Wrath James White

by Skinzz

  "Is there something else?"

  Mack finally dropped his eyes from her breasts and stared at the floor. His face twisted and contorted as if he was in pain, which he was. It felt like he'd been gut shot. He had been planning to sit by her bedside and talk to her while she sat in a coma. It would be easier to declare his love to a woman who couldn't talk back, who couldn't reject him. If she was awake, that would change everything.

  "Um...uh...is she...is she awake?"

  The nurse smiled.

  "It's not that simple. She's not completely unconscious but she's not completely conscious either. She comes in and out. Go see her."

  Mack didn't move.

  "Ma'am? Um...what do you mean she goes in and out?"

  The nurse smiled sympathetically and put a hand on Mack's shoulder.

  "She had a lot of swelling on her brain. That swelling has gone down a lot but she suffered some brain damage as a result. She has opened her eyes and she speaks occasionally but then she lapses back into a comatose state."

  Mack looked stricken. Tears welled in his eyes.

  "How often is she...conscious? How often does she speak?"

  "Every hour or two. Sometimes more often. Sometimes not for an entire day. Go see her. Talk to her. It might help her to hear a friendly voice."

  "Are her parents here?"

  "They were. I believe they left this morning. They'll probably be back this evening. They've been here everyday since the accident. Come with me. I'll show you to her room."

  The nurse walked him to where Miranda lay in bed. The bed was adjusted so that she was sitting upright. Her eyes were open but glassy and unfocused. She didn't appear to be conscious at all. Her eyes didn't follow him as he walked toward her. They remained fixed in place. The bruises and cuts on her face had mostly healed and faded to yellowing scars, some of which would probably remain with her for life. She was still remarkably beautiful. It made Mack's heart ache to look at her.

  "Miranda?"

  "I'll leave you two alone."

  The nurse backed slowly out of the room, leaving Mack and Miranda by themselves, surrounded by flower baskets, get-well cards and stuffed toys. Mack leaned in and kissed Miranda on the cheek.

  "I love you, Miranda," he said without hesitation. "I've loved you for as long as I've known you. Please come back."

  Miranda continued staring straight ahead, eyes fixed in place. Mack fished in his pocket for the ring. He held the little satin-covered box in his hands, staring down at it while he spoke.

  "There's going to be a big brawl tonight. Me and Jason have been kicking the shit out of The Unrest since you've been in the hospital. They're all gunning for us now. They're probably going to be at the concert tonight at City Gardens. If they're there, it's going to get pretty bloody. I might wind up in here right next to you. Either that or in the morgue."

  He looked up at her and was startled to see that she was looking at him.

  "Miranda? Can you hear me?"

  She didn't reply or give any indication that she'd heard him, no indication that she was aware of him at all except that her head was now turned toward him. Her eyes remained fixed but they were now fixed on him. It was a good sign though it was more than a little disturbing. Mack reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. Her eyes never wavered. He brushed her other cheek then leaned in and kissed her forehead. A tear left his eye and trickled down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away. When he spoke, his voice wavered.

  "I-I'm going to be leaving for college in two weeks. I've got to get out of Philly...for a few reasons. But I just couldn't leave without saying goodbye and telling you how I felt."

  "Mack?"

  She was awake. Her eyes were now fully focused. She blinked several times then smiled.

  "Mack, you came."

  It was one of those moments of consciousness the nurse told him about and it couldn't have come at a more awkward time.

  "Miranda, I..." he swallowed hard. "I love you and..." he opened the little box and took out the ring. He took her hand and slid the ring on her finger. "I want you to marry me."

  "I love you too, Mack."

  That was all she said. She slipped out of consciousness again. But this time, there was a smile on her face.

  "I'll be back, Miranda. I'm going to marry you."

  He kissed her again before he left. This time, he kissed her on the lips.

  "I'll be back."

  Chapter 23

  The woods, 3:00 pm.

