Target Down

by Glenn Trust

  “That’s about it,” Sole agreed. “It’s not much, I know.”

  “It is something, though.” Edgar shrugged and smiled.

  “I worry I might be giving you hope when there isn’t any,” Sole said quietly. “The pull from friends to be like them is very strong for a boy his age.”

  “This is true,” Edgar said grinning. “Choosing your friends is like selecting a place to take a piss.”

  Sole and Maggie looked at him. He paused, allowing their curiosity to build before continuing.

  “When I was a boy in Louisiana, my friend, Etienne, convinced me to take a piss on a wire fence that our neighbor had electrified to keep his cows in. I will never do that again.”

  Sole and Maggie broke into laughter.

  “Since then,” Edgar continued. “I select my fences and my friends with more care.”

  Maggie lifted her glass of wine laughing and said “To pissing on fences.”

  Thoughts of Home

  Sole sat at the kitchen table when Maggie walked in, pulling her robe around her waist. Elbows on the table he looked up and smiled over the coffee cup in hand.

  “Morning,” she said through a yawn. “You’re up early.”

  “Restless night,” Sole said.

  “Really? Worried about something?” She poured a cup from the pot and sat across from him.

  “Not worried.” He shook his head. “Just want to be ready.”

  “Ready?”

  “In case the something we discussed last night happens today.”

  “Sounds like you’re in a hurry to get it over with.”

  “No, not in a hurry.” Sole sat the cup down. “Anxious a little I guess, and if it is going to happen, and there’s a way to use it to get Ben away from the gang, I’d like to get it done.”

  “Get it done. Sounds like you’re on a mission … something military and official.” She smiled. “My husband spoke like that when he was focused on something. Always gave it his full attention.” She chuckled. “Annoyed the hell out of me sometimes.”

  “Just the training.” Sole nodded and smiled. “You learn not to be distracted … to see things through, adapt, find a way to get the mission …” He stopped and the smile widened. “Sorry … to get done what you set out to do.”

  “I know. Jean Paul always found a way to get things done. If he were here now …” She shook her head and glanced down the hallway toward Ben’s closed door. “If he were here, Ben’s life would be different. Our life would be different.”

  “Wish I’d known him,” Sole said. The mission to help the son of a fallen comrade-in-arms carried more than a little guilt with it.

  “You would have liked him.” Maggie nodded and added, “He would have liked you.”

  They sat quietly, sipping coffee at the kitchen table like a married couple, preparing for a routine day. It was a pleasant moment, so pleasant that for a minute or two he lost himself in it.

  Then he became conscious of the shared intimacy of the act, sitting alone in the morning, she in her robe, sharing coffee together, lost in their thoughts. Guilt washed over him.

  Stop! You should be a thousand miles from here right now!. The voice hollered at him this time.

  He watched Maggie staring quietly at the coffee in her cup. No, he realized. You have to be here, at least for a little while, but you should be honest. Tell her now.

  “There’s something we should talk about,” he said.

  “What’s that?” She raised her eyes.

  “I’m not sure how to say it.” He grimaced, feeling the urge to squirm under her expectant gaze. “Whether something comes up, some way to help Ben or not, I …”

  “Stop.” She raised a palm toward him. “I understood last night. Edgar and I both understand. Whatever you do might not be enough to pull Ben back to us and away from the gang. We understand. What you’re doing is more than we could have asked, and you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded. “There’s something else.”

  “Oh? What then?”

  “It’s just that at some point … soon, really … I need to move on.”

  A faint trace of disappointment flickered across her face. “I understand that too.” She nodded and smiled. “You could stay, you know … if you wanted to.”

  Now he did squirm in his chair, the look of dismay on his face plain. “I couldn’t. I’m not ready … not in a position to …”

  “Stop.” She laughed. “I’m not talking about staying here for romantic reasons. You’re a good man, Bill. I told you that, but Jean Paul was the love of my life. I don’t think there will be another, and if there is, it may be years away.” She shook her head. “No, I think of you as a friend, a big brother even. Someone I can talk to without any other strings attached and no judgment.”

