The Big Red's Gang - Part 2

The Big Red's Gang, Part 2

___________________________

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. Who was this in the bathroom mirror? Howard, the wimp, would have stared back at me twenty-four hours earlier. As Poppy had said, "a pimply-faced bum." Now, the pimples remained, but Duck's eyes blazed with hope. The muscles in my arms seemed to have grown overnight, and my hair was darker, like Poppy's. The Big Red bandanna, tied around my head, was a banner under which to charge into the future. Yet, there was something missing. The ingrained hope of acceptance was new. But what was missing? Then it dawned on me. My lifelong fears had been driven out by the gang of ghosts in a red 1967 Dodge Challenger that had stood up for me, defended me, and fought for me. Prior to meeting Poppy in the broken rear-view mirror, fear had debilitated my ability to exist beyond running away. He had changed my name from Howard to Duck, and I'm a full member of The Big Red's Gang. We don't do drugs but fight to get them off of our streets. Without fear, I run to any noble fight because I found others to care about.

I splashed water on my face and walked out of the convenience store where I had bought batteries for my pocket recorder. I wanted proof of Poppy’s voice. It might keep me out of an insane asylum.

The gauntlet of Earl Street was two miles ahead. I would have to walk it to arrive at the house of Poppy's sister, Maria. He had made it clear when he saved me from my stepdad where I needed to be tonight. Like many streets in the city, Earl Street had been a tight, multinational community. Second and third-generation immigrants had found their America. Children rode their bicycles freely without fear. Families strode the sidewalks for treats from Reuben’s Ice cream Shoppe on warm evenings. Al's grocery supplied short-term needs. Bo’s Barbershop was news central. Flags flew proudly on the fourth of July, and everyone knew each other's names. Police were rarely called except for a cat stuck in a tree or a lost dog, and doors were left unlocked. Families intermarried with their neighbors and danced in the street together. Like many communities across the country, they never saw the shift coming. The nearby tire plant shut down, families moved, and the druggies invaded.

***

I turned onto Earl Street. One streetlamp pulsed on and off like a monitor signaling a heartbeat in distress. The night crowd had not emerged from their lairs yet. My squeaky sneakers were the only sound I heard above the electrical buzzing of the lamp. Blind to what lay before me, I tripped over a garbage bag rupturing its rancid contents. I fell onto the sidewalk while gagging from the putrid odors of decayed meat, dirty diapers, and garbage juice. Two inches below my face lay a used syringe with its needle threatening me like a snake in the wild. Abandoning my covert plan, I ran.

When I arrived, two men, one tall and the other short, wearing the colors of the Blue gang, were pounding on Maria's front door. They were the drug lords of Earl Street.

"Maria, it's Sam. You know who I am. Come on out. We know you are in there, bitch. We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It's time for you to leave our street. You can take one bag, and everything else is ours," said the short one, “Leave the deeds.”

"Go away." I heard Maria's muffled voice. The thought, What would Poppy do? raced through my mind. I picked up a two-by-four board in the sideyard and surprised them from behind.

"What are you doing here?" as I cracked the board into the tall one's knees. The other turned and punched me in the face sending my glasses flying into the grass. I closely followed them and landed on my back. One thing I had experience with was taking a punch.

"You skinny little shit, I'm going to cut you up," Sam said.

Half blind and part deaf from the ringing in my head, I scuttled towards the street. as a blurred Sam charged down the steps. He caught up to me and flashed a long shiny blade.

"What are you doing here? Sniffing where you don't belong," as he slashed the knife toward me. I stumbled and fell backward as the tip sliced my arm. Blood rolled down my forearm, over my hand and dripped on the ground. Sam's gold front tooth gleamed as he grinned.

"Like a lamb to slaughter," he said.

Headlights illuminated the darkness, and the driverless '67 Challenger charged up the Earl St. between us. Sam turned to the engine's roar as the passenger door flew open and slammed into him. The impact sent him somersaulting over the pavement. He sprung up and ran toward the center of Earl St. with his tall sidekick limping behind. The Challenger's horn honked. I stepped to the driver's door. I could see Poppy's angry haunting eyes in the rear-view mirror.

"Duck, these guys just won’t stop until we make them. Check on Maria. I will be back," he said through the radio's speakers. The Challenger backed into the driveway and shot forward down the street in pursuit of the attackers.

***

I found my glasses in the grass and, with my vast experience, would piece them back together. The front door opened a crack, then completely.

"Oh my God, Duck. You okay?" Maria said as she rushed toward me. "You're arms bleeding. What were you thinking? Those guys could have killed you."

