While Tad followed Tony to his house, he thought about the night that led him to this point. He had thought about that night every day in prison. Thought about how he would take care of Jim and Lucas for betraying him.
Tony turned into the Oakcrest Apartments entrance. Tad followed, and parked behind him. Tony killed the engine, left his car, and got into the passenger-seat with Tad.
“Where we headed?” Tad asked.
“It’s about ten minutes from here. A spot called Glenview.”
“Aight. Just tell me where to turn.”
Tad reversed, straightened, and left Oakcrest Apartments. As he pulled through the gates, he said, “Thanks for helping me. I been thinking about this night for a time now.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah… I know everyone thought it was me, but it wasn’t, aight? You believe me?”
“Sure I do, Tad. I mean, I remember you talking all that stuff about how you wanted to kill Wilmer and all, but I just figured you were upset because of your brother.” He told Tad to turn left at the next light.
Tad nodded. “I was upset, and I wanted to ice that fool. But… I couldn’t do it. It’s crazy. You know me, I’m not afraid to get a little dirty from time to time, but I just froze up.” He ran his fingers through his beard. “Everything went down like we’d planned. Went to Exotic, drugged him, got him in the car, drove him to the spot. Everything was going as planned. I hit him a couple times, but it didn’t do nothing for me. I’d thought about hurting that fool a hundred times, but it just didn’t make me feel like I thought it would.
“I stopped, and Jim and Lucas worked on him. They was hitting him hard. I thought he was dead. Jim put his piece on Wilmer’s head and I snapped. ‘Cut it out,’ I told them. They looked at me like I was crazy. Jim put the piece to Wilmer’s head again, and that’s when I shoved him. He said, ‘What the fuck, Tad?’ And I told him, ‘We’re done here.’ Both of them turned on my ass. Saying I punked out, and that they was gonna tell everyone.”
“Why didn’t you say something, Tad? This could’ve been squashed forever ago. You didn’t have to go to prison.”
“I didn’t wanna break up the Suns cause of me. I resisted at first, but then I took it. Acted like it was all me, and pled out. I was all fucked up. I still hated Wilmer, and I hated myself for not being able to kill his ass… But Wilmer was mines. It was my idea to follow him and drug him. So, I took ownership.”
“Damn, Tad. I wish things went down differently. I wish I had gone with you…” He paused, looked out the window. “It’s right up here, on the right.”
“It’s nothing now, man.”
Tad pulled alongside the road, and parked next to the Glenview entrance. He looked into the apartment complex. It was dark, and he could barely see the identical, red-bricked buildings that seemed to go on forever.
“How far back are they?” Tad asked.
“See that building over there?” Tony pointed to the southeast corner.
“Yeah.”
“That’s them. They stay in apartment 22C. First floor. The one with the light on.”
“Aight. Let’s go.”
They got out of the car and walked through the entrance, staying on the grass. Tad put on a ski mask, and checked his UZI. All was in order. They reached Jim’s and Lucas’s building and rested on the outer wall.
“Okay,” Tad said, “get them out. Say it’s something important. They dumb; they’ll listen. Then bring them to the car; I’ll follow behind. You won’t see me, don’t worry.”
“Okay.”
Tony walked to the front door, while Tad stayed behind on the side of the building. He couldn’t see Tony, but he could hear him rap on the door.
A female’s voice answered. Maybe two. Then he heard two voices that he had not heard in years. They asked Tony if this could wait, they had company, but Tony said it couldn’t and he needed them now. That it would be quick. There was silence, and then they agreed. The door shut, and minutes later, they came out of the apartment, walking with Tony toward the entrance.
Tad followed behind them. If a car had pulled up, his cover would have been blown. But no car ever came. Tad began sweating, his mind racing. Was this right? He was too far away from them to understand any chatter, and he hoped that Tony would not betray him. Five years is a long time to forget who your friends are.
They made it through the exit. In about twenty yards Tad would have to make a move. It went by fast. Fifteen, ten, five. Suddenly, Tad sprinted, his UZI swinging in one hand. The crew heard him, but it was too late. Tad’s arm was extended.
“Freeze!” Tad said.
They froze. Then turned around.
“Do you know who we are?” Tony asked. A fine actor.
“I don’t give a fuck,” Tad said. “Freeze, or your dead!”
Jim Hawthorne turned around next. He was a large man. White. Easily weighed two-fifty; all of it muscle. Veins pulsed through his forearms and biceps like a tree’s root system. He even had veins poking out of his bald head.
“You gotta death wish, kid?” Jim asked, his voice plus four on bass and negative eight on treble.
“No, but you do,” Tad said, inching nearer, the UZI leading.
