“Yeah, my name is Poison, and this is Peanut, and that’s Popcorn, and that’s Paradise over there,” Poison told him, pointing out the other girls.
Travon nodded and smiled at her. She was cute, and not as overt as the others. She was the one that he liked.
Poison was short and thick, although far from being fat. She wore her hair in two gigantic Afro-puffs, which accented her almond-shaped face and gorgeous hazel eyes. Today she wore a red overall short set, with a white T-shirt and some red Skechers clogs.
She caught Travon staring at her. “What?” she asked with a smile.
Travon shifted his gaze toward the ground and shook his head. “Naw, I was just trying to figure something out.”
Poison nodded. “I’m both; Black and Hispanic. My dad is from Haiti, and my mom is from the Dominican Republic.”
“Oh.” Travon nodded and turned away. She was smart and pretty. Unless of course she was just used to everyone asking her that. He decided to ask her something else. “How old are you?”
“Old enough,” she replied with a smile.
Travon shook his head. Things did not seem to be going right. He was coming weak, and he had never come that weak before. He had to think of something to say or do that would impress her.
Poison knew that Travon was crashing and burning. He didn’t know what to say, which in her experience, was unusual for a Blood. He wasn’t like the rest of them, she thought. He wasn’t trying to be a ghetto super-star. She lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulder.
“Uh-uh, girl!” Passion told her with a frown. “Kilo is gonna kill you if he sees that boy’s arm around you!”
“Girl, fuck him!” Poison frowned back. “I ain’t got no time for no nigga who wanna trip all of the time.”
“Oh, girl, there go Russell and them!” Peanut shouted in her shrill, high-pitched voice. “I gots to go and get my mack on!” She turned to Poison. “Girl, do my hair look all right?”
Poison frowned and recoiled. “Yeah, bitch, now go!” She turned Peanut in the direction of the boys, and shoved her forward.
Peanut rushed toward the group of boys sitting on top of a black Jeep Cherokee. “Hey, Russell!”
She was followed by PussyKat, Paradise, Popcorn, and Passion. Travon and the remainder of his group continued on their leisurely stroll through the park.
“So, why all of y’all’s names start with a P?” Travon asked.
“It’s a Piru thang,” Poison answered.
“I thought that y’all was Bounty Hunters?”
Poison shook her head. “Naw, our men are all Bounty Hunters, but we are Piru.”
“Blood Clot! A me means that literally!” a voice called out from behind them.
Travon froze. He recognized the voice. It was a voice that he hadn’t heard in quite a while; a voice that he hadn’t heard since middle school; a voice that he never wanted to hear again. It was the voice of trouble.
Slowly, Travon turned in the direction from which that voice had come. It was him.
“Me thinks dat was you, Tre,” Re-Re told him with a smile. He brushed at some imaginary lint on his royal-blue T-shirt and black Dickies shorts. The five other boys standing just to the rear of him folded their arms and stared menacingly at Travon and his group. Blue bandannas hung low from their back pockets, almost touching their blue Chuck Taylor tennis shoes.
“Re-Re, I thought I smelled you,” Travon told him.
Marcus, Romeo, and the girls let out a quick laugh. Re-Re and his companions did not. A couple of Re-Re’s companions lifted their hands to their heads, and began twisting at their dookie curls. This allowed their shirts to rise up and display the weapons that they had tucked away. They were members of the notorious East Terrace Gangsters, sworn archenemies of the Blood Stone Villains.
“You always was de class clown, Tre,” Re-Re told him. “Always makin’ de people laugh. You was on top of de world, man, and now look at ya. Ya slob-bin’!”
The ETGs laughed. Romeo took a step toward Re-Re, but all five of the ETGs quickly placed their hands beneath their shirts, halting him in his tracks. Romeo stepped back. He and Marcus were furious, not only because of Re-Re’s derogatory remarks, but at their own stupidity. They had allowed themselves to get caught without their weapons.
“I never thought dat you’d turn into a fuckin’ slob, mon. I thought you was better dan dat.” Re-Re turned to his friends, who were standing just behind him laughing and enjoying the show. “Dis was me homeboy in elementary, and in middle school. Him was real cool with me back den, but now ’em slobbing.”
Re-Re threw his head back in laughter. Then he stepped in closer, until he and Travon stood nose to nose. “Who’s on top now, Tre?”
