Young Junius, page 31
part #4 of Jack Palms Series
Pickup opened up with the Tec into the bodies, spraying bullets. He landed heavily on the landing, slipped and swore, then punched the wall to right himself and ran on down the stairs.
“Motherfucker!” he called out as he turned the corner.
Now Junius stepped to the edge of the stairs. Looking down, he saw blood, bodies, arms, legs.
Maybe it wasn’t safe to be going around unarmed in Rock’s tower, but he was ready to find out. He tossed the shotgun down onto the remains.
“Rest in peace, niggahs,” he said.
When Junius turned back to the hallway, Elf was waiting. “I pushed the button,” he said. “I really tried.”
Junius patted him on the shoulder. He could feel Elf shaking through his clothes.
Sergeant Jerry O’Scullion heard the call again. It was the third time dispatch had tried to raise him, but he didn’t care what they had to say—whatever it was.
“Fuck, Sarge, will you answer that shit?” Roberts spit tobacco juice onto the sidewalk beside their cars.
He was right, of course, but O’Scullion deserved a break. It had been a day’s worth of shit already—six hours of chasing idiots in the towers, then a pileup on Mass Ave., a robbery at the pizza parlor where Cameron met Harvey Street, and then the one that sucked all the life out of him: back on Rindge Ave., a six-year-old girl molested in a bathroom at Notre Dame Church.
After taking down her story, shit he had not wanted to hear, he’d come out to find Roberts and Kelley waiting at his car. They’d stayed on scene up at Tony’s Pizza to get the last of the witnesses’ testimonies, and he’d come up here to handle the girl himself.
He was the unlucky one.
Now he just wanted to sit against the back of his patrol car in the cold and smoke a stogie. Let it all wash over him. He shook his head, looked Roberts in the eye. “You know what that girl just told me in there?”
“Sarge, I—”
“No. Listen. That girl, six years old, comes out of the bathroom to her mom after a guy busts out the women’s room she was in. Think her mother wants to see that? Wants to clean her daughter’s face after the guy just finished?” O’Scullion could only shake his head. “Mother of Christ.” He sat down heavily against his patrol car, thinking of his own daughter.
Kelley was the one who spoke next. “We got to roll, Sergeant. Just stopped here to collect you. There been more reports of shooting up at Rindge Towers. Sounds bad. Multiple apartments calling in automatic weapons fire.”
O’Scullion took his hat off and looked into it. At the crown of his head was his transcription of the Miranda rights, but sticking up from the headband, above the spot where his forehead had worn the leather shiny with sweat, was the yellowed piece of paper he’d kept inside every hat he’d worn since his first day on the job.
The writing on it, his writing, was still clear: “There but for the grace of God, go I.”
“Motherfuck me,” he said. O’Scullion straightened and stood off the car. “Ok, Officer. Roll out and I’ll be right behind you.”
His legs were tired, and the six-year-old girl’s eyes still looked back at him from the inside of his skull.
89
Marlene led Raphael, Sean Dog, and Meldrak around to the back of 412.
No one stood on watch at the back side of Rock’s building. Sure, the easiest path would be to just walk up to the front of 412 and see what was kicking, but that wasn’t how she was doing this. Tonight things were under her control, and she knew to check the back side first.
She told Sean Dog to stay on the rear. Above the other two, he was best suited to stand guard by himself. Like her, he carried a Benelli M2 semi-automatic and had the stopping power to cut down anyone who came his way.
She led the other two around to the front side of the building and had them post on each side of the front glass. Then she walked across casually, trying not to look obvious. She stopped short when she saw the lobby was empty—no one on guard, nothing happening.
Meldrak came up behind her. “Big Pickup and Seven came through, they would not leave no one behind.”
She shook her head. “Uh uh. But something else wrong. Rock wouldn’t leave his front without someone on sales.”
Meldrak shrugged. He pulled the front door open and held it for her. A rush of warm air blew out.
