'God made two great lights- the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. God set them in the expanse of the sky to give light to the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good.'
~Genesis 1:16-18~
Thugs lied to themselves. They said they were invincible, that fear was an illusion. That's why they lost when met with reality. That was either justice or a bullet. Andrea preferred the latter, but she kept her reality centered on O'Brian's chest. "Go home, O'Brian. Sleep it off."
His wolf-brown eyes slitted, a scowl showing through his stubble. Andrea kept the steel in her own irises for him to gauge. Would she do it, he was thinking. Andrea was just waiting for him to tempt her, trigger finger pulsing the metal of her .43. O'Brian finally pshawed and shrugged himself into an easier posture. "Let me know when your tune changes, little darlin'. The nights get lonely out here."
"Find a blanket." Andrea advised. She stayed as she was until he had made his slumbering way to the other side of the street. She didn't drop her guard though. She felt the fellow eyes, watching her from the shadows of the buildings, poles, and fences. More then half of the street lamps were broken or bulb less, shutting Warren Avenue into a darkness that sought to draw in its neighboring blocks. When it came to crime waves of this city, Warren Avenue was the belly of the beast. The drug lords had staked themselves up and down the avenue, the teenagers had claimed their favorite hangout to get wasted and destructive. What decent folk had lived there, had tried to hold on to some semblance of the real Warren Avenue, had left years ago. Yes, the devil had found his roast inside these city limits. And Andrea walked into it every night because she couldn't picture herself anywhere else.
Curse my deceitful heart. Andrea figured, gun back in her purse, an eye up to the sky. The night was closing on its hazy blues. Her feet carried her fast to the home sandwiched in three doors down. The front was barred, iron bars protecting its wooden ancestor, but she had the key. Pushing the door open- with a relieved prayer- Andrea was met with big paws and a black nose that sniffed at her happily.
"Evenin' June." Andrea nuzzled the Rottweiler's face to hers, letting the snuggle strike down her nerves. They would never completely leave, but she'd be grateful for that. God had showed her they were an excellent alarm system.
Andrea took a few steps into Frank's home, glancing through the arch to the front room. The beaten down front of the house usually scared people from seeing the homey and brightly colored interior. The walls were a ripe yellow, the twin couches a well-worn creme by now, with colorful pillows on either end of their cushions. It was all illuminated thanks to mismatched floor lamps, but Andrea wouldn't nitpick. It was her favorite room. Why wouldn't Frank and Terry keep it lit?
"Frank?" Andrea called out to where the room journeyed into the kitchen. June scampered off from her to meet the old general (only in nature) just as he came wheeling through the archway. He raised his stern, clean-shaven chin at her, eyes like an ice ray on her. Andrea bent down and kissed his cheek anyway. "That's where you were hiding, handsome."
Frank gave her a glare, rubbing her lipstick off with his thumb. "Terry's going to be livid with you."
"He'll be more relieved that he didn't have to worry about you." Andrea countered him, working the buttons on her coat. Frank rolled his wheelchair past her with a grunt. "I take care of myself."
There was pride in that statement and rightfully so. A veteran of Vietnam, a devout husband and, for the past twenty-nine years, Frank had been the officer to know and trust. Terry even told her how he had passed up a promotion to commissioner three times to stick to his street beat. But his sense of justice and tough love demeanor spread his influence farther then the ten blocks he had canvased. It was his advise you sought and the his opinion you trusted. He certainly wasn't one to ask for the attention, but God had thrown it at him anyway. Despite Frank's many grumbles and silent glares.
"Yes, you take care of yourself." Andrea swiped beneath her bangs and across her forehead dramatically, hanging her coat on the kitchen wall. "Good thing. Because I'm not cleaning your melting pot of dirty dishes-"
There was a frantic scream. Gun blasts, one, two, three... six of them. Then June's mad barking over the fierce peeling of tires that shrieked off into the startled night outside the house. It all came through the wall and into Andrea's ears, no holds bar in their emotional volume. Two months ago... heck, a week ago, she would've run to Frank's side, making sure he was okay. Now, she simply closed her eyes, stilled her mind and body. The night, Lord. It begins.
"Find a blanket." Andrea advised. She stayed as she was until he had made his slumbering way to the other side of the street. She didn't drop her guard though. She felt the fellow eyes, watching her from the shadows of the buildings, poles, and fences. More then half of the street lamps were broken or bulb less, shutting Warren Avenue into a darkness that sought to draw in its neighboring blocks. When it came to crime waves of this city, Warren Avenue was the belly of the beast. The drug lords had staked themselves up and down the avenue, the teenagers had claimed their favorite hangout to get wasted and destructive. What decent folk had lived there, had tried to hold on to some semblance of the real Warren Avenue, had left years ago. Yes, the devil had found his roast inside these city limits. And Andrea walked into it every night because she couldn't picture herself anywhere else.
Curse my deceitful heart. Andrea figured, gun back in her purse, an eye up to the sky. The night was closing on its hazy blues. Her feet carried her fast to the home sandwiched in three doors down. The front was barred, iron bars protecting its wooden ancestor, but she had the key. Pushing the door open- with a relieved prayer- Andrea was met with big paws and a black nose that sniffed at her happily.
"Evenin' June." Andrea nuzzled the Rottweiler's face to hers, letting the snuggle strike down her nerves. They would never completely leave, but she'd be grateful for that. God had showed her they were an excellent alarm system.
Andrea took a few steps into Frank's home, glancing through the arch to the front room. The beaten down front of the house usually scared people from seeing the homey and brightly colored interior. The walls were a ripe yellow, the twin couches a well-worn creme by now, with colorful pillows on either end of their cushions. It was all illuminated thanks to mismatched floor lamps, but Andrea wouldn't nitpick. It was her favorite room. Why wouldn't Frank and Terry keep it lit?
"Frank?" Andrea called out to where the room journeyed into the kitchen. June scampered off from her to meet the old general (only in nature) just as he came wheeling through the archway. He raised his stern, clean-shaven chin at her, eyes like an ice ray on her. Andrea bent down and kissed his cheek anyway. "That's where you were hiding, handsome."
Frank gave her a glare, rubbing her lipstick off with his thumb. "Terry's going to be livid with you."
"He'll be more relieved that he didn't have to worry about you." Andrea countered him, working the buttons on her coat. Frank rolled his wheelchair past her with a grunt. "I take care of myself."
There was pride in that statement and rightfully so. A veteran of Vietnam, a devout husband and, for the past twenty-nine years, Frank had been the officer to know and trust. Terry even told her how he had passed up a promotion to commissioner three times to stick to his street beat. But his sense of justice and tough love demeanor spread his influence farther then the ten blocks he had canvased. It was his advise you sought and the his opinion you trusted. He certainly wasn't one to ask for the attention, but God had thrown it at him anyway. Despite Frank's many grumbles and silent glares.
"Yes, you take care of yourself." Andrea swiped beneath her bangs and across her forehead dramatically, hanging her coat on the kitchen wall. "Good thing. Because I'm not cleaning your melting pot of dirty dishes-"
There was a frantic scream. Gun blasts, one, two, three... six of them. Then June's mad barking over the fierce peeling of tires that shrieked off into the startled night outside the house. It all came through the wall and into Andrea's ears, no holds bar in their emotional volume. Two months ago... heck, a week ago, she would've run to Frank's side, making sure he was okay. Now, she simply closed her eyes, stilled her mind and body. The night, Lord. It begins.
~To Be Continued At Midnight~
No comments:
Post a Comment