that slipped out from behind the dumpster. “Freeze shithead!” Drew stopped dead in his tracks and the lights and sirens came down the street from every direction. The cop screamed “Put your hands over your head now!”

Drew was cuffed, searched, and then slammed into one of the flashing cop cars without any explanation and definitely no Miranda that was always heard in every movie. A black man, with Jordan’s, a $150 Affliction shirt, designer jeans, and a leather jacket walking to a BMW was all the probable cause these cops needed. Especially after he overheard one of the cops talking about the two dead bodies in the alley. The fat Sergeant opened the back door and asked “So what’d you do to the gun, son?” Drew stared and said nothing. “Don’t worry, we’ll find it. Don’t need any help from a street thug like you. You’re going away boy, for a long time. Hope it was worth it,” the Sergeant smiled.

Drew knew this was all bullshit — the cops had nothing on him, just coincidence. But Drew knew enough to keep his mouth shut and play along with their show. A night or two in county, a few weeks of bs getting his car out of impound, and whatever stupid ticket they would write up thrown out of court and it would be over. Most of it at least. The real problem was who had killed Raffie and how was he going to get cleared from the Mexican’s coming after him. To the Mexican’s it is simple. Kill everything in your way, even if you just suspect someone and have no evidence so you can leave an example for the future street thugs. The cops were no threat; getting out and surviving long enough to make peace was the problem.

“SHUT UP AND GET YOUR ASSES IN LINE!” the short corrections officer screamed at the top of her lungs. Everyone snapped up and formed a meandering line in front of the cell doors. “Move it, move it” she belted out louder and louder. A soggy-assed bologna sandwich with processed fake cheese and white bread complete with a carton of milk. That was what Drew and everyone else was moving for. “Fuck, I need protein powder, with some wheat grass and my supplements” Drew mumbled. “What was that you murdering thug piece of shit?” she yelled. “Nothing ma’am” Drew fired back quickly. “I didn’t think so” she replied. This is going to be the longest couple of days of my life Drew thought; all I have to do is keep my head down and mouth shut and this will be all over soon.

Drew was processed to general population and his temporary bunk for the next few days. He wasn’t even laying down for an hour when the corrections officer came to rap on the cell. “Get your ass up dickhead, someone wants to talk to you,” the CO gritted through his teeth. Drew was taken back by that. Who the hell would want to talk to me so soon, he thought. Usually the detectives wait a few days especially since they know I’m not going anywhere. Drew was led by the CO to a long dark corridor. The air was dank and cool. The smell of mildew was slightly cut with the sewer vent fumes. There was a chain-linked cage with an open door, a chair in the center, and a bright light over top of the chair. Drew stopped a second and muttered “What the hell is this!” “Shut up and move asshole. Sit your ass in the chair” the CO belted as he walked out leaving the chain-linked door open. Drew could see him slip away back through the nasty corridor they had just come from. “What the fuck is going on? Where are you going?” Drew screamed with an uncomfortable nervousness.

Out of the corner of Drew’s eye a figure appeared, tall — extremely tall, with dark complexion and dark black eyes. The figure stood silently beside the back of the cage. The size of this figure was enormous, well over 7 foot tall. The dark trench coat hung off the figure as if it was hanging on a hook on the wall. Its silence was unnerving. It was motionless, Drew thought it might just be a shadow cast by the light above him. Then Drew’s head began to hurt as if someone had stabbed into the front of his head with a dull object. He started seeing flashes of the events of the evening — the blood on the wall, Raffie dead at his feet, Drew checking Raffie’s body, the feeling of being watched… Drew shook his head hard and pushed back with his thoughts, the images faded. The figure lunged forward and Drew felt the cold push of a force that grabbed onto him. There was no hand on him, nothing was holding him down, but Drew could go nowhere. The pain kept getting sharper and sharper, Drew’s nose started to bleed. An evil force was strangling him and Drew fought back with all his strength as if he was cornered in a boxing ring and helplessly trying to attack back at a fury of hooks. The pain was intensifying more and more, and the worse it became the more Drew fought back. The lights started to fade and Drew passed out.

Drew woke up to his cellmate hovering over him. “Ya alrite nigga?” his cellmate said with a wild look on his face. “Where the hell am I?” Drew responded. “Shit nigga, they dropped yo ass in here last night. I thought you was dead” his cellmate answered. “Wut those muthafuckas do to ya?” he asked. Drew wiped the dried blood from his lip and said “I don’t know. I’ve never felt anything like that before.” “Wuteva it was, I hope they don’t hit me up” the cellmate said as he dropped back on the top bunk.

It wasn’t even another 12 hours and the CO was rapping on the cell again “Get up asshole! You’ve made bail.” Drew rolled to his feet and stared blankly at the CO. What the fuck was going on he thought. “You need a special invitation princess? We want you out of here” the CO replied. Drew staggered to his feet and followed the CO to the processing pen.