Gutter

by K'wan

  “The boy has been laying low on the East, but it looks like the East done laid him low.”

  “Church.” Mo-Mo shook his head. “So when we supposed to be hitting New York?”

  “Shouldn’t be more than a few days. He’s got some things to tie up before we push out,” Reckless told him.

  “Dude, I can’t wait to get out there to the East. They say the money out there is sweeter than anything we’ve ever seen out here. And let’s not even talk about the bitches. I hear damn near every bitch in Harlem got an ass like a horse. They ain’t built like that out here, Blood, huh?”

  “A bitch is a bitch to me,” Reckless said, staring at his hands as if he had just discovered them. He loved to get high and analyze things. He had once spent an hour observing a roach he had trapped under a shot glass.

  “Blood, that water got you straight tripping.” Mo-Mo laughed. The humorous moment was short-lived when they heard gunshots and screams off in the distance. Before Mo-Mo could say anything, Reckless was as sober as a judge and on his feet, gun at the ready.

  “Fuck was that?” Reckless asked, eyes sweeping the block.

  “Man, Bay and them niggaz probably tripping,” Mo-Mo said, not bothering to reach for his gun, which was lying next to his chair. Though he was also a killer he didn’t function as well under the influence as Reckless.

  “Them dumb-ass niggaz is always making the block hot.” Reckless relaxed, but didn’t put his pistol away. “I’m gonna check that dumb-ass little nigga when I see him later on.”

  “Kick back, Blood, you know how it goes in the hood.” Mo-Mo relit the cigarette. He had just lifted the forty back to his lips when the bottle exploded, spraying him with beer and glass.

  “What’s up now, niggaz?” Rahkim roared, firing on the two young men. Rahkim was so anxious that he missed both targets, but he blew away damn near the entire wooden porch. Mo-Mo managed to fall off the chair while Reckless dipped behind a large flowerpot and returned fire.

  The car came to a catercorner stop, blocking half the street. The homeys filed out of the car and moved to strategic positions from where they could lay Reckless or anyone else who thought to aid them. They were on foreign soil so it was free fire on all aggressors. Ducking and firing, Gutter found cover behind a sturdy oak, and assessed the situation.

  Bullets flew with abandon, bringing chaos to the quiet block. It was almost as if Gutter had a front row seat to the premiere of his own movie. Danny was huddled against the car, clutching a shotgun to his chest. Gutter expected to see fear etched across his face, but instead he saw determination. His young protégé spun off the bumper and let a shell rip. Rahkim and Jynx took turns spraying the front of the house in an attempt to kill everyone inside. They had no intentions of taking prisoners. Seeing his homeys in combat stirred the monster in him. The promise of blood would finally be honored.

  chapter 38

  “WHERE THE fuck these nigga come from?” Mo-Mo shouted to Reckless over the gunfire.

  “I don’t know where they came from, but I know where I’m about to send them!” Reckless snarled, firing from behind the flowerpot. He wished his cousin had been there beside him, but Mo-Mo would have to do… or at least he hoped. While Mo-Mo was only fighting for one life, Reckless was fighting for three because his girlfriend and infant son were inside the house.

  Frustrated with the seemingly useless defensive stance, Reckless decided to press his enemies. When he saw an opening he darted out and tried to finish Rahkim, which would’ve equated to a dead enemy, had Gutter not shot him first. Reckless stumbled backward and crashed hard onto the porch.

  “Nigga caught me,” Reckless gasped as pain rocked the whole left side of his body. He tried to press his free hand over the wound to slow the bleeding, but it didn’t help.

  “Make for the pad!” Mo-Mo ducked and squeezed. The first shot shattered a car windshield, but the second struck Jynx in the thigh, spilling him to the concrete. Reckless slipped into the house, stumbling across the threshold.

  “They trying to turn tail, nephew, let’s finish these cowards!” Rahkim shouted, advancing on the house.

  Gutter’s movements were so swift that his uncle had to do a double take. He had heard stories while he was in prison about how efficient a killer his nephew had become, but seeing it with his own two eyes was like watching The Matrix. Gutter moved with the grace of a dancer, but the skill of a war vet. Dirt flew in the air from where Mo-Mo’s bullets struck, but he always seemed to be a fraction of a second too late to hit his target. Gutter faked left and went right, tossing himself to the dirt-filled front lawn, mashing the Glock’s triggers as he went.

