Mighty Mercury

21

 

The doctors examined my wounds, which were numerous. The axe blows had penetrated my skull, but the dried blood, which had caked over the wound, had preserved the brain tissue, which was bulging out. The tissue had not deteriorated and the attending physician pushed it back into my braincase, and taped the wounds with butterfly bandages.

I still had trouble walking properly, but I noticed that my leg felt much more stable. The doctor wanted me to stay in the hospital for further observation, but I left. On my way out the front entrance, my brother Sam was entering with a friend. They had come to visit Norman, one of my brother's dealers. Norman had been shot in the leg while being robbed for a couple of pounds of weed. My brother looked genuinely concerned about my condition. I must have looked poorly because his eyes were clouded with tears.

 

"What did they do to you, John?" he asked.

 

"It's nothing bro," I answered. "I'm still alive. That's all that matters. Never mind about the money I asked you for. It's got nothing to do with you. I'll take care of it."

 

"Are you sure you're going to be alright John? You're seriously hurt," my brother said.

 

"As long as I can walk," I iterated, "I'll make it. The shoe's on the other foot now, and that makes everything even. I appreciate that you offered to help with the ransom. I'll explain everything to you later. For now, I've got to go. Those crazy bastards just might show up here to finish me off. I need a gun. Mr. D. has my weapons at his house."

 

Sam reached in his pocket and handed me the keys to his car. "My car, the Saab, is in the west parking lot. I have a .45, Mark IV, in the pocket on the door of the driver's side. There's money there too. Take it, but leave the keys under the floor mat." he said.

 

Soon, my friend Ty pulled up to pick me up at the hospital entrance, as I had called him just before I left the emergency room. I got the gun and a couple of hundred dollars that my brother had offered and I spent the night at Ty's house. When I awoke about noon, I found a note which Ty had written me before leaving for work. He also left the keys of his Pontiac station wagon for me to use.

 

I was still rather weak from the beating I had endured, but I was able to drive. I felt very grateful to Ty, for helping me as he did. I wished with all my heart that I could become worthy of the help he proffered. He would probably never need the kind of help that he gave me then. I  thought of him as a guardian Angel. And since I am far from divine, how could my gratitude, or any act thereof, ever equal such kindness. When I tried to thank him, he said that he was but repaying debts he had owed me. Though I could not for the life of me remember any such debts. But I had a ride, an excellent weapon and money. I was ready for my war with Mr. D. and company. First of all, I got away from Ty, as I wanted no danger to befall him because of me.

 

I found Cisko and Lorrie. They were staying at a friend's place. I asked Lorrie why the Cadillac hadn't been delivered. Lorrie said, "I told Cisko that Mr. D. wanted the Cad in exchange for your freedom. He just shrugged it off and said, 'oh well.'"

 

I said, "Just like that, huh? They were going to kill me because I took Cisko in with me. It wasn't so much the value of the car. They were mad because they thought I had chosen Cisko above their family. Mr D. was pretty angry because I walked away from his family. And I can understand that. I was bringing in all of the money. Anyway, I guess he thinks he's a Mafioso or something. They hate Cisko and I'm sure they'll kill him the next time they see him."

 

Lorrie said, "John, we're at a safe house now, that no one knows about. Cisko told me to ask you to come and stay with us. But please don't tell him what I just told you about the Cad." She gave me the address to their safe house.

 

Next I drove to Ray's house. Mr. D. partied with Ray and his wife a lot. I asked Ray to advise his cohorts to not mess with any of my family. If they were thinking of shooting at my brother's houses or anything stupid like that, I could do likewise to Mr. D.'s people, as I knew where all his family lived. I wanted Mr. D. to know that. He got the message. If we were to  encounter one another on the street, that is where it would end.

 

On the third day after escaping captivity, Fred Sr. told me that Fred Jr. was in the hospital with a broken ankle. That night, about 7pm, Fred Sr. and I went to visit Fred Jr., who claimed to have injured his leg escaping Mr. D. the night after I had been abducted. The heroin I took him eased his pain. He told me that while Mr. D. and family were transporting me to a secret locale, he had jumped from the car to escape our captors. I found his story a little fishy. Why would they have abducted him too? He had been partying with Mr. D. and company for quite awhile. He was of no value to them. But I didn't really dwell on the nagging doubt I felt. He was supposed to have been sentenced to prison a few days past. While we were visiting the 3 of us drank a quart of vodka.