“You’ll always be a fuckin’ punk, Re-Re,” Travon told him. “You’ll always be just another goat-smelling son of a bitch.”
“Wrong answer.” Re-Re reached beneath his T-shirt and pulled out a black H&K pistol. He leaned forward and whispered into Travon’s ear, “Who’s on top now, Tre? East Terrace is on top. Can you say dat, Tre? Can you say East Terrace? C’mon, let me hear you say East Terrace is on top.”
Travon stood his ground.
Re-Re slowly walked around Travon and his group until he came full circle and once again faced Travon.
“Let me hear you say East Terrace is on top,” Re-Re told him. Again, he stepped closer to Travon, until they stood nose to nose. “Da only reason I don’t smoke you right now is because Too-Low got a baby by me sister. If it wasn’t for dat, you’d be a dead Slob right now.”
He leaned back, folded his arms, and nodded in the direction of the park’s exit. “Get de fuck outta me face.”
Travon, Marcus, Romeo, Peaches, Precious, and Poison slowly filed past the group of ETGs. Travon turned and glanced back at Re-Re and his compatriots, who were still facing the other direction. He could read the words on the back of their royal-blue T-shirts: E.T.G. Every Thang Goes.
Travon shook his head and wiped away the tear that had formed in the corner of his eye. “Okay, every thang goes,” he whispered, nodding. “From here on out, everything goes. I’m tired of this shit!” he shouted. “I’m tired of this fuckin’ shit!”
The group’s rapid steps quickly turned into an all-out sprint, as they raced through the park, back to where their friends were. Romeo was the first to speak.
“Say, Capone!” he called out to his brother. “Lil J, Nuke Dog, Lil Loc, Slim, BK, and some muthafucka named Re-Re just pulled straps on us!”
Suga pounded the air with his fist. “Fuck!”
Travon, breathing heavily, turned to Darius. “Gimme a muthafuckin’ strap, Blood!”
Darius, Romeo, Marcus, and Capone turned and stared at Travon in shock. Travon turned away and silently wondered if that last word was an accident. The answer he came up with was no. It had not been an accident; he had used that word deliberately.
Someone from the crowd handed Travon an Intratech Tech Nine. Marcus reached into a nearby trunk and availed himself of a twelve-gauge shotgun, and then stuffed several loose shells into his pockets. Romeo was tossed a nine-millimeter Glock, and Lil Fade grabbed a Norinco SKS with a one-hundred-round drum clip. Once armed, the boys took off running through the park at full speed, searching for the ETGs.
Everybody saw them running through the park with all of their weaponry, and began to jump into their cars and flee. The assembly of Bloods had already done so, as they were fully aware of what was about to take place. A traffic jam quickly developed.
Once the boys were about forty yards from where the ETGs were parked, several of the female ETGs started screaming. The Bloods opened fire.
“Fuckin’ crab-ass bitches!” Travon shouted. His thoughts were not only on Re-Re, but also on his brother. These were Too-Low’s killers.
Sparks flew from the bullets ricocheting off of the ETGs’ parked cars, and a loud, deep, rhythmic thump began to fill the air, as the 7.62 millimeter opened up.
Girls were screa
ming, people were running, and the ETGs were falling in droves. Suddenly, there was a small popping sound to the left of the boys. Lil Fade turned and spotted a park ranger firing at them. He quickly shifted his SKS toward the ranger, and a loud thud penetrated the air. The park ranger fell dead.
Lil Fade turned back to the assembly of blue cars, most of which were now trying to leave the park. There were several whose owners were dead, or wounded, or whose motors were too shot up to function. Most of the cars were riddled with bullets, and had numerous bodies littered around or hanging out of them. Smoke from the SKS filled the area.
A car horn sounded, and they turned to find Darius in his Cadillac waving at them. They ceased firing and ran for the Cadillac. Another popping sound began to emanate from the rear of them. Darius pointed behind the sprinting boys; another park ranger firing at them.
“I’m hit!” Romeo shouted.
Travon grabbed his cousin and helped him to the car. Lil Fade lifted his SKS and sent a deadly barrage toward the crouched park ranger. The ranger received Lil Fade’s present, and died in the line of duty. Calmly, Lil Fade turned, walked to Darius’ car, and climbed inside.
