by Aiden James
“Did you get that Juan?” Francisco asked as he looked over his shoulder toward the van’s driver.
“Yeah, I did,” said Jack before Juan could answer. He surprised everyone except Jeremy. If they’d known this was also his first visit to Pepper’s Gym, despite his fondness for Deshawn, they might have already nominated him for this task. The only problem was his and Jeremy’s faces had been continually plastered across every television screen in the area, and quite possible he would be easily recognized.
Despite the risk, Francisco relented to Jack’s insistence on retrieving the duffel bag from Deshawn’s locker. After learning the layout of the building from Jeremy, the group formulated a plan to do this as quickly and covertly as possible. They decided that Juan and another man named Phillipe would lead the way through the main entrance with Jack following discreetly behind them. Phillipe and Juan would strike up a conversation with Pete McCormick while Jack went to use the men’s restroom, located near Deshawn’s locker. From there, Jack would quickly remove the bag from the locker and they would promptly leave the building, hopefully unnoticed.
After deciding on what they would say to Pete McCormick and anyone else who approached them, Juan and Philippe stepped out of the van, walking swiftly through the rain toward the main entrance with Jack right behind them. Pete saw them coming up the steps, and greeted them as they came through the main entrance. Without waiting for this traditional salutation, Jack veered away from him while Juan and Phillipe apologized for their friend’s apparent rude behavior. They explained he was plagued with irregularities and needed to use a restroom very quickly. When Pete wondered aloud how their friend knew the restroom’s location, Juan said he had come here before for a similar emergency, and the gracious host working that day had shown him where it was.
“Tell him next time there’s one closer, down this other hallway,” said Pete, his usual habit to be so helpful. “I guess this is part of your route, huh?”
“My what?” said Juan, not sure what Pete meant.
“Your route,” he repeated. “The places you normally stop at when you’ve got a delivery for World Express.”
“Ah, yes, that is correct,” said Juan, looking uncomfortable, as if silently praying their cover hadn’t been blown.
“So where are ya’ll off to next, tonight?” asked Pete, looking past them to where Jack stood in front of Deshawn’s locker. “It looks like your buddy’s finished. I believe it’s time for me to introduce myself. My goal is to not let anyone pass through these doors without a warm welcome.”
“That surely won’t be necessary—”
“Ah, it’ll only take a minute,” Pete insisted. He slid past both Juan and Phillipe.
Jack had just opened the door to Deshawn’s locker when Pete got there. He stopped and stared in shock once Jack lifted the heavy duffel bag out of the locker and turned to face him. The hand he held out in welcome began to quiver when he peered up into the face glaring at him from under the “World Express’ ball cap’s protective bill.
“Y-you’re that guy!” Pete stammered excitedly. “Y-y-you’re Jack Kenney!!”
The building seemed deserted…almost, anyway. Jack thought about just punching the kid and getting the hell out of there. But someone else was there, too, working hard in the weight room nearby. The moment Pete mentioned Jack’s full name, the steady clank ceased. The person now coming, Jack faced a distinct disadvantage if it turned into a fight—not to mention this lifter might have a friend spotting him during his workout.
“Run, Señor Kenney!! We need to leave now!!!”
Juan and Phillipe waved anxiously for him to join them by the main entrance. Running footsteps emerged from the weight room, and Jack immediately shoved Pete out of the way. As he fell, he tripped a pair of heavily muscled body builders. .
“Goddamn it you stupid sissy!!” one of the men screamed at poor Pete. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?? I ought to kick….”
The rest was muffled as Jack sprinted out of the building. He caught up with Juan and Phillipe at the van. They climbed inside quickly and Juan started the van up again. Just as they pulled away, the two body builders appeared in the street behind them, throwing a pair of dumbbell bars that glanced off the van’s roof.
“Boy, that went well!” Jeremy observed, snickering as he watched the enraged pair grow smaller in the rearview mirror. “‘Looks like you’ve made the acquaintance of Steve Traylor and Willie Shields. It’d be just like you to say something to piss em’ off, Jackie!”
