Hero

by J. F. Gonzalez; Wrath James White

  “Believe that,” he muttered. Gone was the easy-going expression he’d slipped into after seeing Mrs. Smith. “I could kill you before you could blink.”

  “Then I won’t.”

  She slid the knife out of her pocket and into his gut. Mike’s eyes went wild and he tightened his grip on her throat, pinching her windpipe shut. She withdrew the knife and stabbed him again. His grip tightened. She was starting to see spots. She pulled the knife out again and this time Mike caught the blade before it could descend once more.

  “You fuckin’ bitch!” Mike roared. “You tryin’ to kill me? I’m gonna rip your fucking head off!”

  His grip was incredibly strong. Natsinet felt herself beginning to lose consciousness. She fought to free her hand from his grip, struggled to wrest her neck from his other hand. She was successful at neither. She could see Mike’s eyes beginning to glaze just as her own vision went black.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tonya rushed straight from the conference room to the parking lot, ignoring the look of disapproval on the face of her boss. She had to go see her mother. Something just felt wrong.

  She’d spent an hour in the meeting that morning, then excused herself and tried calling the apartment. When nobody picked up she was gripped by a sudden dread. Something was wrong over there. She folded her cellphone up and went back into the conference room to get her things.

  Chad looked at her in annoyance as she scooped up her briefcase and purse.

  “Tonya? You’re leaving?”

  “I have to go,” Tonya explained quickly, ignoring the curious looks from her co-workers. Bernie had been in the middle of a presentation; he looked on in concern. Most of the people in the room looked concerned, but not Chad. “My mother’s sick. I’ve got to go.”

  “Tonya!”

  Ignoring him, she left the conference room and hurried through the maze of cubicles to the hallway and out the building.

  She tried calling the apartment several times as she walked out to the parking lot and made her way to her car. The phone rang and rang. She hung up and called back three more times and then tried Big Mike’s cell phone. No answer there either. She continued trying to call both phones as she hopped onto I-95 and made her way toward the city. By the time she reached Philadelphia she still had not reached either of them and was starting to panic. Tonya knew what Mike did for a living and a drug dealer not answering his cell phone was bad business. If anything, Big Mike was an excellent businessman.

  Tonya hit Lincoln Drive doing sixty through the nerve-jarring turns, not caring for her own safety but only that of her mother.

  Something is wrong. Why won’t someone answer? Where the hell is Natsinet?

  Tonya was afraid that perhaps Natsinet had walked off the job and left her mother alone or worse. Maybe someone had broken into the house or attacked Natsinet on the way to the house. A dozen different possibilities went through her head including one she didn’t want to even consider; that perhaps she didn’t know Big Mike as well as she thought she did and he’d done something to Natsinet and momma. That would explain why he wasn’t answering his cell phone. He would know it was her calling to check on momma, and if he’d done something to them—but that was impossible. She’d known Big Mike her entire life. Yet she knew that Natsinet had a way of rubbing people the wrong way. She could imagine her getting under Mike’s skin, and if he was drunk or high…plus they’d already gotten off on the wrong foot when he’d gone over there last night. Still, there was no way he would hurt her mother no matter how pissed off or intoxicated he was. He had too much respect for Tonya’s mother to do anything to hurt her. Even if he beat Natsinet to death he would have stayed there to look after her mother until Tonya could get there. He would have called her and told her to come home quickly. He wouldn’t just leave her in the dark.

  So what the hell is going on?

  A car pulled out in front of her and Tonya stomped on her brakes. The front of her car collided with the other car’s driver side door, pushing it in and bending the other car in half. Tonya’s head shattered the windshield, opening a gash on her forehead.

  “Shit!”

  The rear of the vehicle skidded and Tonya fought to control the skid. Her car came to rest at the side of the road, facing oncoming traffic. A sports car narrowly missed her, the driver honking in irritation. She felt a spurt of adrenaline surge through her as she stepped on the gas after coming to a stop—she had to get back on the road. Had to get to her mother’s apartment but the car stalled, then died.