  Mo-Mo’s right shoulder exploded, slamming him into the door frame of the house. He was able to keep the grip on his pistol, but couldn’t find the strength to raise his arm. Half falling into the house, Mo-Mo tried to slam the door behind him, but Rahkim was on his heels.

  “No, the fuck you don’t. I’ve waited too long for this here.” Rahkim kicked the door in.

  People were starting to stir from their houses to see what was going on, but a short blast from Danny’s shotgun sent them scattering. In the distance he could see a group of young men gathering, surely the soldiers of Lime Street rallying to combat the invading Crips.

  “Danny-Boy, Jynx!” Gutter shouted to them as he ascended the stairs. “Anybody come down here but ours, kill ’em!” he ordered before following Rahkim into the house.

  Danny-Boy dragged Jynx up on the porch and helped him into one of the vacated chairs. His leg was soaked, but his gun arm was as strong as ever. Once Jynx was positioned, Danny dropped to one knee, resting the shotgun on the porch rail and awaited his enemies.

  The inside of the house was a mass of chaotic sound when Gutter crossed the threshold. The television was tuned to BET and playing slightly louder than it needed to be. The smoke alarm blared as something left on the stove when the shooting started burned. An attractive Latino woman stood in the doorway of the kitchen chanting something Gutter couldn’t make out, while a child wailed somewhere in the distance. Mo-Mo tried to run across the living room, but Rahkim kicked him roughly in the ass, sending him bouncing off the wooden steps and onto the carpet.

  “Man, why you fucking wit us!” Mo-Mo yelled. He was in so much pain that he couldn’t even roll for his pistol, which had slid across the room when he bounced off the steps.

  “Cuz y’all fucked wit my family,” Gutter shot back, moving to where Mo-Mo was laid out.

  “Blood, Gunn drew first blood!” Mo-Mo tried to explain.

  “And we’re gonna draw the last,” Rahkim interrupted. “Now die with some fucking dignity!” There was a thunderous roar, but it hadn’t come from Rahkim’s gun. He looked at his nephew quizzically, as if he’d just realized the seriousness of what they were about to do. There was a neat hole in the center of his forehead that had just started to leak blood down his cheek. Rahkim opened his mouth to say something, but there was only the sound of him hitting the floor face first.

  “No!” Gutter howled, rushing to his uncle’s side. Rahkim flapped around on the floor like a wounded fish. The blood had now begun to squirt from his head, soaking into the carpet below, while Gutter looked on in horror. Rahkim’s karma had come back around to collect on the debt. No longer able to see his uncle suffer, he finished him with a heart shot. Rahkim Soladine had taken his last ride.

  THE MEN who rushed the house were young… the oldest couldn’t have been more than eighteen. They were armed with sticks, bats, and a variety of small-caliber handguns. They had no idea what was going on inside the Drayton residence but they knew that some Crips had invaded their neighborhood, which was reason enough to rush head-on into danger.

  Jynx leaned over in the lawn chair and waited for the first victim to step into view. He wore a hard face, but his eyes weren’t those of a killer. He was just a young man willing to live or die in service to his set, and Jynx was all too willing to treat him to the latter. The boy didn’t even
have time to scream as the top of his head came off.

  Danny’s heart pounded so hard in his chest that he was sure everyone on the block could hear it. When Jynx licked off the mob scattered, but they were still advancing on the house. Sweat ran freely down his face, and his palms were so slick that it’s a miracle that the shotgun didn’t jump out of his hands. A chubby cat armed with a hunting rifle came creeping from the yard of the next house. His were the eyes of a killer. “Kill or be killed, baby boy,” he could hear Gutter telling him. Blinking a bead of sweat out of his eye, Danny caught his first body.

  HAD IT not been for quick reflexes, Gutter would’ve gotten hit when Reckless darted out from the back room, firing blind as he hit the stairs. He was a man cornered and would fight until his last breath, but that was fine by Gutter. He wanted him to fight before he made his child a bastard. Drawing Big Gunn’s.44 he took off after Reckless.

