Chapter Two

 

Gabe

Ten Years Prior

 

Red and blue lights flash through the broken and half ass bent vanilla blinds. Here we go… AGAIN. Sitting straight up in bed, the shortness of breath takes me by surprise. Guess I got too comfortable here. I lean straight to the side of the mattress, which lays flat on the floor, burying my head in my hands, realizing there’s not much time. I gasp several times, take a deep breath in, and blow out slowly so I don’t pass out.

Should I run or take the needed break?

Son of a bitch!

Instincts tell me to hit pavement and haul ass, but common sense tells me not to this time. I’m beat.

Scrambling through one of the black trash bags full of my clothes, the only things I own anymore, the adrenaline kicks in and I’ve not figured out how to calm that spark in me yet. Puts me in fight or flight mode.

Tonight, it might be both.

I’m thankful the yellowish headlights shine through the cracked window panes, held together by nothing more than clear duct tape. No power here in a trap house, or water either for that matter. Somehow, I locate and toss on two pairs of clean boxers I washed out with the neighbor’s water hose, then follow it up with some long john’s, before scrounging around the floor to find a half ass decent pair of socks. I also manage to find two plain white T-shirts then top it off with jeans and an over-shirt, grabbing a jacket on the way downstairs. I know the drill all too well.

I’m not scared to ride this train.

They’ve been trying to hang me for years now. Guilty by association which isn’t fair, but it’s the way they see it, at least in the dink boonies I live in. On the outskirts of a big city, a kid can pretty much keep low key for the most part. You learn to blend in, become invisible... Keep to yourself and never draw unneeded attention. Especially in the Houston and surrounding areas.

I was abandoned as a very young kid, that happens when your parents kick off way ahead of schedule. I had to go wherever I could find a safe place to lay my head and keep one eye open, at the same time. No one willing to take me in, and I wasn’t going into the system and their route of foster homes and child services…period. Heard too many horror stories about that, saw some until I turned ten, then I bolted and never looked back. Aside from a cardboard box beneath an overpass or camping out down on a creek bed near the woods, I found shelter where I could. Can’t go back and redo it now, I made my choices and I think it makes me a better person for it.

Made it a whole seven years, until tonight. Things were fine one day, then before the clock kicked over to the next calendar day, I was solo. I have a big issue with the whole scheme of what my purpose is for being on this planet, and why I was put here only to lose it all so quickly.

Long story… And not one I’m willing to discuss with anyone…EVER.

Just know that losing both your parents at the same time is a hard pill to swallow. Dreams plague me nightly about what happened, no they taunt me, never letting me forget that night.

The door bangs and the silver knob jiggles from left to right as the cops try to get in. Footsteps kick out toward the bottom of the door and the hinges begin to rip and crack away from the frame.

“Hold on. Let me make it to the door before you kick it in on me, geezus fucking chryst,” I holler down to the cops.

Yeah, think I’m going with the much needed rest route at the Harris County Hilton…jail. I’m tired of always running, it’s time to make a different move.

At least at the Hilton, they accommodate you with three hots and a cot for a while. Gives me enough time to build up strength again and put some nourishment back into the vessel I came in. Plus, the head storm going on inside my brain needs a hiatus, this just might be the cure to taming it down a notch or two. I can work and get some exercise too.

One thing I won’t do is lose hope, once that’s gone, you might as well be in the ground pushing up daises from the other side. I’m too young for that. Besides my parents already do that. So, do I run or go with the cops? Decisions, decisions…

I hurry to reach the door and unlock it. I’m met by a newbie cop, he’s maybe four or five years older than me…tops. Fairly puny looking guy who obviously hides behind his buddies and his badge. This must be like ‘pledge week’ at the cop shop for wussie wanna-be’s trying to fit in. Thank goodness all police are not like this, just those one’s who abuse the right to even hold a badge.

And man, does he have an attitude to greet me with…

I already see it coming by the smart-ass smirk dancing across his face.

“Well hello there, Gabriel.” I want to smack him in his face. “I’ve heard your name a time or two, nice to finally have a go at you.” He moves into my private space, his face about an inch from mine.

“Why so close? Want to Eskimo kiss me or something? By the way, it’s Gabe, only my parents call me Gabriel. Got it?” I buck up right back to him.

Slammed up against the bricks on the front porch, newbie pats me down and three others rush into the house ready for a bust.

“I’m sorry, you were saying something, Gabriel.” He twists me into the wall.

