Chapter Five: Just a casual stroll down a long dark tunnel
Charlie watched as Jose, Frankie and the other boys cleared the remainder of the glass from the door frame. Marcus leaned against the wall, never taking his eyes off the older man. The gun remained out of sight……though hardly out of Charlie's mind. He was trying to control the tremors that had crept up on him after the rush from his confrontation with Marcus had passed, but with little luck. The young man continued to glare at him and it was starting to make Charlie more nervous than he already was.
The silent staring contest between them was interrupted when Frankie stepped in front of his brother. "Can we go now, Marcus…..please?"
"Yeah kid…we're right behind you."
Frankie had his back to Charlie, but a silent exchange between the two brothers brought his nerves back on high alert. Then Marcus spoke again.
"I said, we'd be right behind you….go on."
With an almost forlorn look in Charlie's direction the boy turned and followed the others, sliding thru the door frame and into the dark tunnel. Charlie turned to face Marcus, unsure of what to expect from the wayward teen.
"Wha'd you mean you've been shot at a couple of times? I thought you were a math professor."
Charlie was startled by the inquiry. From the look on Frankie's face, he had half expected to be shot and left to die on the subway car. This question was why Marcus had been trying to stare a hole thru him?
"You said you were a math teacher right? But you were nowhere near scared enough when I pulled out my piece. You were startled, but not flat out scared. I mean, I've seen people piss their pants when I bring that gun out. But not you……not a timid little math professor. So I wanna know. How is it that a guy who sits in a class room all day can be used to looking down the barrel of a gun?"
Charlie swallowed his shock and answered the question cautiously.
"I'm not used to it. And for the record math isn't just sitting in a class room all day. But I've seen a gun before, Marcus. And I have had one fired in my direction on two occasions. Frankie isn't the only kid who's big brother totes a gun around."
"So when you were shot at, was it was because of your brother?"
Charlie wasn't sure where Marcus was going with this. Proceed with caution Eppes. Maybe telling this kid that your older brother happens to be a FED and you work for him from time to time might not be a smart move.
"No…not really because of him…..but because….because I was around him."
"Do you still hang?"
"With my brother?"
Marcus nodded his head.
"Yeah. All the time."
"Even though he almost got you killed?"
Charlie looked at the earnest, troubled expression from the young man who only moments before had seemed prepared to shoot him in the face.
"He didn't almost get me killed. It wasn't his fault. Some……person with a gun decided I'd be good target practice. The other time I was just………..in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"But it was because you were with your brother?"
The young man still looked deeply concerned as to what Charlie's answer would be.
Shaking his head, Charlie decided that statement was true enough. If he hadn't been working a case with Don, both times, he wouldn't have been in the position to get shot at.
"Yeah, I guess it was. Can we get out of this car now?"
Marcus looked somewhat crestfallen by his answer, but he shrugged his shoulders, and with a smirk he stepped aside to let Charlie pass thru the door.
As the young man followed him thru the frame and stepped over the broken glass, he continued to speak.
"I've been shot at ten times. Have you ever been hit?"
Charlie pulled his backpack up over his shoulder and stared at the young man.
"No. I have never been hit. Your plans for the future may include getting shot at, but it really isn't on my agenda."
Marcus headed down the side of the tracks, toward the front of the de-railed Metro car.
Charlie expected any conversation from the previously hostile teenager to end at this point, but Marcus turned his head to look at him again.
"I was hit four of those times."
"And you are proud of that? I've been shot AT and I try to avoid sharing that information whenever possible."
Charlie lifted his penlight up and he could see the other boys in the shadows a few feet up the tunnel. He turned the light back to Marcus. Keep it friendly Eppes. Don't upset the delinquent now.
"Where were you hit?"
"Twice in my right arm, once in the chest and in my left thigh."
"I guess it was close huh?"
"Yeah, it was close."
"Aren't you afraid of dying?"
Charlie watched as the gang leader gave him a quizzical look, without bothering to hide his distain at what he clearly regarded as a stupid question. Way to go Eppes. Your supposed to be a genius.
"I just mean that each time you get shot at, your odds of actually being hit increases. Having been hit, and surviving four out of ten assaults with a firearm, statistically your chances of surviving another gun shot wound are unlikely."
Marcus expelled an exaggerated sigh.
"Everybody dies, Math Man. You could get hit by a car on the way home from a class. You could just drop dead from a blood clot or something. You could get shot by accident……You could have gotten shot tonight. You still could."