  Tonya pounded her fist on the steering wheel. She was only four or five miles from her mother’s home, but by the time she got done with the police it could be another two hours.

  “Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!” Tonya buried her face in her hands and cried in frustration.

  Around her, traffic continued as cars drove around the accident. A couple of good Samaritans ventured out of their vehicles and headed toward the accident. A young White guy in blue jeans and a white t-shirt leaned toward Tonya’s side of the car.

  “Ma’am, you okay?”

  Tonya risked a glance at the car she’d hit. A crowd of people were gathered around it. Somebody was leaning inside, talking to the driver. She wondered how badly they were hurt.

  “Ma’am?” The man tried to get her door open. It was stuck. “You hurt anywhere else besides your head?”

  Tonya shook her head. Her head didn’t hurt at all. She touched her fingers to her forehead and felt blood.

  “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get you out of there,” The man outside her car said. He was already joined by an older White guy and a young guy who looked Puerto Rican. Off in the distance she heard sirens.

  Tonya Brown’s day had just gotten worse.

  Chapter Twenty

  The EMT insisted Tonya be taken to the hospital and was having none of her protests. He listened with a fake look of concern on his face that just barely masked his annoyance as his partner, a big guy with an olive complexion, made sure she was secure on the back brace.

  “I’m telling you, I can’t go to the hospital! My mother’s in trouble! I have to get to her!”

  “Uh huh, that’s what they all say,” the EMT said. He was a young White guy with a mop of black hair. “My mother’s in trouble, or I’m late to work or band practice or whatever. I’ve heard it a million times lady, and if I were you I’d count yourself damn lucky you made it out of this accident with your brain still in your brain pan.”

  “Listen to me you little shit!”

  “Wanna hear something?” The EMT didn’t seem fazed by Tonya’s anger. He leaned closer to her as his partner secured her to the gurney. “One time we had an accident victim like you. Guy was doing a hundred in a fifty mile an hour zone. He hit a tree head on. Dude wasn’t drunk or under the influence, he was just a really bad driver, know what I mean? He put on the same song and dance you’re putting on now and my supervisor, who showed up at the site, made the call for the guy to sign himself out. Turns out the guy had broken his back and didn’t know it. He got maybe ten feet before one of his discs collapsed and one of his vertebrae slipped down at just the right angle and—bam! It severed his spinal cord. I’ve never seen a guy drop so fast in my life.”

  If I was out of this gurney I’d drop kick you right in the face you little punk! Tonya thought, her rage seething. She glared at the EMT, who held her gaze. He wasn’t intimidated by her at all.

  “Long story short, guy sued the county for negligence. Claimed we should’ve insisted we take him to the hospital. Of course, if we did he could’ve pulled that same shit on the Emergency Room docs and it’s possible he would’ve walked out of there too and the same thing would’ve happened.”

  “But I’m not hurt bad!” Tonya yelled. “Can’t you get that through your thick skull! The other driver isn’t even hurt at all!”

  That much was true. The driver of the other vehicle—a middle-aged Caucasian woman who’d been on her way to work—was perfectly fine.
In fact, she’d asked Tonya if she was okay.

  “True enough,” the EMT said. “But you’re gonna need a couple of stitches to close that wound in your forehead up, and you were complaining of back pain. So why don’t you relax and let us take you to the hospital. You’ll be out by one o’clock.”

  “But you don’t understand! I’ve got to—”

  A uniformed police officer stepped into the fray.

  “Mrs. Brown, I think it would be a good idea to listen to George, here. I’m going to need to get a statement from you anyway.”

  Tonya almost pleaded with the officer to send a squad car to her mother’s house, but then stopped herself. If she told the police what she suspected, she was afraid her fears wouldn’t be taken seriously. Of course that was the logical thing to do—explain to the police why she was driving so fast, so she could make sure the home care nurse that had been hired to provide for her invalid mother wasn’t hurt or dead or hadn’t abandoned her, or wasn’t just ignoring her calls for some reason she couldn’t imagine. But she was afraid that if she mentioned that she’d asked her friend, a known felon, to look after the apartment, they might grow suspicious and insist that they accompany her to the apartment. That might get Big Mike into trouble even if he was innocent, especially if he had drugs or a gun on him. No, it might be better to not mention anything now. In fact, better yet, if she could get her hands on a phone and call her husband, maybe he could get over to her momma’s apartment.

