Dead Highways (Book 3): Discord

by Brown, Richard

  “What are you doing?” Aamod asked, plodding in from the living room, shotgun in hand.

  I checked my watch. Almost midnight. Almost time for Aamod’s guard shift.

  “Nothing,” Naima replied. “We were just—”

  “I wasn’t asking you Naima.” Aamod came farther into the dining room and stopped across from us. He gently set the shotgun on the table and placed his hands down flat on opposite sides of it. Then he loomed our direction, a disturbing look in his eyes. I’d seen that look before. I thought it likely Naima had as well. But his gaze, and the question, was directed only at me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “As she tried to say, we were just talking.”

  Aamod bit down on his bottom lip, and said, “It didn’t look to me like you were talking.”

  “Well, we were.” I hated that he was looking down on me, so I stood up, though afterward I was concerned he might think I was challenging him. Perhaps sensing this, Naima stood up too.

  “Daddy, please stop,” she pleaded.

  “Hush, Naima,” Aamod scolded. “This is between me and him.” Aamod took his hands off the table and slowly began circling toward me. Despite my better judgment, I didn’t circle away. “I warned you what would happened if you didn’t back off. If you didn’t leave her alone. You filthy piece of shit.”

  In one swift motion, Aamod lunged forward and punched me in the stomach with his right hand. On impact, I keeled over, and he hit me a second time. This time his hand connected with the side of my face, near my left temple. As I tried to back away, I fell over a dining room chair and toppled onto the kitchen floor.

  Naima began screaming for him to stop.

  But Aamod only listened to the demon perched on his shoulder, laughing and cheering him on.

  He came at me again just as I got back to my feet, swinging at my face, missing. The adrenaline racing through my body, I swung back at him, connecting with the side of his neck. A second punch landed in the center of his chest. Neither punch did anything to deter him. I couldn’t get enough force. My arms felt like rubber. Every nerve in my body seemed to rattle. I had never been in a real fight before, and I was sure I was gonna lose this one.

  Aamod hit me in the face again, square in the nose, and then wrestled me to the ground. Seconds after hitting the tile floor, I could feel blood start to drip out of my nose and onto my upper lip. I had no time to worry if my nose was broken or not, as Aamod continued the assault down on me, hitting me in the face and chest a few more times, and then clamped his rugged hands around my throat.

  Naima went on providing the soundtrack to our fight, crying and yelling at the top of her lungs.

  Though I tried and tried, I couldn’t free myself. I couldn’t push him off. I dug my fingernails into his arms, punched up at his face. I was taller than him by a good six inches, but height didn’t matter much lying on my back. And Aamod quickly proved to be much stronger than me.

  But not stronger than the guy on the couch.

  With one quick tug, Bowser pulled Aamod off me. Yanking the Indian man around by the back of his shirt, Bowser threw Aamod face first into the kitchen cabinets.

  Rolling the fuck out of the big man’s way, I put my hand to my nose to feel if it was a different shape. Dark red blood came off on my fingers. Nearby, Naima collapsed into the corner, scared and weeping, knowing as I did that her father was about to get beaten in the worst kind of way.

  Chapter 105

  “You like to bully people, huh?” Bowser shouted. “Let’s see how tough you are!”

  Aamod didn’t try to run away, which would have been smart, and instead turned and took a swing at Bowser. The two-hundred and fifty pound black man barely flinched as the clenched fist grazed his bushy beard. Bowser rushed forward, grabbed Aamod by the neck with his left hand, and started pounding him with his right. Aamod’s head snapped back with each strike, the impact sounding like wet feet slapping against a tile floor.

  After the fourth or fifth punch, Aamod slipped out of Bowser’s grasp and fell forward, stunned and searching for something to hold onto. Taking him by the shirt again, Bowser tossed Aamod into the dining room table. A chair fell over as the far end of the table knocked against the china cabinet, causing a few of the fancy dishes behind the glass to slide off their display stands and break apart. The room went dark as our main source of light, the single candle on the dining room table, rolled to the floor, its flame extinguished. Aamod’s shotgun also slid off the table and landed by my feet.

