HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KEITH PARTRIDGE, PART 3
It wasn't until Keith was halfway home before he saw trouble behind him in the mirror. 'What could they possibly want?' He'd already apologized for doing nothing. But these guys couldn't be reasoned with, that much he knew. He also knew he couldn't lead them home. His heart racing, he turned in the opposite direction of the house, glancing in the rearview mirror. Sure enough, they stayed behind him and Keith started feeling just a little panicky.
He had to lose them somehow. Without warning, he veered down another street, trying to stay under the speed limit, but to no avail. They were soon with him. Now the race was on.
Several thoughts ran through his mind. He could really speed up and hope a policeman saw him, but that was too dangerous. He could lose control. He thought of just ditching the bike in someone's yard and running on foot. Perhaps he could find a place to hide, but there was no guarantee of that. No, his only choice was to just keep driving until he lost them. It wouldn't be easy, but at least he had an advantage over the big car. He could squeeze into tight spots, down alleys, over sidewalks, between larger vehicles.
Once again he checked the mirror. The car was farther back than before, but it was still there, relentless in its pursuit.
He began veering onto every side street he could find until finally, he was confused as to what direction he was heading. He may have been lost, but the car wasn't. Like a growing nightmare, it remained behind him.
Then Keith saw a narrow alley way. The neighborhood wasn't the greatest, it looked like, but at this point he didn't care. He sped down it, stirring up dirt as he drove, his hands tired from gripping the handlebars. In the dust behind him, he saw the car stop, unable to follow and he swallowed, letting his heart come back down out of his throat.
It was then that he saw the wall.
It was right in front of him, big and red, about ten feet high. Keith clenched the brakes and the bike skidded out from under him. He winced as he slid along the ground, the motorcycle going one way, and he the other, right into a huge trash dumpster. The crash was all he could hear, echoing around him and he felt pain in his left leg as he slammed into the metal container. Crying out, he rolled over.
Through the thick dust, he saw two hulking figures. Them.
He quickly pulled off the helmet, his leg searing with pain, and tried to back up against the dumpster for protection.
A big hand reached down, pulling him up by his shirtfront. Keith's injured leg buckled, but the man's grip held him upright.
"What…what do you want? I said I was sorry…"
Keith tried to squirm away, but without leverage, he could do nothing.
"I don't like the way you said it, squirt!" The beer breath was in his face and Keith closed his eyes, turning his head.
The man shoved him hard against the dumpster with a clang and Keith coughed, the wind having been knocked out of him. The back of his head hit something hard and it was all he could do to stay alert.
Both of the man's fists were on his chest, pushing him so hard against the container he could barely breathe. One hand moved to his head, gripping a handful of hair.
"I hate pretty boys like you," the man hissed, and his other hand popped Keith in the jaw. It wasn't a hard hit, but it hurt just the same, and Keith moaned, tasting blood.
Then he was shoved again, this time into a pile of boxes, but before he could hit the ground, he was pulled back up and leveled once again with a punch to the midsection. In agony, Keith cried out, doubling over and falling back down onto the boxes, where he lay huddled and crying.
Silence loomed around him and Keith didn't dare move or look or anything. Then two hands yanked on him, unfolding him as it were, and he felt someone go through his jacket pockets, then his jeans, helping themselves to his wallet, then suddenly, all was calm; quiet.
He opened his eyes. One of the men had picked up his bike, and was pushing it back down the alley while the other stood guard, as if Keith was going to get up and stop them from taking it. Whimpering, Keith just watched them steal it. Then he heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked.
Horrified, he saw a small caliber pistol in the other man's hand, aimed directly at him. He tried to move away, trying to make himself disappear into the boxes. "Oh, god, no!" he begged.
There was a crack and Keith covered his head. His right shoulder exploded into a fiery pain and he screamed, gripping it with his left hand. As he pulled his hand away, he was stunned to see how red the blood was. The world around him started spinning and he felt sick to his stomach. It was just about then when he passed out.
