Chasing Sunsets

by Karen Kingsbury

  Heaven or hell?

  Yeah, he needed to talk to Ollie Wayne. The family opened their home week after week. They hosted church every Sunday, but Marcus had never talked about his past, about what to do with it.

  Let me just say this, Lord . . . I’m sorry. If I could do things over again, I’d avoid every bit of it. The girls . . . they were nothing to me. But . . . it was something to You. I’m sorry.

  The breeze through the open window brushed against his face and the pressure on his shoulders eased. He didn’t hear any response, the way he had earlier on the way to the youth center. But he felt something. Hope, maybe. Yeah, that was it. Hope.

  He would talk to Ollie and Rhonda and he’d start reading the Bible. He’d start with Mary Catherine’s verse in John.

  Her name brought him back to the moment.

  Tonight was a dream. He could’ve talked to the beautiful redhead all night. She carried with her a childlike joy, the kind that could warm an entire room. Her very presence was intoxicating. But he didn’t dare dream about her.

  God might forgive him for his ugly, sordid past. But Mary Catherine would never even have the chance because he could never tell her. If he ever did, the magic of tonight would be gone as soon as he said the words. The simple truth was this:

  A girl like Mary Catherine deserved better.

  11

  LEXY FELT A HUNDRED years old as she walked into her grandma’s house. It was only nine thirty, but already the woman was asleep. Her grandma didn’t belong in this generation or this neighborhood. She was a God-fearing woman who had nowhere else to turn.

  Lexy crossed her arms and stared out the window. A kid had died tonight. One of EastTown’s youngest. Dwayne had no choice—that’s what he said. The rules had changed. Now if he wanted to be leader of the WestKnights he needed two murders. A kid from EastTown and Marcus Dillinger.

  He was halfway there.

  Vomit rose in Lexy’s throat. Sure, she’d been around a lot of killing. Still, tonight was different. Dwayne hadn’t been able to find one of the EastTown Boyz. They were headed home and he was cussing at her. Like it was her fault.

  Dwayne didn’t have to treat her like that. Lexy was his, heart and soul. He could at least be a little nice. That’s what she was telling him when all of a sudden he slowed the car down.

  “There.” Dwayne had cussed under his breath. “Two-bit punks. Say goodbye to life.” He had rolled down his window.

  Lexy had heard him cock the gun, but she didn’t want to look. For all her time on the streets she’d never actually seen someone shot and killed. Not close like this. But at the last second she looked. She turned and everything happened in slow motion.

  The two EastTown Boyz had been sitting on trashcans, their backs to the street, red bandanas proudly wrapped around their heads. And Dwayne had started cussing again, saying something about getting the younger one. Then before Lexy could take another breath, Dwayne fired at the smaller of the two guys.

  And both boys had turned and looked right at them and Lexy had gasped. Because they were young. Too young. Twelve, maybe thirteen. Both of them. And she watched the kid’s eyes grow wide, watched the fear as Dwayne’s bullet ripped through his head.

  And the blur continued as the other kid screamed and the one who’d been hit fell to the ground, and the screaming . . . the screaming echoed in Lexy’s heart and mind and soul and Dwayne had sped away and that was it.

  Her boyfriend had met the challenge.

  But Lexy hadn’t been able to speak or breathe. All she could see were the boy’s eyes as he fell to the ground. And terror shook her body, her knees, her hands. And Dwayne had said, “Don’t get soft on me now, baby.”

  She had turned and looked at him. Dwayne still had the gun in his hand. She said nothing, but she had one thought. The thought she still had now sitting here in her grandma’s house.

  Maybe she didn’t want to be Dwayne’s girl.

  Anyway, the police would be looking for them by now. The other kid would say it was one of the WestKnights. The chase would be on. It was only a matter of time. Dwayne must’ve figured that out because right after the shooting he drove her back here. “Don’t need no other witness hanging around.” He nodded for her to get out. “If you hear a tap on your window later tonight, be ready. I still need to celebrate.”