  I grabbed the shotgun and crawled to the other side of the room just as Robinson and Ted emerged on the scene.

  The door to the master bedroom opened and Robinson stumbled into the moonlit kitchen, groggy. “What the hell is going on out here?”

  Ted came through the front door, looking just as confused by all the commotion. Naima stopped screaming and now lay in a heap of tears in the corner, while her father was on all fours, trying to crawl away. Bowser ended that dream real fast by kicking him hard in the side. He bent down and shoved Aamod’s face into the tile floor. Aamod rolled onto his back and shielded his face as Bowser continued to pound him, connecting with a few elbows.

  Robinson and Ted, knowing exactly what was going on now, rushed over and tried to pull Bowser off.

  “Stop this!” Robinson shouted. “Bowser, stop this now!”

  At some point, Peaches had woken and come down the stairs. She made a wide circle around the four men wrestling in the dining room and bent down beside me.

  “What happened?” she asked, touching the side of my bloody nose. “Jesus…you’re hurt.”

  “Aamod attacked me.”

  “What? Why?”

  Robinson and Ted finally managed to drag Bowser off Aamod, pulling him back into the living room. The big guy was breathing hard but still attempting to get free.

  “What is your problem?” Robinson yelled. “Stop!”

  “Nigga get off me!” Bowser yelled back, slithering away from Ted and Robinson’s reach. The two men still stood between him and Aamod. “That fucking bastard attacked Jimmy!”

  “Go upstairs,” Robinson said.

  “Why?”

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this. You go upstairs and don’t come down until I say you can.”

  “How about no!” Bowser snapped back. “I’m not your fucking dog Robbie. I’m not gonna go lay down. Now let me finish this.”

  “There’s nothing to finish,” Robinson replied softly. “Look at him. I think you’ve done enough.”

  Aamod squirmed around on the tile floor, groaning in pain. The pools of blood around him looked black in the dark room. Despite his mumbling for Naima, she didn’t get up to check on him. She remained in the corner of the kitchen, head in her hands, crying to herself.

  “Go upstairs,” Robinson said again, but Bowser wouldn’t budge. He held his ground in the center of the living room.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Naima, our last conversation still at the forefront of my mind. I wanted to cry along with her. We had shared such a great moment together—a healing moment, and even though Aamod had attacked me, I felt worse for her. She deserved better than what she had. She deserved peace more than any of us.

  Peaches held the shotgun while I got to my feet. With my head feeling wobbly on my shoulders, I managed to walk over to the three men in the living room. I cut between Ted and Robinson and looked up at Bowser.

  “Thanks for helping me. You said you’d have my back, and you did. But please…for her sake,” I said, indicating Naima. “No more fighting. It’s over. He ain’t gonna do anything. He can’t. So please…”

  Bowser stood staring down at me for a moment and then extended his fist, but not to hit me. I nodded and fist-bumped him.

  “You had my back first,” he said, and then walked away. He slowly made his way up the stairs. His bad leg still gave him problems, though the fight had surely helped him ignore it for a brief minute or two.

  Once Bowser was hal
fway up the staircase, Ted said, “I’ll stay over here. Make sure he stays up there for now.”

  I handed Aamod’s shotgun off to Robinson and sat down on the couch near the front window. Peaches came over and joined me.

  “What happened to the candle?” Robinson asked.

  “It’s on the dining room floor,” I said.

  Robinson walked away, scanned the floor around the dining room table. He found the candle underneath one of the overturned chairs, set it back up on the table, and then relit the wick using a grill lighter he found in a kitchen drawer. And then there was light.

  Again.

  Robinson bent down and tried to help Aamod sit up but was angrily waved off. Aamod lay on his back, rocking side to side, holding his head. I could hear his heavy breathing from across the room.

  “Jimmy…want to tell me what happened?”

  “He attacked me,” I replied.

  Robinson came closer. “He just attacked you for no reason?”

  “I couldn’t sleep…I had a fucked up dream…so I came down here to get something to drink. Naima was already down here so we started talking. Aamod came down when it was time for his shift and caught us.”