 

We left the hospital. Fred Sr. was driving his son's car. When we got to Alameda and Santa Fe, Fred made a right turn, instead of driving straight down Alameda, to his house. "Why are you going this way Fred?" I asked.

 

"I'm going to my parents house to pick up some money," he answered.

 

"It's kind of late to be bothering your folks Fred," I said.

 

Meanwhile, it seemed like he was speeding well above the speed limit.

 

There was a half turn coming up just ahead, where the railroad tracks crossed Santa Fe. As we came to the half turn, a pick up was stalled on the tracks, directly in front of us.  Two people were standing next to the right hand side of the pick up. Fred hit the brake pedal. No brakes. If he had turned to the right to avoid a collision with the pick up, he would have hit the people standing there. He yanked the steering wheel to the left instead, crossing the railroad tracks and hitting the structure housing the train warning signals.

 

When I came to, the two men we had avoided running down, were pulling me from the car. Then the three of us pulled Fred from the car, as I feared it might catch fire. The fire trucks arrived. A crowd was gathering.  I blended into the crowd and waited till the ambulance arrived and took Fred to the hospital.

 

I didn't want to talk to the police. Fred had a check protector and stolen payroll checks in the trunk of the car and I sure didn't want to be charged with possession of that stuff. I spent the night at my brother Richard's house that night. In the morning I called Lorrie and told her about the accident. I asked her to call the General Hospital and inquire about Fred's condition. About 40 minutes later, Lorrie called me back. "Fred died at 3:20 am," she told me.

 

With all my being, I hoped that I hadn't heard her words, that she was joking, or something. But no one jokes about such a thing. Fred was dead and my heart was very heavy. I called Fred's wife to try to comfort her, offer my condolences. But she was beside herself in her hysteria. "I'm sorry," was all I could say as she ranted and raved obscenities at me. I hung up and headed to Cisko's safe house.

 

On top of the injuries I already had, the wreck had left me pretty well spent. I felt as if a train had run over me. Not to mention the strain of losing my friend Fred. I must have slept 10 hours. When I awoke, Cisko asked me to go to the liquor store with him. We parked on a side street near the liquor store, when a small gray car pulled behind us. Before staying at the so called safe house he was at presently, he was with the guy in the gray car. The guy was very intoxicated. In his hand he wielded a pellet pistol. He pointed the pistol at Cisko's head, and was about to pull the trigger.

 

"What the hell are you doing dude?" I asked, very perturbed.

 

"I'm going to kill this asshole," he said. "I let him and Lorrie stay at my crib, and while I was at school this lowlife stole all my tools. They were brand new. I hadn't even had them a week. Over a  thousand dollars worth of tools that the school gave me to work with, and this asshole went and sold them for a hit of heroin."

 

The guy then kicked Cisko in the groin and he went down. He kicked Cisko some more while he was down.

 

"Help me, John!" pleaded Cisko.

 

"Kick his some more bro. He robbed you for your  tools after you took him is in," I told the guy. I looked at Cisko and told him, "You're lucky I didn't let him shoot you."

 

"Please John, get him off of me!"

 

"Payback Cicko. You left me to die when I was kidnapped. Payback time," I said.

 

Needless to say the guy, he robbed beat him half to death. When I thought Cisko had had enough, I stopped his assailant. "That's enough, vato."

 

The assailant climbed back into his car and left. I picked Cisko off the sidewalk and took him home. I told Lorrie when I dropped off Cisko, "Here take this piece of shit. What are you going to do with this asshole?" I left.

 

When Fred Jr. got out of the hospital, I took him to the mortuary to see his father. Fred Jr. hugged his father's lifeless body and begged forgiveness for what he had done. It took me a couple of years to figure out what had really happened. I wasn't even allowed to attend the funeral for my friend, Fred. Apparently, Fred Jr. thought I had killed his dad in retaliation for his own treachery. Fred Jr. had set me up for the abduction, although I didn't know it at the time.

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