  The black guy with the block "Gumby" haircut lay in ruins. Little Davey had scalped the guy. He'd taken his bowie knife, grabbed the man by his hair, then cut into his forehead and scraped the blade along Gumby's skull, removing his skin along with his ridiculous hair. His scalp was now flipped back, hanging off the base of his skull like a hood, revealing the gleaming white bone of his bleeding cranium.

  Bo had always known that Davey was crazy. But this went far beyond the normal teenaged insanity. This was the type of crazy that led to dead hookers buried in the basement. Little Davey began cutting off Gumby's fingers next, pausing occasionally to punch or stomp the man as he hacked and sawed through each of his digits while Bo held the guy down. Bo kept looking around to make sure no one was coming, almost hoping that someone would stop them.

  The man regained consciousness while Little Davey was still sawing through his thumb with the big bowie knife. He began screaming and thrashing so hard Bo was having a hard time holding him. Davey started punching him again, trying to silence him. Blood was flying everywhere as the blows sent the man's scalp flopping back and forth. Gumby's scalp slapped Bo in the face with a wet "Thwap!" as he tried to hold him down. It was too much.

  "Stop it, Davey! That's it! That's enough, man! Let's just kill him and bury his body. I can't stand this no more. I'm gonna be sick."

  Bo felt the bile rise, burning in his throat, and had to swallow hard to keep it from coming up. His skin looked even paler than normal.

  "Come on, man. Don't be such a pussy! We've got to cut his fingers off anyway so they can't fingerprint him and identify the body. I'm almost done. You need to remember what this bastard did to Skinner. We've got to make him pay!"

  "Look at him, Davey! He's paid enough. Let's put him out of his misery."

  "Uh uh. No way. This piece of shit has got a lot more suffering to do. He killed one of ours! He murdered Skinner, dude!"

  Little Davey jabbed the Bowie knife into the man's face and began sawing off his nose as he spoke to Bo which brought a volley of bloodcurdling screams from their captive, audible even through the duct tape around his mouth. Inky blackish red blood and fluid rained down the man's face. Bo turned his head to keep from throwing up, but began to retch as the grating sound of the knife sawing through cartilage surrounded him. Spots danced in front of his eyes.

  "Give me the gun."

  "What?"

  "Give me the fucking gun!"

  Little Davey handed Bo the gun. Bo placed the gun to the black guy's temple.

  "Not yet, dude. Not next to my fucking car!!!"

  Bo pulled the trigger but nothing happened.

  "Dude, the gun is empty. I've only got like twelve bullets and I'm saving those for tonight. I ain't wasting no bullets on this piece of shit."

  Little Davey began sawing off one of the guy's biceps. He slid the knife down the man's humerus, slicing the muscle free from the bone while the man thrashed and bucked and screamed for his fleeting life. Bo turned away.

  "I can't believe you're this fucking squeamish, Bo. Did you know that they used to skin niggers alive and set them on fire at fucking picnics? They would tie them to a tree and cut on them then they'd douse them in gasoline and light 'em up. Women would come out to watch it with their kids. They used to do it to runaway slaves and then later the Klan did it to niggers who raped white women. Families would sit out on the grass eating and drinking and watching niggers burn. The kids would even take trophies. That's where they got the name "picnic" from.
They used to call it "pick-a-nigger" because the kids would run up and snag an ear or a toe or a finger or something as a souvenir. It's true. I read it in a book. And here you are, a grown man, and you can't even watch the guy who murdered one of your best friends get what he deserves? That's fucking pathetic, dude. Doesn't that bother you? Don't you think there's something wrong about that?"

  But Bo was in no condition to answer. He was on his knees, vomiting his last meal onto the forest floor.

  Davey stopped sawing on the man's arm and grabbed Gumby's bicep with both hands. He put his foot on the guy's forearm for leverage then yanked the muscle free with a wet sticky "Riiiiiip!" that sent Bo into a fresh volley of projectile vomiting.

  "Bo, dude, will you stop being such a pussy! It ain't that bad. The guy passed out. He didn't even feel it. It's pretty funny actually."

