Animal 4.5

by K'wan

  Using the railing to pull himself forward, Animal began making his climb up the stairs. He’d cleared the landing when he felt something beneath the water grab his leg. “You can’t be fucking serious,” Animal sighed before he was pulled under the water.

  Animal and Ethan struggled for dear life beneath the water. Animal had never been the best swimmer, and fighting someone underwater was a first for him. His thoughts were on survival, but Ethan was holding onto his leg for dear life. Cutting or beating Animal to death was no longer good enough; he was trying to drown him. Animal’s lungs burned as he tried desperately to hold his breath while he freed himself. Water seeped into his mouth and he could feel himself begin to gag. Laying on the stairs, Animal spotted the gun the other soldier had dropped when he killed him. He clawed desperately at it and by sheer will alone; he was able to grab it. Using his last bit of strength he turned the gun on Ethan and pulled the trigger.

  Animal swam through blood and brains trying to make it to higher ground. The entire staircase was flooded now and he had a hard time determining which way was up. Follow the bubbles, he repeated over and over in his head. He was able to swim to the top of the stairs only to find that his way had been blocked by one of the canisters that had slid in front of the door when the ship started to go down. His last chance was to try and reach the small hatch just above him. He kicked as hard as he could, but he felt himself weakening. His lungs felt like they were about to explode. When he felt himself blacking out he knew it was over. He would never see his children again, but he gained some measure of peace knowing he and Gucci would soon be reunited.

  *

  Animal thought he was dreaming when he felt hands pressing up and down on his chest. He opened his eyes just in time to see Cain leaning in about to give him mouth to mouth. The unexpected sight scared him so badly that he snapped bolt upright and the two knocked heads. He broke into a fit of coughing, expelling the water that had made it to his lungs. He looked around and was surprised to see himself surrounded by Ashanti, Zo, and the twins.

  “I’d say he’s okay now,” Cain said, rubbing his forehead where it had collided with Animal’s.

  “What the fuck happened?” Animal asked looking at the relieved faces. It was then that he realized Sonja was absent.

  “We were hoping you could tell us,” Ashanti said. “We heard the bomb go off then the ship started sinking. We tried to wait for you, but there were soldiers everywhere. We barely made it off the boat ourselves. For a minute, we thought we’d lost you.”

  “You know I’m harder to kill than most,” Animal joked. He made to get to his feet and was overcome by a wave of dizziness.

  “Take it easy, homie. You were in the drink for quite some time.” Zo helped to steady him.

  “How did I get off the boat?” Animal asked. He didn’t remember much of anything after shooting Ethan.

  Cain shrugged. “We’ve got no clue. We found you floating in the wreckage. The strange thing about it was that somebody saw fit to strap a life preserver on you first, before tossing you into the water.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a guardian angel,” Ashanti said.

  “A guardian angel indeed,” Animal said while trying to put the pieces back together in his head. “Where’s Sonja?”

  “Gone,” Abel told him. “Sneaky bitch clocked me over the head and took off with the car and the messenger bag. Homie, I know that’s your B.M. and all that, but the next time I see that broad it’s on sight!”

  “Don’t worry. I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of Red Sonja,” Animal told him. Reflexively, he stuck his hand in his pocket and felt something soggy at the bottom of it. When he removed his hand from his pocket, he noticed that it was completely blue.

  “What’s that?” Cain asked curiously.

  Animal tried to wipe his hand on his pants, but only succeeded in making more of a mess. “I’m not entirely sure yet, but I have a feeling that whatever this is has a big part to play in all this.”

  “Well, we ain’t got no car, no money, and a bunch of dirty guns on us. What should we do?” Ashanti asked.

  Animal shrugged. “Start walking I guess.”

  The five young weary warriors started their long trek back to civilization. Their mission hadn’t had the expected results, but it wasn’t a complete loss. Lilith’s shipment was fish food, Sonja had finally showed her true colors, and Animal had lived to continue the pursuit of his children and take revenge for his loved ones. No matter what happened, blood would answer for blood.

  “What happened to your face?” Zo asked.

  Animal touched his fingers to his cheek and they came away stained with blood. There was a thin cut along his jaw, just below his ear. Ironically it was the exact same spot as the scar he had given his brother Justice.

  EPILOGUE

  When Detectives Brown and Alvarez reported for work the next day they felt like they had just stepped into the Twilight Zone. There were at least two dozen people crowded at the sergeant’s desk, all trying to talk at the same time. The phones were ringing off the hook, and every able body available scrambled back and forth to try and get a hold on things.

