Miami's Forgotten

by Matt Lincoln

  This was starting to sound promising. I just hoped it lasted. I nodded, not looking too interested or desperate for more.

  “So then, the other man he---” Puffer jacket gets cut off by his friend as he started to pull him away.

  “Shut your face, man! Don’t go telling him anymore. Come on.” Superhero tank must have been running the show. He dragged the other kid away, and I just stood there, watching them go. Within a few minutes, they were both out of sight and gone.

  On the bright side, I knew more than I did before I talked to them. I began to walk back toward the streets and alley of the area. Then I dug out my phone and dialed LaShawn. He wasted no time in answering.

  “Jake?” He sounded relieved and excited to hear from me.

  “Hey, I have something. Not much but maybe enough for you to work with there.” I took a moment, figuring that he might want to get some place private before I told him more. I was walking back to my car, checking the shadows and windows just to be on the safe side of things.

  A minute later, I heard a door close on his end. “Okay, what have you found out?” The anxiousness in his voice was blatantly there. Now I wished that I had more to give him.

  “Not a lot, but it sounds like these guys are using kids as runners. I couldn’t get an address or descriptions other than maybe an accent, but if they’re using teenagers to drop off goods somewhere, then you might be able to ask around where you are.” I was hoping that all made sense to him, too.

  “We don’t get that many kids in here, but I’ll look into it. Thanks, Jake. What else?” I was hoping that it would have more of an effect on the cause. Oh well.

  “That’s about it for now, sorry. Nobody wants to talk. I’m trying not to look like a narc, but something is throwing them off me.” I could hear Lashawn laugh at that. “But I’m going to keep trying, don’t worry about that. Still, if you have any tips on how to get them to talk to me, I’m all ears.”

  “I don’t know. Just go easy, be kind when you can. Hey, you’re a good-looking guy. Maybe hit up the ladies. Couldn’t hurt, right?” He was joking, of course, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Most women in these situations avoid men for fear of an attack or worse. But maybe if I was kind like LaShawn suggested, I could find out more.

  “Alright, well, keep me posted, and I’ll do the same. See you later.” I hung up and continued walking. I was a few blocks from where I’d started when I got the feeling that I was being followed. I glanced over my shoulder but didn’t see anything there. I ducked into the next dark alley and took a minute to get my Ruger ready, just in case.

  It was only going to be logical that with me asking the kinds of questions I had tonight that somebody would take notice. I thought back to those two kids and wondered if they had told some of their friends or somebody else about what I’d been prying into. Then again, I could just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I mean, a lone guy, not known to the area, hanging out in the early hours of the morning? People were going to think the obvious and wonder if I was out to buy, or sell drugs, or something even more ominous. However, if I was being followed, I doubted that it was the concerned citizens of the neighborhood doing the stalking.

  I did a quick survey of the street ahead of me and then dove around the corner from where I’d come. Sure enough, I saw three men headed my way. They were coming up fast, and they looked ready to go, ready to take me down. I noticed a broken-up pallet beside the dumpster a few feet from where I was, so at the risk of them hearing it, I broke off a large slat with the nails still attached. Then, I got ready for when they advanced.

  Within seconds, the trio of guys blocked the way to the street. I may have had the advantage, being alone in the dark, but there were still three of them, and most likely, they were all armed. I’d already decided that I didn’t want to shoot if I could avoid it. That would draw way too much attention.

  I took a rapid survey of the three guys. The one with the knife on the right was on the smaller side, but he looked quick. The middle one had a Glock G42 pointed at me, but I wasn’t sure that he actually knew where I was in the dark. The last one also had a gun, a Kel-Tec of some sort. That was when I realized I was in trouble.

  The guy in the middle called out the only words any of them said, “The Judge sends her regards.” And then he fired, and that bullet grazed my thigh, getting a lucky shot in the dark.

  I ducked behind the dumpster on the right, dropped the wooden slat, and reached for my Ruger. So much for not wanting to draw extra attention. None of them were speaking now, which would have been helpful for me to locate them, but no such luck for me. One of them was advancing, as I could hear the broken glass and other trash crunching under his feet.

  I was going to wait until he got closer, but for some reason, he stopped before I had a shot. I smelled the air, hoping for a sense of where he was, or even for a chance to recall it later if I needed to identify them. I waited for a few seconds, but still nothing. They weren’t going to move either, it seemed. I hated not knowing what was going on, so I thrust myself up just enough to make out their heads. I aimed, but so did they.

  I got one shot off and heard a grunt from one of them, but their first bullet hit the wall and blasted the brick beside me. Chunks landed in my face, and something awful flew into my eye. I was having a tough time seeing, so the pain in my arm didn’t register at first. I was in a very bad spot, and I couldn’t stay where I was without becoming target practice.

  I forced myself forward and fired again, hitting one of the guys in the chest, and he went down. But so did I. I fell to the left and landed hard against my already damaged arm. The last guy was momentarily distracted by the blood splatter in his face from his partner, and that gave me an opening.