I know this routine all too well and I’m slightly pissed the hell off. It’s freezing cold out here, but my face feels like I have a fever. I know my cheeks are red with anger. Time to fight fire with fire. It’s my downfall.

“Anything in your pockets?” He looks me in the eye.

I grin, not giving him the satisfaction of answering. Newbie kicks my legs apart, frisking the front pockets, then reaches around to my ass. He pats me up and down the outside of my legs, spreads me further apart and runs his hands up the inside of my thighs.

“Reach around to the front, you’ll find something there for you,” I smart off, because it’s the only thing I can think of and know it’s a sure-fire way to piss him off.

“You sassing me, punk?” He flips me around to face him.

I arch my brow, then smile at him. Mission accomplished. I knew I could get under his skin with that comment.

“Dude listen, you’re the one rubbing all over me, just thought I’d direct you to the exact spot. I mean, come on, does it get you off gliding your hands all over me? Twice now to boot, because you seem a little anxious or something? Wifey not upping it enough for you on the home front? It’s okay, you can tell me, I won’t let anyone know your naughty little secret.” This is about to roll out real quick.

I know what’s coming next.

One of these days I’ll be able to bite my tongue, but it’s not one of my finer points at the moment. Any moment really. Especially when someone tries to intimidate or corner me. It’s not my forte, never has been and honestly can’t see it ever being that way. Doesn’t mean I’m an idiot, it’s just not my thing.

Newbie trips me then drags me straight through the broken, cracked, slick, and molded concrete sidewalk then slams me over his cop car, smashing my face against the hot metal hood.

Consider his Wheaties officially pissed in.

“Let me explain something to you. You’re seventeen years old, boy, and I can legally charge you as an adult.” His grip tightens on me.

“I am?” I sneer at him. Yeah, like that’s news to me.

I always end up in the grown-up jail because of my size, they think I lie about how old I am, so I get booked in with the big boys. Nothing changes, except this time, I really can be charged as a legal adult. On what charge, I’m still waiting to find out.

He yanks my hands behind my back and the freezing cuffs clamp around my wrist, forcing me to lose circulation. Not that I had much left anyway, it’s January and colder than a witch’s tit right now.

“You’re just a real handful aren’t you, Gabriel?”

“What can I say, it’s a gift. Charge away, what did you find on me or in the house, nothing? I might only be seventeen, but you guys have been trying to hang me up on something and never can.” Thank fuck, they didn’t find anything and the guys I happen to shack with keep a pretty clean house.

We might not have necessities, like power or water, but it’s a bunch of us that all click. I don’t do their dope scene, but, can play the part well. Like I said, it’s a half-ass decent place to lay my head without worrying at night…except when cops start making appearances, then it’s time to scoop up and find a new place.

Most cops aren’t assholes, they walk in and say ‘move around’ so I uproot and do as told, but there’s one little click of them that are trying to make a name for themselves, and they’re hellbent to do it however they can, legally or not. We call them the Pecker Squad, as they run around like a bunch of old benny hens, pecking on anyone who doesn’t kiss their ass, and they gossip worse than an old lady’s church group. Irks their last nerve they can never make anything stick solid on me, but as I said, I’m not a criminal.

Story of my life!

Now, I am sassing him, as he put it, and couldn’t give two shits less. Hey, jail’s a cake-walk. I’ve walked the underground tunnels many times, but I’m sort of protected because of my age, once everyone caught on I wasn’t a liar. I’ve never been and never will be one. Unfortunately, that isn’t going to happen this go round. Still, I know the basics.

Have someone inside get a friend or member of their family to toss a little extra on their books, then place your order. They want a tattoo and you want some soup, or any of the food products, or to up it even bigger for things like a hygiene’s, a hot plate or basically whatever you want, and trade for it. You needle poke or blade tatt them with pen ink and get goodies off their stores list. They call it illegal and being in possession of contraband, I call it swaps and a way to survive.

I might be young, but I can hack it. I’m six foot-four inches and weigh in at two-thirty pounds. I know how to defend myself on the inside. Not saying I’m some sort of bad ass, but I can handle my own fairly well.

This group of wanna-be cops have been gunning for me for years. Maybe it’ll stick this time. I could use a free ride somewhere for a change. At least in jail, I can earn a living, get some schooling behind me, and come out with a fat stack, and make something of myself. I know my parents would love that. I mean the making something of myself, not the route I’m taking.

I miss them so much…

Wait, I said I wasn’t going to discuss that, didn’t I? Everything that happened, was because I’ve…well, never-mind!