  Lexy’s breath was still shaky. She turned away from the window and sat in her grandmother’s rocking chair. The darkness felt heavy around her. She could already feel the prison bars. There was no way out of this life, not if she wanted one. And where would she go if she did want out? She might as well run in front of a moving train.

  The gang would destroy her—one way or another. Behind bars or on the streets.

  Being part of the WestKnights was all she knew.

  And Dwayne was about to be leader of the gang. The rocking chair creaked in the dead of night. Something moved a few feet from her. Lexy turned but nothing was there. Her heart beat harder. One time she and her friends had watched a movie about demons. Lexy walked away believing they were real. You could feel them even if you couldn’t see them. A skin-crawling feeling of horror and evil.

  Which was what she was feeling now.

  Lexy folded her arms tight around her chest. She could text Dwayne and tell him how scared she was. She was his. She tried to remember that. But all she could see were the kid’s eyes as his body fell off the trashcan. As he took his last breath.

  She needed a light on. Even if it woke up her grandma.

  Another sound over her other shoulder. Lexy put her hands to her face. She didn’t want to stand, didn’t want to move. But she needed light. Needed it in the most desperate way. Finally she stood and braced for an attack of some kind. From whatever was here with her, whatever was hunting her.

  Somehow she made it to the light switch and flipped it on. There. Her breathing resumed, fast and shallow. There was nothing there, no one with her in the room. The sounds must’ve been her imagination. Demons weren’t real. She was just freaked out by the shooting.

  Lexy waited until her breathing relaxed a little. The house was small, two rooms and a kitchen. Nothing more. But it was always clean. Her grandma saw to that. The heaviness in the air remained—even with the lights on. Lexy walked to the kitchen and there on the broken table against the wall sat her grandma’s Bible. It was open, like maybe her grandmother had been reading it before she went to bed. Lexy came closer and looked. A section was highlighted, but Lexy couldn’t read half the words. Her grandma had tried to teach her, but Lexy had long ago stopped learning. School meant nothing to her.

  She sat down, weary and sick from the killing. The Bible was ancient looking, the letters so small her grandmother used a magnifying glass to read it. The letters at the top spelled R-O-M-A-N-S. Lexy had no idea what that meant. She pulled the Bible closer and looked at the yellow part. She could read a few of the words.

  Hate what is evil . . . cling to what is good.

  A strange feeling came over Lexy, like someone was watching her from the shadows. Hate what is evil? Did the Bible really say that? She looked at it again and read it more slowly this time. Yes, that’s exactly what it said. Cling to what is good. Lexy wasn’t sure what cling meant. Dwayne always told her not to be clingy in front of the guys. Not too much hand-holding and hanging onto him.

  She let the idea sink in. So then . . . according to the Bible people were supposed to hate bad things and hold on to good. Lexy dropped slowly to the hard wooden chair and stared at the wall, at nothing, really.

  Demons or not, her whole life was built around evil. She didn’t think about it that way most of the time, but tonight? Watching the kid from the EastTown gang die right in front of her? That was evil. No one could say different.

  But what about the good? Lexy felt ice in her veins. Anger came around her and made the muscles in her face tight. Who
was she kidding? There was no good, none at all. Her grandma was good, but no one else. Lexy stared at the Bible and then, in a rush of frustration, she slammed the cover shut. What good could come from an old book, anyway? People had to believe it; they had to read it for it to make a difference.

  She stood and thought about going to bed, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop looking at the Bible and thinking about the words her grandma had colored in yellow. Hate evil. Cling to good.

  And suddenly she remembered.

  There was someone good out on the streets, someone trying to make things better. Someone who cared about the broken kids and homes without mamas and dads. There was someone willing to put his own money into giving all of them a better way.

  His name was Marcus Dillinger.

  And tomorrow night at this time Dwayne would be leader of the WestKnights and Marcus would just be another victim. Another guy in a body bag. Tears stung her eyes. She could stop it. Never mind the evil around her, Lexy could cling to good—even if only for tonight.

