One Blood (37 page)

“
Is she okay?” Brandon whispered to Officer Jeff, as they made their way down a corridor lined with holding cells.

“
She’s alive. Now shut the hell up. You’re supposed to be a dangerous killer.”

I’m out of the net and into the barrel.

Officer Jeff escorted him through a throng of officers and inmates. Brandon wondered if this was a trick designed to further implicate him by making it seem like he’d tried to escape. Unfortunately, Brandon didn’t have many other options. It was either trust this man, or go back to his cell and wait for the Chief to finish the job.

As if sensing Brandon’s unease, Officer Jeff whispered, “We’ve just got a little farther to go.”

They emerged into the central containment area where they’d fingerprinted and photographed Brandon hours earlier. There were cops everywhere. Brandon couldn’t distinguish friend from foe.

“
Keep your head down no matter what. Just keep your feet moving.”

Brandon did as he was told. Even if he got out of here, he would be living on borrowed time. No matter how he spun it, without the girl to prove his innocence, he’d be replacing Lincoln in Angola.

* * * * *

Chapter Sixty-Four

Ten years earlier

1992

Lake City, LA

Lincoln’s mind was gone and he was glad. He gripped the cop’s gun tighter. There was no time to think. Killing was the only thing that made sense.

Running to the park, his mind’s eye saw everything with the cold calculation of an assassin. The Dirty Skulls stood in a semicircle around half court, shooting across the park at the men Lincoln had seen coming out of the woods. Lincoln veered toward the second group of adolescents he recognized as Scorpions by their black t-shirts.

Then, he saw the children clustered around the jungle gym. Everything started moving faster.

Lincoln hopped the fence and charged across the field as bullets whizzed by his head. He caught a Scorpion by surprise and shot him in the back.

Grabbing the kid’s piece, Lincoln raised both guns and started blasting, cutting down one Scorpion, then two, then three. His left gun jammed so he dove onto the grass to take cover. Then he saw Kris duck down behind a park bench.

One of the Scorpions pointed his gun at Kris. Lincoln took aim and shot the Scorpion in the chest. With kids out here, he couldn’t afford to miss. So he didn’t.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one shooting.

More cops arrived and opened fire on everyone. Helicopters flew overhead.

A bullet grazed Lincoln’s forehead and knocked him off his feet. He landed on top of another gun. Good. He shot at the black t-shirts from the ground. When he ran out of black t-shirts, he shot at cops. He pushed forward, crawling over bodies. He had to make it to Kris and Brandon.

He reached the basketball court, just a few feet away from his friend. Murda and the other Skulls had fallen back to the gymnasium and most of the Scorpions had congregated around the jungle gym. Kris stared at Lincoln and tried to get up, completely unaware of the Scorpion rounding the tree behind him.

As Lincoln aimed at the Scorpion and pulled the trigger, a bullet fired from somewhere behind Lincoln pierced his shoulder, throwing off his aim. Lincoln’s bullet passed through Kris’s midsection, pinning Kris against the tree. The bullet that hit Lincoln spun him around. He locked eyes with a rugged-looking white man with long gray hair.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a grinning Scorpion moving in to finish Kris off. Lincoln charged across the court, oblivious to the crossfire. He painted the tree trunk grayish-red with the Scorpion’s brain and skull fragments. Kris was gasping for air as Lincoln reached him. Lincoln stared at Kris’s stomach in disbelief. There was so much blood. Kris reached up and pulled Lincoln toward him.

“
Shh…don’t talk.”

Sirens filled the air around them.

Kris smiled and blood dribbled down his chin. His eyes shot up over Lincoln’s shoulder.

Lincoln turned and put a bullet through a Scorpion no older than thirteen. He grabbed the gun from the kid’s hand and looked around. The helicopters were still there, but most of the cops were down, or calling for more backup. Black boys dressed in red and black littered the park. All dead?

Desperate hands tugged his shirt.

“
Isaac?”

Lincoln turned back to his friend and said, “Kris! Stay wit’ me, bruh! Stay wit’ me!”

“
Can’t. Hurts. Breathe.”

“
I know, Kris. Helps on the way, man. Just hold on. Please.”

“
I’m…ready.”

“
No you’re not, Kris! You’re not going anywhere.”

“
Will…Karen be safe now?”

“
Stop talkin’, Kris. You wastin’ too much energy.”

“
Melinda…Weeps!”

“
Just relax, Kris…you ain’t makin no sense, just relax.”

“
Cursed,” Kris gasped. He slumped over.

“
Kris?” Lincoln shook him. “Kris!”

Kris stared past Lincoln, past pain, past life.

Something wet caressed Lincoln’s ear. He looked up to see Murda standing over him with blood dripping down his right arm. Another gun blasted and Lincoln was bathed in his gang brother’s blood. Murda fell on top of Lincoln and Kris, the three of them locked in an embrace of death.

Lincoln remembered Brandon. His strength waning, he threw Murda off him and got back to his feet. More cops had arrived. Lincoln grabbed a gun off another dead body and started blasting.

How many dead? He’d lost count. Only the living counted.

He couldn’t locate Brandon, and now there were too many police and not enough Skulls. Lincoln stood at half court, his clip-on tie swung over his shoulder, his powder blue, button down Oxford and khaki Dockers covered with blood. The police surrounded him and ordered him to drop his weapon. Why didn’t they just shoot?

Kris was right, I am cursed.

Lincoln put the gun in his mouth and squeezed the trigger. Click. Click-click. Click-click-click. Empty—

Then they were on him, beating him with clubs, guns, fists, and feet. He didn’t resist. From the ground, he stared at Kris’s startling blue eyes glaring back at him. As he passed out, he envied Kris. Sometimes death was a gift...