  From what they’d learned, the strange activity from the night before hadn’t been just limited to the murders they were chasing, there had also been a gas explosion that wiped out an entire apartment on the Westside, and a boat had sank at the Port of Newark.

  “Hey, Detective Brown, a fax came for you this morning from the lab in Brooklyn,” a thin cop whose name escaped him called.

  “Man, sure hope they got a hit on that blood sample,” Detective Brown said excitedly, cutting across the room with his partner on his heels. He was so anxious that he grabbed the folder without bothering to say thank you. Hands trembling with hope, he opened it. They’d gotten lucky and the person who’d bled on that street was in the database for violent offenders. When he saw the accompanying picture all he could say was, “Holy shit!”

  “What is it?” Detective Alvarez pressed. Detective Brown held the picture up for his partner to see, and he too was stunned. They were more than familiar with the second shooter because they’d been chasing him since he was in pampers. He was a young trigger man who went by the name Ashanti.

  A SNEAK PEAK AT THE HIGHLY

  ANTICIPATED….

  “THE GOOD SON”

  A HOODLUM NOVEL

  CHAPTER 1

  Wally tugged at the neck line of what had once been a fresh white-tee and his fingers came away damp. He was sweating like a runaway slave with the massa hot on his heels. It was ninety-three degrees outside, and the heat trapped in the two-bedroom project apartment made it feel like the temperature was on hell. The air conditioner was busted and all they had to work with were two dollar-store fans that only circulated the hot air. Between the heat and the fumes coming from the kitchen, Wally felt like he was going to fall out, but he reasoned it was all a part of the job.

  In the kitchen, Melinda stood over the stove, whipping two pots like she was making Sunday dinner. She was auditioning for a job with the new crew who had set up shop, so she knew she had to bring her best whip game. A bead of sweat rolled down her butter colored cheek, and splashed on the mural she had tatted on her forearm in memory of her deceased brother True. Ambidextrously she worked the water around in both pots at the same time, watching the cocaine and baking soda take their marital vows before the drug gods and forge a union known as crack. When she was satisfied with the consistency, she whipped the pots around once more for good measure before taking them from the heat and sitting them on the dining room table.

  One of the fiends they had at the spot to test the finished product danced too close to the pots and Melinda met him with a forearm the chest. “You can’t taste the meal until it’s done. When it cools, you’ll get your blast.”

  “C’mon shorty, I can take my steak rare. Just let me wet my beak right quick.” The fiend shuffled in place, scratching his arm and sucking up the drips hitting the b
ack of his throat. There was no way to say for sure when he’d last fixed, but his extreme thirst made it seem like a while.

  Melinda didn’t like the desperate look in the fiend’s eyes. Her hand swept across the table and inconspicuously picked up one of the razors they’d bought to cut the crack up. She hoped to God she wouldn’t have to use it, but she was prepared to.

  “Yo, why don’t you be the fuck easy?” A slender light skinned dude stepped into the living room. He was dressed in a Nike jogging suit, with a gold chain and cross hanging down his chest. From the way everyone in the room perked up, you could tell he was the man in charge. “How we looking?” he asked Melinda.

  “I just whipped the last two,” Melinda nodded to the two pots.

  The slim kid picked one of the pots up and examined it. Floating in the bottom of the cloudy water was a perfectly round cookie. “You got skills, kid,” he told Melinda.

  “Shit, I been in the kitchen since I was a kid. I told you I had the god-hand with it. Y’all need to stop fronting and put me on the payroll,” Melinda said.

  “Yeah, we might have a position to you,” the slim kid cracked a smile. “Yo Wally, go find them other two young boys and have them come up here and help you cut this shit up. We about to flood the hood.”

  “I’m on it,” Wally moved for the door. He had just undone the lock when the door burst open. He never got a good look at the person who had kicked the door open, but he had a great view of the stars that danced in front of his eyes when the baseball bat made contact with his head.

  Two men rushed the pad, holding automatic weapons and wearing masks and ordering everyone to freeze. They were led by the young boy who had swung the bat. He wore his hair in box braids with red bandana tied around his head. He opted not to cover his face, because he wanted his victims to know exactly who they were dealing with. He saw Wally trying to get up and gave him another whack with the bat. He hit him and over and continued hitting Wally long after he’d stopped moving. Everyone in the room was horrified about Tech’s display of brutality, which was just what he was shooting for. He wanted to leave no doubt in anyone’s mind about how far he was willing to go in the streets.