“Take me to my mother’s house!” Romeo shouted. He yanked a red bandanna out of his back pocket and tied it around his bleeding arm.
“You need to go to the hospital!” Travon said nervously.
“No!” Romeo shook his head. “My mom’s a nurse, have you forgot? She’ll stop the bleeding, and then take me to a hospital in another county far away from here. Or, she’ll sneak me into the hospital where she works and have one of her doctor friends take a look at me. If I just go to a hospital around here, they’ll have to call the police because it’s a gunshot wound. The police will know it’s from the park shooting. Trust me; we’ve done this with Capone a few times.”
Darius nodded, and made the turn onto the highway, where he headed for his Aunt Chicken’s house.
Travon kicked the bottom of the front seat. “Fuck!” There seemed to be no escaping it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Shit, here comes a blue Caddy!” Darius shouted, as he peered into his rearview mirror.
Lil Fade turned and peered out of the back window. “It’s Mike Vay and them!”
Darius mashed his foot on the gas pedal, trying to get his big Caddy up to speed. He had decorated his Cadillac with tons of accoutrements, but had done nothing to the car’s motor. It was something that he now regretted.
Michael Vay’s Cadillac had already been traveling at a high rate of speed, and so it continued to gain on Darius’ car. Michael Vay had tinkered with his car’s motor.
Travon grabbed the back of Darius’ seat and pulled himself forward. “Shit, slow down, Darius!”
“Lil kinfolk, how old are you right now?” Darius asked.
“Sixteen, soon to be seventeen, if it makes any difference!” Travon told him.
“If you want to live to be seventeen, then let me drive and get us the fuck out of here!” Darius shouted.
Marcus peered out the back window and began squinting. “It’s Mike Vay and Mike-Mike in the front seat.”
“Fuck!” Romeo shouted.
“It looks like C-Low.”
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’ Romeo shouted.
“And Pooh-Pooh in the backseat,” Marcus finished.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Romeo shouted.
Darius turned toward his cousin. “Calm the fuck down!”
“Fuck!” Romeo shouted again.
Lil Fade smiled. “Don’t worry, y’all got me.”
Romeo turned to Lil Fade. “This ain’t no time for no fuckin’ jokes!”
Lil Fade turned toward Darius. “Put on some Ghetto Boys, so I can get my G up.”
“It sure in the hell ain’t no time to listen to no fuckin’ music!” Marcus shouted. “You are fuckin’ crazy!”
Lil Fade smiled serenely. He leaned forward, lifted some red bandannas from the floor, and began to pass them out.
“Surrender flags are supposed to be white, I don’t think these will work,” Romeo told him, clutching his wounded forearm.
Lil Fade tied a red bandanna around the lower half of his face, as Darius screeched onto an interchange at one hundred miles per hour. He leaned forward, pressed a button on the stereo system, turning it on. Scarface began to play, Lil Fade’s favorite.
Lil Fade smiled broadly beneath his red bandanna, and lifted his SKS from the floorboards. “Did they take the interchange?”
Romeo, who had been crouched down in the backseat, lifted his head and peered out the window. “Yeah.”
Lil Fade pulled back the bolt on his SKS and released it. The bolt slammed forward violently, chambering a round. “Then may God have mercy on their fuckin’ souls!”
Lil Fade stood up in of Darius’ sunroof and began firing. “Fuck you, Blood! Yeah, fuck you!”
Travon turned and stared at Marcus who was already staring at him. Marcus shrugged, and Travon shook his head. Both let out deep breaths as they tied their bandannas around the lower half of their faces. Resigned, they both leaned out of their respective windows and began firing.
The sound of gunfire filled the highway, and sparks danced off the front of Michael Vay’s Cadillac. Soon, smoke began pouring from beneath the car, and the hood flew off and smashed into another vehicle. Lil Fade’s bullets danced across the entire front half of the car, riddling it completely, but it continued to gain ground.
Out of the sunroof of the pursuing Cadillac popped Mike-Mike, while out of the rear passenger windows came Pooh-Pooh and C-Low. Pooh-Pooh was firing a fully automatic Cobray M-11, while C-Low was using a fully automatic AK-47 assault rifle.
More gunfire filled the air, and sparks flew off of the rear of Darius’ Cadillac as the AK-47 and M-11 hit home.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! Fuck!” Romeo shouted, when he heard the thud of the bullets.
