Storymania - Instincts by E Rocco Caldwell

Instincts
E Rocco Caldwell

It shone golden and bright beneath the 34th street Bridge. A half-finished freeway lay ninety or so feet below with short and long ramps leading to different places like a wounded octopus. One tentacle ran by the Tacoma dome illuminated by parking lot lights in the chilly October night. Downtown lay dotted with thousands of different size of lights creating radiance encircling it like a halo. The stresses of the day sank with the sun sometime ago and Raymond embraced the freedom contained in night eagerly a soon to be ex-blood. He rested from the hard running with his head smoldering from the heat his body created. The smells of the night held a tinge of pine from the batch of Douglas Firs to his right and exhaust from automobiles moving beneath the bridge. His heart thumped against his chest with such intensity it could explode. He was out of shape he mused remembering when running was a time he could be free. He ran to escape from the problems fashioned in his life on the track or at night listening to the rhythm of his shoes off the pavement. What a strange analogy, he had been running all of his life. One didn't just leave a gang there were reparations to be made. The gang wanted him to keep a gun safe. Simple enough one would think but the gun killed a police officer and one of Raymond's brother gangsters was being held on murder charges. The authorities wanted the gun for evidence. He knew what it meant to withhold evidence, it was a serious offense, but doing so secured the gang's hold on him. Raymond wasn't completely sure if he wanted them to have such a hold on him so he decided to run. That was a mistake. He broke any trust between he and the gang. Giving the gun back to them would only result in his death. Dropping the gun wasn't an option; it was his only ace if he decided to make a deal with the police. The thoughts bogged his mind down. What were his instincts telling him to do? He stood on the bridge waiting to hear from deep within him what he should do!
The night held the brightest stars at the horizon just above the buildings in downtown. The small ships and boats slowly moving into or out of the Puget Sound brought back some pleasant memories. When he was younger David, his best friend and he watched the maritime traffic from morning to dusk. The stories they used to tell. That brought a smile to his lips but grief shadowed him there was a world he would never know just beyond the Sound. He wasn't sure when he lost his ability to dream but he lost it or replaced it with a honed instinct for survival. He had no choice if he wanted to live to his seventeenth birthday. He knew he needed the gang if he wanted to get from school to home. It became sort of a family to him. He couldn't expect love from his parents, two individuals filled with so much anger. Good Baptists on Sunday but the rest of the week living on a one-way street to destruction and abuse, a mother resenting her own son because she borne him while she was only sixteen. A father Raymond's mother married for convenience to help pay mounting bills. The arguing went on for hours every night it seemed to Raymond sometimes resulting in hitting and punching. It was difficult to have peace in that house. The nights he went to bed with tension the size of a grapefruit settled in his stomach. He wondered if that was going to be a night of shouting and fighting! Hell came in many forms and disguises!
Lori said to him two weeks ago that their baby needed a real daddy. She was serious suddenly due to the baby, and she wanted him to get his life in order or he wouldn't see the baby again. What was in order? What example did he have to follow? The heat from his body cooled caking white sweat residue in the contours of his face while the chill of the night began to bite at him. His daughter was such a lovely little thing. He didn't think she could have such a profound affect on him. The very word daughter stirred vicarious emotion in him he was foreign to. Most of his life he experienced anger, rage and isolation but nothing like the fervency he felt at hearing the word daughter. He almost developed tears in his eyes. He was going to survive the night somehow for his daughter's sake!
He wore a black sweat jacket with a hood and baggy jeans with the small handgun still in his pocket. The look was sort of an urban uniform. The red handkerchief tied around his head distinguished which army he beyond on in the urban battleground. The handkerchief meant he went through the trials to be an East Side Blood. It once was a symbol of pride to him. A symbol he would have died for. That night getting to a safe place and waiting out the night was the only thing he cared about. He knew going home for help was out of the question and Lori's parents didn't want him around. He couldn't argue with their wishes. He could try for his grand mother in Salishan, but that would place her in danger. He needed to stop thinking of himself. He heard what the speaker at the local rally said about gang members wanted everything regardless of whom it destroyed in the process. That youth rally opened Raymond's eyes to several things. He never knew Jesus loved him. No one ever said it that way to him before certainly not his father or mother. In the gang, they spoke of being a family and his support. That family would be the death of him his instincts warned after joining. The violence would be his downfall. He ignored them then but it was something wild and new. One couldn't keep hitting and not expect to eventually be hit back! If Jesus loved him, it was the first time any one did outside of Lori.
"I got to make it through the night." He tried to think of all his options not a difficult thing to do since he didn't have many. That new precinct on McKinley Avenue wasn't far from the bridge. If he could reach it maybe, it was a way out of the mess enfolding him? At that moment, the police appeared to be his only option. They would want to know everything. How he came about having the gun and that meant telling on his fellow gang members. What other option did he have? Dying? The Bloods would catch him eventually. The Bloods would never expect him to go there! He entertained the idea deciding to keep it as an option for the time being. He would go to the precinct and then make up his mind.
