Gangsters In The Hood
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I’m not sure how the old man knew. I’d only been in the apartment for maybe twenty minutes and had barely managed to get myself together when he opened the door with a smile on his face that was both welcoming and somehow threatening at once.
He’d obviously known we were coming, but still, it didn’t sit well-knowing someone could just barge into our home whenever they pleased. We’d never even met this guy before.
“We’re here,” I said as I stepped up next to him and took hold of the doorknob. “What’s your name?”
The old man looked down at me from behind his wire-frame glasses. His hair was long and white like mine, though he must have dyed it because it wasn’t all over the place. It hung neatly around his head, held back by two little rubber bands.
“You can call me Mr. Black.”
He led us inside without so much as saying hello or introducing himself, which made me feel like an idiot for having bothered going out there in the first place. There was no reason to be rude, but I guess I’d thought he might want something more than money if we were asking him about his son.
But now it seemed like he wanted nothing more than to show us his collection of antique guns and knives and then leave.
Mr. Black turned toward the kitchen table where a couple of guys sat waiting, one leaning against the wall, the other sitting cross-legged atop the table. They wore matching black leather jackets and jeans.
Both sported tattoos on their necks and arms—a skull holding a gun and some kind of symbol I couldn’t make out, along with another design on the left side of each man’s chest. I recognized them instantly; I’d seen pictures online of the same men.
One of them was supposed to be dead. Or at least that’s what the tabloids said. And the other one was supposed to be locked away somewhere in prison, serving time for a crime none of us really cared about anymore.
They watched us silently as we approached. When Mr. Black stopped ten feet short, neither spoke until I reached forward and pulled open the wooden drawer nearest my hip. I grabbed hold of the handle and slowly lifted the lid off to reveal a mess of loose bills.
“This is all of it,” I told them as I tossed the cash onto the tabletop. “It’s all I’ve got right now.”
One of the thugs glanced over at his partner, who shrugged nonchalantly and nodded slightly. Then they both stood up and walked toward the door, taking their pistols with them. They were probably the most dangerous-looking people I’d ever seen.
The older thug leaned forward and placed his hand on the knob, and I felt my heart sink as he twisted it, ready to slam the door shut between us.
Then suddenly everything went crazy. A loud bang sounded from outside, followed by three quick shots ringing through the air. My ears rang, and blood ran cold through my veins. As the sound faded, I heard the front door splintering apart as it came crashing inward, throwing the old man aside to land heavily on the floor.
A moment later, the lights went out.
***
When I woke up again, the room was completely dark. For a brief second, I panicked as I tried to figure out what had happened. Had someone broken in? Was Mr. Black hurt? But then I realized I hadn’t actually been asleep very long after all, because I’d only fallen asleep halfway through the job. So why did things seem so wrong?
As my eyes adjusted, I saw a bright light shining through a gap in the curtains near the ceiling. The moonlight cast shadows across the walls, making the whole house appear like it belonged to some horror movie set.
Something moved outside, and I strained my neck to try and see past the glare. I couldn’t tell exactly what was happening, but whatever it was, it seemed like it was coming closer.
I scrambled to stand up and grab hold of the pistol hanging loosely from its holster. Before I could even move, however, the world exploded into chaos.
Shouts filled the night. Gunfire erupted from everywhere, echoing loudly throughout the house. Bullets ricocheted wildly, sending fragments flying in every direction. Smoke billowed thickly from several spots, and the scent of burned flesh washed over me as I stumbled backward.
My mind screamed at me to run, but my body wouldn’t listen. I froze in place, staring stupidly at the destruction surrounding me, unable to understand what was going on. All I knew was that my life would end here tonight if I didn’t get myself out of this mess soon.
Someone slammed the door closed, cutting off the sounds of battle. The last thing I heard before silence fell over the scene was Mr. Black screaming. He begged for mercy. And then finally, he died.
At least I think he died. Because when the smoke cleared, I found myself alone.
***
I waited patiently while my mind played catch-up. After the initial shock wore off, I started thinking logically again. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. We were supposed to take care of Mr. Black and then walk out the door with our pockets full of money, leaving everyone else alive to face justice. But instead, I’d just killed an innocent old man and ruined a perfectly good plan.
The worst part was, there wasn’t much I could do about it. If I called the cops or anything, I’d be telling them we were responsible for Mr. Black’s death. It would ruin any chance we had at staying hidden. And besides, nobody would believe a kid like me anyway. Not after what happened to my family. I’d have to disappear.
So I took the rest of the cash from Mr. Black’s safe, shoved it deep inside my pocket, and headed upstairs to pack. There wasn’t much more I needed, except maybe one last favor.
Outside, I paused briefly to look around the neighborhood. Most of the houses were dark and quiet, though occasionally, I caught sight of moving far away. At first I thought I might hear something coming, but no matter where I listened, I never found any sign of pursuit. That meant whoever was chasing me must still be close behind.
After grabbing the backpack I’d packed earlier, I crept quietly back downstairs and out the front door. The sky was black, and the street was deserted, giving me plenty of cover to sneak along until I reached my car.