Mike-Mike was having trouble pulling his weapon through the sunroof. When he finally managed to get it through, the boys were able to see that it was a Fabrique Nacional FAL .308 assault rifle. Even with the wind whipping around the vehicles due to their high rates of speed, the noise from that gun was deafening. Chunks of Darius’ car disintegrated as the .308 rounds found their target. Darius’ car shuddered dramatically with the impact of each round.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Romeo screamed. “Tell ’em we sorry! Tell’em we sorry!”
“I’m out!” Travon shouted. He pulled the magazine out of his weapon and examined it.
“Shit, join the club!” Marcus shouted. “I been out.”
“Then get down!” Travon shouted.
“Shit, I been done did that!” Marcus replied.
Travon turned and spied Marcus and Romeo both crouched down near the floorboards.
“Hit the tires, Lil Fade!” Darius shouted. “Hit the got damned tires!”
“I been done did that!” Lil Fade shouted back.
“Fuck!” Romeo shouted. “You had to go to school with that fuckin’ Jamaican! You couldn’t have gone to school with Americans! No, Tre is special! I’ll bet your ass wishes that you would have played hooky all those years like the rest of us!”
“Shut up!” Marcus shouted.
A loud, distinctive boom sounded; glass from the blown-out rear window fell on top of the boys.
“Oh, good, now I’m not only shot, but I’m cut too,” Romeo told them. He turned toward Travon. “Thanks a lot, kinfolk.”
“I’m out!” Lil Fade announced. He lowered himself back into the vehicle, turned toward Darius and shook his head.
A continuous group of extremely loud explosions shook the vehicle, as more .308 rounds found their way home. Sparks flew off of the back of Darius’s Cadillac, and the trunk lid was completely blown off. It flew through the air and slammed into Michael Vay’s windshield.
“That’ll show ’em,” a smiling Lil Fade announced.
Darius’s car shuddered again, as more .308 rounds hit. This time, however, his car began to
slow down.
“What the fuck’s happening up there, D?” Travon shouted. “This ain’t no time to stop and talk!”
“I don’t know what the hell’s going on, I got the gas pedal all the way down to the floor!” Darius shouted back.
He began weaving from side to side, in order to keep Michael Vay from pulling alongside of them. The driver’s side window on Darius’ Cadillac was shattered by bullets. Glass flew everywhere.
“Shit!” Darius cried out, as he and Lil Fade ducked for cover. When he sat up again, his front windshield was riddled with bullet holes, and Michael Vay was driving alongside of them grinning.
Pooh-Pooh sat on the windowsill of the blue Cadillac on the opposite side, aiming his weapon over the roof toward the occupants of Darius’ backseat. C-Low hung out of the rear driver’s side window, with his AK-47 also aimed at the occupants of the backseat. Mike-Mike was standing out of the sunroof, with his mini-cannon aimed directly at Lil Fade.
This was it, Darius told himself. He sat cringing, waiting for the rifle burst that would end his life. Lil Fade, on the other hand, turned toward Michael Vay, smiled, and lifted his middle finger. The smile on Michael Vay’s face evaporated. He frowned, turned toward the gunmen inside of his vehicle, and began issuing instructions.
Suddenly gunfire erupted once again on the highway. Darius closed his eyes for a brief moment, anticipating the hot bullets. Mike-Mike reeled, dropped his FN FAL .308, and began reaching for his back. Pooh-Pooh fell back and then slid inside of the back window. Michael Vay and C-Low quickly shifted the gazes to the right. Fro-Dog’s ’64 Chevrolet Impala was on the scene, with Capone standing in the rear seat, firing two Glock model 23, forty-caliber handguns. Suga was sitting up high in the passenger seat, with a fully automatic Styer AUG assault rifle, and Red Rum was standing in the seat next to Capone, holding a Sig Sauer semiautomatic pistol in one hand, and flipping the ETGs off with the other. Red bandannas were tied around the lower half of their faces to conceal their identities. Suga opened up with his assault rifle.
Michael Vay took a hit in his right arm, and immediately lost control of his vehicle. The Cadillac slammed into a divider and quickly caught fire. Capone, Suga, and Red Rum continued to pour fire into the burning Cadillac until it was out of range. Fro-Dog turned toward Darius, honked his horn, and raised his fist into the air. The Impala took the next exit off of the highway.
Eastside Page 11