  By the time Gutter made it to the bottom of the stairs, Reckless was just hitting a landing. He fired a shot, hitting his rival high in the back. Reckless staggered forward, but the railing kept him from falling down. Gutter licked a second shot, but Reckless was off down the hall. When Gutter cleared the second-floor landing, he played the wall and peeked around the corner before jetting into the line of fire.

  Reckless’s jog had slowed to a shamble, bouncing him from wall to wall like a drunk. The sheet he’d been clutching to his chest to stop the bleeding got tangled with his legs and he fell to one knee. Firing the gun blindly over his shoulder, Reckless staggered into a bedroom. A wicked smile crept across Gutter’s lips as he knew he had his prey cornered.

  “Time to die, pussy,” Gutter said, moving toward the bedroom. Playing the wall, he inched along it and peeked inside. Reckless had his back to the door, frantically fumbling with the window, his spent pistol lying on the floor a few feet away.

  “This for my family, nigga!” Gutter roared, cutting loose with the.44. The next few moments went in slow motion, but would forever be etched into his mind. The bullet seemed to move like a slow trickle, but its screech was like the wailing of one thousand police sirens. It was then that Reckless turned to meet his end and Gutter felt his soul shift. The thing he’d been clutching to his chest wasn’t for the bleeding at all… it was his son.

  “LOOKS LIKE they came out in full force, huh?” Tears joked, weaving the car left to right down Lime Street. There was a knot of people consisting of angry young men and people trying to be nosey forming a wedge in the middle of the street. On the other side he could see someone bucking a shotgun from the porch.

  “Then let’s turn this shit into a mass murder,” Blue Bird said, sliding the AR from the backseat. After chambering one of the missilelike bullets, he sat on the driver’s side window and leaned over the top of the car, bracing the AR against the roof. “Hoover!” he bellowed before scattering the crowd with a barrage of missile-sized bullets. The fortunate bounced off the hood of the car, but the unfortunate would have closed casket funerals.

  When Danny spotted the car breaking the crowd he immediately moved to fire on it. Had it not been for him recognizing the silhouette of Blue Bird’s enormous head he would’ve hit the car up.

  “Hold your fire, lil nigga!” Blue Bird shouted as he climbed out of the car. “Damn, y’all tore shit up out here.” Blue Bird surveyed the damage.

  Danny ignored Blue Bird’s comment. “Jynx is hit, man, and Rah is dead.”

  “Hell nah, not my fucking folks!” Blue Bird’s face saddened. For a minute it looked like he would fall over, but Tears helped him to right his self.

  “Man, we need to wrap this shit up. With all this gunfire and things I doubt if Mad Man and Lil Blue can keep the police outta here but so long,” Tears said.

  “Get Jynx to the whip. I’m ’bout to check on Gutter,” Danny said, disappearing into the house before anyone could protest.

  HAD IT not been for the wall behind him, Gutter would’ve landed flat on his back. It felt like someone was squeezing his windpipe, only allowing air through in spurts. His body trembled uncontrollably as he whispered, “No,” over and over. All the rage and hate he had carried in his heart when he entered the house drained away and was replaced by great sorrow as he surveyed the damage he’d wrought.

  Reckless was slumped against the wall, just below the window. His eyes were vacant and half of his throat was missing from where the.44 slug hit him. On one side of him lay the pistol that had clicked empty and on the other side, still wrapped in the sheet, was his son.

  It was at that moment that Gutter realized that he’d gone too far. Totally forgetting all else he rushed to the child. He was screaming his lungs out and splattered with blood, but from what Gutter could tell he hadn’t been hit. Looking at the dead man and his son and thinking of his own impending delivery made him ill. Hugging the child to his chest, he gave thanks that the boy was unharmed.

  There was the sound of movement coming from behind him, but by the time Gutter turned around to see what it was he was deafened by the roar of a shotgun. The woman who had been screaming in the kitchen slammed against the bedroom door with Mo-Mo’s abandoned pistol in her upraised hand. She tried to right herself, but a second blast splintered the door and sent her flying into the dresser behind it. Gutter looked up in total shock as Danny came into the bedroom holding the smoking shotgun.