  But Bo couldn't think of anything remotely funny about it and it worried him that Little Davey could find any humor in this at all. Bo looked into the black guy's dying eyes and for the first time since the ninth grade, he didn't see a nigger, didn't see an enemy. All he saw in those eyes was another human being...suffering. And Little Davey wasn't finished with him yet.

  Chapter 24

  South Street, 4:16pm.

  Jason left The Gathering Space shaken. He shook hands with Padre and the other "Twelve-Step" members and wandered off down the street. He'd sat through two AA meetings in a row. He felt drained but more than that, he felt reborn. Padre was right. He was an alcoholic. He'd started drinking at fourteen and hadn't spent a single evening sober since. But he now knew that there were people to help him. There was hope.

  "Thanks for everything, Padre. You don't know how much I appreciate it. I guess I've got some work to do."

  Father Antonio smiled.

  "One day at a time, Jason. You'll get there. One day at a time."

  Jason winced. He still hated those fucking slogans. It made them all sound brainwashed but perhaps that's what it took. He just didn't know if he could get behind the idea of giving his life over to a higher power the way Padre recommended. He didn't believe in a god of any kind. He was pretty sure that there was no intelligent creator and if there was one, he was certain that god didn't care two shits for him or anyone else on earth. So who was there for him to pray to? That was going to be a pretty hard obstacle for him to overcome. If the creator wasn't his higher power than what was?

  Love? Pussy? Mack?

  "Mack?"

  Mack was walking up South Street looking sad. It was rare to see Mack without a smile on his face so his expression immediately worried Jason. Something must be really wrong.

  "Hey, Demon."

  "What's up, Mack? You okay, dude? Is it Miranda? Did something happen?"

  Bo nodded slowly, still looking down at the pavement. Jason tried to make eye contact without success.

  "I proposed to her."

  "You fucking did what?"

  Mack looked up and met Jason's concerned gaze.

  "I asked Miranda to marry me."

  Jason smiled and slapped Mack on the arm.

  "Dude, you're fucking crazy! What did she say?"

  Mack shrugged.

  "Nothing. She slipped back into a coma, but she did say she loved me too."

  Jason wanted to tell Mack that he was out of his fucking mind, that he was too young and there was too much great pussy out there to be had to get tied down so soon, but he could see that Mack was troubled so he held his opinions.

  "She'll be fine, man. You'll see. It's a good sign that she was awake at all."

  Mack nodded but he looked anything but convinced.

  "They said the swelling had gone down. They're giving her some kind of hypothermia treatment. Using cold baths to wake her up. It looked like it was working...kind of."

  Jason turned the collar of his leather jacket up against the cold, shoved his hands in his pocket, and stomped in place, trying to warm himself.

  "She'll come around. Einstein is one of the best hospitals in the country."

  Mack nodded again and that's when Jason noticed the swelling around his eyes and his split lip.

  "What the fuck happened to your face?"

  "I got jumped by a bunch of skinheads on the train yesterday. They almost killed me. I stabbed one of 'em. This shit is getting pretty serious."

  "I got attacked too. They said The Unrest put a bounty on our heads."

  "Who said that?"

  "These two skinheads. I put out one of their eyes with my chain."

  Jason held up the chain so Mack could see it. There were still flecks of dried blood on it. Mack's face grew more solemn.

  "We need to talk, man."

  Mack led Jason back into The Gathering Space and the two of them took a seat on one of the couches. Father Antonio waved and Mack waved back but didn't speak, turning his back on the priest and focusing his attention on Jason. Jason felt immediately uncomfortable. There was a stiffness to Mack's posture and a seriousness in his expression that looked out of place. It frightened Jason more than a little.

  "What's up, dude?"

  "Demon, I've got to get out of Philly... I'm leaving for college in two weeks. This is probably going to be the last time you see me down here for a while."

  Jason felt his stomach twist. His vision narrowed until all he could see was Mack's face as if he was staring at it from the end of a long tunnel.

  "What? Why?"

  Mack drew in a deep breath.

