Bayside Boom
Page 1
Alex Cage
www.AlexCage.com
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ALSO BY ALEX CAGE FEATURING ORLANDO BLACK
Carolina Dance
Bayside Boom
Stories
Queen City Ruby
Sunshine Scandal
Once You Go Black
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Bayside Boom
An Orlando Black Novel
Alex Cage
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, places, and situations were all created from the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner and are not to be interpreted as real. Any parallels to actual people, places, or situations, living or dead, are completely coincidental.
Bayside Boom. An Orlando Black Novel (Book 2)
Copyright © 2020 by Alex Cage. All rights reserved.
www.AlexCage.com
ISBN: 978-1-950156-04-7 (trade paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-950156-05-4 (ebook)
TEAM
Many people worked to help eliminate mistakes and make this book the best product possible. With that said, any remaining errors belong to me.
Content Editing
Edmund Pickett
Editing and proofreading
Meghan Stoll and Kerrie McLoughlin
Designers and photo
Rebecacovers, and Polgarus Studio
All rights reserved. No portion of the book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any other information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the author.
Request to publish work from this book should be sent to:
Alex@AlexCage.com
There are thousands of words in this book, and yet that's not enough to express all the ways she encourages me. So I'll keep it short:
To my wife, Devette.
Table of Contents
Readers List
Books by Alex Cage
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1.
Chapter 2.
Chapter 3.
Chapter 4.
Chapter 5.
Chapter 6.
Chapter 7.
Chapter 8.
Chapter 9.
Chapter 10.
Chapter 11.
Chapter 12.
Chapter 13.
Chapter 14.
Chapter 15.
Chapter 16.
Chapter 17.
Chapter 18.
Chapter 19.
Chapter 20.
Chapter 21.
Public Law 324
About the Author
1.
KEEPING IN TOUCH with family has become difficult in the modern world. Despite the technological leaps and the many avenues of long-distance contact, people are still very much disconnected from each other. Such were the thoughts Orlando Black contemplated as he sat on a bench facing the Alcatraz Shoal. The water was still and the sky was clear. The busy sound of a large crowd and many enticing aromas drifted from the various restaurants and food stands behind him. The day was sunny, quiet, and cool and Black felt comfortable in his boots, jeans, T-shirt, and light coat. He removed his cell phone from his pocket and looked at the screen before poking at it and holding it to his ear. After a few rings, a female’s voice eased on the line.
“Hello?”
“How are you?” Black asked.
“Wow. Well, if it isn’t the winner of this year’s Worst Brother Award.”
“I won again this year?”
“You seem to win every year.” The voice chuckled. “Where are you?”
“Fisherman’s Wharf.”
“What? You’re in San Francisco?”
“Yep. I thought I’d drop by and surprise my little sister.”
“Aw, how sweet. Maybe you don’t deserve that award after all. But I’m actually not in town.”
“Oh really? Where are you?”
“I’m in Chicago right now.”
“Chicago?”
“You know I’ve been bouncing around for work since the whole military thing. I don’t think the Corps would take me back.”
“Well, you did break your C.O.’s jaw.”
“That sexist pig had it coming. It can be so hard for women in the Marines.”
“So what are you doing in Chicago?”
“I have a private security gig I’m working.”
“Be careful with those companies.”
“Oh, now you want to put on your big bro pants and protect me?”
“I’m serious.”
“Chill out.”
“Olivia Jane Black, I mean it!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll be careful, and you know I don’t like it when you use my full name like that.”
“That’s all I’m asking. There’s no need to put yourself in harm’s way, especially when you don’t need the money.”
“I can take care of myself.”
Black nodded. “Yep, I know.”
“Hey, have you been to see Mom and Dad?”
“No, not yet.”
“Make sure you visit them.”
“We’ll see,” he shrugged.
Olivia sighed. “Look, I know they’re not blood, but I feel they’re my mom and dad. Go see them, okay?”
“We’ll see,” Black repeated.
Multiple voices on the other end of the line filled his ear.
“I have to go,” Olivia said. “I have a meeting. Love you, bye.”
“Hey, be careful,” Black said, but the call ended before he could finish speaking. “You too, little sis,” he muttered to himself.
He sat on the bench for a while and enjoyed the view. After some time, the food smells made his stomach growl. I better get something to eat, he thought, patting his stomach.
He stood up from the bench and walked across the wooden pier and up a sidewalk, where he joined throngs of pedestrians. The streets were filled with food carts, balloon artists, musicians, and painters. Just about all types of performance entertainment were present. Black fought through the crowd and crossed the street, where he ran into an entirely different group of people. They were marching around the deck of Pier 39, thrusting large signs into the air. He read a few of the signs. One read, I can have as many kids as I want. Another, In memory of the brave in New York, and yet another, Say NO to P.L. 324! He stopped walking, curious. A young lady from the group approached him.