  I fired once more but misjudged, probably because my sight was going in the left eye. The Glock fired and hit me in the side, passing through nothing but meat and missing all the vital stuff. I aimed, fired again, and this time, the guy went down. I’d hit him in the gut. Nasty, but a finalizer.

  I took a minute to patch myself up and stop the bleeding with my own tee shirt. Then I crawled over to the most alive one for some answers. I found my slat from earlier and plunged it into his gunshot wound. He screamed, which was certainly my intention. Then I twisted it.

  “I’ll stop when you tell me who you work for. Tell me where to find them.” It may have seemed a little hollow of a threat, but I didn’t think that part through. I just needed a lead on where to go from here and why he’d mentioned the Judge of all people. I hated to entertain the idea that Kippy had been right and that there really was a hit out for me over rescuing Arik.

  “Ah--- ah… nineteen…” He tried to get the words out, so I twisted a bit more and forced my weight down on the slat. He shrieked and passed out.

  I was pissed at myself for overdoing it. I got up and took note of the other two guys. One, the first one I’d hit, was dead from a bullet to the head. The last was the chest wound, but he didn’t look like he would be saying much. So instead, I dug around for their phones, wallets, and anything else that might tell me something about them.

  Getting what I could off them, I stumbled my way back to my vehicle, and once I got inside, I stopped to consider what I’d done. Once I got my head clear, I called up George.

  “Hey, I got into a bit of a scrape. I’ll be by in a few minutes. Oh, and which door do I come through if I don’t want to bleed on anything, huh?”

  I didn’t want to be rude, after all.

  7

  Jake

  I managed to drive the Mercedes into George’s garage without hitting anything along the way, but I had no idea how I’d done it. During the call I made to him, he told me that he’d be waiting there for me, as it was one of the few places in and around his compound that I knew fairly well.

  Once I saw the open garage door, I noticed that someone had moved the closer vehicles to the door out of the way, probably because they thought that I might ram one coming in. T
hey were smart to do so, but I was extra careful, anyway. I got far enough in for the garage door to close, but that was it. I turned off the engine and waited. That was as far as I trusted myself in this injured state.

  A few minutes later, George was opening my car door and helping me out. It wasn’t that I was that bad off. I just didn’t want to make any of the wounds worse. He had brought over a gurney, hospital-grade I noticed, and then he helped me to it. I maneuvered cautiously to lay on it, wary not to hit my leg or arm as I knew they were both gunshot wounds, and that could be worse than expected.

  “Jake, can you tell me again everywhere that you have been injured?” George’s calm, waning Scottish voice was a relief to hear again. I did remember telling him that I’d been shot in the right leg, in the left upper arm, and that fragmented brick had peppered my face and landed in my eye.

  “Situation normal, all fracked up, Doctor. Nothing’s changed.” Then it occurred to me that he probably wanted to check my memories to ascertain whether I had a concussion or other brain and head injuries. “GSW to my left thigh, GSW to my right tricep area, foreign objects in my left orbital region and face. Good enough?”

  “It will do.” George was already wheeling me through the garage. “I’m glad to see that your cognitive capabilities do not appear impaired.” By the time he got me to his operating and surgical room, I wasn’t feeling so great. He helped me to the examination table and started to do his thing.

  “Any chance of getting some pain relief?” I had held out as long as I could, but with the adrenaline vaporizing out of my system, all the other sensations were kicking in now. I closed my eyes and focused on my heartbeat, a little trick we’d been taught during training to minimize the brain’s reaction to injury.

  “As soon as I start you on fluids…” He was keeping his nice, steady tone, with professionalism and a pleasant bedside manner style. “And on a scale of one to ten, where is your pain at today, Mr. Header?”

  I opened my eyes to see him smiling down at me, teasingly.

  “I never knew that you were funny,” I replied, then I closed them again and resumed my focus on my heartbeat.

  “Oh, I reassure you, I am not.” I could feel the needle for the IV go into my right arm, and I waited. “I’m going to have to assess your wounds one at a time as you find me a bit understaffed this morning.”

  That’s when I realized just what time it was. I opened my eyes to look at George again and noticed that he was fully dressed, and it didn’t look like I had woken him up with my call. It had to be past three am, if not later.

  “You keep some odd hours, George. What’s up with that?”

  He gave me a rather bizarre look, and I grasped just how odd it was for me to be asking him that as I laid on a medical exam table under his care. I wasn’t one to comment on such things. I guessed that it took him by surprise.

  George did answer me, though. “I was attending a teleconference from another time zone. It wouldn't do to be seen in my dressing gown, as you might understand.”

  “It’s silk, isn’t it? Your dressing gown.” I was kidding, just trying to ease myself through the pain I was feeling. The leg was the worst, for some reason. It was throbbing and burning at the same time. I thought the bullet had just gone through meat, missing all the muscle, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  “The fact that you are envisioning my dressing down, Mr. Header, makes me question the amount of drugs that I have given you. Be so kind as to take in and release several deep breaths, please.” He was listening to my chest, so I obeyed. “Very good. No wet, sucking sounds to report.”

  I began to feel something like a warm respite slip through my body.