He stayed off the main streets and used the night as concealment pulling it over him like a chilly blanket. He was a very short travel from the bridge to McKinley. All of the houses were dark and the residences quiet. It was early morning an occasionally dog bark forcing Raymond to increase his speed. However, once he neared the precinct his instincts reminded him of one of the sacred codes of the streets-- the police couldn't be trusted. Distrust of authorities stitched itself in the fabric of the inner city. Why not the world seen the video taped beating of Rodney King. Raymond should have known better especially after the police harassed him most of his short life. His mind was playing tricks on him thinking he would be fine once he reached the police. His instincts knew the opposite was true. The police would scrutinize him, even accuse him, and if the gun were used in other crimes, they would pen them on him. He stared at the small gun in his hand then at the precinct just two blocks away, a well lit renovated building in the middle of gang country; a sort of Fort Apache. It was to give the law-bidding people of the East Side reassurance they weren't forsaken. The crime statistics told another story. The East Side was a melting pot of a myriad of races from Cambodian, African-American, white and Latino. A place of percolating emotions! A forgotten place full of frustrated people! McKinley Avenue to the boundary of the Native-American reservation was like invisible doors slammed shut keeping everyone between them inside the vicinity like a translucent prison. Their own hopelessness helped to slam the doors and lock them in! Most weren't good at identifying blame only at voicing despondency! He knew all of the arguments hearing them all of his life! The police were racist and the government was racist! Hate existed in every part of the world crouching, waiting to spring upon a black man! His instincts rather confirmed the beliefs like a whisper on a cool wind. He lost the game before it even begun. The rules were never told to him and that disadvantage couldn't be made up!
He didn't like thinking of stuff beyond his control. It was wasted thinking and he had other things to determine. He decided to push on to the precinct and pressed his instincts down. The cool night breeze scurried leaves across the dark streets as he made his way to the police station. The neighborhood was still drenched in night but the breaking day leaked some of itself on the rooftops of houses. The stillness was affable and soothing in a way. Raymond rested a moment in a dark alley conscious of the noise the gravel road made when his tennis shoes stepped on it. His heart was in his throat and his mouth dry and pasty. He remembered for some unknown reason the afternoon Little Ben was shot down crossing the street in front of Lincoln High School last year. The hilltop Crips wanted revenge because Little Ben fronted one of them at a party the weekend earlier. Raymond saw everything as he pressed his body down against the lawn. His heart was going so fast that he felt it would explode. He recalled the scent of freshly chipped grass and the popping of guns. In an instant, his friend was lying dead and broken in the middle of the street. That was what drove Raymond to the Bloods, a combination of revenge, fear, and survival. The real world was shoved down his throat and he gagged on it! He pushed the memory from his mind and continued on to the precinct.
His instincts stopped him from crossing to the precinct and telling the police everything. They began to argue pointing out how the police didn't care for his well being, they only cared about making a case. He would give them a weapon used in the murder of a police officer and they would reward him with conspiracy to commit murder charges. Just take a chance, a part of his mind said. What other choice did he have? However, one had to trust his instincts if he was going to survive. He learned that early in life. So, he decided against the police. However, if not the police, then who?
He stuffed the gun in his pocket feeling a tiny balled up piece of paper that he retrieved. It was crumpled so he smoothed it out. The faded telephone number belonged to the youth leader who spoke at the rally, the ex-gang member who found Jesus. Dennis Wilkerson was his name and he told Raymond to call him at any time for anything. Raymond's eyes fell on the telephone booth lit up by streetlights. The telephone sat right outside of the precinct convenient and safe unless one wanted to hide. Raymond gambled that Dennis would understand the situation and maybe have answers. For a moment, Raymond thought he heard a baby crying but shook it off as his imagination. He was a daddy now and he had responsibilities. He probably just missed his own baby.
The buttons felt cold as his finger pressed them. He tried to keep one eye on the precinct and the other on the street. He stood exposed in the telephone booth out in the light next to one of Tacoma's busiest streets. He prayed Dennis be home. It rang twice before a voice answered it. The tension squeezing his belly released shortly.
"Is Dennis Wilkerson's home?" Raymond asked. It was a woman on the other end. Tacoma pushed in around him like a gathering of hungry people for food. That part of the city never felt right to him more like lukewarm water or broken eggshells beneath one's bare feet. The wind stirred through the cherry blossom trees. Line of petals indicated in their movements the direction the wind blew. Raymond's heart thumped against his chest. What was a good age to die, the thought flashed across his mind.
"Yes, who is calling?" she asked. Didn't she realize his life was in danger?
"Raymond Jackson. I met him at the youth rally." His instincts were telling him he stood far too long in the light. They warned him to get back in the cover of darkness. A matter of seconds that seemed like eternity to Raymond passed before Dennis spoke on the phone. Hearing Dennis voice soothed Raymond some.