"Once a Big Red, always a Big Red, Maria. No one messes with my gang," I said.

She stared at me as if we had just met for the first time. "You look different, seem different, Duck, in a good way. We better get inside."

An hour later, Maria had bandaged my arm and exhausted her chastisement.

Though I was in pain, her gentle anesthetic touch made it all worthwhile. I taped up my glasses and put them on, but my vision was blurred. Removing them to clean the lens, I realized I could see clearly without them. I tossed them in the trash can, free from the prison of horrible sight I had suffered since I was three years old.

"What color are your eyes? Maria said.

"Hazel."

"That's what I thought I remembered from last week. Why are they deep brown now? Like mine."

"And when did you get the tat on your shoulder?"

"What tat? I don't have a tattoo."

"The Big Reds tattoo. The red Gaelic R right there," pointing at my upper shoulder. She stepped back in distrust. "You don't have to tell me. But you don't have to lie about it either," as she retreated from the kitchen.

Standing in front of the mirror in the downstairs bathroom, I sought answers. What is happening to me? I was born with hazel eyes, had worn glasses since I was three, had the arms of a wimp, and had always opted for flight rather than fighting. Now my eyes were deep brown, my vision was perfect, my arms rippled with new muscle, a bright red tat decorated my shoulder, and I had charged straight into a fight.

The horn of the Challenger honked from the driveway. Poppy was calling me.

***

Poppy's eyes pierced mine as I sat in the driver's seat of the Challenger. I realized my ghostly friend's eyes were the same color as my regenerated ones, deep brown.

Bunkie and Holeman flashed a hand gesture. A thumb, forefinger, and a pinkie from the rear seat.

"We don't have much time. It's time to take Earl St. back. These thugs will regroup and do something stupid. We must hit them first," Poppy said.

Ever since I had first met the Big Red gang when I untaped the broken mirror, Poppy had sounded gruff. Now his voice was desperate.

"How do we do it?" I said.

"You have to show courage, Duck. We cut the head off of the snake and the riffraff will flee into a hole somewhere else."

"Okay, what's the plan?"

"You're going to draw him into the street, and I will do the rest. They took over the old barbershop when they drove Bo out. Tell Maria to get the papers and the cash bag from my safe with all the deeds and go to my parents' house. We leave in fifteen minutes."

***

"I'm not going anywhere. I don't care what Poppy says, this is my home," Maria said.

"You have to Maria. It's too dangerous here. What if we fail?"

"If I do go, then you have to promise to come with me," she said, "I've already lost my brother, Bunkie, and Hole Man. I don't want to lose anyone else," she looked at me with pleading eyes.

"When did you get your ear pierced? The stud is just like Poppy's?" she said.

I reached to my earlobe and felt the stud between my fingers.

"I don't know, Maria. It's like my eyes, hair, and the tat. I don't know why everything’s happening."

"That's not all that's changed Duck. I don't know what happened to Howard, but he's long gone."

The Challenger horn honked, then again.

"Lock the door Maria," I said, and she threw herself into my arms. Sniffling, she pecked me on the cheek and ran from the room.

Go figure, my first kiss, and I'm about to enter a fight I may not survive. Then I realized that I would not want it any other way. It amazed me that no matter what the future held, having someone and something worth fighting for made all the difference in the world.

I tightened the Big Red bandanna on my head and walked out the front door to my unknown future. For the first time in my life, I was not afraid.

***

Earl St. looked the same as when I had walked through earlier. Yet it felt different, dangerous. I walked down the center of the street with the Challenger idling behind me. I had found a baseball bat I could use as a weapon. The strange sense of being watched overwhelmed me when the horn beeped, and I stopped in front of Bo’s Barbershop.

"Sam, come on out and face me. Unless you're chicken. We are taking the street back. It's time for you to go."

Sam strutted out of the barber shop with a gun in his hand. The sidekick limped beside him, and his eyes spoke murder.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You just show up here like you own the place. Since Poppy died, I own this street. All of it. Run along now before you get hurt. Tell Maria to turn over the deeds and I will let you lovebirds leave unharmed. Who are you?"

"I'm Duck of the Big Reds and you don't own anything," I said, "You're an arrogant fool who poisons the street with your drugs."

The Challenger engine revved behind me, pushing the tach up and down.

"What's with Poppy's car? You trying to intimidate me with your games?" He laughed, then he turned to the tall man. "Now, Frankie!"