  Relief washed over his face and they both laughed now.

  “A friend.. I like that. I’d forgotten what it was like to have friends, and a sister too. I never had one before.” He nodded and smiled. “But I do have to leave.”

  “Alright. If that’s the way it has to be, just remember that you have a place here with us when you want it. Edgar feels the same, by the way. We talked things over.”

  “Thank you for that.” He nodded and then stood up. “But I’m not leaving today, so I’m going downstairs to wait in the alley with the tomcats until Ben makes his appearance and do some thinking. I do my best thinking early in the morning. Hell, if morning lasted all day long, I’d be a damned genius.”

  It was a small joke, a silly one, but they laughed. Then he left her at the table and went down the stairs to the back alley door. Outside, he decided to take a walk. Ben hadn’t been stirring yet or they would have heard him banging around.

  He walked to the street at the end of the alley and then around the block to the front of the store. It was an hour before Edgar would open and only the night security lights were on inside. Sole passed the store and walked to the corner, stopping at the spot where the Demonios de la Muerte made Salvadore Estevez the victim of their initiation. Brown-red bloodstains marked the place where his head hit the pavement.

  He walked along the block looking into the shop windows, many boarded or broken out. The ones that were still in business had security bars, alarms, and cameras to dissuade would-be burglars.

  Above the locked doors, the rising sun struck the tops of the building. Below, the early morning twilight barely pierced the shadows in the storefronts and alleys.

  It was a visually pleasing contrast and reminded him of sunrises in the north Georgia mountains where the sunlight crept slowly down the mountainsides until full day lit the valley. Old-timers always said the day there didn’t begin until ten in the morning when the sun finally rose above the surrounding mountains and ended at two in the afternoon when it sank below the opposite crests.

  Cassit Pass was a long way from Albuquerque, but for a moment the feeling was the same. The day crept toward him down the sides of the buildings, like the mountains in Georgia.

  Maggie said he had a home with them. He had difficulty relating to that word these days, but standing on the deserted street, watching the sunrise, familiar thoughts—thoughts of home—stirred inside.

  Little Man

  Despite the suspicion that something big was about to happen, Ben remained in his room until long after the day had begun. It was ten o’clock when Joey Gonzales pulled the Chevy to the curb out front. A few seconds later, Ben thumped down the stairs and out the door without a word to his grandfather.

  Sole waited in the alley until the Chevy made the turn at the end of the block. He wasn’t too concerned about losing them. The pattern was the same every day. Drive by the bus stop, harass the girl waiting there, cruise the neighborhoods, finish the day at the DM’s abandoned warehouse.

  He made the turn and caught sight of the Chevy two blocks ahead. “Moving fast today,” he whispered.

  Joey did not steer the Chevy down the street toward the bus s
top where the girl waited every day. As Sole suspected, today was special. Something out of the ordinary was about to happen.

  “What are you up to?” Sole leaned forward, peering through the windshield, willing himself into the Chevy so he could listen in on their chatter. He had to settle for following behind.

  ***

  The conversation inside the Chevy was minimal. Joey focused on his driving for once, not bothering to ogle the girls on the sidewalks or waste time talking to his dealer friends working their corners.

  Ben stared out the window, trapped. He felt as helpless to prevent the events coming his way as a man on a railroad bridge with the train bearing down on him and only jagged rocks below. He could jump or face the freight train. Either choice invited destruction.

  The intoxicating allure of gang life had faded in the last hours. The sobering prospect of going through with the initiation had caused the euphoria of gang acceptance to evaporate.

  He had no stomach for assaulting old men without reason, but defying Slice was unthinkable. He’d seen the sort of justice met out to those who broke the rules, simple and harsh.

  And Slice made it clear that the fate of his mother and grandfather depended on his performance in the initiation. During the sleepless night, he resolved to do what Slice ordered, if not for himself, then for the safety of his mother and grandfather.