  “I think he’s dead, so you can stop hitting him,” Swann entered the apartment. He was a light skinned kid who looked more Hispanic than black. His sandy hair was neatly braided into cornrows that hung to his shoulders. Physically, Swann was a pretty boy, but mentally he was as ugly as they came. His exploits in the streets had earned him a reputation as a killer, and a seat at the table of one of the most notorious crime families in the eastern United States, the Clarks.

  “What the fuck is this about?” the slim kid asked as if he didn’t already know what was up. He thought he would be able to fly under the radar and get his weight up a bit before he had to deal with the problem that he knew would come from opening up a crack spot in a hood that was claimed as property of the Clark family.

  Swann looked at Tech, who stepped forward and smacked the slim kid. “Nigga, you know what it is. You been warned about this bullshit, but you still trying to violate so now you gonna get violated,” Tech barked.

  The slim kid looked like he wanted to try Tech, but he knew better. Tech was the alpha male in the Dog Pound, a crew of young hitters who were about the business of mayhem. None of them were old enough to drink, but they were old enough to kill. The slim kid figured he could probably take Tech in a fist fight, but whether he won or lost the end result would be the same. He would die.

  The slim kind finally found his voice and addressed him. “I know you said we couldn’t pump around here unless it was y’all work, so I was just trying to sell off what lil bit I had left so I can get up out your way.”

  Swann looked at the two fresh brewed pots on the counter. “And this is why you still cooking and bagging?”

  The slim kid looked at the paraphernalia on the table. His lie was a weak one, and he knew it before he’d told it, but it didn’t stop him. He had a feeling this was about to go poorly, so he tried to appeal to Swann’s nostalgic side. “Swann, you know what it is to be a young nigga struggling, you been there. Every kid in the hood has heard the stories of how you gave it up as a young outlaw trying to get to the top.”

  Swann’s lips twisted into a scowl. “The fact that you know my history and you still tried this dumb shit only makes me feel more disrespected,” Swann picked up one of the coffee pots with the crack cookies floating in them. “You lil niggaz always wanna throw that shit out there about how you like us, but you ain’t like us. Y’all punks, out here stepping on toes, because you so thirsty to get noticed. Well guess what, we see you now homie,” he smashed the coffee pot against the slim kid’s head. He looked at the slim kid, now on the floor crying, and shook his head in disgust. He turned to Tech. “Earn yo stripes, Blood, but leave nothing to chance. Everybody is aboard on this flight.”

  “Swann, you gotta be kidding leaving this young boy to clean up this mess. He ain’t ready,” one of the masked men said. He was the burlier of the two.

  Swann looked at him. “And I was how old when you and Tommy used to give me guns to play with, Doc?” he asked. The burly masked man didn’t have an answer. “Exactly,” Swann said and turned back to Tech. “When you done, toss the pad. All you find all you keep. Consider it a bonus.”

  “Say no more,” Tech dropped the bat and drew a 9mm from his waistband.

  “Wait, you gonna kill me over a few sales?” the slim kid asked in a frantic tone.

  “Nah, I’m gonna kill you so the rest of these muthafuckas know what happens to clown ass niggaz who go against the grain,” Tech told him before pulling the trigger. The bullet took the slim kid off his feet and slammed him into the window. Tech shot him twice more, painting the wall and table with blood. When he was done with the slim kid he turned his attention to Melinda.

  Melinda threw her hands up defensively. “Wait, wait, wait, I ain’t got nothing to do with this. I was just trying to make some extra money cooking up for some work. I don’t even know these dudes like that.”

  “Next time, be smarter with the company you keep,” Tech said and prepared to finish her.

  “Hold on, youngster,” Swann said. He was examining the remaining coffee pot. He turned his eyes to Melinda. “You got some skills, ma. You want a job?”

  Melinda hesitated; making sure it wasn’t a trick question. “Ah…yeah,” she stammered.

  “Cool, come see me tomorrow morning and I’m gonna put you to work. I don’t think I have to tell you what’ll happen if you ever breathe a word of what happened here, right?” Swann asked.

  “Hell no, I ain’t seen shit and I don’t know shit,” Melinda assured him.

  Swann nodded. “Good answer. You start tomorrow morning at eleven.”

  “But wait, how will I find you?” Melinda asked. “You won’t have to, I’ll send somebody to pick you up,” Swann told her.

  “But you don’t even know where I live.”

  “I will by tomorrow morning,” Swann winked. “Just some food for thought in case you get any big ideas, ma. The name is Swann. Ask anybody in the hood how I give it up.” Swann turned and addressed his crew. “Let’s make moves. Shai’s function starts in a few hours and it’d be in poor taste for us to show up late.”