BLOG ENTRY: by DG Wilson Jan. 9, 2009 8:24 pm
Chapt. 1 THE SYNDICATE
trouble as he tried to hold all four wheels firmly on the ground when he swerved a bit too hard and the end fish tailed to the left. Attempting to compensate too late Frankie clipped a mini van, it swirled out of view from the bastard's rear view mirror; this he noticed. Keeping the tank straight was always easier he found if he planted the hood ornament over the yellow lines. That helped him land home, like he was flying a Jumbo Jet. Rosey sped off of the bridge into Brooklyn.
He never even saw the woman and her child as they crossed the street. He certainly didn't stop, hadn't even slowed down. But he did hit his head sharply on the roof as his vehicle tore over their bodies.
A guy in his underwear looked out onto the street below his apartment. The block was thick with trees, but the branches were thin without their leaves. A wind blew and a shadow moved to his left. Interested, Daquan leaned forward and cupped his hand around his face to shield out the light from his desk and television which showed the late, late movie. He had seen it before, but forgot how it ended. Daquan turned to the TV while he munched on a bowl of cereal, saw a FBI type run down an alley while he fought hordes of killers in black suits.
Something, a tingle in the base of his skull, made him turn down the TV and look back out the window. The wind swept the leaves that had fallen that week. They danced and tumbled down the sidewalk in a game of follow the leader. Daquan watched as they moved in serpentine trails. Some crashed into the legs of what looked like a man hidden in the shadows.
The chill glass fogged as he breathed, but in the halo of mist the man below seemed to be dressed in a thin jacket and slacks. It was late, and cold-who would wait outside this night? Curious, Daquan leaned to the right and tried to see out an unfogged portion of the window. The man far below turned and looked him right into the eyes!
Shocked, and a little guilty the Daquan jumped back into his apartment and wrung his hands before his belly. Intrigued; however, he crept up to the window and tried to look again, even more quietly this time. But the man was gone.
Loud gunfire erupted on the TV behind Daquan, just as he was about to turn away and watch what came up on the television car headlights drove down the street. Interested to see if the waiting man was there for the person in the car Daquan waited and watched. He picked his underwear out of his crack and waited.
After a moment he recognized the car. It belonged to a neighbors from a few houses down. A real drunk of a man. There were rumors at the laundry that he hit his wife and son. A drunk AND a bastard.
Welcome to the world.
The Navigator pulled into a space that was in front of a hydrant and pulled up onto the curb. After a few too many minutes attempt to get it right the engine silenced in the night. Both the right front and rear wheels were on the grass. Daquan watched as the door opened and the bastard fell out of the SUV right onto his back in the street! Daquan chuckled to himself, leaned forward and squished his nose against the cold glass.
The struggled to his feet like an overturned turtle. Finally he shut the door, turned on his security alarm which split the night when it blared for thirty seconds and then cut off with two more content bleeps. The chill silence settled over the night again. Daquan watched as the as the bastard stumbled onto the grass between the street and the sidewalk. Three side steps off course to the left nearly sent him to the grass again. Frankie adjusted course and aimed a diagonal line towards his house.
Daquan three floors above was just about to turn back to his show when he glimpsed a figure dash out of the shadows. The man waiting before? Back at the window Daquan watched. Maybe a late night drug deal? He thought just as the shadowy figure lashed out a hand at the bastard's face. Frankie crumpled and fell. The drunk did not get up. The suited man bent over Rosey, went through the pockets then calmly walked down the street. In a moment, he was gone.
The bastard lay very still.
The next morning Daquan awoke. He never liked to get out of bed. The young man, fresh to living on his own rolled over, "For just another few..." An hour later the sun was too high in the sky and shot him with a full shaft of light to the face. Daquan opened his eyes and squinted against the intruding morn. With a hand up to ward off the sun like a sickened vampire Daquan peeped his clock by the bed, which had been a graduation gift from his mom. He saw the clock and cursed, jumped out of the bed and ran to the bathroom. Naturally his older brother was in there and Daquan shouted that he needed to get in, NOW!
He was going to be fired if he was late again! Daquan urged his bladder to chill while he jumped around to dress, when he remembered his neighbor and the man in the suit from the night before. Curious he went to the window and looked outside, was the bastard still there? Daquans' bladder seized when he saw several police cars, an ambulance and a fire truck crowded on the narrow street below. With a sigh of relief Daquan saw the yellow crime line around the trees and sidewalk. Then he spied many neighbors crowded on the street behind a cop.
