Short stories
Out of context: Reply #12
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- georgesIII0
nice pacing [wall of text]
--The Crips and the Bloods ally with each other against ISIS. The world laughs as thousands of gang members board a cruise ship and set sail for the Middle East. The two gangs land on the shores of Syria and begin their fight against ISIS.
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The breaking point was Dec 24th, 2015 at the Sawerville Daycare center. I wont go into details, as I am sure you heard them all on the news. In retrospect, I blame the media for fanning the flames as hard as they did, but maybe some good will come out of it. We all knew what it was when it went down. There was no possible way that a gang would blow up a daycare center. It wasnt about territory, it wasnt about revenge. East West had kind of slowed down as of late. I guess the media was afraid to point the fast finger at a terrorist cell. The only things they had to go on was a blue bandana tied around the neck of one of the gunmen and a red bandana on the arm of another. The 6 o'clock talking head, with scorn in her eyes talked about the horrific scene, the politicians spun it to be about guns and lack of education and everyone else just went numb. It was those computer guys, those Anono, is that what they call themselves? that found the truth. They shared that video, that blood-soaked video, that showed the masked man talking into the camera, saying that we were slaves and sheep. I have seen some stuff in my time, but those two kids, eyes swollen with tears, big with fear, as that knife went across their necks. We all saw with their last bit of life, they clung to each other, lifes' blood dying on the floor.
The way I hear it, the East coast guy just picked up the phone and sent out word that they he needed the big man on the West to meet him in St louis. Under that big arch, Jan 1 at 4 pm. I dont know how word got to him so fast, but the two met and start talking. I wasnt there, but they say that those two said a very few words, and then shook hands and walked separate ways. Hell, I was back at home, on break from college, thinking my banging days were mostly behind me at this point. My cousin called me, excited and fearful, telling me that all the boys were going over and ending this. I had no idea what he was talking about. I just remember seeing him pack up gear and giving his momma a hug and not saying much. Every day, the neighborhood seemed more and more empty. I went back to school and just had everything about settled when my door got knocked on. I went to answer, thinking that it was just someone seeing if I got back and wanted to do something or whatever. I opened up, and it was Devon, a kid from the block. Aint it funny how you grow up with people, when you get to a bigger place you dont seem'em? I talked to Devon like, one time, since I been here. I think the next time it was a nod. Now, he's sitting here, all sweaty, saying the call went out. I asked him what the hell he was talking about. He said pack up and get going, we were going to jump a bus and get to New Orleans. I couldnt go to N O, I got class starting like next week. He looked at me and got real quiet for a second, then said, "you dont go now, dont bother going back home, all the big men say we are going over and ending this." "What you mean dont go back home?" I asked. He said, "Word has it that this is a all call out, dont matter what you doing, where you are, drop it and get to New Orleans. Those that dont, get the big beat." I was just about ready to slam the door in his face when I saw him put his hand in his pocket and pull a small silvery pistol. He saw me focus my eyes on it. He asked again, and with pleading in his voice said,"Dont make me do this, we need you." I told him to come in and sit down while i packed up some clothes and my laptop. What choice did I have? We went to the bus station not saying much. Once on the bus, he passed me a paper and I started to read. The more I read, the more confused I got. What I was reading was like one of those battle plans that my professors droned on about in history class. I gasped when I read the word. Syria Syria? what the fu...I realized voice was by far the loudest thing on the bus now. I slapped my hand over my mouth and I heard a few low chuckles around the bus. When I got on the bus, there was only about four people, now it looked pretty much full. I guess more got on while I was sleeping.
"Devon, I aint even got a gun or anything, what the hell we going to fcuking Syria to do?" I said, my voice forced to a low whisper. "They got it all figured out." Devon replied. I looked out the window to see a giant cruise ship sitting lashed to the dock. "Last stop, good luck fam!" The bus driver said and opened the door. I grabbed my bag and joined the lines of men of all ages now getting on the ship. I saw a signed that said Detroit next to another that said Memphis.
