Hell on Earth

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “Hi, John. Didn’t think to see you so soon after that mess the other night.”

  “I got clear of it, Mrs. Sparks. When do the twins start school?” I watched the little boy and girl race each other up the sidewalk toward me, faces contorted in concentration as they each tried to pedal faster without spinning the worn out plastic wheels.

  “Not ‘til next year. God, won’t that be grand.” She clasped hands in prayer for a moment comically. “You sittin’ for a while?”

  “I’ll be out here for a time. Want me to keep an eye on Jim and Kara?” I’ve been enlisted as a babysitter before on my street. Everyone knows I don’t have a standard day job so in an emergency or like now when I happen to be out front I get asked occasionally. I’m somewhat popular owing to the fact most of my neighbors suspect the gang-bangers stay clear of our avenue because of me. After what I did the other night I didn’t figure to get many chances to watch the kids. I guess Mrs. Sparks is one of those people who believe either you trust somebody or you don’t. I liked her little kids. Her older son Lebron was in high school and the husband worked construction during the day. He and I had shared a beer once in a while.

  “Thanks. Shoo them inside when you have to go. I’m doing laundry. Want me to do a load for you?”

  “I’m good, but thanks.” Jim and Kara had stopped in front. They glanced back at their house to make sure Mom was out of sight before walking up to me. The twins sported those silly grins kids get on their faces whenever they’re doing something a little out of the ordinary – like bearding the neighborhood bear in its cave. “How old are you two rug-rats anyway?”

  Kara giggled but Jim expressed his displeasure. “We’re not rats. We’re four.”

  “Good to know. Thanks.” I get a kick out of these two. Jim is all business while Kara has a knack for comedy.

  “I heard my Mom and Dad talkin’ about you. They… they said you killed somebody,” Jim told me, quickly swiveling around to check for his Mom sneaking up on him.

  I opt for avoidance. “That’s big person talk, Jim. No need for you to worry about such things.”

  “We saw a boy come out of your house.” Kara put her hands on her hips in a manner I’m sure she’d seen her Mom use, complete with little face leaning toward me. “Is he your son?”

  “Nope. He’s a young man who works for me. He has to stay at my house for a while until he gets his own place.”

  “Does he kill people too?” Kara asked.

  I snorted and then coughed to cover the urge to laugh. “No, Kara, he attends high school near here.”

  “You street fight for money,” Jim declared. “We heard Mom and Dad talkin’ to Lebron. My brother saw you on the computer… you… you...” he looked to his sister for help.

  “YouTube.” Kara came through.

  Great. More YouTube fans.

  “Yeah, YouTube. Lebron showed them on the computer. They watched you beat people up. They didn’t let us watch.”

  The twins waited patiently for thirty seconds, expecting me to answer the charges. I smiled, playing the interested adult. Having practiced all day yesterday at being Pseudo-Dad, I figured I could bluff my way through this conversation without saying anything. I was sure the diminutive duo would lose interest in my smile and return to bike riding. Wrong. They had business in mind.

  “Well, do you beat people up for money?” Kara can be straight forward too.

  “It’s like boxing, Kara. People pay to see guys fight each other. You and Jim have seen men fighting in the ring on TV, right?”

  Kara nodded but she wasn’t done. She nudged Jim and he rooted around in his pocket, fishing out a crumpled one dollar bill, three pennies and a nickel. “We want you to beat up Darin McBride down on the corner.”

  By the time I finished howling in laughter with tears rolling down my cheeks the twins were cackling with me and a few of the neighborhood dogs barked in tune. I wiped my eyes and stood up from the stoop, stretching with only a slight bite from protesting ribs. The twins looked up with their mouths open in surprise. Maybe they thought I was going down to the McBride house to haul Darin the ten-year-old target out in the street for a whoopin’.

  “I’m not that type of fighter, kids. C’mon, we’ll see if your Mom will let me walk you down the sidewalk on your low riders.”

  “We can get you another dollar on Friday,” Kara insisted, yanking on my pants-leg as I turned toward their house.