Daquan hurriedly dressed and went down. He was very late for work.
The gathered on the street were quiet and dressed in either warm coats over house clothing or in coats over office attire. The police milled about the scene, looked at nothing, but tried hard to look like they were very busy. Daquan saw some commotion off to his left on the crimes' side of the tape. He enjoyed the confrontation between a Fire Department Lieutenant and a Police Captain. Daquan, intelligent, quickly realized that they argued about their claim on the victim! He judged the body gestures of both men, accompanied by the quick snatches of words that he caught when the wind was right, Daquan surmised that the Fire Lieutenant felt that they were called first, their ambulance was already at the scene, the victim went under the fire Department and he got the credit for the call! The Police Officer shook his head hard. No, homicide was their duty and besides the Detective hadn't arrived yet to check the scene! The body wasn't ready to go! Push off!
Then the Fire Lieutenant said something about how they were ready to take the body to the hospital now, the cops were not! The Police Officer laughed and said that the Fire Department would have to call them anyway....besides the guy was dead! The stiff wasn't going to the hospital to get stitches! He could wait! They BOTH could wait!
Daquan wondered if the argument was going to come to blows.
Personally he didn't understand. The whole point of both organizations was to save lives and help people. How can either do their job effectively if they were so wrapped up in their ego's? Both seemed like selfless jobs, but they fought over jurisdiction all the time. Not to even get started on how they fought the civilians! Daquan believed that the people in trouble don't give a damn whom arrives first–they just want to be saved! Besides those that called the police, in his family anyway, were beaten and jailed so much that they wanted to call the Fire Department for help in civil matters anyway.
The Fire Department ambulance waited while an older man in a coroners' jacket bent over a white tarp with a person under it. Daquan craned his neck on the street to see Mrs. Rosey led by a police officer up the stairs to her building, she didn't look all that upset.
Very late by then Daquan looked around and found a friendly face in the crowd, got next to her and asked what happened. She turned her face slightly without averting her eyes from the dead body and spoke in a hush, "I heard the police say he was driving, in Manhattan and on the Bridge, he sideswiped a car, the rail, ran over and killed a woman AND her CHILD! He got here and died." The woman leaned forward with her hand to her mouth as she said to Daquan, "They think he broke his neck somewhere along the way, maybe when he ran over the girls BUT didn't die until he got HERE! One cop said he stank like he swam in Whisky too!"
Daquan nodded, when the wind was right the body did give off a smell of bar stink, at first, Daquan thought his neighbor was the source.
A police officer toyed around as he held the line back. He had a bored and slightly sick look about him. Daquan thought he seemed hung over and didn't want to be outside in the chill air. Another cop near the body, seemed to protect it. A third walked around with a notebook, took down names and appeared to write descriptions of various things about him. The trees, distance of the car and body, how many people stood in the crowd. Was he looking for a promotion Daquan wondered.
He wished he had a watch then remembered his cell phone and took it out to check the time. Daquans' blood pressure pounded when he saw how late he had become. At that moment he caught a few words between the wind gusts. One cop spoke while he gestured to the dead man, the neighborhood, then to the gathered witnesses and the gawking crowd.
Daquan turned white, well paled in skin tone. He watched the police officer move to the crowd and ask questions of the man on the left at the front. The cop wrote the replies on a small spiral notebook with a black pen. Daquan looked to the body and the other police officers that stood around, some had their hands on their pistols. To him the cops always looked for a chance to bust some black balls. Did it seem their boredom seemed to shift, had they begun to stare at him?!
The interviewing officer came closer, Daquan checked his cell again but did not really look. He felt pressured, soon to be cornered. He just didn't want to talk to a cop today...well ever, let alone help THEM in their job! Besides he thought, he didn't have the time to answer questions, to get involved. Daquan remembered the night before and what he thought he saw. But he probably didn't really see anything anyway, Daquan reasoned it would be a waste of his time and the cops' if he told them. Besides the fuckers would probably arrest him for some bullshit just for fun... because he tried to help!
Would the cops even believe him? He worried, seriously as he looked at the cop jot notes. Suddenly Daquans' blood stilled in his veins. Maybe HE would be arrested for the crime!
He turned and went to the subway station. Daquan didn't dare look back but prayed that the subways were on time. He couldn't have all of the trouble involved in doing the right thing.
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