  She dug around in her purse and found a small bag of change. Quarters mostly. Money she’d stolen from her grandma’s nightstand. Then she clutched her bag to her side and headed back out the front door. Two blocks down there was a bar with a pay phone outside. From what she’d heard, a caller couldn’t be traced on pay phones. If Dwayne found out about this, he’d kill her. Lexy had no doubt.

  Four different cars drifted slowly past her as she walked. The drivers looked ready to kill someone, ready to fight. The guys in each of the cars called out to her as they went by. Rude things. Words that reminded her how many times she’d been forced to do stuff she didn’t want to do.

  Tears trickled down Lexy’s cheeks. She wasn’t upset, not really. She was just mad at Dwayne. He should’ve said he’d kill off more of the EastTown Boyz. Not Marcus Dillinger.

  Lexy wiped at her tears, her pace hard and fast. The pay phone was just ahead. She reached it and looked over one shoulder, then the other. No one watching, no WestKnights to rat on her. She picked up the phone and dialed 911.

  A woman’s voice answered. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

  What was her emergency? Lexy’s entire body shook, her mouth so dry she wasn’t sure she could talk. She could feel the evil, feel it gaining ground. Cling to what is good . . . cling to what is good. She swallowed a few times. “It’s . . . it’s not an emergency today.”

  “Ma’am, I need you to be specific.” The woman sounded frustrated, like she couldn’t be bothered. “What’s the emergency?”

  “It’s . . . Marcus Dillinger.” Her heart was pounding so loud she could barely hear herself. Two guys left the bar a few feet from where she was standing.

  She hesitated. “Marcus Dillinger, the baseball player?”

  “Yes.” Lexy looked over her shoulder. What if someone recognized her and told Dwayne? She clutched the phone. Be brave, Lexy . . . come on. She squeezed her eyes shut and found her voice. “Someone from the WestKnights is gonna kill Marcus Dillinger tomorrow night at the new youth center.”

  “Someone’s going to kill Marcus Dillinger?”

  “Yes.” Fear grabbed at Lexy, hissing at her from all sides. She was crazy to do this. They would kill her for it. “Please help him.” She slammed the receiver back down and stared at the phone. She could feel it. That scary feeling again. Demons, maybe. Or people behind her, coming up to her. She spun around and there they were. Three EastTown Boyz, red bandanas, eyes blazing with hate.

  Coming for her.

  Lexy pressed her back against the cold metal phone. She was going to die here. It was only a matter of minutes.

  “You dead, WestKnight girl.” The older one narrowed his eyes at her. “But we gonna have some fun with you first.”

  Before Lexy could scream, before she could tell them she wasn’t afraid, that they could do what they wanted because she was not a coward, because for once in her life she was clinging to the good, before she could even think about what to do next, a huge police officer stepped out of the shadows. He had big shoulders and longish blond hair.

  “Go home, boys.” His voice was loud. So loud it rattled through Lexy’s soul.

  The EastTown Boyz turned toward him and one of them drew a gun. But the cop kept coming, walking right at them. His eyes looked bright, like something weird from a movie. He never blinked. Just kept walking up to them, slow and serious. “I said . . . go home. You don’t want to do this.”

  “Stop, man. I’ll shoot!”

  The officer looked more like a mountain as he got closer. “Go ahead.” He stepped in front of Lexy. He was so big she couldn’t see the guys around him. Then the cop pulled a club from the leg of his uniform. “Don’t give me a reason.”

  “Look, man, you’re not from around here.” One of the EastTown Boyz laughed. “You’re the one needs to go.”

  “In the name of Jesus.” His voice was quieter now, calm and different. Like nothing Lexy had ever heard. The man raised his club. “Leave.”

  A gun versus a club? Lexy figured the EastTown kid would go ahead and shoot. Instead, she could hear their shoes shuffling. Lexy peeked around the cop and saw the three of them backing up fast, their eyes scared. Then they turned around and started to run, and when they did, the kid with the gun stopped, turned, and shot at the cop.

  Fired right at him.

  But at the same time the officer didn’t flinch, and . . .