  “There they are,” I whispered as the painkillers went to work. I tried to concentrate on the whole mind over matter thing at this point. I knew that George was going to do all that he needed to. It was just going to take some time. But I opened my eyes to see what he was doing, anyway.

  “I do remember that you prefer the model of ‘less is more’ when it comes to medication, but in this case, I do fear that I will need to place you under while I work.” He leaned over me so that I could see him and judge his intentions for myself. That was an appreciated gesture that I would not forget.

  “How long will I be out?” I didn’t like the idea of my team not being able to stay connected with me.

  “For as long as I need you to be in order to repair all the damage that you have sustained.” He had stopped smiling and was becoming more serious toward me. I took that as a couple of things. First, I needed these ‘repairs’ soon, and second, I was getting on his nerves.

  “Alright, Dr. Yout. You have my permission to do what I came here for. Cut me open and renovate me.” I just couldn’t help myself with the jokes. It seemed the drugs had finally started to work. I saw George add a syringe of something into my IV, and then I closed my eyes again.

  That was the last thing I remembered until a soft, female voice and a gentle male one with some Scottish undertones woke me up. I was lying in a brightly lit, beige-colored room, and I could also hear the faint beeps and hums of machinery nearby. I found that the voices weren’t as close to me as I had originally believed because I was the only one in the room.

  I looked around and found that I could actually see outside through a window, meaning that I wasn’t in the complex below ground. I didn’t even know that George had patient rooms above ground. That was interesting to learn.

  I took stock of everything that I could see, though. I was in a typical hospital bed, complete with tubes coming out of me and nodes in a few places on my body. The room was much smaller than the average patient room, and there was a single padded chair positioned in the corner. The window looked out into a yard or garden. It was hard to tell from here. But I did see greenery and a flowering bush or shrub. The walls in here were also that solemn and pacifying beige color that the blanket, chair, and floor all shared.

  I was sure that somewhere, in some medical journal or mental health guide, doctors had been told to use this boring, mind-numbing hue for all their patient’s décor. To me, it just seemed depressing. But I wasn’t a medical professional or an interior decorator, so what did I know?

  While I was looking all this over, the two voices had stopped talking. I looked to the door as both George and his daughter Verity entered my room.

  “Good afternoon, Jake, and how are you feeling?” George’s soothing bedside manner was on full display as he glided over to me and started to poke and prod me.

  Verity came over on my other side, the right, and was watching me with an unreadable look on her face. I smiled briefly at her and then turned all my attention back to George. “I’m still alive, I see, so I’d say that makes me pretty good.”

  He started with my heart rate, blood pressure, and whatever else his monitors told him. “Yes, it does look like you came out of surgery quite fit and proper. Once I got you under, it turned out that you were not as bad off as I had feared.”

  “That’s good.” And that worried me, too. “How bad did you think I was?”

  He refused to answer that part. “Tell me, is your eye still bothering you?” He was looking self-contentedly at me.

  I blinked a few times, and to my relief, I could see out of both eyes just as I had before. “No, it seems to be fine. Thanks.” Whatever he had done was exactly what I’d needed.

  “You are welcome. I was concerned about retina damage, but as it turned out, there was no lasting harm to your eye at all.” The relief in his voice was all too conspicuous.

  “What about the rest of me? How’s my arm?” I tested it as best as I could, as I was still hooked up to the machines on both sides. There was some pain there, but it was more of a dull soreness than anything else.

  “You were extremely fortunate in all of your injuries. I was able to repair everything in a few hours, and I will be releasing you later on tonight.” He caught my eyes momentarily. “As long as you behave yourself and eat all the Jel
l-O Verity made for you.”

  I laughed quietly and turned to her. “Green, I hope. That’s the worst one.” I wanted her to see that I wasn’t too bad off or too serious to take a joke.

  “I didn’t, in fact, make you anything. I think he was joking with you at my expense.” She tried to smile, but something didn’t connect with her eyes there. I heard her father sigh and turn to leave.

  “Can you keep him company while I check in on my other patients?” George wasn’t asking, as he left the room without an answer. This left Verity and me alone and unsupervised. That may have been the point.

  “Pull up a chair. I won’t mind the company if you don’t mind my company.” I grinned at her and motioned toward the chair in the corner. She got the hint and pulled it over to sit next to me.

  “Father wouldn’t tell me too much about what happened to you, so maybe you can clarify the situation.” She didn’t sound too pleased with being left out of the loop about this event, but I wasn’t sure just how much I should inform her of.

  “What did he tell you?” I thought that was the best way to judge what she needed to know by what she already did. But by the look on her face when I said this, it wasn’t a good idea.

  “Oh, no. You’re going to tell me everything that transpired and then tell me why you came to my father instead of going to a hospital, like a normal human being.” She crossed her arms and stared me down. She had a very stern look to her. It was one that she must have inherited from her mother because it didn’t look at all like something George would do.

  It was almost cute, and I got the feeling that Verity was used to getting her way when she put her mind to it. This may or may not work to her advantage with me. I’d have to wait and see.

  “You do know that your father is a legal and licensed physician in the State of Florida, don’t you?” I asked.