  “Caught you what?” Robinson said.

  “Caught us talking,” I said back. I could feel Peaches staring hard at me, but I kept my focus on Robinson. “We were just talking. That’s it.”

  Robinson turned back toward the kitchen. “Naima. Are you okay?”

  “He didn’t do anything to her…just me.”

  “Naima, sweetheart,” Robinson said, using his best calming voice. “Can you come in here?” Naima slowly stood up and walked past her father without even looking down. She took a seat in a recliner, continued to wipe her face dry. “Did your father attack Jimmy?”

  Naima nodded. “Yes.” Just saying words made her start to cry more. “We were just talking…and he…he overreacted. He just…went crazy.”

  Aamod rolled over on his side and glanced over at us. Even from twenty feet away I could tell his face was a disaster, but it was hard to see the real extent of the damage under the layer of dark red.

  “No,” Aamod whined, spitting up more blood. “You…you had your hands on her….touching her. I…I saw you.”

  “Is that true?” Peaches whispered.

  “No, that’s bullshit,” I replied.

  “You’ve wanted her…for a long time now,” Aamod said. “I know. I see how you look at her.”

  “All we did was hug,” Naima added. “We were talking about personal stuff and we hugged. I should be allowed to hug people, shouldn’t I?” The tears streamed down faster than ever. “Daddy why…why did you do that? Why?”

  “I told him…to stay away,” Aamod mumbled. “I warned him.”

  Robinson sighed. “Well, you won’t have to worry about Jimmy anymore, cause you’re done here. Naima…you can stay with us if you want…but your father has to go. I’m sorry. We can’t have people fighting like this. We’re lucky someone wasn’t killed. You’re lucky your dad wasn’t killed.”

  Aamod sat up and leaned against a dining room chair. “You trying to take my daughter from me? Turn her against me.”

  “I don’t have to,” Robinson replied. “I think you’re doing a pretty good job of that yourself.”

  “She doesn’t need any of you. I can keep her safe. Naima…go get my stuff upstairs. And you,” he said, pointing a shaky finger at Robinson. “Give me back my shotgun.”

  Robinson shook his head. “This isn’t your shotgun anymore. It’s mine now. And you’re not leaving yet.”

  Aamod tried to stand but slipped and fell back on his ass. “I’m leaving now. Naima…get my stuff!”

  “Nope. I said you’re not leaving now,” Robinson said. “You can leave after we leave in the morning.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Just let him go now.”

  “I don’t trust him. It’s dark out. We let him leave now he might ambush us during the night. I want to keep an eye on him. One of us has to be up at all times anyway. When the sun comes up, we leave him behind.”

  “Okay, I see your point.”

  “Naima…get my stuff I said!” Aamod shouted. He spit more blood onto the tile floor between his legs. “Now!”

  “No,” Naima finally replied. “Get it yourself.”

  “What…what did you say to me?”

  “I said get it yourself!” she yelled back. “I’m sick of you telling me what to do. I’m not going with you anyway.”

  “Naima…listen to me!” Aamod shouted. “Show some respect to your father!”

  “No, I don’t have to listen to you ever again. I’m an adult now. I’m not your little girl anymore.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I’m sick of you treating me like I don’t have a voice…like my opinion doesn’t matter…like I’m this thing that can’t exist without you protecting me. You’ve been acting that way all my life, but ever since mom died, it’s gotten way worse. You’re smothering me, and I can’t take it anymore. I won’t. I love you and I always will but this has to end now. Think about what you’re doing. You attacked Jimmy for nothing, when you should be thanking him. He’s actually done more to help me deal with stuff lately than you have. For God’s sake, what do you think mom would say if she could see you right now? If she could see what you’ve become.”

  Aamod crumbled over on his side, still holding his face. “So…you’re leaving me then?”

  “No, daddy, I’m not leaving you,” Naima replied. “You left me. And I hope you remember that when you’re out there all alone.”

  A silence swept into the room and hung around, watching all of us drown in our own thoughts.

  There was nothing left to say.