“Ok,” she said. “We go in.”
She walked into the lobby with the Benelli ready. The elevator doors were directly ahead. To either side of them were twin doors to the stairwells. She knew the layout well: it was exactly the same in 410 and 411.
The towers.
The right door would also lead around to a hallway for the back and the dumpsters, the trash area, where they’d find Sean Dog.
She nodded Meldrak toward the right door. “Go around and get Dog, will you? We might need his gun.”
“I’m on it.”
Raphael came into the lobby. “Too quiet in here.”
She nodded.
That was when she heard sounds from the elevator; it was coming down.
“Something bound to happen soon,” she said, nodding at the elevator.
She stepped to the right side of the lobby and waved Raphael to the left, then raised the shotgun to her shoulder and aimed it at the dull, metal doors.
Officer Johnson rolled his head to the side as he thought a dead man might, trying to make it look like the movement of the elevator was jiggling him from one position to the next.
When he’d gotten himself to a precipice, the point where he could rock sideways from his shoulder, he let himself fall. The gun was still under him, and he did his best to slide it forward. Then he waited, breathing breaths so shallow that no one would notice, playing dead as best he could.
Nothing happened, and he allowed himself to open his eyes a little—just a quick look through his lashes. He saw DeShaun Thompson slumped against the other side of the car.
Smooth Rock Thompson was what they called him at the station, but this time Rock looked anything but smooth.
He looked bad was the truth of it, like if the elevator got stuck between floors, he might just bleed out and die. On the other hand, given the way he felt and the fact that Rock didn’t seem to have any problem presuming him dead, Johnson doubted he looked any better.
He allowed himself one full, deep breath when he saw Rock wasn’t watching. The man was focused on breathing himself, had his head tilted all the way back to face the fluorescents above. Johnson shifted his weight to free the gun from under him, sliding it closer within reach.
The elevator bumped and he slid his good hand over the gun. He wrapped his fingers around the grip and lifted it.
Rock’s hands were still tight on his Uzi—the big, black automatic. Rock wheezed and launched into a coughing fit that finished when he straightened up and looked Johnson dead in the eyes.
“What up, cop?”
Johnson held his weapon, but it pointed toward the doors. He was too far from moving it and getting his finger on the trigger to get the drop. Rock’s Uzi wasn’t likely to offer any second chances.
“Just wondering the same thing.”
“You having a good day, Officer?”
Johnson didn’t take his eyes off the other man’s face. He wanted to laugh, but knew from recent experience that it hurt too much.
“No. Matter of fact, this one of my worst.”
Rock nodded. “Lot of that going around.”
“So what happens when we hit the lobby?”
Now Rock looked hard at Johnson. He hadn’t so much as glanced at the Smith & Wesson or changed the angle of his Uzi. “I heard my boys tried to throw you in the trash. That you?” He smiled.
Johnson didn’t answer, but he sat up farther against the wall. He felt at a disadvantage being on the floor with Rock standing above him, but that wasn’t going to change.
“And I heard old Clarence got a piece of your ass still in his teeth.”
Even if Rock asked him to stand, Johnson wasn’t sure he could. He slid the gun closer to his leg, turning it toward Rock.
Rock sucked his teeth. “You know you best leave that gat right where it be. That’s not how we play this.”
Johnson didn’t move.
“You have a license for that firearm, citizen?”
Rock laughed outright. His head flew back and his shoulders shook. He wiped tears from his eyes. “You are a funny motherfucker, cop. Know what else?” Rock lifted his eyebrows, as if he really had an interest in Johnson’s answer.
“What?”
“I want to tell you it pleases me to see a black man wearing the uniform. You hold on to this job now, brother. You know?” Rock made a fist with one hand and clenched it in front of his chest.
