The Cascading: Knights of the Fire Ring

by CW Ullman

  “What can I help you with?” said the old woman.

  “Our car broke down and…frankly we need to get off the street right now, ma’am,” Curtis said.

  “Why are you down here?” the old woman said.

  “Their father came down on his motorcycle and we’re looking for him,” Curtis said.

  She opened the door.

  “Woman, what, are you crazy? You don’t know what gang they’re part of. When they tie us up and steal our TV, I’m going to say I told you so,” the old man postured.

  “If they want the television, they’re welcome to it. The thing is older than you,” the old woman huffed. “Can I get you some water?”

  They nodded and Curtis extended his hand to the old man to introduce himself. The old man looked at Curtis’s hand as though it was diseased and gave a finger-tip shake.

  “My name is Curtis Johnson. This is Bryce and Jordan and this is Surgeon,” Curtis said.

  “He’s real friendly, sir,” Jordan said. “You can tell him to sit and he won’t get up.”

  The elderly woman came out with water and sat on the couch. She said, “I was around for the Watts riots and I got a bad feeling about this one. You may want to hunker down here for a few hours.”

  “Thanks. What I was hoping,” Curtis said, “was that in the early morning hours we’d leave for my friend’s business, A-1 Carpets, over on Florence, and get help from him to find their father.”

  “Suit yourself. You’re welcome to stay and watch these fools on television burn down their neighborhoods,” the old woman said.

  “Any of them come down here, they’re going to get a butt full of buckshot,” the old man grunted.

  <>

  At A-1 Carpet and Drapes, Ronnie was dealing with his hot-headed brother-in-law, Frank, who was armed to the teeth with two holstered guns and a shotgun.

  “Those assholes come in here, they’re in for serious fucking trouble,” Frank threatened.

  “General Patton, relax. You’re scaring the troops,” Ronnie said.

  Frank’s father, Frank Kim Sr., started his carpet store in 1974, when they moved to America from South Korea. The Kims purchased the store sight unseen through a broker, who told them that the previous owner had been at the location for twenty years and the reason the sales figures for the last two years were lower than the previous eighteen was due to the owner getting older. That was true, however, the part the broker omitted was the neighborhood had gone from predominantly white to predominantly minority.

  When the Kim family arrived, they did not understand why so little residential business came in the front door. When residential business would not come to them, they bid on commercial jobs. They slowly built the business to the point where they were doing office buildings, libraries, and hotels. They worked all the commercial business out of this location. Ronnie had been telling Frank Sr. to close the shop, but as a point of pride, he would not close a store he owned even if there was little walk-up business.

  Now, Frank Jr., had turned the shop into a fortress, believing if the police were not going to protect them, they would take matters into their own hands. Frank Jr. stood in the door way and fired his gun into the air if he saw any black people look at him or the store. When he had his back turned, someone threw a rock and hit the wall next to his door. He turned around and shot in the direction from which the stone was thrown.

  “Frank, goddam it! Stop shooting. You are going to kill some innocent person and then we’re going to be fucked,” Ronnie said.

  “I’m not going to sit here and be overrun by a bunch of assholes. I’m not going down without a fight,” he said. Then he went to the door and yelled, “You want me? I’m right here, motherfuckers.”

  Ronnie smelled his breath, “You’ve been drinking! Give me your guns,” Ronnie demanded. Frank twisted away and would not surrender the weapons.

  “These are all that stand between us and certain death,” Frank said dramatically, as though he were delivering a pre-battlefield speech.

  Ronnie rolled his eyes in exasperation and said, “Is this a line from the Alamo? Just give me the guns or I’m calling Frank Sr. and he’ll drive down here. Do you want him getting caught up in this mess?”

  Frank reluctantly took off the gun belt, gave Ronnie the shot gun, and said, “But leave them on the counter so I can get to them if there’s a human wave assault.”

  <>

  Charlie lay hidden between the dumpster and the wall in a dazed state. He imagined he was at Cheesman Park in Denver and was walking with Mahatma Ji and Surgeon. Mahatma Ji asked Surgeon what he saw. Surgeon replied, “Clouds, trees, buildings, and people.”