  Naima had said it all.

  It was a wonderful thing watching Naima finally free herself from her father’s chains. It was worth my nose feeling two sizes too big, worth Peaches glaring at me secretly wondering if I had cheated on her, just to see Naima transform before my eyes. After all that we had talked about a little earlier, I was so proud of her. All her life she had wanted to break free, wanted to be what she always knew she was destined to be.

  A beautiful butterfly.

  And she was.

  Chapter 106

  Thirty minutes later and none of us were asleep yet, even though Ted had offered to pull double guard duty. Aamod remained on the tile floor in the kitchen, no longer squirming around, but moaning occasionally to let us know he was still alive. A couple of dishtowels had helped curb most of the bleeding from his nose and mouth, but a two-inch long laceration on his forehead still leaked. His dark brown hair was slicked back, soaked in blood. His bottom lip was twice its normal size, and his left eye was nearly swollen shut, the socket around it black and puffy.

  “He’s in bad shape,” Ted said. He had his hands on his knees as he gazed down at Aamod. “Bowser really did a number on him.”

  Robinson looked over Ted’s shoulder. “He’s always been hot headed, quick to fight. Though believe it or not, I’ve seen him do more damage than this.”

  “Wow. Really?”

  Robinson nodded. “I’m gonna check the bathroom cabinets…see if I can find any pain meds.”

  A few minutes later Robinson returned with a bottle of pills. He shook it and tossed it to me on the couch. “Motrin. The best I could find. I figured Mary would have had something stronger around here. How do you feel, Jimmy?”

  “A little scratched up. Face hurts some, mostly my nose.”

  “It’s really crooked now,” Robinson said, bending down to take a closer look at me on the couch.

  I carefully examined my nose again, ran my fingers down the bridge. “Are you serious? Do you think it’s broken?”

  Robinson smirked. “No, I’m just joking with you. It looks fine. Maybe a little swollen.”

  “Oh, thank God. You know I almost broke my nose when I was younger. Soccer ball. I remember it bleeding more back then. But I won’t g
et into that right now. ”

  Robinson brought me a bottle of water and I downed three of the Motrin. He popped a few himself and offered the bottle of pills to Peaches and Naima, who both declined.

  “Maybe we should move him to the couch,” Ted said, still inspecting Aamod.

  “I don’t want him to die, but I really don’t give a shit if he’s comfortable or not. Here…just see if he’ll take these.” Robinson shook some of the pills out into Ted’s hand. Then he made for the staircase. “I’m gonna go check on Bowser.”

  Ted got down on his knees next to Aamod and attempted to give him the pills, but Aamod wouldn’t cooperate. With each minute that passed, the Indian man became less and less aware. He barely made a sound.

  Ted handed the pills off to Naima. “You can try if you want.”

  A short time later, Robinson came back down the stairs.

  “How’s Bowser?” Ted asked.

  “Calm,” Robinson replied. “For now. He can’t feel it yet, but I bet anything his hand will be hurting in the morning. He took some of the Motrin.”

  “Think I’m gonna take a quick peek outside,” Ted said, opening the front door. “Make sure the coast is clear.”

  Robinson sat down next to me and Peaches on the couch. “You know if you two are tired, you can try to go back to bed. Bowser’s in your room, but you can take mine down here.”

  I glanced over at Peaches. “I might go lie down, though I doubt I’ll be able to get back to sleep soon.”

  “Yeah,” Peaches agreed.

  “Some sleep is better than none,” Robinson said.

  We headed into the master bedroom, locked the door behind us, and fell over on the bed. I swear Peaches passed out when her head hit the pillow. It took me longer to fade off, but not as long as I thought it would. My need for sleep was stronger than the pain.

  When I woke the second time, it wasn’t from a nightmare.

  It was morning.

  I pulled the bed sheet up over my face to shield my eyes from the warm sunlight coasting in from the bedroom window. The small hand on my watch said it was almost eight. I’d slept a good seven hours or so, which was surprising since my sore face and nose forced me to sleep on my back. Typically, I was a side sleeper like all decent people.