Cracked Dreams (16 page)

“Aunt Nes, where did you say that photo album was again?” asked Dwight to his Aunt Nester as he walked out of the kitchen toward the living room.

“On the top of the wall unit in the living room, baby,” answered Nester loud enough so that Dwight could hear her. “That's where I kept all of those old pictures of my baby Reginald.”

“Oh, here they are,” Dwight said to himself as he found what he'd been searching for. It had been up there for so long that when he finally got it down, he had to blow it clear of all the dust that had accumulated on it. After that, he would bring it to Nester for them to view. They could both sit beside each other at the dining room table as she showed him the pictures, and then he would listen to her tell stories about when her son Reginald was just a baby boy.

Dwight hadn't spent much time with his aunt for some time now. He simply figured that she'd want some company and support due to the drama that their family had just experienced. She'd just lost her son to the streets and that led her to beg and plead with her only nephew to lead a positive and religion-filled life. The more and more she spoke to him about religion and education, the more he started to realize that she might have had the right idea; but as they say, “the street kept callin'.”

By the time Dwight returned to the dining room where his aunt had been waiting, she'd already begun to weep as she thought of her son. Dwight quickly laid the album on the dining room table and bent down to give her a hug. She grabbed on to him as tightly as she possibly could and let the
tears flow down her devastated and frightened facial expression into his shirt. They kept this position for a while until she was ready to let go.

“Can one of you please tell me how these TB scum-bags can turn a street corner into a battlefield and leave zero evidence for us to make some kind of arrest?” yelled Assistant Director Chistov. “Please, tell me you have something, Agent Cassett!”

“No, sir,” responded Cassett firmly. “We're still waiting for the word from ballistics about those shells. If we can get the specifics about the weapon or a clean fingerprint, we can run them against the ones from the first shooting to see if there is a match.”

“What about you, Agent Clifton!” yelled Chistov. “What do you have?”

“Umm . . .” he said before the Assistant Director cut him off.

“Is that all you have to say?” he asked condescendingly. “Umm . . .? You'd better have something better than that. This type of crap just doesn't happen . . .not on my watch, it doesn't. Now, you can't have a massive gun battle leaving two people lying dead on the floor without a trace. What's going on, Clifton?”

“Sir, we've gotten some leads to follow for possible eyewitnesses from the crime scene. All we have to do is rattle some cages, sir.”

“Listen,” he began as he stood up out of his chair and leaned over his desk. “Please, don't insult my intelligence with your BS about ‘eyewitnesses,' okay. Since when has anyone ever fingered an employee from this organization? What do you suggest, that we get Michael Banner to participate in a line-up? The poor bastard that identifies him will come home to find his family dead, or at least that's what he'll think will happen.”

“Well,” Agent Cassett responded. “We do still have our informant. We've actually found that he's in fact directly connected to one of the dead bodies from the crime scene. Agent Cassett and I agreed to allow him a sufficient chance to come to us; given his present situation we shouldn't be waiting for long, sir.”

“This whole entire situation just gives me a pain deep in my stomach when I know for a fact that Michael Banner and the rest of those low-life TB characters were immediately responsible for this blood-bath, and that we can't make anything stick to his ass.”

“Yo, who dis?” asked Ceelow as he picked up the phone near his bed as it woke him from a peaceful sleep.

“What's poppin' today, dog?” asked Spits to Ceelow.

“Ain't nothin', my nigga,” answered Ceelow. “Why, what did you have in mind?”

“Whatever's clever, feel me?” responded Spits, stating that he'd finally be down for whatever. Cee and Spits hadn't seen much of each other since the incident, and Spits was finally showing some advancement. “If anything, I'll holla at you a bit later. I got some things to do, and then I'll be checking the spots up in
The Woods'
”

“That's cool, dog,” responded Cee. “Just come get me before you do that. I'll be here.”

“All right, dog . . .One!”

“One.”

“Listen, don't forget to take the stairs in the back,” shot Essae to Don P. as they exited his Suburban truck. “I'll be waiting with the engine running, ready to get the fuck outta here, so don't bullshit.”

“We got it, nigga,” snapped El Don, showing his frustration. “How many times you gonna repeat the same shit over and over again?”

“All right, lil' nigga,” said Dre. “Hurry the fuck up then.”