“That other fellow inside the gym was the problem,” Juan explained. “He insisted on speaking with Jack, and Phillipe and I could not stop him.”
“You did fine, Juan,” Francisco assured him. “After all, we retrieved what we came for.”
Once far enough from the gym on Hyacinth Avenue the vans turned onto a darkened side street. As a precaution, Francisco had two of his men switch the license plates on both vehicles with a pair of extras kept handy for situations like this.
“Rafael, would you do the honor?” he asked his assistant once the plates were switched.
He held the duffel bag while Rafael unzipped it. Immediately, the stench of rotting meat and other spoiled food poured forth from the bag, for Deshawn had packed several perishable items that had been left in his gym locker for the past day and a half. Another smell, more ominous, was present as well.
Rafael bravely dug his hands into the depths of the bag with everyone else crowding around him to get a better view of its contents. Soon his hands found something large and round, and Rafael briefly smiled as if he had found the Cristal Del Sol. But then he frowned, and a look of disgust and horror spread across his face. With everyone else moving in closer for a better view, he pulled out Deshawn Wheatley’s severed head.
“I swear to God I’m going to KILL her!!” shrieked Jeremy, his pain from earlier hitting him much harder now. “That god...damned...wicked fucking BITCH!!!!... COME FIND ME, GENOVENE!!!”
Pummeling his fists against the side of the van’s sliding side door he broke the skin on his knuckles.
Jeremy far more inconsolable this time, for the moment everyone else tolerated the stench as best they could. If his shrieks rang out in the middle of the night, it would immediately destroy their fragile cover. The city largely deserted; still some residents remained, hoping to ride out the severe weather on its way.
But the nauseating stench became unbearable. Despite the rainstorm and the risk of being discovered, everyone jumped out of the van, retching horribly on the pavement around the vehicle. Several lights came on along the darkened street while Francisco frantically urged everyone back inside the van. Meanwhile, Jack took Deshawn’s head and the duffel bag out of the van and scurried across the alley. After placing his friend’s head facedown in a muddy flower garden, he took the bag to a nearby dumpster. His hands slick from the rain and Deshawn’s blood, the bag slipped from his grasp and fell open, spilling condiment jars and beer bottles noisily onto the street.
More lights from the neighborhood came on, and he had no choice but to leave the bag hanging halfway out of the dumpster. On his way back to the van he saw something glisten in the street, a small key ring holding a pair of steel keys and a smaller brass one. Thinking they might prove important he scooped up the keys, scurrying back to the van.
“Stop!!” a man shouted from a front porch across the street. He aimed a small handgun at Jack. “Show yourself or I’ll shoot!!!”
Jack ignored him, diving into the van’s side door as a shot whistled above his head. The Bolivians pulled him the rest of the way into the vehicle as it sped off, with the other van right behind it.
“What’ve you got there, Jackie?” Jeremy asked him as he showed the keys to Francisco and Rafael. His face was red-streaked from additional tears.
“I believe these were inside the duffel bag.”
He handed Jeremy the keys, wondering if he would mourn for him like this, should he not survive the dea
dly peril they still faced.
“These all go to Deshawn’s Kawasaki,” said Jeremy. “If the police haven’t taken it, it should still be in his storage area next to Lavernies’s apartment.”
He studied the keys in his hand, and for the first time since hearing the news of his best friend’s death earlier that night he smiled, though weakly.
“Francisco, please take us to Deshawn’s apartment.”
“Why do you wish to go there?” he asked. “From what I understand, the place is still taped off and the police regularly patrol the area.”
“You’ve seen how it is right now. The wind and rain have picked up significantly over the past half hour, and we’ve hardly seen anybody hanging around outside,” said Jeremy. “Since it’s almost two in the morning, I’ll bet there isn’t a cop within five miles of the place.”
“You still did not answer my question, Jeremy,” said Francisco, drawing the attention of Rafael, who seemed sick to his stomach, judging by his pallor.
