Part 4 of Chapter 22 Three and a Half Months Later ( Gabos )

Yeah, what’s up?” Sico asked.

“Sico, Sico, I need help,” Mr. Big pleaded in pain, while coughing up blood.

At the sound of his brother’s voice, Sico’s highness went away ASAP.

“What’s wrong? I’m at the warehouse, and I’ve been shot. Call the ambulance,” was the last thing Sico heard before Mr. Big passed out. Calling the ambulance then grabbing his keys to rush to his brother’s aid. About ten minutes later, Sico pulled up to see police cars and an ambulance. Rushing out his car, he saw his brother being carried away in a stretcher.

“Hold up, sir, you can’t.”

“I’m his brother,” Sico said.

“Well, he’s been shot, but he’s fighting. We have to rush him to the hospital before it’s too late,” they said, loading his brother in the waiting ambulance. As soon as they put him in the van, they took off. On the way to the hospital, the nurses went to work, trying to keep him alive. Three minutes later, they heard bpppppppppp as Mr. Big stopped breathing. The nurses went even harder trying to bring him back to life. “On the count of three, one, two, three,” the nurse screamed, as she hit Mr. Big with the iron shocker three more times. As they were about to give up, they heard beep, beep, beep.

“He’s breathing but barely. Hold on, sir, we’re pulling up now.” As they pulled up in shade emergency room, more doctors rushed out to save a life. As Sico pulled up in the parking lot, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed his brother’s cell phone, hoping his wife had his phone. On the first ring a voice said, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Um, where Chris at? It’s important.”

When Fatboy heard the familiar voice, he hung up, thinking it was Pokey. “Damn, I hope my nigga good,” he was thinking. When the cell phone rang again, “Yeah, what’s up? Everything good?” Pokey asked.

“Yeah, dog, everything good, I was kinda scared for a minute.”

“Why, dog?”

“Na’ll, we just got an unexpected phone call from, oh, Sico. I hung up though.”

“Well, listen, we’ll be there in a minute, so just chill.”

As Sico looked at his phone like it was crazy, in his heart he knew he heard that voice before, he just couldn’t put a face with the voice at this time, but it will come to mind. “Plus I’ll swing by there when I check on big bro,” Sico was thinking, and he exited his car and ran inside the hospital.

“Sir, how may I help you?” a female said on the other side of the glass. As Sico started talking all fast, “Sir, you gonna have to calm down, so I can understand you,” the woman said.

“Bitch, look, my brother just got shot, Lord knows how many times, and you telling me to calm down.”

“Sir, it’s the only way I can help you,” not being fazed by the word bitch. In the hood, she knew she could’ve been called worst, so she brushed the dirt of her shoulder and kept it moving. “Sir, what is his name?”

“Man, what type of shit is this? I just told you, my brother just got shot a million times, and you wanna know his name.”

“Well, sir, for you information your brother ain’t and will never be the only one getting bullets in his ass,” she said, showing she could let her ghetto side show.

“My bad, you right, his name is Sterling Haywood.”

“Damn, was that so hard? Now hold on a minute while I type in his name.” As she finished typing, she paused, looked at Sico, and said, “Sorry, sir, but your brother is in the operating room as we speak, and no one is allowed in until the doctors are done.”

“And how long will that be?”

“Sir, I can’t tell you all that. All I can tell you is have a seat, and as soon as the doctors are finish, they’ll tell you what’s up. As a matter of fact I’ll let them know you’re his next of kin, that’s all I can do,” the woman said, closing her window.

“Fuck you too,” Sico said under his breath, as he took a seat, he pulled out his cell phone, and dialed his brother’s house. After five rings and no answer, he hung up. “Man, what the fuck is going on?” he said, standing up, josing for a hit.

When Fatboy and his friends heard the phone ring, they grabbed their guns they had close at hand, ’cause the sound of the phone ringing scared them to death.

“Chill out, dog, before y’all kill somebody,” Flick said. “It’s just the phone ringing.” As he looked over at Trirena, Mr. Big’s daughter, who was silently crying, she looked at her mother, who was in a bad state. “Damn,” Trirena was thinking, “why did I have to come home to this? I knew something wasn’t right, as soon as I got out the car, and I still came in here.” As she heard her mother moan. “Why, y’all won’t let us go?” Trirena asked, startling everyone in the house, and Turtle jumped up, looking like he was ready to slap Trirena. “Dog, if you wanna live past tonight, don’t do it,” Fatboy said, watching Turtle sit back down. Trirena finished what she was saying. “Why y’all doing this? Y’all already got my daddy, and y’all just gonna let my momma die,” Trirena said, crying, knowing the whole time who two of the masked man were. It was the dark-skinned one who acted like he was gonna hit her that she didn’t know.

“Look,” Fatboy said, breaking her train of thought, “y’all gonna be all right.”

