Abuse of Chikara (book 1) Page 5

  Behind him he heard his mother's voice again. Unlike the other times she was there when he turned around. He instantly knew that he must be dreaming since his mother had been dead for years. Mom, where are we, and why are we here? We’re in hell son and I'm here to warn you. So what's the story with the guy getting stabbed over and over by those ladies? This man was a rapist in life. This is his own personal hell. This place is big, but I thought hell would be larger than this. Hell isn't one place, but rather a lot of locations all connected together. They vary in size from chambers as small as a holding cell to ones as large as a city. To enter different parts of hell you just have to concentrate and you'll appear there. Different cells in the room had people of different races and ages in them. Let me show you another part of hell.

  She grabbed his hand and they appeared on the shore of a vast sea. The sky was red and he saw no trees or vegetation in sight in any direction. He could see people bobbing up and down all connected by some type of chain. They were crying, screaming and cursing. He wanted to help them, but couldn't figure out how. The heat from the lake was incredible warming his skin from 20 feet away. She took his hand again and they went to many areas of hell, witnessing all manner of torments from people being tortured in every conceivable way. The one that stood out to him was the woman who had maggots, worms and different insects feasting on her flesh. Many of these insects were eating her from the inside out, crawling in and out of her eyes, nose and other orifices. Some forms of hell were different than just people being tormented by demons or monsters. In this hell a white man was running from a large crowd of about 20 women of different races. These people had bats, ropes, sticks and other sharp instruments capable of inflicting pain and harm. Puzzled, Quenton looked over at his mother for an explanation. This man was extremely wealthy and used his position of power to abuse people of other races. Now he experiences the lives of people who have been abused by racial crimes over the centuries. The particular life he's living now is that of a slave about to be lynched.

  She takes his hand once more and they appear in another large chamber about the size of a football field. In the center of the chamber is a large hole about 20 feet wide and in any direction from what he can tell, as he has no way to get a better measurement. Stepping closer he looks down, but can't see a bottom to this hole. He does hear over powering screaming that sounds like it’s coming from a multitude of people. My son this is what's in store for you if you give in to anger and bitterness. Better to die a good man than to destroy whom you are and what you stand for to get revenge. At that, his alarm clock ringing madly on his dresser wakes him up. “Man, I better stop eating pizza before bed, what a dream.” His mother had looked the same as he remembers her: a medium-sized, light-skinned African American woman with long black hair flowing down to the shoulders. His subconscious mind even had her height of five foot, nine correct. The only thing that was off was the multicolored robes she wore. Well, no point in thinking about a pizza- induced nightmare; time to get up and get about my daily chores

  It's 1 p.m. on the West Side of Chicago on Madison Street. Bill, Psycho, Red, Alfonso and six other officers are getting ready to stage a raid on an electronics store.

  “All right, Red, Alfonso, Clark, Bruce and Hal come with me through the front. Psycho, you take the rest around back and make sure nobody leaves the store; when you get in position let me know. Okay gentlemen, let’s do this.”

  They move in through the front door quickly taking control of the shop with precise ease. Most of these guys are just your average Joes trying to make a living. He didn't anticipate any resistance of any type from the Asian shop owner, workers or African American security guard.

  “All right Hal, lock that front door, and get those customers up against the wall. I want them searched and patted down for any weapons. Bruce, cut the wire to that camera and make sure there are no other ones around.”

  The store owner Mr. Yei, a short Japanese American, comes from behind the counter to get an explanation as to what's going on.

  “Your being served a search warrant for selling drugs Mr. Yie.”

  “This is bullshit! I've never sold drugs in my life. You won't find any drugs here, go ahead and search. Red, he says we won't find any drugs here. HA, ha, ha, ha, okay, then what's this behind the counter here?”

  “Red pulls a number of dime bags from behind the counter. Any thing interesting on any of those customers yet?”

  “Yeah, the guy here has an outstanding warrant for assaulting an officer and Mr. Michael Larson here is wanted for drug dealing. Hey Bill, it must be our lucky day, I found some more drugs here in this guy’s pockets.”

  “Good, load them up and let the others out and lock the door again. Red, get all the money in the cash registers.”

  “Wait, you can’t do this; it is illegal and this is my store. I earn all this money you crook.”

  Well, he's shocked, guess the store owner does have some balls after all.

  “Look here Mr. Yie, you've been given the search warrant and I guess you understand what's going on here. Now let’s look at this from a logical perspective. You can live through this and claim it on your insurance or you can get crazy and end up in the hospital and still get ripped off.”

  “This isn’t right. I pay my taxes! You’re supposed to protect us from thugs

  “Everyone’s got to pay their rent money Mr. Yie, and it's your turn right now.”