%%%%%
He was moaning when he opened his eyes again. It was dark now, and cold. Shivering, Keith stared up at the open sky above him. He immediately discovered that he couldn't move without creating a ton of pain, so he stayed as still as he could. A noise nearby startled him and he turned his aching head in its direction. Someone was standing there, someone small, but he couldn't make out any more details. He moaned again, but the figure took off and again he was engulfed in dizziness. Then, just like a porch light, he was out.
%%%%%
Ta-mara Jackson saw her brother Lamar playing kickball in the dim light of the street lamp in the street just around the alley. A month shy of turning thirteen, she was pretty, dark-skinned, with huge brown eyes and thick black hair tied back into a ponytail.
"Lamar, come quick. There's somebody in the alley and he's hurt!"
"So?" Lamar, just as dark, was fifteen and big for his age; at least six feet tall. He looked to weigh about 200 pounds. "Probably some bum. They're always in the alley." He concentrated on his kickball game.
Ta-mara shook her head. "No. This one's young. I think he's been shot!"
Lamar looked interested, now. "Yeah? He dead?" He almost sounded hopeful. The other kids in the projects would be so jealous.
"No! He was moaning when I came up on him, and when he moved, I ran." Ta-mara pulled on his arm. "Come on and look!"
Almost reluctantly, Lamar followed his sister back to the alley. In the bright moonlight, he saw Keith lying amidst the boxes and he pulled Ta-mara back, stepping carefully toward the unconscious singer. Keith wasn't moving now, and Lamar bent down, taking his shoulder and turning Keith's still form onto its back. "Huh. A white guy," Lamar said out loud. "He's been beat up pretty bad." He looked down at his hand, smeared with blood. "You're right, 'Mara. He's been shot."
"Should I get somebody?" Ta-mara braved coming a little closer.
"Like who? The cops? Like they'd come around here."
"Then, who? Mama's in Chicago for Grammy's funeral!" Ta-mara couldn't decide whether she was shivering from the cold or the excitement.
Lamar fished through Keith's pockets for some identification. Finding none, he shook his head. "Well, we can't leave him out here, he'll die for sure. Maybe we could take him in the house, fix him up a little. Then, when he wakes up, we can find out who he is."
Ta-mara's eyes widened. "What if somebody comes snooping?"
"Don't worry. I'll take care of it." He easily scooped Keith up into his arms and started back for the street.
%%%%%
Shirley paced the floor, looking up at the cuckoo clock above the mantle. Keith had been gone for over five hours, now, and she'd called everyone she could think of trying to find him, but no one had seen him. Gordy said he'd left the Taco Stand around five-thirty, but that was the last he saw of him. Not exactly a comforting thought, Shirley decided, so she sent Laurie and Danny out on a scour of the town. And, just in case their search yielded nothing, she called Reuben. Nothing like worrying in groups.
She heard the station wagon pull into the driveway and she ran to the door. Stepping out on the porch, she saw only two figures emerging from the car and her heart sank.
Laurie and Danny crossed the lawn and in the porch light, they saw how worried Shirley was. "Sorry, Mom, but we looked everywhere. He's…like disappeared." Laurie's words sounded so ominous.
Hearing another motor, the three of them turned their hopes to the street, but were only greeted by Reuben's car pulling up to the curb.
"Shirley, what's going on? What's this about Keith?" Reuben hurried up the front walk.
"He's missing," Danny blurted.
"Missing, what do you mean, missing?" Reuben cried.
"Let's go inside before we disturb the neighbors," Shirley said wearily.
They followed her in, Reuben shutting the door. "What in tarnation is going on?"
Shirley held up her hand. "Kids, you'd better get to bed. It's a school night."
"You're kidding, right? My brother's disappeared and you expect me to go to sleep?" Danny cried, but Laurie grabbed his arm.
"Come on, Danny. Let Mom and Reuben handle this." She forcefully pulled him toward the stairs as Shirley sank down onto the couch.
Reuben joined her. "Shirley, please tell me what this is all about!"
She sighed, wanting to cry. "It's a long story. We gave Keith a motorcycle for his birthday - mistake number one - and he took it to the Taco Stand to show it to some friends five hours ago and he hasn't come back yet. I have called everyone I could think of, Laurie and Danny searched for him in the car and no one's seen him, and…oh, Reuben, I'm just so worried…"
"Five hours, huh?" Reuben looked at his watch.