The elevator stopped, and Rock stood up off the wall. He pointed the Uzi at the ground, holding it along his leg as he stepped forward to the panel of buttons. At the top was a set of keys dangling from a lock. He held the CLOSE DOOR button and removed the keys. They went into his pocket.
Now Rock stood off to the side of the doors and faced Johnson.
He raised the Uzi.
The Smith & Wesson hadn’t moved, but now Rock stood almost in front of it; all Johnson had to do was raise it and pull the trigger.
“You ready, cop?” Rock asked.
“Ready for what?”
90
Junius walked up the hallway behind Elf. He had to step around Dee’s body. Then, inside one of the apartment doors, Seven Heaven lay sprawled on the floor, a Tec-9 still in his hand. His chest now featured a pool of blood and part of his face was gone, mashed into the rug by a bullet. Whoever lived here would have one hell of a mess to deal with.
“Pickup did this,” Elf said.
“Seven wouldn’t cross over.”
“No. Pickup just evil.” Elf moved on up the hall, and Junius followed. At the next stairs, he saw more blood than he thought possible. Even after what he’d seen, the mess around Ness confused him.
“A lot of blood,” he said.
“Shit, you think I should be just about bled out now.” Ness held out the roach of what looked like a big-ass Jamaica joint.
“Nah.” Junius held up a hand, but Elf took the joint and puckered the side of his lips. He curled them around the roach and sucked.
Junius looked at the mess that was Ness’s legs.
“That help any?” he asked.
Ness nodded. “Shit, man. I think I got full-on cut off from feeling anything about ten minutes ago, but now I feel even better than that.” He wrinkled his brow in thought, then nodded. “Yeah, it do help. It do.”
Elf passed what was left of the roach back to Ness, who tossed it into his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed.
“You can walk?” Junius asked, even though he knew the answer. Ness’s legs looked like they’d been cut open at the shins with an ice pick—again and again.
“We carry you out,” Elf said. “Come on. We got to get him to a hospital.”
Elf got under Ness’s arm and started to lift, so Junius got under the other. They lifted. Ness wasn’t light, and twenty floors was a long way to go, but Junius didn’t want to tell Elf that he wouldn’t live anyway.
Ness gasped, and Junius knew he was in a world of pain as soon as they moved him. His feet would bump down every stair they took. Twenty flights of pain.
“Set me down. I wait for the elevator. Paramedics. Whatever. This shit ain’t working.”
Junius looked at Elf. “Rock just took the elevator. You want to wait for it?” Then, before Elf could answer, “I can’t wait, man. Shit.”
“You gonna be all right,” Elf told Ness. “We send someone back up for you.”
“Yeah.” Ness held out his hand and Elf gave him a pound. Junius did the same.
“I’m a just wait here.” Ness leaned against the railing. He pointed at a Tec-9 on the stairs. “You best take that heat.”
Elf looked at Junius. “We might need it.”
Junius waited, knowing Elf wouldn’t pick up the gun. After a few moments, he hit Elf’s arm. “Come on.”
Junius started down the stairs. When Elf followed, he dropped into a jog.
He heard Ness say, “Don’t forget me.”
They ran down the stairs, Junius leading, pushing to get out. He didn’t want to catch Rock in the lobby or see him confront Big Pickup. He needed to get out of the towers altogether. The stale air had become oppressive; it smelled of blood.
Around the thirteenth floor, Junius heard singing—bad singing with slurred, broken words. He stopped. He knew the voice and the song.
If Junius hadn’t built a lead, Elf might have hit him from behind. Instead, he stopped a few steps above Junius.
“What?”
“You hear that?”
“I saw him in the elevator. Said he came to get you out of this.”
“Yeah, right.” Junius tried to laugh, but it wasn’t funny. He’d heard this song too many times.
He started down, and then, before he saw his father, he heard the old man say his name.
“Junius, my son!” The man leaned up against the wall, drunk. He raised a hand to reach out, but Junius kept his distance. “You ok?”
Junius stood on the landing above his father, who was partway down the next flight.