A dozen druggies ran from the shadows with gas cans and doused the Challenger, and surrounded me. Sam ran toward me with his gun barrel pointing at me. I charged toward him with the bat. Surprised, he fired a round that sailed over my shoulder. I swung, and the crack of a broken wrist, a scream, and a clatter of metal hitting the pavement sounded like a homerun. Frankie limped toward the Challenger with a lighter in his hand. I ran after him, but I was too late. The miniature torch rotated end over end through the air.

"Run Poppy! Get out of here," I yelled. The stringent odor of gasoline fumes filled the air.

The Challenger tires spun, jumped into reverse, and stopped fifty feet away. The lighter and flame fell to the ground. Behind me, Sam had picked up the gun with his good hand and pistol-whipped my head. I collapsed to the ground.

"Tonight, you die, Duck, just like Poppy, Hole Man, and Bunkie. They didn't listen to me. The only thing red about you is going to be your blood spilt on this pavement," said Sam.

Blood trickled down my cheek from the blow to my head. I looked at the Challenger from the blacktop waiting for Poppy to save the day again. The headlights flashed on and off twice but didn't move. The interior light came on. I could see Poppy behind the wheel with Holeman and Bunkie behind him. They held up the gang sign and smiled. All three pointed at me and then held up the gang sign of a thumb, a forefinger, and a pinkie. A slight breeze arose, and the burning lighter lying in the street flickered brighter. Gasoline fumes ignited, and a stream of fire streaked like a fiery arrow up the road. The Challenger with the ghosts of Poppy, Hole Man, and Bunkie inside burst into a fireball.

"No, Poppy!" I cried and felt the tears explode from my eyes. Through my concussed and hazy vision, I saw three bright white orbs float towards the heavens.

"You crazy or something Bro," Sam laughed, "Poppy's been dead, that's just a car man. Now it's your turn. Tell you what, since you kind of favor Poppy with that scar on your cheek, I will shoot you the same way I did him, right between the eyes."

A brick sailed from the dark, hitting Sam in the shoulder, and he dropped the gun.

"What the hell?"

A man with a Bo's Barbershop t-shirt and a red bandanna around his head marched from the dark into the light of the burning car leading a mass of people.

"You go left Al. Reuben, take yours to the right," he said, "We've got this scumbag in the middle."

Behind them, thirty men and women of Earl St emerged from the dark with red bandannas on their arms or heads.

"Tonight, we take our street back," he yelled, "Now, everyone." Like a three-pronged calvary attack, they charged into the druggies with bricks, bats, crowbars, and pipes. Within minutes the Big Reds of Earl St had incapacitated or driven off all the drug gang. An enraged Maria ran past me, picked up the gun off the street, and pointed it at Sam.

"Maria don't do it," I said.

"He murdered Poppy, Hole Man, and Bunkie. He just admitted it," she said. "He's not going to get away with it."

"Maria, he won't. I have proof. Don't be like him."

***

One Week Later

The blazing fire had drawn the attention of the fire department and the police. As they entered the battlefield, they were amazed at the tenacity of the local citizens who had taken their street back from the druggies. I had handed my pocket recorder to the police that would be used to convict Sam and Frankie of triple murder. Frankie made it easier with his quick confession. News reporters railed with a headline. Locals Take Back Their Street Against the Odds. Developers had been seen on the street wanting to buy up all vacant property. The police questioned my involvement in the battle and the recording. During one session with detectives, they said, "Duck, the recording will convict Sam, but we must ask, who else is on the tape?

I smiled, "That's my dear friend. He’s a challenger who taught me to grow up and be the man I should be."

The fire-gutted Challenger had been hauled off to the police impound. I found the rearview mirror with the glass missing. I broke it away and put it in my pocket. Tears, impossible to find two weeks ago, flowed down my cheeks. “I will miss you, Poppy, Hole Man, and Bunkie. Thank you for what you did for me.”

***

A street party was planned tonight to celebrate the grand reopening of Bo’s Barbershop, Reuben’s Ice cream shop, and Al’s grocery. I had not seen Maria since the night of the battle. When I knocked on her door, she answered with the book Jane Ayre in her hand.

"Hi, are you going to the street party?" She dropped the book, launched into my arms, and embraced me.

"That's for Howard." Then she pulled my face to hers and kissed my lips with tender passion. "That's for Duck."

The mirror on the wall behind her showed a reflection of a man who favored Poppy and Howard. The muscular young man stared back at me, smiled, pulled Maria closer, and kissed her again.

"Are we going to the party?"

She took my hand and led me down the steps.

"Of course, Duck. I wouldn't miss it. Once a Big Red, always a Big Red."

*** *** ***