"Have you called the police?"
"Yes, but they said that not enough time has passed. He's now considered an adult, because he's eighteen." She laughed pitifully. "If it had happened yesterday, they would have jumped on it right away. Ironic, isn't it?" She covered her eyes with her hand, fighting tears.
"Did you tell them it was Keith? Surely they would make an exception, what with the Family's standing in the community."
Shirley shook her head. "I didn't mention his name, nor mine. Oh, Reuben, do you think it would make a difference?"
"Only one way to find out. Can I use the phone in the kitchen?"
"Of course, but remember, Keith may be trying to get through."
Reuben squeezed her shoulder, getting up.
Shirley lay back against the couch, feeling mixed emotions. She was worried about Keith, sure, but she was also angry at him and at herself. Why didn't he at least call? If he were held up somewhere, she would at least know he was all right. Now she really hated that motorcycle! She knew it would turn out to be the source of all this trouble. Darn that boy, anyway! He was trying to turn her old before her time!
The tears came harder and Shirley curled her feet beneath her, hugging a pillow and letting her emotions out.
"Mom." It was Laurie's voice, coming from behind her. Shirley looked up as her daughter rounded the couch.
"You should be in bed, honey," Shirley quickly wiped at her eyes.
"I'd rather be here with you, if you don't mind." Laurie put a comforting hand on her mother's arm as she sat down next to her.
Shirley nodded and Laurie snuggled up to her, putting her head on Shirley's shoulder. "He'll be back, Mom. He's just got a new toy and he's playing around."
"No, it isn't like Keith to break a promise, not deliberately, anyway," Shirley said distantly. "Oh, Laurie, why did we even buy him the silly thing?"
Reuben exited from the kitchen. "Well, the precinct sergeant said he'll keep his eyes and ears open, and he's alerted all officers on duty, so…"
"We wait," Shirley sighed, looking once again at the clock.
"Yeah." Reuben took a seat.
To Shirley, it was a dirty word.
continued...
It wasn't until Keith was halfway home before he saw trouble behind him in the mirror. 'What could they possibly want?' He'd already apologized for doing nothing. But these guys couldn't be reasoned with, that much he knew. He also knew he couldn't lead them home. His heart racing, he turned in the opposite direction of the house, glancing in the rearview mirror. Sure enough, they stayed behind him and Keith started feeling just a little panicky.
He had to lose them somehow. Without warning, he veered down another street, trying to stay under the speed limit, but to no avail. They were soon with him. Now the race was on.
Several thoughts ran through his mind. He could really speed up and hope a policeman saw him, but that was too dangerous. He could lose control. He thought of just ditching the bike in someone's yard and running on foot. Perhaps he could find a place to hide, but there was no guarantee of that. No, his only choice was to just keep driving until he lost them. It wouldn't be easy, but at least he had an advantage over the big car. He could squeeze into tight spots, down alleys, over sidewalks, between larger vehicles.
Once again he checked the mirror. The car was farther back than before, but it was still there, relentless in its pursuit.
He began veering onto every side street he could find until finally, he was confused as to what direction he was heading. He may have been lost, but the car wasn't. Like a growing nightmare, it remained behind him.
Then Keith saw a narrow alley way. The neighborhood wasn't the greatest, it looked like, but at this point he didn't care. He sped down it, stirring up dirt as he drove, his hands tired from gripping the handlebars. In the dust behind him, he saw the car stop, unable to follow and he swallowed, letting his heart come back down out of his throat.
It was then that he saw the wall.
It was right in front of him, big and red, about ten feet high. Keith clenched the brakes and the bike skidded out from under him. He winced as he slid along the ground, the motorcycle going one way, and he the other, right into a huge trash dumpster. The crash was all he could hear, echoing around him and he felt pain in his left leg as he slammed into the metal container. Crying out, he rolled over.
Through the thick dust, he saw two hulking figures. Them.
He quickly pulled off the helmet, his leg searing with pain, and tried to back up against the dumpster for protection.
