by Sa'id Salaam
“Son, what the fuck are you talking about? Where is Joe? Put Karate Joe on the phone!” he barked.
“He dead, too. The same chick that killed Sin killed her, too,” Villain said.
“Short, pretty chick with a fat ass and curly hair?” Killa asked, knowing who it had to be; but even that made no sense.
“Yup, that’s her,” he replied, looking over at the mangled body to be sure. “She dead, too. Fell off the roof, too.”
It took Killa several moments to force words from his mouth. The first couple of tries only yielded pain-filled croaks. “Are there any kids out there? With the other girl?”
“Nah, yo,” he answered after scanning the crowd for any new faces.
“Be on the lookout for them. I’m on my way,” Killa managed. As hard as it was, he now had to deliver the news to Rico, Xavier and Grandma.
****
“Any of yous know who they are?” a cop standing near the fallen soldiers asked. Around there, the mantra was ‘fuck the police’ so most people turned their heads.
“That’s my cousin, Sincerity,” Sincerity’s cousin moaned. She was in genuine mourning but she also wanted the bad ass sneakers her cousin had on her feet.
“What about this one?” he asked, hoping to ID Yolo as well.
No one replied because no one knew. They’d all seen her coming and going over the years but none had ever spoke to her.
The phone in Yolo’s pocket began to vibrate.
“Detective.”
“Hello?” the detective asked into the phone.
Shyne heard the strange man and knew her mother was gone. Not only would she never allow anyone else to answer her phone, she’d also never not come pick them up.
“What?” Sun asked, seeing his sister turn pale and drop the phone.
“Mommy is dead,” she announced. She wanted to cry but wouldn’t in front of the strange men. Sun, on the other hand, wailed and cried loudly upon hearing the news. “Stop crying. You have to take care of me now.”
“O-o-okay,” he sniffled and worked to turn off the water works. He never cried again after that day.
“Hello?” the zoo security guard asked into the open line. He shook his head as he got the same sad news. Neither could help the other so they hung up and went on about their business.
The detective noticed an SD card and popped it out. He inserted it into his phone and got an eyeful of Killa’s dick. Had he shown the picture around, a few of the female residents would have recognized it. Killa had been quite the dick slinger while growing up in the projects. Instead, he kept it to himself and for himself.
“Well, if you guys still won’t talk, you’re going to have to go to foster care,” the guard announced, hoping to scare the twins into talking. Neither said a word, so he called Child Protective Services.
“Just chill. As soon as we can get on a computer, we can talk to Christi,” Sun mumbled when the guard got back on the phone.
He thought he heard talking but the twins were tight lipped when he snapped his head in their direction. He shrugged and continued his conversation. He hated sending the children into the fucked up New York City foster care system but had no other choice.
****
“Hello, I’m Miss Davis. And what are your names?” the social worker sang into their faces when she arrived. She was too close for comfort and smelled like menthols. Not to mention that she was speaking to them like they were babies. Shyne reared back to kick her in her throat but Sun caught her leg.
“They won’t say nothing,” the guard pleaded once more. He had begged for an aunt, sister, or someday, anybody to talk to that would keep them out of foster care.
The twins had their minds made up not to speak and wouldn’t. They were Killa’s kids and knew he would save them. They were Yolo’s kids and figured they could handle whatever came their way until they reached the Bronx Children and Family Service building.
Sun came close to speaking when they were led into the chaotic building. The air conditioner was set on high to prevent germs but forced a shitty diaper smell down their throats when they walked in. Security guards tussled with a rowdy teen caught smoking in a bathroom.
“Are you guys hungry?” Miss Davis asked sweetly. Both were hungry but due to the smell of the place they both shook their heads no. The woman frowned, knowing that they should be after their ordeal. Their mother was listed as a Jane Doe in the same morgue as Sincerity and her father. “Okay, let’s get you to your rooms so you can get some rest. Girls are upstairs and boys down.”
The twins shook their heads ‘no’ once more and began to back away. A security guard saw the reaction and came around behind them.
“Easy now,” the guard advised as he eased up on them. Sun and Shyne pressed their backs against each other’s just like they’d done in their mother’s womb. Except now it was a battle stance.
“Maurice, I think you should relax. These poor children have been through quite an ordeal today,” the social worker pleaded.
“Don’t worry, I got them,” he lied. He didn’t have shit because as soon as he rushed in, Shyne savagely kicked him between his legs.
The guard felt like his balls had exploded but he didn’t have time to scream. The twins spun so Sun was facing him. Being doubled over in pain put him in perfect position for a perfectly placed roundhouse. The kick to the temple turned him off like a light switch.
“Code nine in intake! Code nine in intake!” went out over the intercom. In moments, the area filled with the security guards. The twins kept their backs together and assumed karate stances.
“Wait!” Miss Davis insisted and rushed between the kids and security guards. “They just lost their mom and didn’t want to be separated! I’ll put them in medical for the night.”
“Rules say boys downstairs and girls up,” the security chief said.
“Those same rules say no fraternization either!” she shot back.
It was no secret that the handsome Puerto Rican was fucking everything that moved. A couple of female guards blushed and batted their eyelashes.
