Cry Revenge (20 page)

Curtis realized his error before he was under the boards. He should have slid in on his back so that he could see whatever there was to see. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something and tried to twist around. Before he could quite make it, he felt the pain explode in his back and he knew that he had been stabbed.

"Goddamn you, Dan," Curtis cursed from the floor as he twisted wildly, trying to escape from the plunging knife.

The sound of his name caused Dan to hesitate. He realized at that moment that he had stabbed his partner and friend. "Curt," he mumbled, as the man on the floor rolled over on his side, "man, I didn't know it was you, Curt," Dan said dumbfounded.

Whatever he said didn't matter to the man on the floor anymore. Curtis had finally managed to remove his pistol from the shoulder holster. He raised up slightly and pointed the short-barreled .38 special up at the man standing over him. The first shot took Dan between the legs, blowing his nuts off. The second shot caught him high in the chest.

Not a sound escaped from Dan as the bullets struck him. The shots had taken him by surprise. As he fell back against the wall, another slug caught him, but it was a wasted bullet. The first one had done the trick. The second one only put an end to the man's suffering. Dan never even felt the third as his lifeless body began its fall.

Curtis rolled completely over and tried to stand up, but it was no use. The knife had struck him on the spine. He had no control of his legs anymore. As he began to pull himself along, he tried to turn around and crawl back out the way he had come, but the pain was too much. He slipped into the dark pit of unconsciousness. When he awoke, it was pitch dark in the small house. The only thing he could see were two shiny little red balls that seemed to be moving around the wall.

Curtis tried to move his hands. After much effort he removed some matches from his pocket and struck one. From the light of the match, he let out a scream of pure terror. He saw Dan's body in the flame of the match, but that wasn't what frightened him. The body was covered with rats. The house had been vacant so long that the huge alley rats had moved in. And now they were lucky enough to find dinner delivered to them.

At the sound of Curtis' voice, the rats scrambled away from the body. But in seconds they were back. After an hour of trying to scream at them, Curtis found his voice going. He raised his pistol and fired wildly until there were no more shells in the gun. He prayed that someone would hear the gunshots and call the police.

After another hour passed, Curtis was too shocked to feel one of the furry little rodents sniffing at his leg. He had no way of knowing how long the rats had been near his leg because there was no feeling in them.

As he lay there with the cold evening chill setting in, Curtis could feel himself growing weaker. He tried to fight off the lightheadedness that overcame him but still found himself drifting off. He instantly came awake when he felt something wet touch his face. At once he began to beat around his stomach and back where he could feel the blood beginning to run freely again. Curtis felt around until he found the matches he had dropped and then he lit one. His first reaction was to panic when he saw the small teeth marks on his bare hands. He realized that he had been unconscious longer than he had thought.

With superman strength, he began to try to pull himself back toward the door. But after a while, he had to stop and strike a match to see if he was going in the right direction. Panic set in when he couldn't find the door, but after another lit match he saw that it was behind him. Before he could crawl to the door, he passed out again. When he awoke he finally began to realize what he hadn't known until that moment. Fresh blood was trickling down from his neck, and he understood why the rats didn't run from him anymore.

Now they only waited out of the reach of his hands. Once when he struck out at one of them, the rat jumped on his hand and bit it. With a scream of rage, he slammed the rodent against the nearest wall.

It dawned on Curtis then that the alley rats knew what he was just now beginning to understand. He didn't have the strength to make it. And they planned on hindering his efforts. He started to crawl again, but this time it was useless. The crawling took all his strength. He felt lightheadedness overcoming him again and knew that he was about to pass out.

He glared around. It seemed as if there were thousands of eyes staring at him now. Even as the darkness rushed toward him, Curtis let out one more scream of panic. He fell into a dark oblivion and didn't see the small furry creatures as they began their cautious approach.

Donald Goines

SPECIAL PREVIEW

DEATH LIST

This excerpt from Death List will introduce you to Kenyatta, the black ganglord with his army of brothers, intent on ridding their people of the deadly dope dealers preying upon them. Death List is the second book in the four-part Kenyatta series, and the blackand-white detective team of Benson and Ryan are still out to catch up with Kenyatta and his men. This time Kenyatta has got his hands on a list of the dope dealers, including the top man, and he is out to kill each and every one on the list before the cops get him.

THE TWO DETECTIVES had been sitting in their office at the downtown police precinct since early morning, waiting for one phone call. When the telephone finally rang, both men leaped to their feet. The black officer beat his white partner to the phone. He winked at his friend, letting him know that this was the call they had been waiting for.

The tall, chisel-faced white man walked back to his old beat-up desk and sat down. Detective Ryan drummed his fingers on the top of the well-scarred desk as he waited impatiently for the call to come to an end.

Finally the tall black man hung up the phone. "Well, what the hell are you going to do," he yelled over to his partner as Ryan jumped to his feet, "sit there on your dead ass all day?"

"Screw you, Benson, you cocksucker you," Ryan yelled back as both men moved hurriedly towards the door. "Did the informer give up all the information we need?"

Detective Edward Benson slowed down enough to show Ryan a piece of paper on which he had hurriedly written down an address. "We've got the bastard's address, just like he said he'd get."

The two men walked hurriedly down a short corridor that led into an outer office. The detectives threaded their way through the cluttered office, greeting the men and women over the hum of the old-fashioned air conditioner.