The young man's words reinstated the fear and anger that Charlie had been fighting to control. He came to a stumbling halt and turned to face his unsolicited escort.
"Can't you just be civil? Now you feel the need to threaten me again?"
"Not a threat, man. I'm just saying. The night's young. You did, after all end up taking the Metro Rail on a night that we happened to be taking the Metro Rail. There also happened to be an earthquake. So maybe it's just fate."
Charlie turned away from the younger man and started down the tunnel again.
"The probability of my being on this subway train on this night, of all nights, is so minuscule that it's almost incalculable. This was just bad luck and an occurrence that has no possibility of ever being repeated. Even though my odds of being around guns and therefore, around gunfire are better than an average professor of mathematics, due to my brother and his...well, what it is that he does, I have a better chance of winning the lottery 100 times in a row than I do of being killed in a gang related shooting."
Looking up he saw the other boys had stopped to wait for them.
Frankie's voice echoed down the tunnel.
"Oh man, he's going all odds and averages again….."
Marcus trotted up behind him and shot him a serious look.
"So you're saying that you have a better chance of sleeping with J-Lo that I do of surviving my 18th birthday."
"How old are you?"
Frankie interjected.
"He's seventeen."
Charlie ran the numbers in his head and nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, that seems to fit the odds you presented."
Jose turned and gave him a questioning glance.
"So you can prove mathematically, like you did with the cigarettes and the aftershock thing, that I'm going to die before I turn 18?"
"No. I can't prove it with certainty, but the likelihood of such an occurrence is phenomenal."
Marcus stopped in the darkness and grabbed Charlie's arm, making him drop his backpack.
"Prove it."
"Marcus. Let's just go. We're almost there."
Frankie sounded nervous and Charlie felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up again.
"I'm not gonna hurt him, Frankie. I just want him to prove it."
Way to rival up the deviant Charlie. Almost home and you somehow manage to upset the insecure guy with the gun.
The young man turned to Charlie.
"So, come on, Math Man. Use your numbers and convince me that I'm going to take a bullet in the next six months."
"It…it's pretty complicated. I…um….I'm not sure I can explain it so that you would understand."
Marcus smiled at him in the dark, and in the dim illumination from the penlight, it only made him look more dangerous.
"Try me."
Charlie ran over the fifteen different lesson plans he had accumulated over the years. Somehow none of them seemed appropriate for a custom built algorithm intended to predict the life expectancy of the six young men who stood before him.
Just lay it out there Charlie. Maybe he won't shoot you for it, assuming he can even understand what you're talking about.
"It's called probability theory. By assigning a numerical value to an event…event A…say that's you getting shot. The occurrence or failure of event A to transpire is random. The probability that the event occurs given the known occurrence of a second event, event B…..you actually having beenshot at, is the conditional probability of A given B."
Pausing, Charlie took in his audience. Marcus was watching him intently, Frankie on the other hand look extremely worried, while the other boys looked like he had lost them already. When no one spoke, he continued with his explanation.
"If this restrictive probability of A given B is the same as the unconditional probability of A, then A and B are said to be independent events and the relation between A and B is symmetric."
Marcus broke in with a question.
"But doesn't independent mean they are not related at all?"
Charlie raised his eyebrows at the young man. Asking questions huh? What is up with this guy?
"To a certain degree, yes. In probability theory, to say that two events are independent, means that the occurrence of one event makes it neither more nor less likely that the other occurs. For example, the event of you being shot at ten times and the possible event of you getting shot at ten more times are independent. The fact that you have already been shot at ten times is not the reason why you will or will not be shot at ten more times. This is were the random variable comes in."
Jose made a mocking face at the other boys.
"Here he goes with that 'random' word again."
Charlie stopped talking, but a nod from Marcus promoted him to go on.
"Well, we increase the accuracy of a probability equation by the inclusion of a 'random' variable. That variable maps statistical events to numbers and allows us to include those known occurrences as measures in the equation."
Frankie picked up Charlie's worn backpack and hoisted it onto his shoulders. He started up at the mathematician, a look of awe plastered across his young face.
"So you really can prove it?"
"No. It's not proof. It's likelihood. This equation does not, and cannot describe the actual outcome of any given event, but rather describes the possible, as-yet-undetermined outcomes in terms of real numbers."
One of the other boys stepped into the dim light from Charlie's keychain pen.