  “What are the people doing? Hmm?” Mahatma Ji asked.

  “They are throwing Frisbees. Can I run after one?” Surgeon asked.

  “Surgeon, run,” Mahatma Ji commanded.

  Surgeon ran after a Frisbee, then another and another. He ran all over the park chasing Frisbees. He stopped on the far side of the park and sat on his haunches looking at Charlie and Mahatma Ji.

  “Why was Surgeon running, Mahatma Ji?” Charlie asked.

  “He is trained to run. He runs for joy and he runs for you,” Mahatma Ji said. “He fulfills his love as a dog when he runs. He wants to come back to you. The question is why won’t he come back?”

  Charlie stirred awake and felt an ache in his head. He had been out for a few hours and when he awoke, it was dark. He was staring at the back of a dumpster and smiled thinking of his dream with Mahatma Ji. He had been missing Mahatma Ji and his cherubic nature. He also remembered in the dream that Surgeon was talking and on the far side of a park and he would not come. Mahatma Ji asked why he would not return to them. What did that mean? What was he trying to tell Charlie? Was it about the nature of the dog, the nature of life, the spirit of God? What?

  He was unsure where he was or why he was there. He stood up behind the dumpster, looked around the corner, and saw in the middle of a field some forty black males standing around metal drums lit with fires. The flame’s dance was reflected in their faces. He was about to call out to them, but thought better of it. He became slightly dizzy, so he sat back down behind the dumpster in order to get his bearings.

  While he sat holding his head, part of his memory returned. He was going to Darla’s, when some guy jumped on his bike and they were getting rocks and bottles thrown at them. Why? Why was he going to Darla’s and why would Surgeon not come back? One thing he did know, he could not leave the safety of the dumpster until those men left the burning drums. While he sat there contemplating it all, he fell asleep.

  <>

  Jordan and Bryce were asleep and the old man had dozed off. The elderly black woman had introduced herself earlier to Curtis as Lila Mae. She stroked Surgeon. The only light in the drape-drawn house was from the television where she and Curtis viewed the riots and listened to the gunfire, sirens, and helicopters outside. Most of the gunfire was single shots, but every now and then there was a burst of automatic weapons fire They sat on the floor to avoid any stray shot that might find its way through the windows.

  “This is bad, Curtis. Why do they do it? It doesn’t fix anything and it just makes us look like what they think we are,” Lila Mae said.

  “Most of the faces I see rioting aren’t even black. Doesn’t it look mostly like Mexicans?” Curtis asked.

  “It is mostly Mexican, but I guarantee, people aren’t going to remember that. What really disturbs me, if those four cops were black, beating up on a white man, you know they’d be convicted,” Lila Mae said.

  “How could they get off after seeing the video of the beating? I imagine now that the Feds will prosecute and get convictions,” Curtis said.

  Lila Mae turned to Curtis and rested her hand on his. He could see a tiredness in her and believed she was weary of life and the riot wore her down. She paused before she spoke, alerting Curtis to the seriousness of to her comments.

  “Curtis, we’re on Kansas Ave near 75th Stre
et. When you leave here to get to A-1 Carpets, you have to go to Budlong Avenue,” Lila May cautioned. “On Budlong, those houses are mostly vacant. Stay in the shadows of those houses. Do not walk out in the middle of the street. If you see a group of boys, take cover. The territory down here is run by the Ninety Tres. Your two boys stick out like sore thumbs, so I am going to give you hats to cover their heads. Honestly, I don’t know why you brought them down here.”

  “If I hadn’t driven, they would’ve stolen the family car and come down on their own,” Curtis responded.

  “Have you ever fired a gun?” inquired Lila Mae.

  “Yes, I was in the service,” Curtis replied.

  “I’m going to give you Harold’s gun. It’s an old snub-nosed .38. You’re probably not going to need it, but I can’t in good conscious send you out there with nothing,” Lila Mae said. Curtis tried to object, but Lila Mae stared him quiet. “Do not be a hero. When this is over, I want it back.”

