Invincible: A Novel (12 page)

Nine-One was Indian and Egyptian, and you couldn’t tell him that both of his races weren’t the smartest people in the world. He was also a firm believer that those countries produced the finest women in the world. One day Jake grew tired of Nine-One complaining about the weather, the food, and the women … in this country, and said, “So why don’t you go back to your own country?”

Nine-One gave him a wry smile. “This is my country,” he said. “This is where I was born, but trust me I ain’t too proud about it! One of these days I’m going to get a passport and travel abroad and see where I’m from.”

“You mean to tell me you never even been out the country?”

“Not yet.” Nine-One grinned.

“Then why the fuck you run around acting like you know about all these countries all the time?” Jake asked.

“Because I do,” Nine-One stuck to his guns.

“How is that?” Jake asked.

Nine-One paused with a serious expression on his face, then broke into the biggest smile Jake had ever seen and said, “C-N-N, mu’fucka.” He and Jake both busted out laughing.

“You ready to go?” Nine-One’s voice right in front of him put a halt to Jake’s reminiscing.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Yo, where can we find a bag of weed around here? I feel like I wanna smoke.”

“I thought you would never ask,” Nine-One said in a proper
tone. “It will be my pleasure to put something in the air.” After they left the house and got in the Eldorado, Nine-One said, “There is something I want to tell you. I know you can’t remember everything and all you’re trying to do is get your memory back, but to tell the truth I don’t think you should go back. I think you should keep moving. I’ve been driving you around for a few years and the money is great but I think it’s time for you to move.” As Nine-One was speaking, Jake started to get butterflies in his stomach and a lump in his throat. He had a feeling he was about to hear something he didn’t want to hear. Nine-One continued, “Before your uncle Mitch called me to come up here, a friend of mine was telling me the story about you waking up from the coma and then the one about you escaping from the shooters after you left the hospital. The word on the street is that they’ve given you a new nickname: Mr. Invincible, which means when you get back home those who want you dead are going to work twice as hard. The word is that the 300 Crew wants your head and they got twenty-five thousand cash for anybody who can give solid info on you. And I’m going to be totally honest with you like I always have—I don’t think your uncle is going to be able to help you.”

“Why would you come to that conclusion, Nine?”

Jake was trying to get the back of the car seat upright because it was too far back, and he wanted to hear exactly what Nine-One was going to say, when two bullets came flying through the passenger window and missed him by a hair. Nine-One wasn’t so so lucky. One slug caught Nine-One in the temple and the other slammed into his jaw. Maybe Nine-One had seen it coming because his foot had smashed down on the gas pedal and the Eldorado took off like a jet. Jake’s heart was
beating so fast he thought he might go into cardiac arrest. Nine-One was slumped over the wheel but he was a good driver even in death because his hands were locked tight on the wheel and the car pushed straight ahead. Luckily there wasn’t much traffic on the road. Jake lifted his leg and put it over the dead driver’s in an attempt to hit the brakes—it worked.

All the exercise had done Jake well. After the car came to a screeching halt, Jake threw it in park, grabbed the gun out of Nine-One’s jacket, opened the passenger-side door, and hopped out, ready to shoot in what looked like one motion. His movements were so sudden that even he was shocked. There was no time to pat himself on the back, though; someone was trying to kill him—again. But there wasn’t another soul or moving car in sight; just a bunch of parked cars. Jake held the gun straight out in front of him and spun around looking for someone or something to shoot. There was nothing, just Nine-One dead in the driver’s seat and him standing there dumbfounded. Satisfied that the shooter was no longer around, Jake went to the other side of the car and struggled to move Nine-One from the driver’s seat—then heard it.

BOOM—shotgun cocking—BOOM!

The shooter was a half block behind Jake and the car, walking toward him.
Where the fuck did this guy come from?
Jake wondered.

The shooter was walking toward him, letting the shottie go with the intensity of a man on a mission. Jake took cover by the front of the car. Nine-One’s gun was a .357 Magnum, which meant it only held six shots and Jake didn’t want to waste any of them. By the way the shotgun slinger was coming toward him, he was either born bulletproof, or had on a vest, or just assumed
Jake wasn’t strapped. Jake knew he had to do something quick. Not only was he in danger, but there was a chance that Kim and ole Neb might be, too—if they weren’t already dead.

The shotgun slinger was tearing Mitch’s car to pieces and Jake could feel him getting closer. Jake ducked underneath the car hoping to get a clear shot at his attacker’s legs. He looked left, right, then straight, but the shooter was no longer there.

BADUMP! BADUMP! BADUMP!

Dude was hopping from car to car as if he anticipated what Jake would try to do. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, now he was cutting loose with something automatic. Jake was feeling the wind and the heat ricochet from every bullet that was flying by him. Whomever Jake was dealing with was heavily strapped and obviously experienced in warfare. Unfortunately for Jake the Eldorado was in the middle of the street and his legs weren’t strong enough for running yet. He had just started to walk fairly normal again, but after that the most he could do was a slow jog.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! The shooter was still there.

Something hot hit Jake in the head, causing him to fall back. He actually thought it was over until he put his hand up to his head and felt it in one piece. A piece of metal from the car had struck him; not a bullet. Nine-One was just telling him about how the streets was calling him Mr. Invincible, and now his man was dead for nothing.

Jake sprung to his feet and dove toward the left side of the street. He gave it his all but it wasn’t good enough to make him land behind the other car to keep him covered.