  Bill sees that a bit more force is needed to get the proper respect here. He does not care for hitting elderly Asian men, but fear can be a healthy thing. He does not plan to kill anyone here, but they need to think he may go that far. Bill hit's the old man square in the chest, sending him flying 15 feet backward.

  “All right, listen up, this is Wild Bill talking! Anybody else who's got a problem can come over here and take it up with me right now.” Well, he didn't seem to have any takers, not that he expected any.

  “Hey Psycho, how we looking back there?”

  “All clear out here, Bill.”

  “ All right, we've got what we came for here; let’s head back to the station.”

  Clark and Hall grab DVD players, digital cameras, cell phones, Mp3 players and other electronic equipment, wrapping them up in black bags. Bill loves this type of work, busting drug dealers and looking like a hero to the masses while being a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

  After they load up the shop owner’s son and two African American customers, Bill looks over their ill-gotten gain in the back of the paddy wagon. There was no need to bring it other than to carry all the crap they had stolen through out the day from many different stores. Next to Bill, on his right, is Alfonso, the youngest member officer on the force as far as he knows. Alfonso was a likeable enough guy and seemed generally interested in learning. However, Bill had noticed hesitation on his part when it came down to taking care of business. The last thing Bill needed was a sheep in wolf’s clothing, who’d rat them out if pressured by the FBI or internal affairs. He'd have to arrange a test for Alfonso, and if he failed he'd have Red arrange a funeral instead.

  “So, Bill, are we going to keep all this stuff?”

  “No, Alfonso, we’re going to share it with the other officers back at the station.”

  “Why should we share it with them if they didn't come out with us and earn it?”

  “First of all, I need to share it with all the officers to maintain my big man image. Second, we get away with a lot of shit and get all types of perks because we take care of the other officers and even the white shirts. Looks, it's like primitive cultures where you have hunters who capture meat that is more prized than any thing their farmers can grow. However, the hunters may not be able to catch game all the time. The people who stay home and tend crops usually have a good knowledge of where to find herbs and other vegetation. These crops and vegetation are a more constant source of food than the meat the warriors bring. The warriors share their meat because they may need those people to reciprocate in t
he future. We may be the baddest motherfuckers on the force, but we'd be up shit creek on our own. If we do end up shit creek, we will need these mother-fuckers to bring us a paddle.”

  Damn, he's bored just sitting here in his apartment watching TV. Psycho never thought of it before, but he does not have much to do outside of work. He's been fucking that hot teenage redhead, but he is bored of even that now. He could go smoke some weed at the funeral home with Josh, or put on one of his disguises and have some fun. The thought of dressing up intrigues him, and he hasn't harassed his bible- thumping neighbor in the apartment next to him for some time. Yeah, that's what he'll do, time to break out his costumes. Psycho has a number of fake beards, faces, wigs, fake stomachs, glasses, platform shoes and other stuff to make him look different. He has just the thing to liven things up today. Cara doesn't mind dressing up either, nothing elaborate, but just enough to throw off people so they don't have a good description of him.

  “Hey let’s go sit on the porch outside and smoke some weed.”

  “Okay, Psycho baby. I have a pizza on the way.”

  They’re sitting on the porch of his building eating pepperoni pizza from Luigi's Pizza. It’s a rinky-dink little pizza place they order from on the West Side of Chicago. The pizza man is a young African American male, medium build, maybe early to mid-20s. “Hey bro, take a break and have some pizza with us.”

  “Oh, I don't know sir, we’re not allowed to; but what the hell. I never turn down weed or free food.”

  “Hey pizza dude, can I see that Sun-Times for a minute?”

  “Sure, no problem.” The teenage girl notices a strange look on his face as he reads and becomes concerned.

  “Hey, what's the problem Psycho, what's so bad?”

  “This article is about that new super intendant. Quinton Collins has been confirmed by the Chicago City Council as superintendant of police for the police department during a traditional swearing in ceremony. He takes the oath of office as the 51st police superintendent. So that damn Dudley Do-Right got the job after all.”

  The delivery man leaves to go home for the night and Psycho and Cara are standing in the hallway kissing. “Hey, let’s fuck in the hallway in front of that stupid preacher’s door.”

  “Why do you hate that guy so much, Psycho?”

  “I don't know, something about him just pisses me off, but I don't know why.

  “What about the landlord?”

  Shit, I supply the owner with all his weed and bitches. I'd have to kill somebody for him to do anything. Cara takes off her pants and underwear and lays on the hall way carpet. Psycho lays down, puts his face between her legs, and starts giving her oral sex. He slowly thrusts his tongue inside her as she rubs his head and moans loudly. After getting her in the mood, he picks her up and maneuvers her into his favorite position, doggy style. He knows the father will be out in a moment; he always goes out at this time. The pastor was a creature of habit who rarely broke his schedule. When the pastor exited his front door with his wife and ten year old in tow, he stood there in shock watching this scene of thrusting, moaning and pumping. Here was Psycho with Cara bent over on her knees, getting pumped from behind. Her ample round butt is making a meaty sound like a madman beating a side of beef as she screams and moans like a banshee.