Don P. entered building number 1648 of a housing project located in the Soundview area of the Bronx with the intention of reaching closure for the sake of Vision. When they were inside of the building, the broken lock on
the door let them bypass the intercom system. They walked down a graffiti-filled corridor toward the piss-infested elevators and took one to the sixth floor. Once out of the elevator they made a right, walked down the hall and made a left at the end. When they found the door that they'd been looking for, they revealed two chrome-finished pump-action shotguns. They both pumped a shell into the chamber and got ready to blow. Once Poncho got the signal from El that he was ready, he rang the doorbell and they both waited for the response.

“It's gonna be okay, Aunt Nes,” said Dwight to his aunt as he patted his aunt on the back. “Everything is going to be fine. The police will find those bastards. If not, I will.”

“No!” she responded strongly. “I don't want you to end up like him. I don't want them to take you away from me, too. You're all I have left, baby. I don't know what I might do if I lost you, too. You hear me?”

“I hear you, Auntie,” responded Dwight, putting his head down on her shoulder. “Don't worry about me.”

Nester got up out of her chair and took a deep breath. She took a paper towel from the stack on the table and wiped her face clear of the tears, and then she began wiping Dwight's shirt clear of any moisture. When she felt a little better, she insisted that they go back into the living room to view the pictures. Dwight followed her into the living room and they sat on the couch beside each other. She opened the book and immediately felt her son's presence with the first page shown. She pulled the plastic back and removed a picture of her and her son at his first birthday party. She was holding him in her arms, giving him a huge kiss on the cheek.

“This is a picture from his first birthday,” she said, showing it to Dwight proudly. “You weren't even born yet, baby. You see his face? Can't you just tell that he knew how much love I had for him? Every chance I got I let that boy know how much I loved him. I would've done anything for my baby boy.”

“I know, Aunt Nes,” Dwight said for assurance. “I know.”

She turned the page and the pictures basically took them through the entire course of her son's life. From one page to the next, she ran through the good and bad times they'd shared. From tears to laughter, and from pride to shame, that album told the story. From his birthdays, to his graduations, to his senior prom, nothing was left untold. Dwight's intentions were good, but the stories had in fact made him a bit tired. When he let a yawn out, she took it as a sign that she'd had gone on for too long.

“I'm sorry, honey,” she said to Dwight. “Was I rambling?”

“Oh, nah,” Dwight replied, trying to make her feel comfortable. “I'm enjoying this.”

“Let me get you something to drink, baby?”

“Thank you, Aunt Nes.”

“I'll be right back, baby.” As she got up, she made a right out of the living room toward the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

“I'll get it,” hollered Dwight as he stood up to answer the door.

“No, you just go and sit down, baby,” said Nester as she turned around toward the front door. “It's probably just some Jehovah's Witnesses. I'll get rid of them and get you that drink.”

As Dwight went to take his position back on the couch in the living room, Nester went to answer the doorbell. When she got close enough to the door for her voice to be heard, she yelled, “I'm not interested!” When there was no response, she took a glance out the peephole.
BOOM, BOOM!
Two loud echoing sounds resembling gunshots came from the hall in front of her that shattered the door and left it dangling from the hinges. The two shots fell directly upon the chest of Nester and flung her body six feet before she hit the floor. As she lay there lifelessly, Dwight came running from the living room and dropped himself on the floor beside her. He began crying hysterically as he could not yet figure out what had just happened. All he knew was that his aunt, whom he was just listening to talk about old times, was now lying motionless in his arms with her eyes pointed directly upward. He didn't know what to do. He looked up at the door or what was left of it and got a slight glimpse of two men standing on the other side.

“Yo, come on, mu'fucka!” yelled Poncho to El Don as he motioned toward the stairs. “What the fuck are you waiting for?”

Despite the numerous yells from his brother to get his attention, El couldn't budge from his stance. He took a glance through the huge holes that they had just put in the door and saw a face that was somewhat familiar. He lifted the shotgun back up from his side and cocked it for another shot, just to be thorough. He didn't want to leave any witnesses. Just then, Poncho grabbed him.

“Come on, you crazy mu'fucka! That bitch is dead; let's go!” he said as he pulled him away from the door.

“But, wait . . .” spat El as Poncho shoved him into the staircase for their getaway. They launched their bodies down the six flights of stairs and out of the back door where Essae and Dre had been impatiently waiting. Before they could even get the car doors completely shut, Essae hit the gas and they were off. They sped from the crime scene and never once looked back.