  The EMT helped his partner load Tonya Brown into the waiting ambulance as the officer followed them.

  “I’ll see you at the hospital, Mrs. Brown.”

  I can hardly wait, Tonya thought as the doors shut behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Adelle struggled to wake, trying desperately to clear the fog from her mind left over from the Demerol. Her head was pounding. She looked around for Natsinet but the room was empty. She had at least a few minutes to herself.

  She’d been awake through most of Natsinet’s confrontation with Rachael last night, feigning unconsciousness while listening to the nurse rage about her childhood growing up bi-racial. She’d luckily been spared Rachael’s murder by the shot of Demerol the nurse had given her. But she of all people knew what Natsinet was capable of, so she did not expect that Rachael had survived the encounter. That meant it was once again up to her to somehow save herself.

  There was moaning coming from the other room. It sounded as if someone were in pain. Heavy footfalls approached Adelle’s bedroom. The rhythm was halting and uncertain, like someone staggering or limping. The door to Adelle’s bedroom opened and Mike Simmons, Nancy Edward’s boy from down the street who Tonya used to play with when she was little, stepped into her room, one hand clutching his stomach, which was saturated in blood. A steady stream of red dripped from between his fingers as more blood pumped from the wound.

  “You’ve got to get out of here, Mrs. Smith. We’ve got to get you out of here. That nurse is crazy. She tried to kill me.”

  He walked over to Adelle’s bed and tried to lift her before almost collapsing.

  “I’m sorry,” He panted, his huge form leaning its entire weight on her bed. His heavily muscled arms held onto the bed rails for support.

  Adelle shuddered at the thought of what Big Mike had been through. She had no idea he was even in the apartment. She assumed that Tonya must have asked him to watch out for her. Obviously, he’d witnessed what was going on and tried to save her, only to be attacked by Natsinet instead.

  Where is she? Did he kill her?

  Adelle tried to look around Mike into the living room but his tremendous girth blocked her view. She hoped that he had managed to kill Natsinet. She no longer had any desire to understand the woman. She only wanted her dead.

  Mike’s breathing was labored, raspy.

  “I’m sorry. I feel so weak. I’m bleeding like a damn stuck pig. That crazy bitch stabbed me. I can’t believe she stabbed me.”

  He stood up again and scooped his huge arms beneath Adelle’s legs and shoulders. This time he did manage to lift her. He carried her to the bedroom door, teetering as if he were about to pass out any minute. Adelle was afraid he would drop her and fall right on top of her. Then she saw Natsinet, rising from the living room floor. She looked weak and unsteady, tiny next to Mike’s massive form, but when her eyes fixed on Adelle’s there was a rage in them that made her look ten times more dangerous than her rescuer.

  “Stay the fuck away from me you crazy bitch!” Mike’s voice sounded weak, far off. He was fading quickly.

  “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

  Natsinet knelt and picked up a knife from the floor and stepped in front of Mike, blocking his path to the front door. Still holding Adelle with his left arm, Big Mike reached his right hand into his waistband and pulled out a gun, something bigger than Adelle’s .45 caliber. Natsinet paused and backed away. Mike’s hand wavered and the gun swung back and forth as he tried to hold Adelle with one hand and aim the gun with the other. He seemed disoriented from the loss of blood and was having a hard time aiming the gun. Natsinet smiled and stepped back into his path as he took a step forward.

  “Don’t do this, Natty,” Adelle said.

  “My fucking name is Natsinet!” Natsinet roared and then paused, looking at Adelle curiously, eyes wide in astonishment. “You just spoke.”

  “Parlodel. Rachael gave it to me. It’s for Parkinson’s patients. It helps improve speech. She said it would work for stroke patients too.” Adelle’s words came out slow and slightly slurred but they were still understandable. She could talk again.