Lucas Benton was the last to turn around. An exact opposite of Jim. Half his height, half his weight, and ten times the hair. The shit was in his eyes, and he had to jerk his head and wipe it to the side to see.
“So y’all think this a game?” Tad let out a burst from the UZI next to their feet. He had no intention of hitting them, but Lucas flinched and danced so erratically, he almost did.
“What do you want?” Tony asked impatiently.
Tad didn’t respond in words, he simply aimed the UZI at Lucas and Jim and stepped closer. There was about ten feet of space between them. He knew he had reached his limit. On more than one occasion, he had been on the opposite side of the situation. Different locale, different gun, different people, same shit. He could tell right away if the gunman had any girth to him. The Talkers would run their mouths until they got what they wanted, but always stayed at a comfortable distance. The Heavies would get right up on you, as if dying were acceptable to them. The most fearful of types were the Mutes. They didn’t say anything. They pointed the gun (if they had one to begin with) and they got what they wanted. Tad already blew his chance at being a Mute, and he was somewhere between a Talker and a Heavy, when Jim tried to close the gap.
Tad had two choices: step back, or pull the trigger. Both options were no good, but the latter was the only way to control Jim. So, he pulled the trigger. He hit him in the left shoulder. The pain—not the impact—knocked him on his ass. He grunted, and Lucas screamed until Tad fixed the UZI at his forehead.
“Get in the car!” Tad said. “And hurry up!” He went into his pocket, pulled out the keys and tossed them to Tony. “You drive.”
Tony nodded and helped Lucas pull Jim to his feet.
“Gorilla goes in the front,” Tad said.
Tony got into the driver’s side, Lucas helped Jim into the passenger-side, and then climbed in the back at the same time Tad did. Tad never stopped pointing the UZI at Lucas.
When they were all in the car and the doors were closed, Tad said, “I’ll tell you where to go. If you wanna live, do as I say.”
As soon as the words left Tad’s mouth, Lucas’s eyebrows caved in, his forehead wrinkled, and his head pulled back.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “T—”
Tad butted Lucas’s temple with the UZI. His head slumped over, hitting the window.
“Drive!” Tad said.
Tony fired up the engine and took off. Tad told him to turn left here, right there, stay straight here, and so on, until they made it to Creole Avenue. Jim groaned the entire drive, his hand pressed against his meaty shoulder.
Tad told Tony to take Creole all the way down to the dead end. Creole Avenue was a white-sanded, dirt road with just enough thickness to drive on. Not quite as sandy as a beach, but not far from it, either. It was lined with trees, and had a seldom-used railroad track on the south side.
Tony parked when the road was no more, right in front of a large, yellow sign with black letters that read DEAD END.
“Get out,” Tad said. “And keep it running.”
They all got out of the car.
“Over there,” Tad said, motioning to the passenger-side. With the gun still fixed on them, Tad walked around the car and opened the rear-door. Lucas fell out, face first onto the sand. He awoke, barely, then Tad dragged him by the back of his collar, and threw him toward Jim and Tony.
The three of them stood on the outskirts of the headlights as Tad came toward them. It was time. But, as he approached, he tripped over a stump that was hidden beneath the sand. The UZI flew from his hand, and Jim took the offensive. He pulled a knife from the inside of his boot, charging toward Tad.
Shit! Tad thought.
Tad crawled on the ground, feeling for the gun in the cold sand. Nothing.
Jim was close. He grunted and heaved. The blade reflected off the headlights. It was long, jagged.
Where is it? Tad thought.
Jim lunged, the knife awkwardly in his right hand.
Bang!
Jim stood straight for a fraction of a second, as if he had run into an invisible electrical fence. The knife dropped to the sand, then he collapsed. He lay motionless on his belly.
“The fuck you do that for?” Lucas asked groggily, looking at Tony, waving his arms.
Tony turned the gun on Lucas, and said, “Shut up!”
Tad finally found the UZI, picked it up, stumbled to his feet, and went to Jim. He flipped him over. Jim’s chest rose and fell, but at a pace so infrequent and with so little power that he knew death was certain. Jim’s eyes were open. Hardly. Tad knelt down beside him, held his hand, took off his ski mask, and leaned into his ear.
“Wish things was different,” Tad said, in a quiet and calm whisper. He pressed the UZI into Jim’s belly and squeezed the trigger. The muzzle flashed; the shots echoed throughout the woods. Then silence came.
As Tad rose to his feet, Lucas tried to run, but Tony yanked him by the arm and threw him down. He tried to run again, and Tony fired a shot next to him.
“Come on!” Lucas said.
Tad stepped into the light, towering over Lucas.
“Tad?” Lucas said. “Tad? You son-of-a-bitch! What’re you doing? We’re your boys! The Suns!”