As the black and white detectives neared the outer door, two younger detectives sitting nearby came to their feet. Neither man appeared to be over twentyfive years old, while Benson and Ryan both had wrinkles under their eyes that were not there from lack of sleep. Both of the older detectives appeared to be in their late thirties or early forties. They were replicas of what the younger men would look like in ten years if they stayed on their jobs as crime fighters. The work would take its toll.

The two young white detectives ignored Benson and spoke to his partner. It was done more out of habit than to slight Benson deliberately. "We were told to wait for you, sir, that you might need backup men," the taller of the two said.

Ryan stopped and stared at the men. He hadn't missed the slur to his black partner. "I don't know," Ryan answered harshly. "It's up to my senior officer, Detective Benson." He nodded in the direction of the black officer.

The two young white detectives glanced down at the floor in embarrassment. Neither man wanted to come out and ask Benson directly if they could go along, but it would be a good point on their record if they could be in on the arrest of two murderers.

"What do you think, Ben?" Ryan asked his partner, breaking the silence.

Benson glanced coldly at the two younger officers. "It's up to you, Ryan, if you think you might need some help arresting the punks." He shrugged his shoulders, showing by his actions that he really didn't want the men along.

Ryan knew what the problem was. If the men had spoken to Benson when they first walked up, he would have taken them along gladly. But now he didn't want to be bothered with them. It was written all over his face. In the years Ryan had worked with him, he had come to find that the intelligent black man was extremely sensitive. At times, it seemed as if he was too sensitive. Ryan started to tell the young men to come along anyway but changed his mind. There was no sense in antagonizing the man he had to work with.

As Benson went out the door, Ryan turned to the two men sheepishly. "Well, I guess there won't be any need for your help after all. It shouldn't take four of us to bring in two punks."

It was apparent that the two men were disappointed. One of them started to say something but decided against it. Their brief exchange hadn't gone unnoticed by some of the other officers in the department. Most of them had been aware of what the men had been waiting for. As Ryan went out the door, leaving the men behind, the workers in the office glanced down, not wanting to catch the eyes of the rejected men.

Ryan caught up with his partner in the garage underneath the station. This was where they brought their prisoners. They took them out of the cars, still handcuffed, and led them to the three elevators that were located in the center of the garage. No matter where a policeman parked, he didn't have far to go to transport his prisoner. There were two uniformed policemen stationed in the garage at all times to help, if help was ever needed. The garage was also a good place for the policemen to kick the shit out of their prisoners, out of sight of any watching eyes. The garage detail never went against another officer, no matter how brutally policeman might treat a handcuffed prisoner.

"You could have brought those guys along, Ryan," Benson said, drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

Ryan shook his head as Benson drove out of the garage. "Naw, Ben, it's like you said; what the hell do we need with help? It ain't but two punks that we're after."

Benson knew Ryan was lying, as well as he knew he had been wrong in rejecting the help of the fellow officers. They were on their way to arrest Billy Good and his crime partner, Jackie Walker. Both men were believed to be professional killers. In such a case, there should be backup men on the job. If something should happen to Ryan because of Benson's anger, he would never get over it. But as he picked up the twoway radio and put in a call, giving the address they were headed for and requesting the support of a blackand-white car, Benson got a feeling of satisfaction. He knew that the two younger detectives would hear about it and know they had been rejected while two uniformed men had been called in to do what they had been refused the honor of doing.

Ryan only glanced straight ahead. He knew what his partner had done and realized that it was another blow to the pride of the younger officers. As it was, Benson wasn't the most liked officer in the homicide division. And after this got out, which it would, he would be liked even less.

"You think these guys will give us any trouble?" Ryan asked as they left the freeway at Clay Avenue and made a left turn.

Benson gave his standard shrug. "I haven't thought about it one way or the other. I could care less either way," he answered coldly.

Even as the policemen got off the freeway eight blocks from their destination, events were taking place that would change their lives.

Billy Good was parking the car in front of his and Jackie's apartment. Jackie kissed his girlfriend, Carol, one more time before getting out. They had just come from Kenyatta's farm, where they had been staying for the past week. Ever since making the hit on Kingfisher's dope pusher, Little David, they'd been out of town.

Billy, who had driven the whole way back from the farm, stretched his arms out, then caressed Joy's neck. The tall, black beauty riding next to him smiled contentedly. Joy had finally found a man she could really love. This short, husky, brown-skinned man wasn't what she'd dreamed her lover man would look like, but he'd proven he was more than adequate. She had no apprehensions when she was with him. It was a new and gratifying experience for her.

The men she'd had in the past had always depended on her, mostly for an income. Now she had a man who wasn't concerned with how much money she could make. He just wanted her for herself.

This was the first time Joy had ever been to the apartment that Billy shared with Jackie. She had just met Billy when Kenyatta brought him and Jackie out to the farm and had given a party in their honor. She smiled to herself smugly as she remembered that first night in Billy's arms. What a night it had been! They'd made love until dawn, and then she couldn't really sleep, afraid that when she awoke it would all have been a dream.

Carol and Jackie got out of the car first and waited on the pavement for Billy to come around the car and join them. They made a curious couple, him being over six foot five while she was only five foot.

Billy came around the car grinning. Neither of the two couples paid much attention to the well-dressed black men who got out of the black Cadillac down the street and hurried toward them. The first warning came when the men had gotten close and Jackie noticed one of them open up his suitcoat and take out what looked like a short iron pipe. Before he could react, he realized that it was a sawed-off shotgun.