  Okay, they have my attention. I had to find out what the vicious, neighborhood ten-year-old did to warrant a mob hit. I knew Darin. He was a quiet kid who waved when he walked by the house and didn’t bother anyone I knew about. “What exactly did Darin do to you kids? He seems like a nice young man.”

  “Me and Jim snuck out of the house and rode up the street. Darin was with a bunch of mean looking other kids at his house. His Mom works during the day so we knew he should have been in school.”

  “I knew he wasn’t allowed to have people over,” Jim added with enthusiasm. “We heard his Mom yellin’ at him not to have any kids over when she wasn’t there.”

  “He skips school.” Kara folded her arms in mimic of her Mom’s disapproving stance.

  “Darin ran at us all crazy, screaming to get away from his house. He chased us down the street and smacked me on top my head.” Jim pointed to a spot at the top rear part of his head so there’d be no mistake as to where he was attacked.

  “Momma came out and saw us. She took a switch to us for sneaking out,” Kara pouted but retained the disapproving arms folded stance. “It was all Darin’s fault.”

  “Sounds to me like Darin kept you two from possibly getting hurt a lot worse than a switchin’.” I decided logic might work better than reminding them of their guilt. Listening to these two reasoning their hit on a ten year old was pretty entertaining. As Pseudo-Dad I leaned toward the punishment being justified. “Besides, Darin’s in school today anyhow. We’ll have to…”

  “No he’s not,” Jim cut me off in mid logic. “We saw him sneak back home after his Mom left for work through our window. He was walkin’ with the same bunch of older guys.”

  I looked down the street toward Darin’s house, my internal voice of common sense psycho screaming at me to mind my own business. Part of me wanted to dump the twin munchkins and hide in the house until it was time to go do what I’m supposed to do for a living. It’s hard to go from street pug throwing hands for stray bets who does a little added something for Government Inc. to the neighborhood watch attending school meetings. Jim and Kara eyeball me with attitude. This touchy feely stuff can be tricky when dealing with four-year-olds trying to hire a contract hit.

  “Did you see the older guys Darin was with leave?”

  Jim exchanged glances with his twin. Apparently he needed a nod from his sister before revealing anything of note. “Yeah, we saw them walk back down this way.”

  What the hell. This could be fun as long as I’m not endangering these two little mobsters. “Okay, let’s tell your Mom we’re riding down the sidewalk. I’ll check up on Darin and make sure he’s not into something he shouldn’t be. I’m not beating him up.”

  Kara and Jim leapt aboard their low riders without commenting on my contract refusal. I didn’t think the little warts were interested in a beat down. They followed me to their house where I quickly obtained permission to walk with them down the street. Some clouds kept the sun glare down. A cool breeze stirred the leaves already parachuted to the ground in prior Fall gusts. Walking along with my four-year-old twin retinue in my wake, it seemed the world revolved for the day in an unusually nonviolent trend. As we clear a few yard grown trees I see Darin sitting on his front step, head in hands. He hears my low rider Conga line and lifts his head. The boy jumps up as if to run into his house but stops when I wave.

  “Hey, Darin. My friends here told me you’re not feeling well.”

  Darin walks tentatively toward us. “I’m okay, John. Mrs. Sparks got you watchin’ the evils, huh?”
/>   “We got switched ‘cause of you!” Jim blurted out.

  “Sorry about that, Jim, but I had to get you two away. Those guys I hangin’ with don’t like little kids. They’d trash your bikes an’ slap you around. Besides, I know you two ain’t allowed ridin’ by yourselves.”

  “You’re not allowed to skip school,” hands-on-hips Kara replied. “We’re tellin’.”

  “I don’t care. Look. You best take these two home, John. A guy I know’s pickin’ me up and he won’t be happy he see me jawin’ with you three. He don’t like you, Mr. Harding.”

  More interesting all the time. “What’s his name? Maybe he’s mixed me up with someone else.”

  “He knows where you live. No mistakin’ about him knowing you. His name’s Nelson. He-”

  “Terry Nelson?” Okay, Harding, it’s back into the Twilight Zone for you. I knew Nelson ran with the 38th Avenue gang but I thought he’d graduated out of there into small time hood.