"Man, whats the deal with the signs?" I asked. "just look for Kansas City, and keep moving." Devon said as he scanned the signs. Another few signs, and I spotted our city. A quick scan of the faces around it was like a little homecoming. Guys older and younger were standing around, looking in various states of life. We all chatted within the group and a lot of us had little pieces of the big puzzle. The ship's speaker boomed as it told us to take our place in line. We walked past a somewhat startled group of ship staff and were handed boarding passes. After walking a winding maze of rooms and halls, I found my room number. I opened the door and saw four other guys laying around on various chairs and beds. Staking territory. I saw a empty chair and sat down. Two others came in and swore under their breaths. One slunk to the bathroom and the other tossed his bag on the table. We all didnt say much, but I had a feeling everyone knew more about what was going on than I did. The ship lurched away from the loading ramps and moved slowly away. I could hear the faint humming of the ship as the speaker in the hallway echoed an announcement. "Please all guest and crew report to the main ballroom for a special announcement." Two days ago, I was sitting in my dorm, now I am going to a ball room. We all followed the signs to the ballroom and noticed that there was a group of men standing on the stage. The first one came to the mic stand. He was an older man, wearing stained coveralls and had some silver in his hair. He spoke with a booming voice. "This is how it is. We are going over there to stop this. You all were called and you came. Thats how family works. You all saw the videos. You heard the man calling us out, making us take up the blame. You know that is lies. We are going to go end this!" Half the crowd yelled and cheered, the other looked around hoping more answers. A man wearing a uniform was stared down a bit as he took the mic. "I joined up Army, but I never forgot my roots!" He yelled. "I was just like you, young and strong and wanting to fight. They brought this fight to us, they didnt realize how big and strong we are! Its time we show them." As he spoke, people started passing around armbands with red and blue stripes on them. "We got family over there now, but we need more for the push. We got the guns, we got the street to street fighting skills, we got the cash to keep us going. Our family over there always got a oil rig taken, and we are selling the oil to keep growing. The past is the past. Its a gang wide truce. No beefs, not revenge, all that is on hold now. We got one unified force. We are going to remove those ISIS wrecks once and for all." When we land on the beach, you will be given guns, food, and I want you to fill out a sheet telling what you are good at. You good with cars, let them know. You good with numbers, let them know. If the only thing you are good at is killing, then you let me know and I am going take you across that dust pile till we get every last one!" there was a few seconds of silence and then the crowd let out a cheer that shook the room.
It was the revenge we were promised by ourselves. The chance to set it right. The chance to get back at all the looks and leers we have gotten since Christmas. Maybe even longer than that. We didnt need a government to hand us out and keep us in our place. We didnt need companies and celebrities to tell us what to spend on. Now, and maybe for the first time, we were better than back home. We had our rough spots, but hell, who doesnt?
The next few days blurred into one another. If we werent running, we were learning, if we werent learning, we were training, if we werent doing any of that, we were sleeping. The occasional fight went on, as tempers and attitudes collided. It was always quickly stopped and settled, and the surrounding crowds pulled the two combatants apart. Alot of the boys have done time around here, and some of the long timers would tell us stuff like , "Dont let them beat you by thinking you beating someone else makes you a winner. It makes you a pawn in their game. You gonna be ISIS's bitch? You gonna let the tear us down? Don't let that go down like that." It actually seemed somewhat effective. We never let the fire die. I really hated that I was starting to like learning all the stuff we were being taught. When i went to school, I made myself a promise I was gonna leave all the bad stuff behind. Now Im learning about marksmanship and tactics and using words like logistics and shit. Not everyone could take it. I heard one or two jumped off the railings. They were forgotten quickly. You dont let down your family. I remember when someone spotted land. We all ran out of the rooms and crowded the railing. We could see thick black smoke bobbing on the water as the ship cut though it. Someone whispered next to me that this meant the fight was close. How did they know that? I went back to my room and gathered my stuff. I looked around to my cabinmates and not much was said. I lined up with the rest, thinking back to my first few hours on the ship, when the man in the uniform told me to tell the guys on the dock what I was good at. Shit. I was going to college to write. Back home I was mostly a lookout. I had my scrap or two, stole a bit, and that made me pretty much just like everyone else. I could tell those words were ringing in alot of other ears as well. The guy in front of me was lucky. They asked him, and he shouted back. "Diesel Mechanic!" I knew I should have went to vocational school instead. The question was poised to me. I shouted the word "writer". The guy behind the table, cocked his head and looked at the man next to him. They both shrugged and he responded to me two words. "Street Force" Street force, what the hell was that. It took a few seconds to sink in. The man behind the desk pounded his fist on the desk and pointed to a open warehouse that had the words "street force" tagged over the door. I paused only as I saw Devon approach the table. I was curious of where he would go. He had a small grin on his face. "Oh Shit. Oh Shit no. Devon, dont give some smart ass answer." I remembered that grin from childhood. The world fell away in slow motion as he spoke. He said,"Pimpin" Without missing a beat, the man behind the table pointed at a different