With her fingertips, she brushed her fine blond hair behind her ear and smiled. “Hi, sir, are you here to march with us?”
“What?”
The young lady extended a flier. “We’re here to stop the public law 324 that the president is trying to pass.”
Black looked down at the flier. In large font stood the number 324 with a circle around it and a line crossing through it. Below the circle was written, Kids are precious, and under that there was a description that compared a president he hadn’t voted for nor cared about to a donkey. There was also today’s date, a time frame, and the location of Fisherman’s Wharf. Black looked at the girl and was about to speak, but a guy who looked to be in his early twenties stepped up and put his arms around the young lady, kissing her on the cheek.
“What’s up, babe, who’s this?” he asked.
“This is a gentleman who I believe wants to march with us,” she said, smiling and raising her eyebrows.
“Oh, so you’re here for the protest?”
Black shook his head. “I don’t even know what you’re protesting.”
“324,” the guy said.
Bl
ack stared at him.
“Basically the government is saying if we have more than five children we have to pay a population tax. Crazy, right?”
“We should be able to have as many kids as we want,” the young lady added.
“So are you guys planning on having six kids?” Black asked.
“No,” they said in sync.
“Do you have any kids?”
“No,” they said again.
Black said nothing.
“But we have rights,” the girl said.
“Yeah, it’s just wrong, dude. And we’re not going to let what the government did in New York scare us,” the guy said.
Black squinted as the couple was pulled away by the crowd, marching down the street and chanting in protest.
He shrugged and walked off across the pier. As he entered a restaurant, he noticed a camera above the door. Inside were many empty tables, a couple of waiters, and a bartender. The ceiling fan squeaked and the smell of seafood and alcohol stuffed the place. Black creaked across the wooden floor towards the bar. He sat on a stool and lifted a menu from the counter. The bartender was cleaning a glass. He wore a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. There was a black apron across his waist above his black slacks. He finished washing the glass and draped the cloth he used to dry it over his shoulder before looking over at Black.
“So, what can I start you off with?” he asked.
“I’ll start with a water,” Black said.
“You got it.” The bartender grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and slid it in front of Black. “It’s a madhouse out there, huh?”
Black began looking through the menu. “The West Coast is usually a madhouse when it comes to political issues,” he said.
“Well, the East Coast has been chaotic as of late too,” the bartender said, craning over and wiping the countertop.
Black looked at him.
The bartender stood straight, looking at Black. “Oh, you haven’t been watching the news?” he asked.
“I’ve been on the road a lot.”
The bartender grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, which hung suspended over the bar.
Black looked as the screen flicked on, displaying some news broadcast. A pretty news anchor was speaking. Imposed next to her face was a rectangular box showing footage of New York City, near Times Square. There was a lot of smoke and people. Emergency responders were everywhere. Black’s sharp eyes quickly picked out 324 and bombing in the headline at the bottom of the screen.
“It’s still unclear how the peaceful protest of two days ago turned into a chaotic and gruesome scene,” the reporter said.
Black sighed and shook his head before turning his attention back to the menu.
“Pretty unfortunate,” the bartender said.
“Yes, it is.”
“Some believe the government had something to do with it.”
“So I heard.”
“What do you make of it?”
Black looked at the bartender. “Make of what? The bombing or the law?”
“Well, both I guess.”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think the government is behind the bombing.”
“What makes you say that?”
“If government officials want something to happen, they create laws, which is what they’re doing in this case. It’s business to them. Whoever is behind the bombing feels a personal attachment to what they believe the law stands for. This person feels victimized. They probably feel that if the law were in place they would’ve never been a victim.”
The bartender nodded.
“As for the law itself, I don’t think I care either way. I don’t have any kids nor do I plan on having any.”
“Personally I’m for it. I don’t care what all these rights activists are saying. If you’re collecting a check from the government and you have more than three kids, you should get snipped.”
“Snipped?”
“Man, you really haven’t been watching the news. If you get government assistance and you have more than three kids, 324 says you have to get snipped or tied to continue receiving assistance.”
“I heard it was five kids.”
“That’s for everyone, assistance or not. If you have more than five kids you have to pay some type of tax.”
Black quietly looked at the menu.
The bartender began washing glasses. “It makes sense to me,” he said. “I believe it’ll help with many of the issues we face in this country. I was reading somewhere that something like ninety percent of criminals come from a fatherless home.”
