Rapture: Where are our Children (A Serial Novel) Episode 3 of 9

by Gary Sapp

his upper chest before his forearm could get in her line for a kill shot to his head. He was close enough to dive on top of her. The landing took her breath away and any advantage she had previously gained.

  Champion had stayed back using the bedroom door as a shield and fired hitting one…and then a second…and even a third Peacekeeper who tried to reach them through the narrow doorway. Andre had fired shots all over the place, his accuracy made worse by the punk trying to hold his pistol sideways like a gangster that he would never be.

  Roxanne had struggled to breathe. The Scarred Man had bashed her head against the tile with one of his scarred forearms and kept her gun wielding hand at bay with his other.

  Roxanne did use his strength against the man though. She used him to aid in her aiming the gun and she squeezed off two rounds killing a couple more Peacekeepers coming through the threshold as Champion had done minutes ago.

  She remembered hearing Champion announce that he was out of ammo when he took an apparent stinger to his shoulder blade. Andre had wasted his bullets…and his time and was now involved in a hand to hand duel with… by her curves, what looked like a female Peacekeeper. Roxanne knew, female or not, training or not, Andre’s slight frame and fragile psyche wouldn’t hold up long in a fight.

  Roxanne had used The Scarred man’s weight against him again and managed to slip a knee…and then the opposite knee into his groin. It was far from a perfect maneuver, but a man’s jewels were a man’s jewels. Impressive, Senorita, she recalled hearing Victor’s throaty acknowledgment. Now impress the hell out of me and finish him.

  Roxanne had regained full control of her pistol but was unsure whether she had any shots left. The Scarred Man was vulnerable, but the clock for her to keep this small advantage counted down with each passing second.

  So instead of shooting him, she used the pistol to bash his balls again.

  The Scarred Man howled in pain as if he had a new scar in a tender spot to add to his two others. In that split second she could remember yelling, we are not drug dealers or Choir Boys, Admiral. But he lunged at her one last time.

  And Roxanne snatched the machete off of the floor and beheaded the man who felt swoop of speed and power.

  “You swung so hard that the hilt of the blade struck you in the forehead.” She could feel the tender spot and wondered how bad it looked…ever a woman to concern one’s self with aesthetics when your life had been on the line. “I don’t think that was enough to knock you unconscious, but your head striking the tile probably was.”

  So Champion finished the tale for her. Andre had won his battle with the female Peacekeeper and had her blood dripping on a steak knife as proof. There was enough of an opening in the crosswalk and enough distraction of the Peacekeepers with the other battles being waged for them to make their escape.

  “You weren’t light, I’ll tell you that.” Champion demonstrated the fireman’s carry that he used to carry her out and then eventually up the stairs to Dre’s place. “You do have the cutest tattoo on your lower back—“

  “Zip it, Champion,” She cut him off. “I already hate the idea of thanking you as it is.”

  He smiled when he downed the last of his biscuit. The crumbs were entangled in his goatee. “But you still will thank me, won’t you Roxanne?”

  “Thank you,” She said with as acidly as she could manage.

  She finished her food, her pride taking a back seat there as well. After they both had finished she asked: “You didn’t run away, Champion?” Her arched eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Why wouldn’t you run away?”

  “Run where, Roxanne. Just as I told you before the Peacekeepers rudely interrupted our conversation: I have no place to go. I’m the only one in this housing project who is somewhat sad to see the Bishop and his men go.”

  He beckoned her to sit on the couch with him so he wouldn’t have to speak so loud. Thin walls still had thick ears or that was the excuse the man used to have her sit next to him. I think you flatter yourself to much, Roxanne. She thought. She stank of perspiration, gunpowder, and other people’s blood.

  Champion continued by saying, “I also promised you that I would take you to Erica Lovings in exchange for my safe passage out of Carver. I intend to live up to my end of the agreement.”