  Darin nodded. “He’s bad, John. Mean bad. He blow your house up if you cross him.”

  Oh, I’m going to cross him all right. I’m going to be his personal ‘Ghost Whisperer’ and cross him over into the light just before the trap door opens to drop him into hell. “Walk with me, Darin, while I take the kids back home. I need to hear more about mean old Terry Nelson. Running with Nelson can get you nothing but trouble. You know that, right?”

  Darin nods again, sticking his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders up while I get the reluctant Jim and Kara pointed toward home. Darin and I take the lead. Mrs. Sparks waited at the door when our small caravan approached from the sidewalk. She sat on her stoop, cup of coffee in hand, watching us with a smile.

  “Hi Darin.”

  “Hi Mrs. Sparks.”

  “I see my two gansta’s couldn’t get John to beat you up for them.”

  Darin looked confused for a moment. A big smile appeared as understanding seeped in while Mrs. Sparks and I watched with amusement. He turned on Kara and Jim who were swiveling surprised glances between Darin and their Mom. “Tha’s cold you two. I watch your backs and you try to get Mr. Harding to school me?”

  “You two hoodlums get inside now and clean up. G’on.” Mrs. Sparks watched Kara and Jim troop inside with minimal protest before shifting attention to me and Darin. “I heard them plotting for revenge. I thought you’d get a laugh out of it, John.”

  “I did. Your kids’ proposed contract put me into contact with Darin at an opportune time. We’re discussing a less than stellar jerk he’s come into contact with.”

  Mrs. Sparks nodded her head, a slight downturn prevalent at her mouth as I spoke. “Terry Nelson… I bet money it’s Terry Nelson. I saw him stop at your house, Darin. What you want to fool around with that no good shit? I heard the kids sayin’ you been skippin’ school. What’s got into you, boy?”

  Darin stared down at the walkway.

  “Darin and I will be working on that. You know Nelson, huh?”

  “We grew up together. He and those other 38th Ave gangbangin’ bastards made everyone’s life miserable. Most guys he crewed with are dead or in prison from back then. I’ve heard you’ve had a run in with him before, John. Word was you broke his arm.”

  “Terry played the thug card one night with a couple tourists I was escorting. I had to adjust him a little. Darin and I are going to discuss how I might be able to convince Terry to leave our little neighborhood alone.”

  Mrs. Sparks chuckled and turned to go inside. “Yeah, you do that, John. Thanks for watchin’ my two.”

  “Anytime. C’mon, Darin. We’ll go down to your house and work this out.”

  “You broke Nelson’s arm?”

  I nod when we’re back on the sidewalk heading for Darin’s house. “I tuned him up when we shared a cell the other night too. Maybe he’s using you to get back at me.”

  “He got somethin’ planned for tonight, John. A bunch of us are supposed to cause some trouble at the Square. You know… make some noise… push some stuff down… draw attention. Then we split. Nelson say he give us fifty each.”

  Well thump my head and call me Rudolf. Coincidence land is over. Chardin has someone on the inside. My mind’s racing with what the hell he would want to distract us for if not to kill Samira. Why go for an elaborate ruse unless he has inside info on Denny, me, and this whole operation? If not for the twins contracting me for a beat-down on Darin I’d be in Chardin’s crosshairs tonight without a clue. Hell, I don’t have a clue now.

  “John?” Darin’s looking at me in my new trancelike state worriedly.

  “Sorry, Darin. I drifted away for a moment. Did Nelson say where he planned to put your crew in action?” We stopped at his front porch. I kept an eye on the street for approaching cars. This would be an inopportune time for Nelson to arrive. There was no way in hell I would use a ten-year-old as bait in a ploy to corner Chardin. That left me with one option – Nelson would be going bye-bye the moment I got my hands on him. “What’s Nelson coming over here for now if your gig’s not until six?”

  “He wants me to carry something in a pack tonight when we do this.” Darin opened his front door and motioned me inside. “He said because I’m the youngest nobody would look at me twice and the cops can’t do nothin’ about me.”