“Ya’ll came up here to find the Cristal Del Sol, and now that we’ve looked in the most logical place, I think it’s safe to say that Genovene has it in her possession,” he said. “The only place left to search is the estate at 1016 South Queens Court, which I strongly believe is what ya’ll should do. But me and Jack—if he’s willing to come along—we need to check on our grandfather. My intent is to meet ya’ll at the estate afterward, and you won’t even have to drive us far from here. If you’ll just drop Jack and me off near Deshawn’s apartment, less than a mile away, I’ll take care of the rest.”
Francisco quietly discussed the idea with Rafael, whose main concern was how the bike would handle in this weather. They both finally conceded to Jeremy’s wish.
“Is this your desire as well, Jack, or would you rather come with us?” asked Francisco.
“I’d prefer to stick with my brother, if ya’ll don’t mind.”
“All right. So, we shall take you both to Deshawn’s apartment as you wish, and separate for now.”
Jeremy directed Juan on which roads to take in order to reach Stillwell Street. The van crept forward until it sat directly across from Sherwood Apartments. His assumption proved correct. The area was completely deserted by everyone, including the police. Even the tape that had blocked all access to the second floor appeared limited to Deshawn’s front door.
“I’m going to run over to the storage area and see if the bike’s there. If it is, I’ll signal for Jackie to join me,” he advised, just before stepping out of the van.
He quickly moved across the street and hid behind a juniper bush near the apartment building’s basement stairwell where the storage area sat. The red Kawasaki’s front fender and headlight were visible near the base of the stairwell. Deshawn’s helmet dangled by a chinstrap attached to the handlebars. Jeremy moved back to the street and signaled to the others that the bike was there.
Jack stepped out of the van, ready to tell the others goodbye for now, when Francisco stopped him. He handed Jack the 9mm handgun and extra clip taken from Jeremy when the Essenes abducted the brothers two days before.
“Hopefully you won’t need this,” he said, making sure Jack concealed the weapon and placed the clip in one of his pants’ front pockets. “If we do not see one another again during this crisis, remember that both of you are always welcome at our home in Bolivia. Think of it as your home too. When ready to find us, contact the Bishop Ramon Espinoza, who is head of the Roman Catholic Church in La Paz. He will know how to contact us. Otherwise, if necessary before then, we will find you no matter where you go. May Elohim be with you both!”
He gave Jack a warm hug and asked him to give the same to Jeremy for him. Rafael limped out of the van and gave him a warm hug as well.
“I expect to hear from you soon, amigo,” he said softly. “I will keep two cigars waiting for you and your brother!”
With misty eyes he smiled and then limped back to the van. Francisco assisted him before climbing into the passenger seat.
“Please take care of yourselves!” Jack told them, waving to the others in the van.
“May Elohim be with you, Señor Kenney!” Juan and Phillipe replied, just before Phillipe closed the van’s sliding door.
A moment later both vans sped away, heading toward the other side of the University of Alabama’s deserted campus.
***
As soon as the vans disappeared from view, Jack ran across the street to where his brother waited for him by the stairwell’s entrance. Surprised to see the gun again, Jeremy smiled as he took it and the extra clip from Jack, promptly stuffing the gun inside his belt after he checked to make sure it was still loaded. He placed the clip in his pants’ front pocket and turned his attention to Deshawn’s motorcycle.
“Deshawn hasn’t ridden this thing in nearly a month, and as tight as things would get for him every now and then, I hope it’s got enough gas to get us to Grandpa’s.”
He led Jack down the stairway and insisted that he wear Deshawn’s helmet. Using the small brass key he freed the bike from a long steel cable attached to an iron pipe in the floor.
“Man, this thing’s still as beautiful as when he first finished working on it!” said Jack, admiring the detailed artwork on the bike’s side once Jeremy rolled it out into the security lamp’s glow from above the stairwell. The metallic pigments Deshawn had carefully chosen to create his African goddess seemed to absorb all of the illumination touching the image. “You can tell he took excellent care of it, and must’ve really loved it.”