warehouse. as I was being pushed along by the ever growing crowd, I followed his finger to a tagged sign that said "Interrogations" Gun shots were all around us. Whoever said that the fight was close, was very correct. A group of four or five hundred of us where in this giant warehouse. It was hard to get us all to shut up. A gunshot straight up solved that problem. We all jumped and looked around to see where it was coming from. An older man with two younger ones in uniform cut a way though the crowd. He had a bullhorn with him that echoed his grunting breaths. He got to the center of of the group and bellowed though the horn. "Listen up! We aint got time to burn here, Shit is serious. Sandys are only a few blocks away, and they are gonna push us into the ocean if we dont help out our fam. Get a weapon, stick together, kill the Sandys and if you even think of turning and running, I will shoot you my fucking self. He pointed at three military trucks at the opposite end of the warehouse and the crowd very quickly went to them. I dont think none of us wanted to test to see if he was serious about shooting us. Several shots pierced the metal skin of the building. Some jerked up to see the holes and the others quickly grabbed the pistols, rifles, and backpacks the men in the trucks were giving. I got pushed up to the front part of the line when a lid of a very empty box was was shut. "Fam, we out!" The man that was handing out the seemingly endless array of weapons up to a second ago shouted at me. I went to the next truck and scrambled harder for a handful of weapon. I was given an ancient pistol that had obviously been tossed out of several cars before given to me. More bullets hit the metal wall of the building. The crowd pushed to the opposite end of the building, closer to the incoming shots. The doors were opened and the sun was blinding. It took a few moments to adjust my eyes but the sight that was revealed was one I wish I could forget. A hellscape. Fire and broken concrete everywhere. People behind me screamed in a bellowing united roar. GO! GO! We were running. I heard a gunshot somewhere over my left shoulder, and saw someone rolling away and trampled underfoot. Thought the crash of bodies and heads I saw flashes of light in the surrounding rubble fields. Every bounding step took us closer. They boys in front started firing back, which seemed to make the flashes stop of a while. The main body of the crowd kept running. A few would peel off and try to use some of the stuff they taught us on the boat. I could see their shots striking concrete with tiny flashes every once in a while striking a spot that wasnt concrete and being rewarded with a yowl or a scream. I had started in the middle of the group and now realize I was very close to the front. I felt a warm splash across my face as I watched the man next to me crumple and fall under the crowd behind. A few rapid shots from far behind me indicated that the old man from earlier wasnt bluffing. I swiveled my head back around to the front as I saw a skinny man spring up behind a rubble field. I almost forgot I had my pistol in my hand as I watched his rifle level at me. I pulled the trigger and kept pulling. He crumpled at the first impact and started to fall. Had I got him? I kept along with the crowd as we pushed into the first block of unruined buildings. I saw a bright flash from a window. I pointed my pistol at the flash and pulled the trigger again. Nothing happened. I looked down at my pistol and realized the slide was locked back. They taught us on the boat if the gun stops working,"roll the wheel or slip the slide" I yanked back on the scarred metal with all my might. It didnt move. I hit the little button and realized I had shot all my bullets at one guy! Shit! I watched in horror as now the form in the window pointed at me. Of all the chaos, I remember hearing a shot and not feeling anything. A young kid, maybe all of fourteen, had leveled his rifle and dropped my attacker. We all kept running. I stuffed my empty pistol into my pocket. From behind from the bullhorn I heard "Take the house, take the big house!" I snapped my head back and saw the old man pointing at this odd building to my left. We all started to run, jumping though windows and doors to get inside. We must have startled the two fighters in the front room because they were just stood there, almost in disbelief as they were shot, and then clubbed by rifle butts a few times just for good measure. I saw a group run up a flight of stairs and went with them. They started peeling around rooms and I could hear gunshots though the walls. I saw a door to my right and pushed though it. I heard a strange tongue swearing as saw a bearded man angrily yanking on the side of his rifle. I reached for my pistol in my pocket. I pulled it out and pointed it at him. I then remember that it was still indeed quiet empty. He must recognized it's state the shortly after I did. He flung himself at me. All those years of afterschool wrestling payed off. I took him to ground and we began to struggle. I saw him yank a knife off of his belt and straddle him, forcing my hand at his wrist. He kept trying to kick me off, screaming and trying to bite at my wrist. I grabbed a clay pot we that had been sitting on a table we destroyed in the fray. With all my remaining might, I palmed the pot like a basketball and slammed it into his skull. His body went limp. I grabbed the knife in a seething rage, and reared back, eager to finish the job. I would take my second life today. A hand snaked around mine and I pulled against it, cocking my head to see who was denying me my rage queller. The old man from earlier, looked down at me, almost fatherly in his eyes. "Take him, we need to know what he knows." I rolled over my still unconscious foe, and wrestled his arms into handcuffs. I drug him with help down the stairs, feeling the adrenaline fleeing from my body. Outside the building, a truck was waiting my quarry. I drug my captive to the dropped tailgate. Standing over the edge, I was greeted with the smiling face of Devon who with a smirk says, "Look who you brought me, looks like its time for him to pay me my money."I could see he was gripping tightly on a wooden baseball bat. The gate was slapped up and left us in the dust. This block was our block now.