“I be all right.”
“That’s good, son. I was concerned about you.”
Junius started down, but it didn’t look like there was enough room for him to slip past. He considered going back up and taking the other stairs.
“Today I made some resolutions.”
“Ok. Good.”
Junius tried to move along the railing, but the old man slid into his way. He smelled of whiskey. Junius wanted to say something about his father bringing Clarence and Dee into his mother’s house, letting them hold her up, but that seemed like so many words. Just a waste of breath.
So much had happened since then: too many deeds, too much changed; it felt like a different life.
Junius put his hand on his father’s shoulder and tried to ease him out of the way.
“What you doing?”
“Just let me by. I need to go. I got to get outside.”
“Yeah? That what you need?”
Junius tried to pass again, but his father put his arms out to block the stairs.
“That’s it? You just gonna run out?”
Junius looked his father in the face. His father glared back, his eyebrows sliding together in concentration. He blinked hard, steadied himself against the rail.
“That’s it, old man. That be all.”
“So that’s how you gonna see it?” He shook his head and spit down the stairs. “Fuck it then,” he said, and stepped out of the way. “Go on, but you come to see. One day, you gonna see what it’s like.”
Junius had a dry, sour taste in his mouth. He wanted to spit, but didn’t have the saliva. Elf waited. Their only move was to keep going, to head down the stairs and out of the building away from it all. To get away into the night.
“I—” Junius watched his father’s eyelids lower and then glide back up. “All right, then.” He turned to start down.
When he had gone just a few steps, his father said something that made Junius stop.
“What you say?”
“Big Willie,” his father said, for the second time. “He the one kill Temple. I came and heard it from someone who know. They got in a fight over some shit, and Willie took him out. That’s it.
“So what you did here, whatever shit you did today? It all because someone told you some shit.” His father spit onto the landing. “Just some bullshit lies!”
Junius turned to look back at his father. The steel railing was cold in his hand, even in the warm air of the stairway. His father’s eyes were half-lidded, yellow, and bloodshot. They met his gaze full-on.
Elf shook his head. “I heard the same thing.” He stood right next to Junius, but the words sounded miles away. “I was going to tell you.”
“For some bullshit!” his father spit. “For someone else’s bullshit you did whatever you did today. Fucked up your whole life for a fight that wasn’t yours.”
“You don’t know nothing about what I did today.” Junius wanted to tell his father he didn’t know what he was talking about, that Rock and Black Jesus had been the ones who killed Temple, that everything he did was for a reason. But he didn’t know anymore. Whatever conviction and anger and reason he’d had were gone.
“You don’t know shit,” he said.
Aldo waved at his son with the back of his hand. “Go on. Keep telling yourself it was all for your brother.” He nodded. “Keep walking. Keep thinking that be true.”
Elf reached out to touch Junius’s shoulder. “Come on.”
His father raged now in the stairwell, yelling, his voice echoing off the walls. “Keep thinking that and let me know how long you can hold to it! You come tell me in ten years how you see it.”
Junius watched his father turn away and head back up the stairs, farther into the building.
He waved again as he left. “You just a stupid kid is all. Don’t know shit.”
Junius stepped up one stair. “Fuck you!”
His father kept going. Toward what? Junius had no idea.
“Fuck you!”
His father didn’t stop, just waved again as he climbed. “The fuck you been around long enough to see? Nothing, niggah. Too young to have seen shit.”
Then Junius said it again, quietly. “Fuck you.”
He waited for someone else to speak—his father or Elf, either one—but neither did. His father kept on up the stairs with his back turned. At the next landing, he opened the door to the hall and disappeared inside, never looking back.
Slowly, Junius turned away. He started down the stairs again, telling Elf to come on.
91
Rock released the CLOSE DOOR button and the elevator shuddered. The doors started to part, and as soon as they did Gary Johnson saw a woman aiming a shotgun at them.