  <>

  Little Tam Qui was out on the street with the twenty-eight members of Viper Family Junior. They were looking all night for the Los Familias 19, or LF 19, who were loosely associated with the notorious prison gang, the Mexican Mafia. A month earlier LF 19 jumped some members of Viper Family Junior and Little Tam Qui knew if he did not exact revenge, LF 19 would roll through his neighborhood regularly and he could not abide that.

  He and his crew had been driving the streets of Santa Ana looking for low-rider cars. Around 2:30 in the morning, they encountered them on Edinger Avenue when one of Tam Qui’s crew pointed out five cars at the end of the block. They parked their cars and both gangs got out with guns cocked. Little Tam Qui lead his crew slowly strolled to the center of the street and stopped.

  “Isn’t this normally the time you guys are sucking each other’s dicks in Garbage Grove,” the head of LF 13 taunted.

  “We heard you guys do a better job, so we thought we’d come here,” Little Tam Qui answered.

  Little Tam Qui wanted the LF 13 leader to come a little closer so he could pounce with his knife to his throat, but the leader, Don Padre, knew of Little Tam Qui’s knife-wielding reputation and stayed out of range.

  “So, little Phan comes to Santa Ana. Do you remember me from school? I remember you crying and pissing your pants in the fourth grade. Little Phan needs his diaper changed, little Phan needs his mama. Do yourself a favor and get the fuck off my streets before I have to call your mama to come get you,” Don Padre threatened.

  Little Tam Qui had his hand near the handle of the knife, waiting for Don Padre to get a little closer.

  “Hey, how’s your sister, Michelle? When I was in the fifth grade I must have fucked her in the ass about forty times. She-,” Don Padre’s soliloquy was interrupted when an enraged Little Tam Qui dove for his throat leading with his knife. However, Don Padre had been taunting him this entire time. In one motion, Don Padre fell to his right, pulled out a small machete from his overcoat, and lopped off Little Tam Qui’s right arm. Little Tam Qui was screaming while Don Padre stood over him.and stared down the other Viper Family Junior members.

  He said, “I never fucked your sister, but I’m going to now.” He then expended one blow with the machete to remove Little Tam Qui’s head from his body.

  He held up the head and said, “Any you want to take this home to his mama?” No one came forward. “I didn’t think so. If I see any of you around here again, you’ll get the same haircut.”

  The Viper Family Junior backed up to their cars and left.

  <>

  Charlie woke up around three a.m. He had the identical dream about Mahatma Ji and Surgeon. He had the same question; why did Surgeon not come? While Charlie had some memory of the rock and bottle throwing and the guy on the back of his motorcycle, he could not remember why people were throwing things or where he was. The drums had burned out and the crowd near them had gone. He looked around and attempted to make sense of landmarks. He thought the area looked like North Redondo Beach and he was in an alley, but he could not recall seeing black people in the numbers he saw earlier. Was he in Hawthorne near the mall?

  <>

  Curtis woke up the boys. He told them to wear the hats that Lila Mae had provided and that she had given him a gun that he hoped they would not need. He told them they were only a few blocks from Ronnie Yamaguchi’s store so it should not take them long to get there and then they would look for Charlie.

  Though the gunfire had quieted down, several news helicopters and law enforcement helicopters still hovered nearby. Businesses were burning, but not houses, and the fires were so numerous; the fire engines were driving past some fires to fight other fires. Once firefighters got to their destinations, they frequently were forced to leave because of the gunfire aimed at them.

  <>

  Unknown to Charlie was how close he was to Curtis and the boys. They were only two blocks apart, but walking in opposite directions. He thought about the dream with Mahatma Ji where Surgeon stood watching them. What was he seeing? Why would Surgeon be talking about doing something he liked, or for that matter, talking at all? It was frustrating because he felt like the answer was right in front of him, just out of reach. He approached the end of the alley and was overcome by a foreboding chill.

  <>

  Ronnie was going to quit A1 Carpets when this riot ended. Frank kept rousting anybody who walked down the sidewalk in front of the store. Ronnie, time and again, had to pull him in the store, sit him down, and tell him to chill out. A few minutes would pass and he would again be up, pacing and cursing. Ronnie wondered how he did it. Ronnie could hardly keep his eyes open and this guy had the energy of five people and was alert like he used to be in college…and that is when it dawned on Ronnie.