  “I know what the fuck it does! How the hell did you get it?” Natsinet looked furious. Rachael had gotten something over on her and she clearly did not like it.

  “She gave it to me when she was working.”

  “Did you speak to her? Did you fucking tell her about me?”

  “No. This is the first time I’ve spoken. But it doesn’t matter now does it? I know you killed her.”

  Natsinet smiled.

  “I cut her fat ass up and put her in the freezer next to your leftovers.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.”

  Natsinet put one hand on her hip, still holding the knife in the other. She raised one eyebrow, that devilish grin still scarring her face.

  “Oh yeah, and what is it I’m trying to do?”

  “You’re Black, at least half Black, and no matter what you do to me or how many other Black people you kill, you’ll still be Black. You can’t kill that. My blood isn’t going to wash that away and neither is Mike’s.”

  “Are you trying to do some kind of psychoanalysis on me now? You think you know me?”

  She took a step forward. Adelle was hoping she could get the woman to move even closer so that Mike could shoot her without missing. The way his gun hand kept dropping and waving around she wasn’t sure he could even see anymore. At least if Natsinet was two feet in front of him he wouldn’t have to aim. All he’d have to do is pull the trigger.

  “I heard what you told Rachael about your father.”

  Natsinet paused.

  “You don’t know shit about my father.”

  “I know he was a proud Black man who worked hard trying to give you a good life and that he died senselessly and that it wasn’t your fault or anyone else’s except the guy who pulled the trigger. I know you can’t bring him back. I know how much it hurt you when he and your mother split up.”

  “You’d better shut up now. Just stop it right now!”

  Natsinet pointed the knife at Adelle, itching to cut the old woman’s throat with it, but Mike still held the gun between them.

  “Get out of our way or I swear I’ll put a cap in you.”

  Big Mike could barely keep the gun steady and he was starting to wobble, slowly teetering back and forth. The wounds in his gut continued to pump a dark viscous red, soaking his shirt and jeans. Adelle was pretty sure he had only a few m
ore minutes of consciousness left and if he didn’t get to a hospital he’d be dead in less than an hour. She had to try to talk Natsinet down, get her to let them pass.

  “I know how you felt growing up, always feeling different. Feeling like you were somehow inferior when you were around White kids because of the Black blood in your veins. Feeling inferior when you were around Black kids because of the White blood in your veins.”

  “I said shut the fuck up!”

  “Get the fuck out of our way!” Mike yelled back at Natsinet. He seemed to regain a little of his strength. His grip on Adelle tightened.

  Adelle ignored them both and kept talking. Tears began to roll from Natsinet’s eyes, the first genuine emotion Adelle had ever seen the woman display other than anger. She looked as if she were on the verge of a breakdown. Adelle wasn’t sure what would happen when the woman snapped, but she couldn’t see how it could be any worse than the position they were in now.

  “Once your dad was dead you chose to identify with the White side of your family because you blamed all of us for your daddy’s death, anyone with a Black face, but the White side of your family didn’t accept you either because they know exactly what you’re trying to deny… that you’re Black too. You’re one of us. We’re your people.”

  “I’m not Black! You people aren’t anything like me! I’m not one of you!”

  Natsinet started forward, raising the knife when the front door opened and Tonya stepped into the apartment.

  Natsinet stopped and looked back, the knife still raised over her head. Tonya looked stunned. She had a freshly bandaged wound on her forehead and she was looking from the bloody knife in Natsinet’s hand to Mike’s blood-soaked shirt, to the gun in his hand, to Adelle cradled in Mike’s arms, slowly slipping from his weakening grasp.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  As Natsinet turned towards Tonya, Mike teetered and started to fall, dropping Adelle onto the carpet and dropping the gun, a Desert Eagle .50 caliber semi-automatic, next to her. Adelle hit the ground on her right side, facing the bedroom, and immediately tried to roll over to push herself back up. She lay there on her belly as Tonya tackled Natsinet and the two women hit the ground on the other side of the sofa.