I made sure to keep to the side streets, trying not to draw too much attention to myself as I made my way toward the main road. Once there, I turned southward, heading deeper into the woods.
All of this was starting to feel like a bad dream. Or maybe a nightmare. No matter which, I prayed that once I got home, I’d wake up. Only, nothing ever changed. When I opened my eyes, I was still trapped in the hell that had become my life.
There was only one thing left for me to do now. Run.
In the darkness, the forest stretched endlessly ahead. With nowhere else to go, I decided to make my way farther inland, crossing the border into Maine. Then, if I kept moving quickly enough, I hoped eventually I’d find someone who would help me escape.
I figured the police wouldn’t bother looking for me, since they’d already given up on my case, but there was always the possibility they’d send a few officers out to search for me. So far, though, I hadn’t seen a single patrol car pass by. As long as I stayed hidden, I should be fine.
And so, I continued running, hiding among the trees whenever I passed another house, doing my best to avoid anyone who might spot me. The longer I ran, the stronger the urge grew within me to turn around and head home. To forget all this madness.
My mother’s words echoed through my thoughts, haunting me: “You’ll never amount to anything.” She couldn’t be right. I was a survivor; she couldn’t destroy everything I worked for. I refused to give her that satisfaction.
As the moonlight began to fade, I noticed I’d stopped hearing gunfire. In fact, it seemed that all sound had disappeared completely. Even my own heartbeat sounded muffled, and the wind felt oddly muted against my skin.
Then suddenly, the air became heavy and oppressive. The leaves rustling overhead sounded unnaturally loud. Everything came to an abrupt halt. From somewhere nearby, a low growl vibrated through the night, sending chills crawling down my spine.
A shadow emerged from the darkness. Its shape formed slowly, taking form before my very eyes. A giant dog. Bigger than most men. Claws gleamed in the faint light of the moon, ready to sink into flesh. It raised its muzzle high and sniffed the air, turning its massive head toward me.
“Go away,” I said firmly. “It’s just me.”
But even as I spoke, the beast moved forward. I backed up instinctively, keeping it between us. Suddenly, it leaped, knocking me flat on my stomach.
When I tried to push myself back up, the animal pinned me beneath him. He shook his great head wildly, snapping viciously at the ground. I heard a thump and saw blood dripping from its teeth. More sharp jabs followed, each time sinking further into my arm.
“Get off!” I screamed.
My cry fell on deaf ears. All I could see was the beast’s yellow-fanged maw, snarling at me with hatred. I fought desperately to break free, kicking and clawing at its jaws. But then I felt something hard pressing against my neck, and I knew I didn’t have much time.
I struggled harder, forcing myself to remain calm. This wasn’t happening. I had to remember. I had to get control.
Suddenly, the pain started fading. The monster recoiled slightly. I looked down to discover what held it captive, and my breath caught. For some reason, my fingers were wrapped tightly about a small, smooth stone. And when I let go, the creature dropped me to the ground, letting loose a terrible howl.
The next thing I remembered, I woke up inside a hospital bed.
***
For a moment, I stared at the ceiling, wondering why I was lying there, unable to move. Then, as the memories flooded back, I finally understood. After fleeing from the forest, I’d been chased across the state line, stopping only because I’d run out of gas. I’d fallen asleep behind the wheel.
By the time I’d woken up, I was surrounded by police cars. They’d dragged me out of the truck, arrested me, and sent me straight to the emergency room. Once again, my luck was changing for the worse.
After telling them my story, I learned that I’d hit a deer. An officer took me to a waiting room while he wrote up my report, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Finally, after what seemed like forever, I was able to leave, only to find myself staring at the same sign that welcomed me to town earlier today. Only this time, the words made no sense. What was the hospital doing here?
With nothing better to do, I wandered over to the front desk. “Excuse me,” I said. “Is this place really a hospital?”
The woman working glanced at me briefly before returning to her computer screen. “Yes. Where are you from?”
“Maine.” I pointed northward. “North of here.”
She typed something into her keyboard. “Well, I’m not sure I know exactly where that is.” She paused, looking up. “Oh wait! You must mean the city of Bangor. Yes, we’re right outside there. Do you need help getting anywhere else?”
“No, thank you.” I hesitated, trying to figure out if this woman was being sarcastic or rude. “What kind of doctor works here?”
Her eyes narrowed, but she gave me a friendly smile. “We have several doctors, including specialists. Would you like to make an appointment?”
That brought me up short. “Are they good ones?”
She laughed. “Good enough. We treat everyone.”
I studied the name tag on her blouse. “Do you work here, Dr. Pendergast?”
She nodded. “Why do you ask?”
“You remind me so much of my wife. I thought maybe—”
“Your wife?” She frowned. “Who did you say your wife’s name was?”
“Penny. Penny Deville.”
Dr. Pendergast pursed her lips. “Let’s talk outside.”
As soon as she left the office, I leaned close to the window and peered out. There were two ambulances parked outside. Two paramedics walked purposefully toward the building, carrying their stretchers.
And suddenly, all the pieces clicked together.
They found me.
The End