  He went to the desk and pulled open the drawers until he got to the bottom. He lifted a file folder and found it: a vial of cocaine.

  “You goddam chump,” Ronnie said as he flashed the cocaine in front of Frank’s face. “I don’t fucking believe it. You’re as high as a goddam kite.”

  “That’s not mine,” Frank said.

  “No? Why don’t we call your old man and ask him if it’s his,” Ronnie threatened.

  “Don’t call Dad. I use it so I can be alert. You don’t know the pressure I’m under,” Frank whined.

  “Look at me, Frank. I used to do toot,” Ronnie said, leaning into Frank’s face,. “I understand your bullshit. I made a million excuses: I’ve got to do a term paper, I have to make the sale, I have to perform in the sack. You’re a drug addict. How long have you been awake?”

  “I don’t know. I guess a day, a day and a half maybe,” Frank said.

  “You’re full of shit. You probably haven’t slept for two days minimum. Just sit there and don’t move.” Ronnie said. He did enough cocaine in college to know about the hallucinations which came, not from the cocaine, but from sleep deprivation. He could not wait until the sun came up.

  <>

  Charlie stuck his hands in his pocket when the chill swept over his body. He was deep in thought when he felt something familiar in his pocket, the dog whistle. He had not taken it out after the last Frisbee session with Surgeon. Then he realized what Mahatma Ji meant. He asked, “Why did Surgeon not come?” He did not come because Charlie had not called him. Charlie must be near the house and if he whistled, Surgeon would come.

  Curtis, the boys, and Surgeon were on the street lined with vacant houses, about two hundred yards from Ronnie’s store, where Curtis could see the lights in the parking lot. Suddenly, Surgeon’s head bobbed up with ears high and sprinted away from Bryce, who automatically yelled for him. Just then a helicopter flew overhead with a large flood light shining on Surgeon running. The light swung back from where Surgeon had come and found the three. Out of the house they just passed yelled a voice, “Hey, why are you on my street?”

  Jordan took off running across the street with Bryce following and Curtis yelling at them to turn up the street to Ronnie’s store. Instead of running towar
d the store, Curtis had to follow the boys across the street toward a vacant house. The voice that yelled at them was the first of six members of the Ninety Tres Gang. The gang pulled out guns and started shooting. Jordan, Bryce and Curtis’s plight was caught on the helicopter’s camera.

  Hoping to get a news update on Charlie, Cindy and Molly watched television. It was easy for them to tell who the three people were as they watched Curtis, Bryce and Jordan. Instead of good news on Charlie, Cindy watched as her sons were running from a gang shooting at them.

  Curtis knew they were dead once they got in the house, because the gang would come in firing their weapons. Jordan blasted through the boarded up front door followed by Bryce and Curtis. Curtis twisted around, pulled out the snub nosed .38 and shot at the first gang member, hitting him in the hip which knocked him into two behind him. When they went down, the other gang members scrambled for cover around the front of the house.

  “Are you guys okay?” Curtis panted. Bryce and Jordan nodded. “Listen we cannot go out the front-,” he was interrupted when bullets whizzed through the walls of the house.

  Cindy screamed at the television as she watched the gang members shooting into the house.

  <>

  Charlie put the whistle in his pocket, but his joy at figuring out the dream was short-lived. At the other end of the street, a group of teenagers turned the corner and saw Charlie standing under a street light.

  “Hey, white boy, what are you doing?” one of the boys yelled. Charlie turned to see them coming towards him. He became calm, focused, and determined not to be caught. Charlie, six feet tall, turned, looked at a nine foot fence across the alley and ran, leaped, and grabbed the top of the fence and went over it in one motion. He could hear one of the boys yell, “Holy shit, did you see that?”

  They scrambled over the fence after him. Charlie ran down a side yard and encountered a pit bull who charged after him. He got to a gate and went over the top as the dog leaped at him but missed. The gang following was not so fortunate as the dog took one of them down. Another member shot the dog.