  "Because if I stay here much longer I'm gonna wind up either dead or in prison. Both of us will."

  Jason couldn't breathe.

  "What about Miranda?"

  Mack shrugged.

  "I know. That's the hard part. You and her and my mom are the only people in this shithole I'm really going to miss. If she wakes up and she wants to marry me then I'll send for her. They have dorms on campus for married couples."

  "You're serious about this."

  "Yeah. I already promised my mom that I was going."

  Jason knew what that meant.

  "Then I guess it's done. I know you ain't gonna go back on a promise to your mom and I ain't gonna ask you to. You know The Unrest is gonna kill me once you're gone though, right? I'm a dead man as soon as they find out you're not around."

  A look passed Mack's face that Jason had seen many times in the past. His features hardened, becoming more stern, more determined. It was his battle face.

  "They won't get you. Nobody's gonna kill you. Not if we get to them first. That's going to be my parting gift to you before I leave. We're going to war with the entire fucking Unrest. We're gonna end this shit. Tonight! Call every punk you know from the scene and tell them to meet us at City Gardens tonight."

  "You gonna kill them all? Is that your plan? That's fucking crazy and fucking impossible."

  Mack nodded and smiled.

  "I don't have to kill them all. You know how you kill a snake? You cut its head off. That's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna cut the head off the fucking snake."

  Chapter 25

  The woods, 5:49 pm.

  "White Power! White Power! White Power!"

  John Jones had just finished speaking. He'd managed to whip the crowd of nearly a hundred into a murderous frenzy. They were ready for war.

  An army of clean-shaven men, boys, and even young women, from fourteen to their mid twenties, filled the woods behind the high school mere yards from where Bo and Little Davey had just buried the mutilated remains of a guy they believed to be responsible for their friend's death. In a final act of cruelty, Little Davey had castrated the man while the murdering fuck screamed himself hoarse. The man barely had any energy left but he'd come alive when Little Davey began sawing through his dick. He thrashed and screamed like a wet cat on an electric fence. Then Davey cut the man's throat from one side of his jaw to the other, jugular to carotid, nearly decapitating him. He looked like a gore-soaked PEZ dispenser. Little Davey then shoved the man's cock through the gash in his trachea. They dum
ped him into the pit they'd dug and set him on fire before burying his body. He'd still been alive, drowning in his own blood and choking on his own cock when his skin had begun to blacken and char then to run like taffy as the flames consumed him and his own body fat added grease to the flame. Minutes after they'd finished burying the body, the first of their Unrest brothers had shown up. Soon, the woods were full of them and then John Jones arrived and began to tell them about the coming race war and how they all needed to do their part and that they shouldn't be shy about shedding blood to preserve the race. He had no idea the war had already begun and first blood had already been shed.

  "I've got to make a stop before we leave," Little Davey said.

  "What? Where are you going?"

  "I need to see Cindy."

  Bo didn't like that. He didn't trust it. Not one bit.

  "Why do you need to see her for?"

  "Just to say goodbye. You know, in case something happens tonight."

  "Come on, Davey. Just let that shit go. It's over between you two. She doesn't want to see you and in the mood you're in you might do something crazy."

  "Something Crazy" was exactly what Little Davey had in mind, but he couldn't tell Bo that. Bo didn't have the stomach for this. He'd shown his yellow streak when they were torturing the spook who killed Skinner. Bo hadn't done shit but help him bury the body. He didn't have the balls for wet work...but Little Davey did. He had big iron King Kong balls and he was going to show Cindy just how much they'd grown.

  "You don't have to come if you don't want to. I'll just meet you at City Gardens. I should probably do this myself anyway. I'll see you at the concert."

  Bo watched Little Davey walk off toward his car, feeling like he should have said something to stop him, but once again he did nothing. He wasn't sure there was anything he could do except call the police and there was no way he was going to do that. Not after burning that black guy alive. There was too much on his conscience and he doubted he'd stand up well to an interrogation. Instead, he decided to try to call Cindy and warn her. He jogged off in search of a pay phone.