“So, medical then?” he relented and backed away.
Miss Davis waited until they scooped up their fallen comrade and left before speaking. “You guys sure I can’t call anyone? An aunt, grandmother? Anyone?” she pleaded. The kids just stared at her without even blinking. She gave up with a deep sigh and said, “Follow me.”
Sun and Shyne watched her walked down the hallway. He traced her panty lines with his eyes while she admired her shoes. They took each other’s hand and followed her down the hall. When she held a medical door open, Sun held his sister back and peeked in first. Seeing no danger, he led the way inside.
“I’ll be right back,” Miss Davis said, closing the door behind herself.
“Let’s go,” Sun said the split second after she left. He tried the door but it was locked. “Shit!”
“Let’s jump her when she gets back. Tie her up and get out of here,” Shyne suggested.
“No, she’s got a nice ass. I mean, she’s nice, I don’t want to hurt her,” Sun replied. “Besides, how we gonna get out of the building? We don’t even know where we are or how to get home.”
“You’re right, I guess. Nasty, but right,” Shyne relented. No sooner did she finish than the door opened and in walked the social worker.
“It’s not the greatest but better than nothing,” she said of the vending machine food she’d returned with. She sat the burritos, chips and soda on the table but the kids didn’t budge.
Sun signed ‘thank you’ in sign language. Miss Davis smiled in appreciation and backed out of the door. Once she was gone, they dug in and smashed their first meal since breakfast. Yolo was supposed to take them to lunch, but she’d died.
“Help me,” Sun said, and began pushing the table against the door. It wouldn’t prevent anyone from entering but it would make enough noise to wake them up.
The twins got in the one bed and pressed their backs together and w
ent to sleep. Just like they’d done in their mother’s womb.
Chapter 13
“Excuse me, sir,” the flight attendant said tentatively.
The passenger had the far away gaze of someone deeply troubled. It was obvious that he’d just suffered a loss of some sort. He was handsome, though, and she wondered if a shot of her hot vagina might lift his spirits.
“Huh?” Killa asked, finally looking up from his lap.
“The plane has landed. They have to clean it,” she offered softly.
Killa looked around and noticed not only had they landed, but everyone else had exited already. He stood with the creaking knees that come with getting older and retrieved his bag from the overhead compartment. “Thanks,” he replied. He noticed how pretty she was and knew she had some good pussy from the tone of her voice.
When a woman has some really good vagina, it creates a slight rasp in her voice. She had it but now wasn’t a good time to pursue finding out. In fact, this was the absolute worse time of his entire life.
Killa was on complete autopilot as he navigated his way uptown to the Bronx. He exited the D train at Yankee Stadium and decided to walk up the hill. Soon, he entered the project’s courtyard.
“A-yo!” Villain called out when he saw his wounded mentor wander in.
Killa turned and headed in his direction. “Sup, yo,” Killa greeted and plopped down next to him on the park bench. Villain didn’t have any flowers or a condolence card to offer so he passed him a blunt. Killa took it and took a long pull. He held it in for just over a minute before exhaling a plume of smoke along with a question. “What happened?”
“Yo…that shit was crazy!” he replied animatedly. He realized who he was talking to and toned it down several notches. “First, they banged it out with the hammers. Then, they ran out of bullets and had a sword fight. Next, they shot a head up but nobody could get off. Then finally, they got on the ledge…”
“Who won?” Killa heard himself ask then wondered why he did.
“You mean, hit the ground first? Or…last?” Villain asked, confused at how to pick a winner when they both lost their life.
“Never mind,” he said and took another pull form the blunt. Villain realized he wasn’t getting it back and pulled out another one. “See you later.”
“Peace,” he said to his friend’s back as he departed.
****
Killa headed over to his Harlem hideout instead of driving to Long Island. Once he got inside, he realized he had yet to turn on his stateside cell phone. It began to ring the moment he did. He eagerly accepted the calls in hopes of good news about his Sun and Shyne.
“Hello!” he shouted, startling a shaken up Christi even more.
“I can’t reach Yolo! Shyne isn’t answering her phone and when I called Sun…a monkey answered!” she moaned.
“Yolo, um…is…dead. She died,” he said, finally accepting it himself. The line went silent as Christi struggled to figure out what he could have meant by dead.
“And…” was all of the question that would fit out of her throat. Her heart was already broken so any more bad news might kill her.
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “No answer at the house and no one has seen or heard from them.”
“I’m on my way to the airport,” Christi declared and hung up. She didn’t even bother to pack a bag for the trip to New York. Luckily for her, she had plenty clothes at home. The next plane out of LAX wasn’t until the next morning and it cost fifteen hundred dollars for the last minute purchase.
Killa smoked another blunt and fell asleep in a chair. The busy sounds of Harlem woke him a few hours later. After splashing cold water on his face and brushing his teeth, he picked an identity from the several driver’s licenses he had in stock. Darius Jackson sounded like the type of guy who packed a thirty-eight, so he selected one from his cache of weapons.
The drive back over to the Bronx was a lot quicker than he remembered. Before he knew it, he had reached the medical examiner’s office. As he reached the door, he saw Sincerity’s aunt Rashida coming out.