  They were a few blocks from the warehouse when Joey spoke. “Don’t fuck this up today.”

  “I just don’t want to hit anyone.”

  “You are such a fucking pussy!” Joey glared at Ben.

  “Me a pussy,” Ben sneered. “You go and punch out an old man, and you call me a pussy.” Ben shook his head. “Far as I’m concerned, that’s chicken shit.”

  “Call it what you want, but you heard the man. Do what you got to do today. You don’t, and what old man do you think they gonna pick to knock out next time?” Joey warned. “You ain’t got no choice. Are you too dumb to see that?”

  There it was, the reality of his predicament.

  “I see it. Shut up and drive.”

  “I’m drivin’,” Joey softened his tone, trying to reason. “I stood up for you. You owe me. So, just close your eyes and get it done.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get it done, but I don’t see how cold-cocking some old man proves anything. How’s that show how tough we are?”

  “Motherfucker, you are such a pussy!” Joey smirked in disgust. “All I’m sayin’ is who you think they gonna blame if you fuck up?”

  “Told you. I’m not gonna fuck it up, but if I do It’ll be my fault. I’ll tell them.”

  “Yeah, it’ll be your fault alright!” Joey pounded the steering wheel with his fist. “Your fault when they beat both our asses and dump us on the street. Be lucky if they don’t cut our throats first.”

  Joey pulled to the rear of the warehouse by the loading dock and got out. They mounted the steps to the back door side by side. Joey made a final attempt, his voice subdued now, fear in his eyes.

  “C’mon, man. Don’t let me down. We been like brothers all our lives. Don’t let it end this way.”

  Ben pulled the door open without replying. The DMs were gathered in the usual fashion, some smoking pot or listening to music, others with the girls in the corners, most just sitting around bullshitting. Slice sat on his throne.

  Like yesterday, everyone was there. The initiation of a new member was a big deal, and Ben’s reluctance to go through with it had provided extra drama to the event. All eyes turned as the two entered.

  “Get up here,” Slice called across the room to Ben.

  Ben walked forward and stood before the DM leader, trying not to look terrified. An unusual silence fell over the room. Everyone gathered closer to watch the show.

  “So you a lover and not a fighter,” Slice said, reminding them how things had ended the day before.

  “I still want to be in,” Ben managed to croak out, then said more strongly, “But I don’t want to hit some old man. That’s all.”

  “Alright. We got something better than a old man to hit.” Slice grinned. “First you better take a hit on this.”

  Slice motioned to a piece of window glass lying flat on a pallet. Three lines of cocaine were laid out.

  Ben’s eyes moved from the cocaine to Slice and back. He started to shake his head and thought better of it. “I don’t do coke, but I smoke weed. Let me smoke some weed. That’d be alright, wouldn’t it?”

  “Fuck no, that ain’t alright,” Slice snapped. “You say you ain’t gonna hit no old man, Alright then, first thing is hit the coke.”

  “C’mon, Benny,” Joey whispered at his side. “Just get this over with.”

  All sense of camaraderie and brotherhood evaporated. The faces surrounding him glared. Voices mocked him. Laughter turned to jeering snickers.

  “Alright,” Ben said, his voice muted and resigned. He nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped to the makeshift coke table.

  A three-inch length of plastic straw lay beside the lines of cocaine. He leaned over, put the straw to his nose, and snorted one of the lines. Then he stood up straight and looked around the room, feeling … not much of anything.

  “What? You think you gonna snort one line and start bouncing off the walls.” Slice laughed. “Give it a couple minutes, and you’ll see. Ten minutes, you do another line, and another ten minutes after that one. We’ll keep you stoked long as it takes.”

  “Alright.” Ben nodded. “That’s it? I keep doing cocaine, and it’s all good with us.”

  “No, that ain’t it, and it ain’t all good, little man.” Slice shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Hey,” someone called out. “That gonna be his name. Little Man.”