  Roxanne stood back to her full height quickly. She didn’t need this stranger who had admitted that he was a Pandora agent to think for a single minute that he was scoring points with her. She had yet to take the mark but she had no love for Pandora or their twisted ideologies. They had killed innocent people. They had killed innocent children. And they had tried to kill the man who was the closest thing to any man that she ever loved—

  Andre Knight unlocked the door, entered, and struggled to steady his hand while he put a single lock on the front door. He stood with his back pinned to the door as if he were holding it up. He was sweating in his greasy hair and his arm pits. And he was breathing very hard.

  “The cops…Five-0…their working their way back here. They are knocking on every door asking for witnesses and the like. They ain’t taking no for an answer. We’ve got to get out of here now. I can’t deal with the APD right now. I’m one or two phone calls from having to stay downtown with them by default.”

  Roxanne stepped towards Dre. There was more to this than just the police. She looked down at this hands which were both now shaking almost uncontrollably. She squeezed one and then the other.

  “Dre, you’ve been arrested countless times. You know most of those uniformed officers by their first names. You don’t want to go downtown because people who get into the foolishness that you do never want to go down there.” She squeezed tighter and at least a small sea of calm washed over him. He wouldn’t make eye contact with her though, so she used the tip of her index finger to turn his chin until his big eyes were in line with her dark ones. “You’ve never been afraid to go down there, Andre. What are you so frightened of this morning? What have you seen that has scared you this badly?”

  Champion had put his plate down and stood, wanting to know as well.

  “Roxanne, have either of you been outside?”

  Roxanne remembered what those killing fields in Mexico looked like. She knew Andre had seen a drive by or two, she knew that he had run from a few more, but the human mind may not be able to process the blood and the killing on a massive scale that Peacekeepers and the Choir Boys exhibited just yesterday.

  Champion’s long legs began to inch him towards the window—

  “No,” Andre said with a calmness that now began to unnerve her. “The way my place is configured, the view of the outside world is blocked by the rooftops of the other apartments. For you to see what I’ve seen, you’ll need to go out of the front door and then over to the top step.”

  “What are we looking for, pal?” Champion asked.

  Andre looked away. “You’ll know when you see it.” His head spun about quickly and his voice took on an authoritative tone that she’d never heard before. “It’s the only reason why the cops haven’t gotten back here already. I’ll meet you two at the bottom of the stairs.”

  Dre left the door open after he had left. Roxanne grabbed her guns, secured them out of sight, looked behind to make sure Champion was still there and walked out.

  The smoky haze had lifted a little today and Roxanne took that as a good omen. She took the eight or ten strides that her legs provided for her and reached the top of the steps that Dre had mentioned to them—

  And then she saw what had frightened Andre Knight so badly.

  For as long as Roxanne could remember The Choir Boys and the many gangs before them had hung pairs of sneakers to the electric wires in a unnecessary…not to mention dangerous way to symbolize to all who walked or drove by that this was their territory. Roxane had seen pairs of sneakers after pair of sneakers…after another pair of sneakers…

  Now, for all the days she still had to live, Roxanne Sanchez would remember this morning and that all the many pairs of sneakers had
been taken down…and new symbols of ownership and territory had taken their place.

  She saw the severed heads of the gang members hanging from the electrical lines. She saw one head after the other…after the other…until these heads were stretched from one end of the project to the other.

  Champion lost the breakfast that he’d taken the time and effort to fix. Roxanne could feel her mouth widen into it was a classic O.

  In the twenty minutes it took the two of them to gather themselves and reach the asphalt level and catch up to Dre. Roxanne’s throat was still dry as she said to Champion: “How far is she?”

  Champion stood on his toes and peered over to what Roxanne could only guess was due north. The bureau’s training program had always taught her to be aware of her surroundings and have an out navigated ahead of the time. Victor had agreed with the first part, but demanded two potential outs in case something sealed one of them off from her. But neither of those parties has to push their way out of a housing project where every building and street looks the same.

  And Roxanne doubted that either had the fresh carnage of urban warfare on an American street embedded in their conscious mind either while they were trying to get out of dodge either.

  “Around the next column of buildings,” Champion increased his pace. “I think it is at least?”

  “You think?”

  “Forgive me,