“That’s fucked up, yo,” Rashida fussed. She was trying to maintain her South Bronx cool but finally broke down.
“I know,” he replied as the woman wept on his chest. He held her and let her get it all out. It broke his heart as it was, but knowing it was his fault made it even worse.
“I’ll take care of the arrangements,” she offered once she regained her composure, save for a few sniffles.
“I already did. I’ll text you the info,” he replied and went inside.
Since no one had claimed Yolo she was in the Jane Doe section. It was the lost and found for disposable people. Most would never be claimed by family or friends, who didn’t even know they had even died. Killa knew this place existed, but still wasn’t ready for what he found inside.
“Wow!” he exclaimed at the rows and rows of nameless corpse.
“Looking for anyone in particular?” the clerk asked. The slim, dark haired man had the creepy disposition that the place either required or developed.
“Female, about thirty-three. Fell of a roof,” Killa explained.
It was enough to light the necrophiliac’s eyes. “Oh yes!” he cheered with an elation that made Killa angry. You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry. He snarled at the man as he followed him down the rows. He found what he was looking for and snatched the sheet away with a ‘ta-dah’ that would cost him his life.
“That’s her,” he said in a voice simmering with rage. “Yolo Jackson. I’m her…brother. I’ll claim her body.”
“Shucks! I mean, that’s great,” he said, looking the naked corpse up and down. “I’ll get her ready for the funeral home.”
Killa frowned at both his reaction as well as the bulge of the erection in his pants. He gave Yolo’s corpse one final lustful look and signed his own death certificate. He may as well picked out a slab for himself.
“I would really like to thank you for caring for my sister. Let me send you a gift. What’s your address?” Killa asked without a trace of the extreme violence coming into his voice.
“One, twenty-five Grand Concourse…” the clerk rattled off, eager to supplement his meager earnings.
“Make sure you’re home tonight,” Killa advised as he signed for Yolo’s body. He left to go make all the arrangements for her as well.
****
“Who is it?” the coroner’s clerk song in response to the ringing of his doorbell. He checked his hair in the mirror and snatched the door open without waiting for a response. It was a mistake that he wouldn’t live enough to regret. Killa thrust a Taser into his neck and shocked him until he fell to the floor unconscious.
“Killa,” Killa answered as he stepped inside. He dragged the man out of the doorway and locked it behind him. The satchel was opened and out came the tools.
“What? Why? Who? How?” the confused clerk asked, since waking up naked in your bathtub with a strange man standing over you is pretty confusing.
“You gotta start with the penis,” Killa replied, just like Yolo would. He usually had his own technique for cutting up bodies but wanted to pay homage to his baby mama by using hers. He always wondered why she said to start with cutting off the penis and got his answer as soon as he did it.
“Yeeeeoooowww!” the clerk howled in soprano. Nothing says ‘shut the fuck up’ like stuffing a man’s own dick down his throat, so that’s exactly what he did.
“You sounded like Patti LaBelle,” Killa chuckled at the whimpering man. “Have you tried her pies? Not bad at all for store bought.”
The dying man had absolutely no use for Killa’s small talk, not when he was methodically cutting off his body parts. Every joint got separated as he worked his way up. The man was dead by the time Killa reached his hipbone. Once he finished, another Yolo memory caused a smile to spread across his face.
“It’s just like cutting chicken.”
Chapter 14
“Ma’am? Excuse
me, ma’am, we’ve landed,” the flight attendant said softly. The passenger was wide awake but staring off at nothing as the plane emptied in New York.
“Thanks,” Christi said as she stood. The flight from California to New York had never been so short before. She turned her phone back on, expecting to receive a text from Shyne asking about haircare or fashion. She sucked her teeth loudly when nothing came through. She checked her social media accounts and still nothing.
Christi had a rental on reserve and rushed out to Long Island. She held her breath when she turned onto their street and headed towards their house. She let out a sigh of relief at the child in the yard, but it was short lived.
“Asad,” she said to their faithful friend.
“Yup. Where’s Shyne and Sun?” he asked in order of their importance to him. He loved them both, but he was in love with Shyne. “I keep calling but no one is answering.”
“I know. I know,” she said and went inside the empty house. Once inside, she began calling every agency she could think of. The police, hospitals, fire departments –for Shyne, after all the girl did like playing with fire- and even child protective services. Only problem was, she was checking in Long Island instead of New York City.
****
“What are we going to do?” Shyne asked again the following day.
Sun had an idea but didn’t know how to implement it. “We gotta get on the internet,” he said, knowing that he could contact Christi who could contact their father.
“They got computers in the office. I’ll start a fire and you can sneak in,” she suggested. Actually, it was a pretty good plan but really she just wanted to start a fire.
“We need a lighter…oh!” he began but she pulled one out.
“Mommy forgot to search me,” she replied with a short lived snicker. The mention of their dead mother sucked the air out of the room. After a moment of silence, it was time to move.
“Good morning,” Miss Davis sang as she walked into the room. Sun started to make a move but the box of breakfast in her hands persuaded him to wait.