"So what are our numbers then?"
Charlie went over the figures in his head and looked at the group of boys.
"You don't really want to know."
Marcus laughed and with a disparaging expression, crossed his arms and glared at Charlie.
"Come on now, Math Man. You might as well finish it. We all know what happens to gang bangers in L.A. Why don't you go ahead and give us a numerical value."
With a glance around the circle, Charlie recalled all the of the knowledge he had accumulated about gangs and gang related shooting. It wasn't quite a year ago that he had assisted Don and the LAPD with a string of gang related shootings and the numbers were still as fresh in his mind as if it had been yesterday.
"Ok, here are a few known random variables we can use. I know there have been over 8,000 gang related shootings in LA over the past four years. We know that at least 2,000 of those have be fatal. Of this group of gun violence fatalities, thirty five percent have been kids. Kids your age Frankie, well under the age of sixteen."
Marcus took a step towards Charlie.
"So your saying his chances of catching a bullet are better than mine?"
The numbers flew thru Charlie's head but he hesitated before giving an answer.
"WELL, are they?"
"Yes...and no. Most of those young kids are just caught in the cross fire. In the wrong place at the wrong time. But because most of his time is spent with you and due to your high probability of being shot at, his chances of actually being hit are almost equal to yours."
Marcus looked shocked. "And that's pretty high right?"
"Yeah Marcus. That's pretty high…..in mathematical terms. You have a better chance of getting shot when you walk down the street than you did in finding a pack of cigarettes on an almost deserted subway train tonight."
He paused and watched as full comprehension of his words sunk into the six young faces in front of him.
"Do you want me to give you an actual percentage?"
Frankie looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Can you?"
"Yes."
"No."
Marcus's objection rang thru the dark tunnel.
"No. You can shut up now. Let's get out of here."
As the trek down the tracks continued, the whole group seemed subdued as if Charlie had just handed them their death sentence. They walked in silence for several minutes before anyone spoke.
Jose broke the silence as a dim light from the Union Station platform appeared around the corner.
"Well, it's been fun, math dude, but we've gotta split. I don't think hanging out around here is a good plan. The fuzz will be everywhere. I don't exactly need to get rescued by the law just now."
Marcus grabbed Frankie's shoulder.
"You guys go ahead, Jose. We'll be right behind you."
With a mild grin, he tipped a non-existent hat at Charlie and the boy in the red basketball shoes sprinted up to the platform. The other boys followed close behind him, leaving Charlie alone with the two brothers.
Standing behind his younger brother, Marcus gave Charlie a brazen look.
"Well. I guess this is the end of the line, Math Man."
Charlie swallowed hard and considered his options of yelling for help. But surely the station had been evacuated until it's stability could be evaluated.
The sound of the young man's laughter alleviated his sudden surge of panic. There was nothing sinister about it. He almost sounded friendly.
"I'm sort of glad I didn't shoot you down there. I guess I would have felt pretty stupid about shooting you, if you turn out to be right about anything else."
Marcus pulled himself up onto the platform and Charlie watched as he turned and pulled his younger brother up beside him.
"Hey Marcus…..I don't have to be right. Probability doesn't equal certainty."
The young man gave him a fleeting look.
"You might want to get that head looked at, Math Man."
Pulling himself off of the tracks, Charlie watched as the two boys disappeared up the dark and empty steps of Union Station.
Standing in solitude on the platform of the Metro Rail station, Charlie had never been quite so happy to just be alone. Looking at his watch, he realized only an hour had passed since the initial earthquake that had derailed the subway car. Only an hour.
You should call Don, they probably made him stay outside. Charlie reached for his phone only to find that it was not in his pocket. Only when he remembered putting his phone back in his bag did he recall the image of Frankie trotting up the staircase after his brother…with Charlie's backpack still on his shoulders.
"Well damn."
Holding the bloody bandanna to the side of his head, the tired mathematician walked over to the staircase. With a deep sigh, he grabbed the rail and started the long climb to the streets of L.A.
Authors Notes: Reading your reviews has become the highlight of my day! Please continue to give me your feedback. I like to know what you are thinking!
Don is in the next Chapter! (Part II is in the works, so don't think this is over! We will see these boys again!I'm dying to say more, but I don't want to spoil it and you can never tell when I'll up and change my mind about a plot point. So I'd better shut up now.)
Next Chapter: What a day it has been
