Page 30 of Thick

Crip reached for the door handle and then paused. He glanced at Stretch. “If you hear sirens, get the hell out of here. Pick us up at the ball diamond.”

“Got it.” Stretch said.

Crip turned toward the back of the van. “Just like I said at the shop. No clear target, don’t take a shot. We’ve potentially got nine teenagers in here, and I don’t want them catching a stray. I’m taking point, Cholo and Peeb are at my rear. Smoke, Nut, and Meat enter the back door upon hearing the first shot. I doubt any of these gangbangers are wearing black headgear. So, anyone not wearing a black mask? Don’t ask questions, just shoot.”

I pulled the slide back on my pistol, verified it was loaded, and then gave a nod. “Let’s roll.”

The six of us nonchalantly walked through the yard of a home that was for sale, and into the back yard of the dope house. Smokey, P-Nut, and I turned toward the back door and Crip, Cholo, and Pee Bee crept around the side of the house.

“You kick it,” I whispered to P-Nut. “I’ll go in first.”

The sound of the front door being kicked in was followed by two gunshots. I gripped my pistol firmly, and inhaled a deep breath. The thought of dying danced around in my head, but P-Nut kicking the door off the hinges changed my focus.

I burst through the door and into the edge of the kitchen. Two men, both wearing Chino’s and wife beaters, stood side by side. One was pointing a rifle toward the front door, right at Pee Bee.

As his eyes shot toward us, I fired a shot, and then another, striking him twice in the chest. His rifle discharged as he stumbled against the countertop. The sound of his weapon firing was deafening, and muffled the sound of the silenced gunshots that followed.

The second man was struck multiple times. His dingy shirt glistened with blood as he fell to the floor.

Nervously, I kicked the rifle away from the dead man at my feet, and then looked around. The filthy shack had virtually no interior walls, and consisted of a kitchen on my left, a living room in front of me, and a hallway that led to the bedrooms on my right. With the exception of the inside of the bedrooms, everything was within view.

There were two dead men in the kitchen, and two in the living room.

“Bedroom’s clear,” I heard Crip shout.

“Check the garage,” I said over my shoulder.

Cautiously, I walked through the living room and toward the hallway. With Crip still in the bedroom on my right, I rushed toward the door on the left. Cholo looked at me and then slowly opened it.

The smell almost knocked me to my knees. Sixteen concerned eyes from eight filthy half-dressed teens stared back at us. My stomach churned as my blood pressure rose. Cholo lowered himself to one knee, and pulled off his mask.

“The police will be here in a minute to give you girls a ride home,” he said. “No one here is going to hurt you.”

A few of the girls nodded. I wanted to say something meaningful, but couldn’t seem to get a sound past my tightened throat.

“How many you got?” I heard Pee Bee ask.

I realized I was sitting on the floor in front of the doorway, simply staring into the room. I didn’t have any idea at what point I sat down, or why.

“Eight,” Cholo said. “We’ve got eight.”

Pee Bee turned away, and quickly returned with another girl. One of the fella’s black tee shirts hung from her like a black bedsheet. With matted blonde hair and bare feet, she walked at his side, holding his hand loosely in hers. She couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven years old.

At six-foot-eight, Pee Bee looked like a gentle giant at her side.

A gentle giant that I now saw was covered in blood.

“Just stand in there for a few minutes,” Pee Bee said as he released her hand. “Help will be here in just a couple minutes.”

She glanced over her shoulder and responded faintly. “Okay.”

Pee Bee reached for the door handle. “I’m going to close this. Don’t come out until someone identifies themselves as a police officer, okay?”

“Okay,” the girl in the black tee shirt repeated. “Thank you.”

Hearing those words proved to be all I could take. My throat went dry and every muscle tensed. On the verge of what I expected was a nervous breakdown, I peered into the filthy room and filled with sorrow over what the girls had undoubtedly gone through.

Someone pulled the door closed. Once painted white, it was now dingy and discolored. The greasy fingerprints and stains gave hint to the vile scum that had touched it from the outside. I gazed blankly at it, and imagined the other side being spotless and shiny.