“Not as much as I would’ve done, Jackie,” said Jeremy, using the ignition key to turn on the gas gauge to where they could see how much fuel was left in the bike.
Roughly an eighth of a tank left, and enough to get them to their grandfather’s place on the south side of town, Jack worried it might not get them all the way to South Queens Court. Jeremy disagreed, stating he thought they’d be fine.
“I would’ve kept this thing locked up in his apartment, which I constantly tried to get him to do,” continued Jeremy. “I guess he was always a little more trusting of the goodness in most people than me.”
Sudden movement in the shadows startled them both. A shadowed figure stood up.
“Who’s there?” demanded Jeremy, taking a step toward the darkness before him.
“It’s me, man,” a young man’s soft voice replied.
“Lavernies?”
“Yeah, Jeremy…it’s Lavernies,” he confirmed, moving out of the shadows to where both Jeremy and Jack could see him.
Though his eyes were swollen and red from grief, anyone would recognize Deshawn’s handsomeness in his younger brother. Not as tall and muscular as his much-admired older sibling, Lavernies stood at least an inch above either Kenney.
“What are you doing down here, man?” asked Jeremy, a question just as appropriate for him and Jack to answer.
“I...I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t stay in my place after what happened, and Mr. Johnson, the landlord, told me I could move for free into another apartment. But, I don’t know….”
“Where are Rondell and Cecil?”
“They left with everybody else. Cecil’s got an aunt in Birmingham, so they’re going to stay with her ‘til the storm passes over,” said Lavernies.
Now that he had a chance to study him, Jack noticed the stubble on his usually clean-shaven face, and he likely hadn’t eaten or bathed since the terrible tragedy rocked his world. Extremely close to Deshawn, as hard as Jeremy took Deshawn’s death, it had to be incredibly worse for Lavernies.
“I’m so sorry about Deshawn, man,” Jeremy told him. He started crying again.
“I know you are,” Lavernies said softly, trying to fight back his own tears, but unable to do so. “I know you and Jackie had nothing to do with this, regardless of what the cops keep saying….”
He began sobbing and Jeremy went over to him. They embraced, suffering from common grief while Jack looked on, feeling horrible that he couldn�
�t comfort either one. His own closeness to Deshawn genuine, as well as the immense sense of loss he now felt, but his suffering wasn’t on the profound emotional level as Jeremy and Lavernies.
“I’d offer for you to come and join us, but we’re headed for the closest thing to hell on earth,” said Jeremy, after he and Lavernies drew apart from each other. “Is there some place we can take you, so you’re not here by yourself?”
“I prefer to be alone for a while, man,” he said, though obvious he appreciated the offer. “I’ll be all right down here, ya’ll. This is as good as any storm cellar, and it gives me time to think. But I doubt any of this will ever make sense.”
He glanced back toward the dark corner of the storage area where he’d been when the brothers unknowingly invaded his space.
“There’s one thing I think you’ll need,” he said, returning his attention to them. “I’ll be right back.”
Lavernies ran up the stairwell and disappeared. The sound of his apartment door opening was the only clue as to where he went. A moment later, he closed the door and appeared at the top of the stairwell in the rain with another helmet in his hand.
“Jackie, this one’s a little smaller than Deshawn’s and I think it’ll fit you.”
“Are you sure you want to let me use that?”
Jack knew Deshawn had given it to him as a Christmas present. The helmet was black with a decaled fiery tree symbol on the side, which Deshawn once said represented the ambitions and boundless spirit he admired in his younger brother.
“Yeah, I am,” he said, after a brief deliberation. “Come on up, ya’ll. There’s a cop who’s been coming by here every hour or so, and he should be back in a few minutes.”
Jeremy brought the motorcycle up the stairwell with Jack’s assistance, where Lavernies handed Jack his helmet. This time, both Jack and Jeremy gave Lavernies a warm hug as he stood under the awning near his apartment.
