“Hey, somebody stop him!” yelled a civilian involved in the accident. Caine broke into a sprint and like the classic video game Frogger he darted across traffic on Academy Boulevard. As he maneuvered through parked cars in a shopping center, other civilians he passed appeared bewildered and alarmed but Caine was more scared and confused than them all. After zig-zagging across another street, he sprinted through an undeveloped space, half the size of a foot-ball field. In some places, the weeds and wild grains climbed to his waist. He heard approaching police sirens and crouched down, becoming swallowed within them. It was slightly cool in the near-summer weather and with his body clammy and wound up from the adrenalin flowing in his blood-stream, the slightest breeze nipped at his skin.
He sat motionless for a moment and collected his breathing as he stared up at a billboard fifteen feet away from him. It advertised selling the unused plot of land he was taking refuge in. A faint light reflected off of the board and his attention turned back to the shopping center. There were several figures with flashlights looking around and underneath parked cars for him. Two began to cross the street and search the field he was in. Although there was a lengthy gap between Caine and his pursuers, he resumed in eluding his captors.
Reaching the opposite end of the field and crossing the street, he could hear distant yells behind him. He was confident his dark apparel would aid him in his escape as he entered a residential neighborhood. The gray and black Nike pullover and black bandana tied on his head helped envelope him amongst the trees, cars, homes, and pockets of darkness. To remain a step ahead of the law-abiding citizens and police who hunted him like game, he sprinted through streets and every block or two, cut a corner and hopped fences of private homes. He had some trouble over them because in his left hand he carried a bottle of alcohol. When vehicles drove by, he hid on the sides of homes and briefly paused only when he was concealed sufficiently.
In the distance, he could hear additional sirens and assumed it was an ambulance for his Comrade he was forced to leave behind. He jumped one last fence in another backyard and entered an irrigation ditch. He trotted about a half –mile in it before he felt comfortable to stop and catch his breath. He stood there trying to convince himself he was dreaming but he knew he could only bring himself to believe that for a few more seconds before he started moving again. The reality of the situation began to settle in his mind and he started to sob quietly.
He felt helpless; he didn’t know what to do and had no idea how he was going to explain what he had done to the Comrades who would demand answers. There was no way Caine would be able to explain the condition his Homie Bigg Mac was in when he was forced to flee. He wiped the tears from his face and stared up at the night sky for answers that would never come. Returning his gaze downward, he stared at the bottle in his left hand and examined it. It was a half-gallon bottle of Bumpy Face gin that was unopened and as he turned it in his hand, the moonlight gave the liquid a polished, pearly look. In a flash, the distress he felt turned to pure rage. He lifted the bottle over his head and with all of his strength, smashed it against the incline of the ditch.
The gin and shards of glass descended the embankment and a puddle formed around Caine’s tennis shoes. His eyes began to swell with tears once more as he stared down at it. Not far away, he could make out the buzzing sound of a helicopter and knew the police department had dispatched their ghetto-bird to locate him. He quickly gathered himself and with a thickness in his voice said, “I fucked up, Bigg Mac. I hope that at least you forgive me ‘cause I know the Homies won’t.”
The sound of the helicopter grew and when he searched the sky for it, it was still out of sight. “It’s in our nature to destroy ourselves,” Caine whispered, “even if it is by accident.” He rubbed the tears from his eyes and resumed in his escape back to the Block. Click here to keep reading…
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Danny Bamba: This book is real and from the heart Don’t let this pass you by, let it captivate you, its a must read!
Janeen Cameron: You are awesome! I left the copy for Rev and bought my own. Can’t wait to read it. You need to Like Open Door so i can tag you. FRIENDS – eye opener on the realities of gang life. Order at xlibris.com
Kristeen Hernandez: Wonderfully written by a talented author new to the book scene but not new to the game. It’s a story of love and loyalty reaching far beyond the boundaries of the block. You’ll discover remarkable characters, romance, action, excitement and a surprise ending.