FUCK IT.
Might as well die letting off shots at this motherfucker. I ain’t the type to die with a fully loaded gun
, he thought before
standing up. His timing was perfect because the shooter was just tucking his automatic back in his jacket and was trying to grab the shotgun when Jake let loose the .357.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Two of the three shots rocketed through the dude’s hip and the third shot missed, but the two that hit took care of business, knocking the dude from the car he was standing on. He fell and cracked his face on the concrete. He looked to be unconscious when Jake started to move in. After getting a couple steps closer, Jake didn’t take any chances on this killer gaining consciousness; he let the remaining three bullets fly into the dude’s head.

The whole ordeal left Jake exhausted, but he managed to quickly step over to the bloody body to check it out. The .357 slugs had tore the dude’s face up so bad that even if Jake did know who he was, there was no way he would be able to recognize him now. He searched the body as fast as he could. Nothing. He took the shooter’s automatic just in case someone else was waiting on him.

Jake knew that with all the gunfire that had gone down the police would be coming soon. He didn’t have the strength to lift the shooter’s and Nine-One’s bodies from their spots in front of Mitch’s car, and besides, Mitch’s car was tore up from all the bullets that ripped through it. Jake had no intention of driving around in a car scattered with bullet holes; that’s like asking the police to pull the vehicle over.

He made his way up the block in the direction the shooter came from. His reasoning was that maybe the shooter left a car running, and that proved to be one of the smartest thoughts he ever had because as the sound of the sirens were getting closer, Jake saw the shiny black Corvette. The car was running so quietly
he almost missed it. Jake had his own theory on how the situation had panned out. He figured that after the shooter took his first shot and saw the Caddy come to a screeching halt, he probably pulled into a spot where he could watch his handiwork unnoticed. Once the shooter saw Jake get out of the car instead of Nine-One, he probably sprang into action, leaving the car running in case he had to get away in a hurry.

Jake would never know for sure, but it didn’t matter. He hopped in, shoved it in gear, and peeled out in the opposite direction of the bodies. As he was driving he wondered,
how the fuck am I managing to stay alive?
There must be a good reason for it; did God have him here for some special reason?
Damn, I don’t even have any kids to carry on my name
. He drove at high speed to get to Kim and ole Neb—he hoped they were all right. And it was at that moment he realized he didn’t know how to get back to the hotel they were staying in. It was the first time he had been outside. He pulled over, took a deep breath, and asked God for guidance, direction, and forgiveness for playing a part in Nine-One’s death. He even asked for forgiveness for the shooter he was forced to kill in order to save his own life, and while he was at it he even threw in Phat Murphy, his crew, and whomever else he harmed in his lifetime, then he peeled off and found his way back to the hotel.

When he walked in the room he found Kim and ole Neb sitting around watching television, oblivious to the fact that anything had gone wrong.

“We have to leave here immediately.” Jake rushed the words out. He was exhausted from all the exertion.

Kim answered first. “What’s wrong, baby, what’s going on?” She rushed over to his side.

After giving them the abbreviated version of what happened while he was gone, Jake told Kim to give Neb fifty thousand dollars and suggested he go his own way; Jake didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s life.

When Kim tried to give Nebbie the money he put up his hands, shooing her off. “Mitch already gave me all the money that is required; there is no need for any more.”

“It’s cool,” Jake assured him, “take the money. Let’s just call it gratuities for the work you done on me.”

“Okay, I’ll take the extra money, but you take this.” Nebbie handed Jake a book that contained the recipes for the nasty teas along with a few meals that Nebbie said would help bring him to a hundred percent. “Natural healing will bring your body, mind, and soul together.” Kim handed Nebbie the money and gave him hug, a kiss, and a thank you. “You’re welcome.” He smiled and Kim ran back into the bedroom to finish getting everything together.

Now it was Jake’s turn to thank the man who helped to restore his health, but before he could, Nebbie said, “You’ve thanked me enough. What I really want you to do for me is to try to get up and meditate in the morning and do the same before you go to sleep. It will help you get your memory back and give you a clear vision on how to go about certain things.” Then ole Neb walked out the door. Jake wished he could meditate at that particular moment; he wanted to know why Nine-One said he didn’t think his uncle could help.
What did he know, and why didn’t he mention the twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward for the info on my whereabouts before?
Jake wondered.
Was Nine-One down with the other side?
No, he didn’t believe that.
But was
Nine-One trying to warn him about something or somebody? Mitch? Kim? Who is this 300 Crew, and why me?

“I’m ready,” Kim said stepping out of the bedroom.

“I’m going to need you to get Nine-One’s things together.” His stuff was in the room adjacent to theirs. When Kim went into the other room, all she saw was a zipped-up backpack. The closet and dresser drawers were empty. He’d never unpacked. She grabbed the backpack and left the room. Jake met her outside.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asked.

“Sure, this place was starting to get me a li’l stir-crazy anyway. Where are we heading though?” she asked as they hopped in the Corvette as if it was their car. Jake had to drive because Kim didn’t drive stick.

“We ain’t going nowhere,” Jake informed her. “I’m dropping you off at the airport and you’re gonna get a flight to a different coast.” Before she could interrupt he said, “Right now I don’t know how they keep finding us but they do, and I can’t risk losing you.” From the look on Kim’s face Jake was positive that it wasn’t Kim who was trying to get him killed. He could feel the love she had for him; it was in her eyes. He felt like shit for mistrusting her.

Kim was crying. She had waited two years to be with him again and now he was trying to send her away. “Why can’t we just leave together on the plane and try to hide?”

“We tried hiding, and Nine-One is dead for my efforts. Something has to be done. I’m going home so whoever wants to find me ain’t gotta look far.”

BIT OF TRUTH

Jake turned to Kim and asked her: “You don’t have any ideas or hear anything on the streets about who wants to kill me?”