A big hand reached down, pulling him up by his shirtfront. Keith's injured leg buckled, but the man's grip held him upright.
"What…what do you want? I said I was sorry…"
Keith tried to squirm away, but without leverage, he could do nothing.
"I don't like the way you said it, squirt!" The beer breath was in his face and Keith closed his eyes, turning his head.
The man shoved him hard against the dumpster with a clang and Keith coughed, the wind having been knocked out of him. The back of his head hit something hard and it was all he could do to stay alert.
Both of the man's fists were on his chest, pushing him so hard against the container he could barely breathe. One hand moved to his head, gripping a handful of hair.
"I hate pretty boys like you," the man hissed, and his other hand popped Keith in the jaw. It wasn't a hard hit, but it hurt just the same, and Keith moaned, tasting blood.
Then he was shoved again, this time into a pile of boxes, but before he could hit the ground, he was pulled back up and leveled once again with a punch to the midsection. In agony, Keith cried out, doubling over and falling back down onto the boxes, where he lay huddled and crying.
Silence loomed around him and Keith didn't dare move or look or anything. Then two hands yanked on him, unfolding him as it were, and he felt someone go through his jacket pockets, then his jeans, helping themselves to his wallet, then suddenly, all was calm; quiet.
He opened his eyes. One of the men had picked up his bike, and was pushing it back down the alley while the other stood guard, as if Keith was going to get up and stop them from taking it. Whimpering, Keith just watched them steal it. Then he heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked.
Horrified, he saw a small caliber pistol in the other man's hand, aimed directly at him. He tried to move away, trying to make himself disappear into the boxes. "Oh, god, no!" he begged.
There was a crack and Keith covered his head. His right shoulder exploded into a fiery pain and he screamed, gripping it with his left hand. As he pulled his hand away, he was stunned to see how red the blood was. The world around him started spinning and he felt sick to his stomach. It was just about then when he passed out.
%%%%%
He was moaning when he opened his eyes again. It was dark now, and cold. Shivering, Keith stared up at the open sky above him. He immediately discovered that he couldn't move without creating a ton of pain, so he stayed as still as he could. A noise nearby startled him and he turned his aching head in its direction. Someone was standing there, someone small, but he couldn't make out any more details. He moaned again, but the figure took off and again he was engulfed in dizziness. Then, just like a porch light, he was out.
%%%%%
Ta-mara Jackson saw her brother Lamar playing kickball in the dim light of the street lamp in the street just around the alley. A month shy of turning thirteen, she was pretty, dark-skinned, with huge brown eyes and thick black hair tied back into a ponytail.
"Lamar, come quick. There's somebody in the alley and he's hurt!"
"So?" Lamar, just as dark, was fifteen and big for his age; at least six feet tall. He looked to weigh about 200 pounds. "Probably some bum. They're always in the alley." He concentrated on his kickball game.
Ta-mara shook her head. "No. This one's young. I think he's been shot!"
Lamar looked interested, now. "Yeah? He dead?" He almost sounded hopeful. The other kids in the projects would be so jealous.
"No! He was moaning when I came up on him, and when he moved, I ran." Ta-mara pulled on his arm. "Come on and look!"
Almost reluctantly, Lamar followed his sister back to the alley. In the bright moonlight, he saw Keith lying amidst the boxes and he pulled Ta-mara back, stepping carefully toward the unconscious singer. Keith wasn't moving now, and Lamar bent down, taking his shoulder and turning Keith's still form onto its back. "Huh. A white guy," Lamar said out loud. "He's been beat up pretty bad." He looked down at his hand, smeared with blood. "You're right, 'Mara. He's been shot."
"Should I get somebody?" Ta-mara braved coming a little closer.
"Like who? The cops? Like they'd come around here."
"Then, who? Mama's in Chicago for Grammy's funeral!" Ta-mara couldn't decide whether she was shivering from the cold or the excitement.
Lamar fished through Keith's pockets for some identification. Finding none, he shook his head. "Well, we can't leave him out here, he'll die for sure. Maybe we could take him in the house, fix him up a little. Then, when he wakes up, we can find out who he is."