  Lexy gasped. “What . . . Where’s the bullet?” What happened? Lexy felt a strange sense of something she’d never felt before. Peace, maybe. Or comfort. Who was this guy? What had he said? Speaking in the name of Jesus? Cops didn’t talk like that. She moved out from behind him and looked up at him.

  The officer wasn’t listening. He was still staring at the EastTown Boyz, watching as the reality hit them. The bullet seemed to have gone right through the officer and then ricocheted off the wall. Just a few feet from her.

  They began to run as fast as they could down the street until they were out of sight.

  Only then did the officer turn to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re okay. You need to get home.”

  The man’s eyes had a hundred colors. Green and blue and even a white kind of light. “Who . . . are you?”

  “Officer Jag.”

  She caught the name on his uniform. J-A-G. “How . . . did you know I needed help?”

  “Lexy.” The cop was calm. “God sees your heart. He has a plan for you.” Officer Jag looked down the street and then at the bar a few feet away. When he looked at Lexy again, his eyes were sad. “God’s plan for you . . . is so much bigger than this.”

  Lexy gulped. She didn’t know what to say. “How did you know my name?”

  “Come on.” He looked fierce as he started walking in the direction of her grandma’s house. “Stay with me. You need to get home.”

  Sure enough, the officer didn’t leave her side as they walked the few blocks home. Lexy didn’t understand anything that had just happened. “I’m serious. How did you know my name?”

  “The bigger question is this.” He looked down at her, his eyes kind like they had been at first. “Why are you with Dwayne Davis?”

  Lexy felt the toughness rise up in her. “Dwayne’s my man.”

  “No.” Officer Jag shook his head. “Dwayne’s working for the enemy. You stay with him, he’ll destroy you.”

  In all her life, no one had ever spoken to her that way, like there was a plan for her life or like God knew who she was. They reached her grandma’s house and the cop walked her to the door. “Think about what I said, Lexy.” He looked right through her. “And stay inside.”

  “Okay.”

  “Your grandma’s Bible is true. Hate evil. Cling to good. Like making that call for Marcus Dillinger.” The cop took a few steps back down the stairs. “How you live, it’s your cho
ice.”

  Lexy felt chills on her arms and legs. “How did you . . .” She couldn’t finish her sentence. Everything was just too weird. Like maybe she was having a dream. She watched the man turn and walk slowly back down the street. Then in a rush she hurried inside, shut the door, and locked it.

  Only then did she realize several things all at once. The officer had no car, not that she had seen. And he had been working alone. Which cops never did in this neighborhood. And the biggest question. How had a bullet gone straight through his gut without hurting him?

  A thought came to Lexy and she felt her mouth hang open for a few seconds. What if Officer Jag was an angel? Come to tell her to hate evil and cling to good? Like her grandma’s Bible had told her half an hour ago? She thought about that. An angel named Jag who wore a police uniform and was bulletproof? Not possible. Just like the demons she’d imagined earlier. The whole thing was all in her imagination. Probably because of watching that kid get shot earlier. Like seeing that had made her a little crazy. Yeah, that was it. She was just a little crazy. Maybe she would open her eyes and she’d be in bed.

  Lexy blinked a few times and looked around. But she wasn’t in bed.

  She sat down at the kitchen table and reached again for her grandma’s Bible. Slowly she ran her thumb over the soft, crinkly page. The Bible was too old to matter today. Lexy felt the reality of her situation more than ever before. She had done her good deed. She had called and told the police about Marcus Dillinger.

  Officer Jag had told her doing good was her choice.

  But he was wrong. What was she supposed to do? Find a new family? She was a WestKnights girl. There was no way out, even if she wanted it. She brushed her teeth and fell into bed, but she couldn’t sleep.

  The man’s face, his eyes, stayed with her. Like an Instagram picture in her mind. What kind of regular person could not be hurt by a bullet? Or guess her name? And how had he known exactly what she had read in her grandma’s Bible? Maybe he was some kind of magician. And she was about to be on some reality show. There had to be an explanation.