  Danny moved over to the woman’s broken body and nudged her with his foot. He looked over at Gutter who was just staring at him in disbelief and simply said, “She was gonna pop you, man. I had to shoot the bitch. Tears and them is outside, cuz. We gotta dip.”

  Gutter looked from the monster he’d created to the young life he’d almost snubbed and let out a heavy sigh. When he’d set out, Reckless had been little more than another enemy to be executed, but the child in his arms changed the dynamics of that. By his own hands another black baby would have to grow up without his parents and within the hell of God only knew what kind of foster care system. When Reckless’s child came of age would he be the one to cut Gutter down while he held his own child over a twenty-year debt?

  Anwar’s question rang in his head: “Are you killing for vengeance, or is it something deeper than that?” Gutter had killed enough people to avenge just about every homey he’d lost on the set so why was he still killing? Because it was natural to him. Death and rebellion had been the constant in his family… the glue that bound them so to speak. Would this be the legacy he’d pass on to his own seed? No. Gutter’s would not be a child of war.

  Cali was his home… his place of birth, but he would be glad when he was away from it. He would go home to his wife, his heart, and work on being a better husband and a good father to his unborn. Once Major Blood was either dead or out of his city, Gutter was handing the set over to Pop Top. He had built an army, but found himself no longer willing to pay the price that came with being a general. Pop Top had long coveted his position and as far as Gutter was concerned he was welcome to it.

  He took a moment to wipe as much of the blood from the boy as he could with the sheet before placing him on the bed, propping pillows on either side so he wouldn’t roll off. Gutter whispered soft blessings over him and hoped that the police wouldn’t take too long to get there.

  chapter 39

  SHARELL SAT on a plastic lawn chair in the backyard, trying to relax, but it wasn’t working. Gutter had surprised her with the dream house they’d always wanted, but the circumstances surrounding her being there are what had her on edge. In all the years she’d known Gutter he’d been gang-related, but he never brought it home to her. His street life was kept in the streets, but they should’ve known it’d only be a matter of time before the two worlds collided.

  It had all happened so fast that she hadn’t fully had a chance to process it. She had just known that she and Satin were living their last night when that man had them at gunpoint, but through the grace of God she was able to get to her equalizer. She felt bad about shooting that boy, but he was lucky she didn’t f
inish his ass for punching her in the face. Her jaw was swollen and bruised, but in time the wound would heal. What troubled her was that two more young men were dead.

  Just thinking about Mohammad made her sad. When Sharif had taken him she was sure that Mohammad was dead, but there was hope in Sharif’s eyes. Even if he was still hanging on, the amount of blood Mohammad had lost would’ve surely sealed his fate before they could get him medical attention. She would never forget his act of selflessness and would keep Mohammad in her prayers.

  “You okay?” Satin asked, coming out into the backyard, carrying a platter with two teacups and a kettle on it.

  “I should be asking you that.” Sharell smiled. “Satin, you should be resting, not trying to mother me; I get enough of that from Gutter.”

  “It’s okay.” Satin took the chair next to hers and sat the platter on the ground between them. “I’m just trying to get back into the swing of life. Besides, you’re eating for two.” She reached out and touched Sharell’s stomach.

  “I’m not the only one.” Sharell pointed at Satin’s stomach. “Looks like we’ll be fat and ugly together.”

  “Yeah,” Satin said weakly, and rubbed her stomach.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Satin shook her head. “I don’t know. When Lou-Loc was killed I felt like my will to live died with him. I wanted to curl up into my mind and never come out, and then I find out about this.” She gestured toward her stomach. “The same man who gave me a reason to die turns around and gives me a reason to live.”

  Sharell smiled at her. “Lou-Loc was always trying to help people; even in death he’s proved that.”

  Satin lowered her head for a minute. When she looked back up to Sharell there were tears in her eyes. “I miss him so much, Sharell, that it hurts.”

  “I know, baby.” She patted her hand. “Lord knows that men like Lou-Loc are a blessing, but at the same time the lifestyles we lead always hold consequences. He lived by the gun and so it was by the gun that he died. We will all miss him, but thanks to your love his legacy will live on.”