The bartender continued talking while Black stared up at the TV, watching scenes from the tragic event.
FORTY MINUTES LATER Black was back outside. The group of protesters had nearly doubled in size. He shook his head. What do they believe they’re going to accomplish? He began to thread through the noisy crowd. Then something caught his eye. One of the protesters, a slender guy, was wearing a dark coat, cap, and shades. In one of his hands was a sign that read, NO 324! and in his other a small duffel bag. He eased his way through the people, blending in. He stopped and carefully looked around before gently dropping the duffel bag to the wooden deck of the pier. He then walked away quickly. Black walked after the guy, but then he heard his commanding officer’s voice from back in his military days: If they drop it to the ground, chances are it can make a kaboom sound. He looked at the duffel bag and spotted some wiring through the zipper slit. Squatting, he unzipped the bag. His eyes slightly widened, his mouth gaped open, and he felt drops of sweat blooming around his neck. Inside the bag was a homemade bomb. Small, but big enough to cause some damage.
Black snatched the bag, pushing and shoving through the crowd. “Out of the way! Move! Get out of the way!” He ran to the edge of the pier and lobbed the bag over the waves with all his might. His body draped over the railing as he watched the bag sink into the water. As it dropped just below the surface there was an ear-rocking boom. He dove face down on the deck as the whole pier shook, people ran and screamed, and the smell of the ocean water swept through the crowd. Black lay drenched on the wooden planks with the taste of saltwater in his mouth. He watched the rushing feet of people, the fins of fish flapping on the deck around him. Then his eyes fell on the back of the guy with the cap. He was power-walking away from the pier, peeking over his shoulder every two seconds.
Black grimaced and gritted his teeth. He jumped to his feet and went after the guy.
When the guy looked over his shoulder and saw Black’s approach, his fast walk turned into an all-out sprint. He raced through the frantic crowd, slapping and elbowing a path.
Black chased him onto the street. The sound of tires screeching rang heavy in the air—the man was nearly hit by a car. Black continued after him as he turned onto a road with a steep downward slope. The guy looked back, lost his footing, and tumbled for a couple steps, losing his hat and exposing his sandy blond hair in the process, but lurched back to his feet. Black carefully shuffled downhill behind him. Cutting through an alley, one and then the other crossed another street and ran into another crowd of people. Black ducked in between people, maintaining a visual on the man but keeping invisible to him. The man stopped and scanned over both shoulders before slowly jogging towards a trolley bus. He entered the packed trolley and stood near the exit, staring out at the surrounding herd of pedestrians.
Black sprinted after the departing trolley, hopped onto the back bumper, and remained hidden from its passengers in a squatting position. The trolley crept down the road for a few minutes before stopping. The man stepped off and slowly looked around, seemingly concluding that he was in the clear. Black jumped from behind the trolley and rushed him. Noticing him with alarm, the guy pushed a woman in the crowd towards his pursuer.
Catching her and moving her to the side with a, “Excuse me, ma’am,” Black continued chasing after his suspect.
The pursuit continued through the mass around the tr
olley and up an inclined street. They raced, approaching a couple of construction workers tending to the sidewalk. The sandy-haired man forced his way through the workers, while Black skipped off a nearby wall, avoiding the workers entirely.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” one of the workers shouted as the pair bolted by.
The distance between them shrank. The guy was running out of gas, and Black was right on his tail. They shot past a hotel and a restaurant, where the aromas of freshly baked bread, wine, and pasta and the sound of table talk mixed in the air.
Enough of this! Black grabbed one of the chairs from the restaurant patio and slung it with great force. The chair smacked against the guy’s back. Toppling to his belly, he skidded across the pavement. Sirens wailed close by.
Black lifted the man by the back of his shirt and threw him against the wall of the narrow alley next to the restaurant. “Where are you going so fast?” he said with his forearm to the guy’s throat, wedging him against the wall.
Out of breath, the man gasped, “Get off me!” He struggled free and raised his fist.
Black shrugged fearlessly. “Really?”
The man swung at him but missed, and the next second, Black’s fist connected with his gut. The guy hunched over and something fell from his pocket, hitting the ground.
Black ripped the guy’s sunglasses off and was taken aback as he met a pair of blue eyes. “What? You… you’re pretty young.”
The young man staggered backwards and then ran down the alleyway. Black knelt and picked up the device that had fallen from his pocket, putting it in his own. He looked on as the young guy disappeared around the corner. He took a step after him, but thought better of it as rolling sirens invaded the area. Flashing red and blue lights passed by as Black ducked out of the alley and walked in the direction of his car.