  We sit down at his kitchen table in a kitchen that looks a lot like mine. Most houses on the street shared many similar characteristics. “So Terry will be coming over here himself to give you this pack he wants you to carry?”

  Darrin nodded. “He said it was too important to let the other kids in on. They’re older than me and might get arrested. I’m s’posed to carry it with me like it was my idea and not say anything about it.”

  “How the hell you get mixed up in this, Darin? Damn kid, your Mom’s great. Take it from someone who never had one. Why screw around with Nelson and these other older kids?”

  Darin stared down at the table. “You don’t know how it is, John. The older kids don’t mess with me if I do what Nelson says. I don’t do what I’m told there ain’t no place to hide. They’ll cap my ass or even my Mom.”

  The fog lifted. I’ll have to make a few adjustments in the area when I get clear of my immediate problems. If Chardin recruited Nelson then the gang problem around here needed attention by more than Oakland’s police department. The pack Nelson wanted Darin to carry had my alarm bells going off in a big way.

  “Does Nelson come to your door?”

  “Not usually, but he tol’ me we need to talk first so he’s comin’ in. Maybe you better take off now, John.”

  “I’ll stick around. When Nelson gets here, let him in. I’ll take it from there. If Terry has what I think he has in that pack he wants to give you, I’m going to take him along with me. No need for you to concern yourself further in it than that. You’ll be out of the picture from now on. I’ll fix your problem with the rest of his crew when I get done helping Terry see the light. You go to school from now on. Just tell the others you’re waitin’ to hear from Nelson.”

  “Yeah but what about when he gets back. I’ll… oh. He ain’t comin’ back.”

  “Like I said, Darin, you’re out of this. Just let Terry in and...” I hear a blown out speaker system rattling houses on the street as it approaches. “There he is now I’ll bet. If you’re having second thoughts about answering the door I’ll do it for you.”

  Darin’s mouth sets in a grim line. “I hate his guts. I’ll let him in.”

  I nod and walk over to the side of his entrance the door will hide from view. I hated like hell letting Darin answer the door but getting my hands on that pack could mean the difference between life and death for both of us. Nelson banged on the door. Terry did gang and prison time all his putrid life. I don’t know nor care what he would have ended up as if he’d been brought up different. His days of wine and roses ends today. I ain’t giving him over to Denny or the cops. This is our third and last dust up – there would be no redemption for this career thug.

&nb
sp; Chapter Fourteen

  Complications

  Darin glanced at me and then opened the door. He backed away from the entrance, stepping aside for Nelson without a word. Terry strutted in with a kid’s brown and black backpack dangling from his left hand. My left hook to his lower abdomen buckled him to the floor without a sound other than his ribs cracking and breath jetting from his mouth in explosive fashion. I set aside the dropped backpack that Terry let go of in order to clamp onto his damaged middle. Darin closed the door, his eyes reflecting the shock of seeing Nelson rolling helplessly in a crimped up ball on his floor.

  “Do you have any duct tape, Darin?”

  “Yeah… hold on.” Darin ran into the kitchen where I heard him rifling through drawers and cupboards. He came back with a half used roll of my favorite thug wrap. He handed it to me with only a slight tremor in his hand.

  I duct taped Terry’s hands, feet, legs, and mouth. Then I taped his feet up to his hands. He was wheezing in enough breath to groan behind the duct tape on his mouth. Nelson’s eyes nearly popped out when he saw me. I could tell he wanted to bargain but that ship already sailed. The backpack was sealed to keep Darin from checking out the contents. I took out my knife and sliced the material along the zipper on top. Having some experience with bombs and bomb makers I could tell this explosive device encased within foam packing would have taken out half the street where detonated. It was professionally built with I’m hoping Chardin’s signature on it.

  “Is… is that a bomb, John?” The realization Nelson wanted Darin as an unwilling suicide bomber cast a grim pallor over the ten-year-old’s face. It seemed like a year ago I was laughing at the twins wanting to hire me for a beat-down. I put what I wanted to be a comforting hand on Darin’s shoulder. He turned, ramming tightly against me, locking his hands around my waist.