"What's wrong, Raymond?" Dennis was direct and to the point.
"You remember me?"
"You bet. I gave you my number at the rally. You were in a gang and wanted to get out," Dennis said. Dennis sounded so sure of himself Raymond thought. In Dennis' voice, Raymond anchored his emotions. He needed to explain his situation in exact detail to Dennis in order for Dennis to help him. Raymond wasn't very articulated. He calmed himself as best as possible.
"I'm in trouble--bad trouble. I need help." His heart raced up, as it seemed as if it would crawl out up his throat and out of his mouth. He was too young to experience such terror.
"What kind of trouble?"
It took Raymond a few shaky minutes to explain his situation to Dennis concerning the gun and the decision he made to get out of the gang. Dennis understood fully. He told Raymond to wait there. Dennis would come and get him. Raymond could stay the night with the Wilkersons. Suddenly a great weight fell off Raymond. He nearly cried but contained himself. He hung the telephone up. His heart still pounding in his chest, but he knew he could trust Dennis Wilkerson. In the morning, he would see his baby and tell Lori he was out of the Bloods. He would get back in school; maybe find a job to help support his child. He had it all planned out the first time ever in his life.
A banged up olive Ford went by and Raymond's soul froze. He knew both of the passengers in the car getting a good look at them and they in return got a good look at him. The car slowed briefly and then sped up. His instincts told him he had been spotted. All of the Bloods would know where he was in a matter of moments. He could hear their pagers going off all over the East Side. They would be on him before Dennis Wilkerson arrived. He had only one option left his grand mother. He didn't want to involve her but his back was up against the wall. He tried recalling if he ever mentioned that his grand mother lived in the Salishan district to any of the Bloods. He concluded he had not. A quiet voice spoke inside him it warm and peaceful, it said, staying at the telephone, and waiting for Dennis was the right thing to do. That was another option. His instinct rose up against the feeling like a tidal wave crashing down on the thoughts drenching them and pulling them down. Run, Raymond! Run away from where he stood. The Bloods would surely reach him before Dennis did. All he heard of the soothing voice was the resounding echo of "It's all right don't leave!"
His instincts propelled him down Division Lane, which dropped down a steep hill called Fairbanks and ran into Portland Avenue. He would cut into the woods behind the new library next to 38th street. There he could look out across the parking lot of the new Cambodian store right into the low income housing area of Salishan full of a mixture of races. From his grand mother's house, he would call Dennis Wilkerson and explain why he couldn't wait. His instincts helped him so far and he couldn't just ignore them. Dennis would understand being an ex-gang member. Life was hit and miss based on your instincts.
He waited nearly an hour in the woods. Dawn approached. He was numb from the cold. His sneakers were drenched and his toes probably were frost bitten. He would dash across the parking lot and over Portland Avenue because once in the Salishan District he could hide easily among the houses. He darted from the woods ignoring the pain in his feet as his sneakers struck the pavement. He thought about Lori, the baby and him in an apartment over looking the bay. They would be a family like what a real family was supposed to be. Not like the one, he had. His father a deadbeat was living off his mother's welfare check in a tiny apartment up on the Hilltop. The parking lot seemed long; he was starting to breathe heavy from the running. He wasn't far from Portland Avenue now and once he crossed the street, he could hide moving in and out of the shadows working his way to his grandmother's. She was the only one he learned to love in his immediate family. She had been there for him more times then he could remember. He always talked about her. His instincts screamed a warning; you always talked about your grandmother! No! He tried to comfort himself, only about how she was a great person never where she lived!
Crack! Crack! Crack! Brief flashes of light he saw from the corner of his eye. His legs twisted and he tumbled diving into the pavement. Crack! Crack! Crack! Sounds erupted out of the silence and stillness of the night. His body burned in several places. What was going on? He turned over onto his back to stare up in the clear night at the stars. How incredibly large it all was at that moment. Each star was that much more real as the cold dawn cooled his hot face. Pain raced throughout his body. He could hear the footsteps of approaching people. They loomed over him.
"I told you he would go to his grand mother's house. You were getting all mad because it took him most of the night," Robert said. Raymond recognized his fellow Bloods standing over him.
"You don't turn on your homies, Raymond! We were family, man!" Elijah shouted down at him. Fine family, Raymond thought. They shoot you without giving it a second thought.
They were waiting for him all that time to come to his grand mother's. He nearly found humor in the realization. He was shot several times. Elijah retrieved the gun from his pocket. Then Raymond was alone staring up at the night thinking about his baby. There wouldn't be an apartment, he thought. His life slipped from his body drifting away like the steam from his face and mouth. Had God given him several opportunities, he considered? He knew his instincts had gotten the better of him. His distrust of the police and his paranoia over the car were extensions of his instincts based on myth and perhaps facts. All rolled into a thinking process geared towards self-preservation. As he closed his eyes the final time his last thoughts were on his baby, if she would learn to trust the right people and never have to live on instincts alone.