Ta-mara's eyes widened. "What if somebody comes snooping?"
"Don't worry. I'll take care of it." He easily scooped Keith up into his arms and started back for the street.
%%%%%
Shirley paced the floor, looking up at the cuckoo clock above the mantle. Keith had been gone for over five hours, now, and she'd called everyone she could think of trying to find him, but no one had seen him. Gordy said he'd left the Taco Stand around five-thirty, but that was the last he saw of him. Not exactly a comforting thought, Shirley decided, so she sent Laurie and Danny out on a scour of the town. And, just in case their search yielded nothing, she called Reuben. Nothing like worrying in groups.
She heard the station wagon pull into the driveway and she ran to the door. Stepping out on the porch, she saw only two figures emerging from the car and her heart sank.
Laurie and Danny crossed the lawn and in the porch light, they saw how worried Shirley was. "Sorry, Mom, but we looked everywhere. He's…like disappeared." Laurie's words sounded so ominous.
Hearing another motor, the three of them turned their hopes to the street, but were only greeted by Reuben's car pulling up to the curb.
"Shirley, what's going on? What's this about Keith?" Reuben hurried up the front walk.
"He's missing," Danny blurted.
"Missing, what do you mean, missing?" Reuben cried.
"Let's go inside before we disturb the neighbors," Shirley said wearily.
They followed her in, Reuben shutting the door. "What in tarnation is going on?"
Shirley held up her hand. "Kids, you'd better get to bed. It's a school night."
"You're kidding, right? My brother's disappeared and you expect me to go to sleep?" Danny cried, but Laurie grabbed his arm.
"Come on, Danny. Let Mom and Reuben handle this." She forcefully pulled him toward the stairs as Shirley sank down onto the couch.
Reuben joined her. "Shirley, please tell me what this is all about!"
She sighed, wanting to cry. "It's a long story. We gave Keith a motorcycle for his birthday - mistake number one - and he took it to the Taco Stand to show it to some friends five hours ago and he hasn't come back yet. I have called everyone I could think of, Laurie and Danny searched for him in the car and no one's seen him, and…oh, Reuben, I'm just so worried…"
"Five hours, huh?" Reuben looked at his watch.
"Have you called the police?"
"Yes, but they said that not enough time has passed. He's now considered an adult, because he's eighteen." She laughed pitifully. "If it had happened yesterday, they would have jumped on it right away. Ironic, isn't it?" She covered her eyes with her hand, fighting tears.
"Did you tell them it was Keith? Surely they would make an exception, what with the Family's standing in the community."
Shirley shook her head. "I didn't mention his name, nor mine. Oh, Reuben, do you think it would make a difference?"
"Only one way to find out. Can I use the phone in the kitchen?"
"Of course, but remember, Keith may be trying to get through."
Reuben squeezed her shoulder, getting up.
Shirley lay back against the couch, feeling mixed emotions. She was worried about Keith, sure, but she was also angry at him and at herself. Why didn't he at least call? If he were held up somewhere, she would at least know he was all right. Now she really hated that motorcycle! She knew it would turn out to be the source of all this trouble. Darn that boy, anyway! He was trying to turn her old before her time!
The tears came harder and Shirley curled her feet beneath her, hugging a pillow and letting her emotions out.
"Mom." It was Laurie's voice, coming from behind her. Shirley looked up as her daughter rounded the couch.
"You should be in bed, honey," Shirley quickly wiped at her eyes.
"I'd rather be here with you, if you don't mind." Laurie put a comforting hand on her mother's arm as she sat down next to her.
Shirley nodded and Laurie snuggled up to her, putting her head on Shirley's shoulder. "He'll be back, Mom. He's just got a new toy and he's playing around."
"No, it isn't like Keith to break a promise, not deliberately, anyway," Shirley said distantly. "Oh, Laurie, why did we even buy him the silly thing?"
Reuben exited from the kitchen. "Well, the precinct sergeant said he'll keep his eyes and ears open, and he's alerted all officers on duty, so…"
"We wait," Shirley sighed, looking once again at the clock.
"Yeah." Reuben took a seat.
To Shirley, it was a dirty word.
continued...