* * * * *

Chapter Sixty-Five

I-10 W

Tap.

Tap-tap.

Lincoln opened his eyes.

Someone was tapping on the windshield. Lincoln rolled his sore neck and stared into the eyes of a dead man. Kris grinned down at him like a lunatic.

Kris had a billy club in his hand and started hammering against the windshield.

Lincoln flinched and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Kris was gone. Something was still tapping on the windshield, however. There were also loud metallic plongs. The Jeep vibrated as large chunks of ice battered the car from all directions. The rational part of him wondered how in the hell it could be hailing in Louisiana.

Lincoln sat up in the seat, groaning from the effort. His butt was asleep and he was sore in muscles he never even knew he had.

Plong-plong!

Ice bashed the Jeep. Then, crack! A spiderweb formed in the upper right-hand corner of the windshield after a baseball-sized chunk of ice exploded there. It sounded like a firing squad was shooting at the car.

Outside, people ran for cover.

Lincoln expected the hail to slack off, but after another few minutes, it grew in intensity. His instinct was to dive into the backseat and ride it out, but as his body awakened, so did his bladder. If he didn’t make a move soon, he would urinate on himself.

Finally, the storm calmed down a bit. Lincoln tucked Jhonnette’s gun into the waistband of his hospital pants, grabbed the car keys, and opened the door. He limped from the Jeep to the Quick Stop rest area in bare feet. His bladder kept him from returning to the vehicle.

At least it wasn’t as packed now as when he’d first parked. Highway traffic was moving quite nicely.

How long was I out?

He entered the convenience store and swiped three boxes of Band-Aids, aspirin, and a bottle of peroxide from the shelves. Slipping into the restroom, he relieved his bladder’s burden, and then focused on his wounds.

The hospital had done a nice job dressing him, but there was some leakage from the bandages on his shoulder, right bicep, and left thigh. He poured the peroxide on his wounds and placed fresh Band-Aids over the bullet holes. Then, he re-dressed them with the hospital bandages. Lincoln swallowed a handful of aspirin. The ribs on his left side were still tender from his fall off the ferry that morning.

For the first time since all the craziness back at Angola, he was sure his injuries weren’t fatal. Jhonnette really had healed him. Lincoln didn’t dwell on this miracle too long, however, because he realized he was starving. Another good sign.

He looked around and saw a pizza place, Baskin-Robbins, Burger King, Popeye’s, and Starbucks. What the hell was a Starbucks?

His mouth salivated, as he smelled the wonderful aromas of fried chicken and fresh biscuits. But like an idiot he’d left the money Jhonnette gave him back in the Jeep.

Damnit!

Lincoln burst out into the rain. He was halfway to the Jeep when he saw Snake Roberts step out of a dark blue Crown Victoria parked two cars down. Vertigo gripped him as Snake’s present-day image merged with the younger version of him Lincoln remembered encountering that day at Simmons Park. It had been Snake’s bullet that caused Lincoln to shoot Kris!

Lincoln ducked behind a small compact car.

Did they spot me?

Snake walked right past his hiding spot, clearly in some pain.

We must have hurt him worse than I thought.

Lincoln’s head swam as he tried to maintain focus on the present.

At least I’ve got this gun.

He glanced through the driver’s side window and saw two other men getting out of the Crown Vic. One man was huge, bald-headed, and ugly. The other man was younger, with long, shoulder-length dark hair. Neither man looked like they were here for a potty break.

How did they track me here?

He and Jhonnette had left Roberts hog-tied in the recovery room, sure the police would have picked him up by now. It was either dumb luck that they had ended up in the same place at the same time, or they had some sort of tracking device in Jhonnette’s car. On the other hand, maybe Jhonnette had double-crossed him. Was that why she’d agreed so willingly to his plan?

Lincoln’s ears perked up as the men moved closer to his position. They didn’t even look at the Jeep as they passed it, confusing Lincoln even more. He had the gun in his palm now. His index finger flirted with the trigger.

He could rise up and put bullets through each of their heads before they took their next step, but something told him to wait and see. Snake growled something that sounded like, “Where is she?” But he couldn’t have heard that right. He’d probably said, “Where is he?”

Lincoln peeked out from behind the car and saw they were carrying their pieces as openly as he was.

Then he heard, “There she is!” The younger man took off running toward the facility where Lincoln saw Kris Lafitte’s mother, Coral, filling up a white Ford Taurus.

They’re after her? Why?

Lincoln watched in amazement as the younger man called out to Coral. She turned, eyes growing wide as she saw who was calling her. She pulled out a huge gun.

What the fuck is this, the Wild Wild West?

Coral squeezed the trigger but nothing happened.

The young man took one shot. Coral swatted at her neck and then collapsed.

Lincoln looked around. Amazingly, he was the only person watching this go down. Roberts and Big Bald Ugly humped it double time back to the Crown Vic. The young man put Coral in the passenger seat of her own car, replaced the gas nozzle, and got into the driver’s seat. Then both cars took off.

Lincoln’s instincts told him to follow them. He ran back to the Jeep.

You’re not getting away from me this time, Snake.

* * * * *

Chapter Sixty-Six

Lake City, LA

“
Governor Lafitte? Can you hear me Governor?”

Randy opened his eyes and blinked hard to clear his vision. “Where am I?” he asked through a mouthful of sludge.

“
You’re home.”

Randy sat up and saw his Lake City mansion looming over the chopper.

“
I apologize for the turbulence,” the pilot said. “This hurricane is a tricky one. It’s turned again and is picking up speed and heading toward Lake City. I know you told me to drop you at the LCPD, but there’s a riot going on down there. Chief Edwards said he’d bring Karen over as soon as he can. I hope that’s okay.”