“Yeah, ain’t shit going to happen to y’all,” Flick said, forgetting to disguise his voice. Not that it matter anyways, the lil lady sitting in front of them already knew their identity. “Listen, as soon as our boy come, we up outta here, and you can get some help for your old girl,” Flick said, pausing ’cause he thought he heard something. “Chill, y’all, somebody coming,” Flick said. “Be quiet.” As they listened to the sounds of footsteps, all three boys had their guns cocked and loaded, ready to burn whoever walked through the door. Knock, knock. 

“It’s us!” Pokey screamed, walking into the house, with Rim and Lo-P behind him, all three rocking the ski masks again.

“Damn, y’all scared the shit outta a nigga,” Flick said, coming from behind the sofa. As Pokey was about to say something, he froze in his tracks when he saw Trirena tied up to a chair, with tears streaming down her face.

“What the fuck,” Pokey was thinking. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”

“Yo, Rim, clean this shit up so we can bounce, and don’t touch the girl.”

“Hold up,” Fatboy said, knowing what the lick was. As he walked over to Trirena, he whispered, “Look, I’m sorry about this, but some things I can’t help.” As soon as she heard the words, tears started falling one after another. As she felt her hands being untied from the chair, she knew someone was helping her out the chair, but the state of mind she was in had her elsewhere.

“Unplug every phone in this bitch. Make sure she can’t call nobody, at least till we’re good and gone. Flick, go outside and cut or slash hole in each car tires.” As Pokey watched Fatboy take his sister to the game room, about twenty seconds later, he followed behind them. Standing in the doorway, he watched as Fatboy made her sit in another chair and tied her hands back up but not too tight. He turned around and walked off. As soon as he bent the corner, he heard blaka, blaka. And what followed hurt him to his heart, as he heard his sister’s piercing scream. “No, please, God, no!” knowing in her heart that the sound she heard was two bullets going into her momma. As that thought came to her mind, she cried harder than she ever did in life. “No, please, please, God, not my momma.” As she remembered the words her momma and daddy used to tell her: “Baby, ain’t no rules in this game. Sometimes it costs to live this life, so always be prepared for the worst.” As she looked up, she locked eyes with Fatboy for only a moment. As he dropped his head and walked away, Trirena began to think, the same rules they live by, GABOS, would also apply to them. She was already plotting revenge for the death of her momma, and she already knew she would go to any length to do it. As she dried her tears, she started wondering what’s the fate of her father, ’cause she knew the outcome of her mother, and in her heart, she wouldn’t stop seeking revenge until everyone involved was six feet deep or their body was floating in the ocean. It was now her business to find all the souls that played a part in taking her mother away from her. As she shed her last tears, she knew in order to win this game she had to turn her heart cold.

“They showed no mercy, they will receive none,” she was thinking. As she heard the door slam, only then did she try to free herself. As she struggled with the ropes, they finally gave way. As she slid one hand after the other out the ropes, she got up, cracked the door open, and peeped round the corner, walking like an m into the living room. She dreaded what she knew she would see. Holding back a scream that wanted to escape her throat, she looked over at her mother’s bloody body for what she knew was the very last time. As she cradled her mother’s body in her arms, she saw firsthand how wrong they did her mother. As the blood poured down from the gunshot wounds, she made a promise to her mother. “I’mma get the people who took you away from me, Momma. I promise you,” she said, rocking back and forth. With her mother still in her arms, as she looked down, she hoped her mother was now in peace, ’cause Trirena knew she wouldn’t have none “till the job was complete!” 

“Waiting inside the hospital for over two hours, the doctors finally came out to speak with me,” Sico was thinking. As the doctor walked up to him and asked him to walk with him a moment, he looked at the nigga like he was crazy, ’cause there ain’t too many black doctors, but this nigga was black and his name tag read, “Dr. Van.”

“Listen, Dr. Van, we two big boys, so just tell me what the fuck is going on with my brother!” Sico yelled, scaring the doctor.

“Sir, please calm down. I assure you we’re doing all we can to help your brother. Right now he’s on life support, he’s lost a lotta blood, got shot in the chest three times. The good thing is none of the bullets hit major organs. We removed two of the bullets. The third one is still lodged over his heart. We stopped the bleeding, but to remove the bullet so close to his heart is dangerous, so we need your permission to move it, or let it stay. After a while it will heal on its own, and possibly with time, it will move up away from the heart. Then we can go in and remove it. That’s the worst of his problems, like I said. The major problem is the amount of blood he’s lost. He’s still in the operating room, ’cause whoever did this tried to torture him, ’cause he had three bad knife cuts, one on the upper chest, two on his legs.” As the doctor was about to say something else, Sico remembered the stranger answering his brother’s phone and took off running, leaving the doctor standing there, looking flabbergasted.

“Damn, I’m really slipping,” Sico said, hopping in his ride. “I gotta leave this crack shit alone,” he said, punching the steering wheel, as he headed to his brother’s crib.

On the way back to the projects, Pokey was deep in thought, along with Fatboy and Flick. Finally, Fatboy broke the silence, “What’s up? Y’all two niggas good?”

“Yeah, dog, I’m good,” Pokey lied. This was followed by, “I’m straight. I’m just thinking, that’s all.”