  “Yeah, Little Man,” another said and another until they were chanting, “Little Man…Little Man … Little Man.”

  “Fair enough.” Slice nodded and stood before them. He looked down at Ben. “Your name gonna be Little Man. You cool with that?”

  “Yeah sure.” Ben shrugged and kept talking, the effects of the cocaine beginning to kick in. “Yeah, Little Man, that’s an okay name … yeah, I think that’ll be good … just call me Little Man, cause that’s as good a name as any.” He turned to Joey. “That’s a good name, ain’t it? Little Man? Good a name as any? Fuck yeah, Little Man gonna be my name. Right?”

  “It’s a good name,” Joey said nodding, relieved that things were moving forward, and no one had threatened to beat his ass yet because his recruit turned out to be a fucking pussy.

  The loading dock door banged open. Slice looked up from his perch. Everyone else turned toward the door.

  “Time for the next part, Little Man. You gonna like this part.”

  Ben turned to see Ape and Cheech standing in front of the door. His mouth opened and face paled. “But no, I can’t …”

  “Don’t say it, Little Man. Warnin’ you now,” Slice snarled. “We changed things for you ‘cause Keet says you’re smart and we can use someone smart like you. So, you gonna do this.”

  Something Big Happened

  Sole slowed a block behind the Chevy and waited for it to pull behind the warehouse. Once it was out of sight, he made the turn, passed the building, and headed to his stakeout point. He was in position as Ben and Joey stood on the loading dock. Joey said something, and Ben pulled the door open. They disappeared inside.

  Binoculars to his eyes, he sat back in the seat, pondering his next move. The big something he’d discussed with Edgar and Maggie could be happening inside right now, and he would never know it. Despite his attempt to put a positive spin on things for Edgar and Maggie, he didn’t hold out much hope that anything he did was going to influence the boy.

  He was back to square one, and despite all his talk, he still had no real plan. At some point, he was going to have to approach the building and find out what was going on inside. The problem was, as soon as he did, his cover would be blown, and his one chance to do something for Edgar, Maggie,
and the boy squandered.

  Several more minutes passed as he considered his next move. Sit tight or go in. It was a dilemma, and he couldn’t decide. Then the issue was decided for him.

  Sole squinted into the binoculars. “Shit.”

  A van pulled up beside the loading dock. Two gang members climbed, holding the arms of a third person firmly between them—a person he recognized.

  He dropped the glasses and threw the truck into gear. The tires squealed as the two men dragged their captive inside and the door banged shut.

  ***

  “No.” Ben’s head moved slowly side to side. “I can’t …”

  “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what you can’t do, Little Man!” Slice warned. “Keet says you a lover. Alright, that’s what you do to get in.”

  “But …” Ben’s mouth closed in stunned silence as they dragged the girl forward through the throng of gang members.

  It was the bus stop girl. Eyes wide with terror, her head swiveled, trying to understand what had happened, what was going to happen.

  Ape and Cheech shoved her forward. She stumbled and fell in front of Ben. Panic-stricken, she attempted to crawl away, but Ape’s foot on her back shoved her face-first into the concrete floor.

  Ben’s eyes pleaded with Slice. “No … I can’t … not this.”

  “Fuck her,” Slice said, his voice calm, his face deadly serious. “Fuck her now.”

  Ben was unable to speak. His mind whirled. What had he been thinking? Standing wide-eyed over the girl, he could only shake his head.

  The knife was in Slice’s hand, glinting under the fluorescent lights. “You gonna fuck her, and you gonna do it now, or you not leavin’ here.”

  Another chant began to rise up among the gang members. “Fuck her … Fuck her.”

  It grew louder, reverberating through the empty space. The girl cringed, sobbing on the floor. The chanting increased in volume. She put her hands over her ears.

  Thunder roared through the building. The chanting ceased.

  All heads turned to the loading dock door, focused on the man with the big .45 Colt. The acrid smell of burned powder hung in the air. John Sole lowered the pistol and pointed it at Slice’s face.