“Now I’m your boy? What about five fucking years ago? Was I your boy then? A Sun?” He spit on the ground.
“Tad, it wasn’t like th—”
Tad dropped the UZI, charged, and tackled Lucas. He hit him in the mouth, the forehead, the nose, the stomach. He got off him, and went back to the UZI, picked it up.
“T-Tad,” Lucas said. “Please. Don’t kill me, man.” Blood and snot ran down his lips. He was crying. “Tony. Tell him, Tony. I’ve been good. I made us a shit-load of money!” More tears.
Tony shook his head, kept quiet. This was Tad’s night, not his.
“It ain’t about money, Lucas,” Tad said. “I almost got fifteen ’cause of you. I did five! Five years! Every day, you and Jim, running your mouths, telling me how to handle Wilmer, putting thoughts in my head!”
“You were every bit as responsible, Tad. Every bit!” He spat out blood, staining the white sand.
“I ain’t trying to say I’m innocent. But I am saying that you and Jim let me take the fall. And for that, you die. My brother was in a fucking coma, and I wasn’t there for him. No. No! There’s no coming back from that.”
“Please!” Lucas said. “Help! Help! Hel—”.
Tad shot Lucas in the head. Quick, quiet. He died instantly. Then he dropped the UZI and fell to his knees. Five years, thinking and waiting for this night. His stomach turned on him. The vomit singed his esophagus. The first tear came. Then the second. Then a flood. He punched the sand until his fists went numb.
Tony put his hand on Tad’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Tad. You did what had to be done. I won’t tell anybody. They left the clubhouse with them hoes, and I never saw them again. Okay?”
“Oh, God. Leif… I wasn’t there for him. He’s in that fucking chair, Tony, and I wasn’t there.” He cried harder, then stopped. More silence. Seconds turning to minutes.
“Are you religious?” Tad asked.
“Religious?” Tony said.
“Do you believe in God?”
“I don’t know, Tad. I don’t think about it much. Why?” He helped Tad to his feet.
Tad wiped the sand off his clothes, spread dirt around the vomit with his foot. “Just wondering. In the pen, almost every man believed in God. They clung to the Bible. Believed in all the words…” They sauntered to the car, leaned against it. “You think I’ll go to Hell for what I did?”
“Shit. Don’t know, man. If you do go, at least it’ll be warm.”
“That the best you got? Warm?” He laughed. “Maybe the front door, but inside is fire. Volcanic-level shit.”
“You right,” Tony said, smiling.
A few minutes went by. They didn’t talk. Everything that needed to be said was already spoken; the rest was history. And, like all history, the survivors tell the stories. Jim Hawthorne’s and Lucas Benton’s deaths would be a mystery. The Suns would vouch for the whereabouts of Tad and Tony if it came down to it. The guns they used were stolen, clean, and would soon be at the bottom of a Lake Minneola, fifty miles from the crime scene. If some kid or diver ever came across the guns, it wouldn’t matter. They would be registered to a John Doe who lived in Kentucky. If there were an investigation, and there would almost certainly be one if the wildlife didn’t get to Jim and Lucas first, it wouldn’t go very far. It’d be chalked up to a gang-related shooting, a common theme among young, tattooed adults in the area.
“Let’s finish this up,” Tad said.
Tony nodded, and they started with Jim’s body. He got under the arms while Tad grabbed the feet. They went as deep into the woods as the clearing allowed, then dumped him, came back, and did the same thing with Lucas.
Tad picked up the UZI, opened the driver’s side door, got in, started the engine. Then Tony got in and they drove off. There was about ten minutes of desolate stillness before Tad spoke.
“I’m out,” he said.
“Out? Out of what?”
“I can’t be part of the Suns no more. I got too much heat. Tonight was a risk, but I had to do it. I’ll never forget you helping me.”
Tony looked away, took in a deep breath, then said, “I get it, man. I hate to see you go. I’ll throw in a good word for you. Don’t fret, nobody will retaliate or do anything. You’ll be free, and there’s always a spot at the table for you. You know that, right?”
Tad turned left, then stopped at a four-way intersection, the red traffic light pulsed slowly. “Course. It’s just something I gotta do. I’ll keep in touch, though.”
Three red lights, a left, and a right later, Tad was parked in front of Tony’s apartment.
“You got this?” Tad asked, pulling out the UZI and handing it over.
“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.” He let out an audible breath. “It’s gonna be a long night.”
“Appreciate that, Tony.” He raised his hand, met Tony’s, pulled in and hugged him.
Tony got out of the car, gave a soldier’s salute, and then Tad headed home. He was ready for a real bed and real sleep.