  “Dear God, what are you people doing? Let’s go back inside and call the police.”

  “Dad, what were those people doing in the hall?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about son, now go to your room. I'm going to finish bolting this lock and then calling the police.”

  After talking to the police for at least 10 minutes he goes back to let his wife know the status.

  “Alma, the police will be here soon, let me see if they're still out there. I don't see them through the peep hole in the door. I'm going out to take a look honey.”

  “Aaron, wait for the police please.”

  “It's okay dear, the Lord will protect me. I'll come back in at the first sign of trouble.”

  He opens the door, slowly peeking in both directions. He doesn't see anything. Slowly he walks the length of both ends of the hallway. Nobody is there, so he checks the porch and still doesn't see anyone suspicious. He waits on the front porch for the police, going over the entire story and showing them the area the activity took place. After the police leave, he goes back inside to talk to his wife.

  “Well, they did a report and will check back with me if and when they have anything.” Alma is still in shock over what she's witnessed. She starts to speak.

  “I can't believe we have people in this area that would do things like that. And what about the mental damage to our little son? Aaron, do you hear all that loud laughing and noise next door?”

  “Yes, I do, and I have a good idea why. Stay here, I want to talk to our friend Mr.

  Schadenfreude next door.”

  “Aaron, I wish you wouldn't talk so much to that man. He's mentally unstable and may hurt you.”

  “I have to dear; I'm a big part of why that young man has issues even though he doesn't know it.”

  “Are you going to tell him the truth about you?”

  “I will as soon as the time is right

  How would he go about telling this young man that they were actually related and that he had been a delinquent father who had not paid any concern for his young son? That he had been a sinner once who did not value his first wife and son from that marriage and his wife had left him because of his poor behavior. He had once been a man, in his younger years, that only cared about sex, booze and hanging out with his buddies. He had neglected his young son while he chased every floozy he could find. To make matters worse, he and other relatives had refused to believe that his brother was molesting the boy. His family had browbeat his first wife into not reporting the abuse that no one wanted to admit.

  He remembered the final straw that made his first wife leave. She had reported him as missing when he did not come home for three days, and had not called his job. The police had finally found him on the curb sleeping, missing his shirt and shoes after getting blasted. He had received the divorce papers shortly afterward. He had not made any effort to see his son, and did not even challenge his former wife for visitation rights. He had no contact with his son at all. His ex-wife had not wanted child support and financially made more money than he did. Not to mention she was a very frugal person who always found sales or deals, and saves at least 40 percent of her paychecks. In any case her family was loaded, and she would not want for money. He had not had any contact with his son when they moved to Mexico. He talked to his ex-wife several times years later when he had found Jesus, and kept up with the boy’s exploits from time to time. He had not made any effort to introduce himself as the boy’s father and his ex- wife hadn’t expressed any desire to do so at all. She had even admitted that she had told the boy his father was dead, and had removed any pictures and any materials that pointed to his existence. She had very little contact with him or any of his relatives. He doubted his son even knew any of his relatives. Right, but he needed to gain his trust first.

  He walks over to Psycho’s apartment and knocks on the door loudly. “Schadenfreude please come out, I want to talk to you. Are you going to stop laughing like a hyena and come out or not?”

  Laughing, Psycho and his girl take off their disguises and starts to put on some clothes, but he comes to the door in just his underwear. “How can I help you today, Preach?”

  “Well, it seems that two heathens saw fit to engage in sexual relations in front of my door just now. I was wondering if you saw anything or knew anything.”

  “Let’s see if I can recollect anything here for you Preach. There was a white guy with an Afro and a big gut, wearing grey sweatpants and a fake beard. He had on glasses with an extra large white t-shirt. And there was a young, buxom white girl wearing a blonde wig, black glasses, black stretch pants and a black shirt. No can't say that I've seen either of those people. Is something wrong Preach your fa
ce seems to be turning red all of a sudden, and you look kind of constipated?”

  “Look, let’s cut the crap boy. I know it was you dressed up in those silly costumes. What I want to know is why you'd do something so vulgar and immoral?”

  Psycho looks at the preacher thinking of the perfect smart-ass comment to make and decides that giving him a straight up answer will piss him off even more.

  “Well, you may as well ask why the sky is blue or why does the sun shines or why white men can't jump? I am what I am and that's all that I am.”

  “Son, what would your parents think of the way you carry on? As a police officer shouldn't you be setting an example, not abusing your authority?”

  Hey Cara, the preacher here says I should be an example to the community.”

  With that she burst out laughing loudly at the thought of Psycho being an example to any one, but the mentally ill or insane.