Trespasser (Part X)

It had been several long days for Davie Robinson.  He knew that he should have picked up the phone and given John a call.  As soon as Andy began snapping pictures of the girl, there should have been no hesitation as to what happened next. Had he not been suffering the flu, or had he been twenty years younger, he would have stepped out and taken the camera from the strange little duck that was their new neighbor.

The truth was, he was nothing like the man who had once lived up on the hill. Unlike THAT particular gentleman, when it came to standing up for what was right, Davie was a bit of a coward.

He and his wife came from a time when it was not okay to speak one’s mind. They had been harassed for the color of their skin in those days.  Hell, their very lives had been threatened on more than one occasion!  No, even after Sammy D. made his stand, even after the black man had been given their equal rights, he simply couldn’t bring himself to take the first step.

“Davie, honey,” Keesha had finally said to him, “why don’t you just give John a call?  Talk to the man and let him deal wit him..”

It made perfect sense, of course, but there was even a reason for him not to do that.  It was an outdated reason, but he wasn’t in his normal state of mind either. The fever had spiked again, the nausea had returned, and even though his body temperature was dangerously hot, he shivered as if he had just participated in the local Polar Bear’s Challenge.

“It not our place, Keesha,” he argued without conviction.  “If they wan’ let they young’un play wit dat white boy, then it be none our biz-ness.”

She had let it go after that, but that thought was in the back of her head.  She didn’t have any love for their new neighbor.  She suspected that not many of the adults did, and much like her husband, she didn’t like to meddle in the affairs of others. That old ghost of hatred remained in her heart, just as much as it did in his, and it would take something much less innocent than taking a few pictures to spur her into action.

Some time later, after Davie had fallen into a restless sleep on the couch, she went to the kitchen, made a hot cup of tea, and mulled over whether or not she would call Marsha with their concerns.  He was right to worry.  If it had been their little one, she would have chased him off in a heartbeat.

Tea in hand, she went out to the front porch for some fresh air.

Trespasser (Part IX)

Spring is mostly the bearer of good news.   WIth Spring comes warmer weather. Just as the men enjoy working beneath the sun, so too, do the women their chores, and the children to play their games.  With the Spring come the blossoms on the trees and the rebirth of many gardens, flower and vegetable alike.  Smiles are more frequent as people pass one another, and as the new season chases away the malaise that has hung over them the past few months.

With spring also comes the ill effects of allergies, or the kind of illness that comes when the seasons shift.  Most often these are simple maladies, such as a cold or sinus congestion.  Sometimes it brings with it the flu, or the type of infection that rattles deep in ones lungs.

This was such the case for the Robinsons, who would not be enjoying the warm sun anytime soon.  As Winter faded into memory, and during the kind of warm day one should be out soaking up the sun, they were both battling a particularly nasty flu.

It had been several hours since either had been sick, but because their bathroom was closer to the living room, they were both bundled in heavy blankets on their couch.  A ten gallon bucket, which Davie had earlier brought in from the garage, sat between them at their feet.  Its original purpose had been to catch anything they might sick up, in the case that they couldn’t get to the bathroom in time.  Now, it was a convenient trashcan for their tissues.

“Davie, honey?  I think I’m getting hungry.  WIll you go to the kitchen, and fetch me a cheese sandwich, dear?”

“Anything for you, love.”

Davie groaned as he sat forward, reluctant to leave the warmth of his wool cocoon. When Keesha looked up at him in concern, he forced a half-hearted smile in return.

“You alright?”

“No,” he answered.  He looked as if he were going to say something more, but he suddenly hiccupped.  When she went to repeat her question, he held up a finger, turned, and ran through the kitchen door.  His hip crashed into the corner of the dinner table, sending him careening out of the path of his first target and directly into one that would have to do; the sink.

Keesha was going to scold him for sure, for the mess he was making, but at least he had enough sense to empty his stomach in the side with the garbage disposal.

Several minutes later, he turned on the cold water and splashed his face. It felt good against his feverish skin, and it helped to bring his watery eyes back into focus.

“Davie?  I hope you cleanin’ that up!”

“Yes, love,” he answered, ashamed.

As he set about that unpleasant task, he heard something that hadn’t reached his ears since Bryer Street lost Sammy; the sound of a child’s laughter.  He lifted his attention through the window over the sink, smiling as he sought its source.  His heart froze, however, at what he saw.

Vanessa Rowen was sitting on the edge of her family’s property, playing with figurines she had lined up on the sidewalk.  This wasn’t anything unusual for her, as it was one of her favorite places to be while she was playing.  She said she liked the see the cars up close when they drove by.  It was the person with whom she was playing that caused his unease.  Andy was sitting cross-legged before her, playing with what looked like a model car.

From any other point of view, it would have looked completely innocent.  She would do something with her figurines.  He would say something and smile, and she would giggle as if it was the most delightful thing she had ever heard.  It wasn’t this image that sent chills though his body, nor was it just from the flu that he was suffering.

Every so often, while they played, Andy was nonchalantly taking pictures of her with a camera he had strung around his neck.

The Morelli Bros. (Chapter I, Part III)

They left their van behind, both too tired for words, as they began their search for the nearest fueling station.  Darkness had fallen over Brooklyn, and despair seeped into their hearts.  In they heat of their argument, neither had noticed when they had taken a wrong turn.  As they exchanged words built on a strong foundation of frustration, neither paid heed to scenery that slowly became something they were unfamiliar with.  Utterly alone in and unfamiliar territory, they walked with one eye cautiously scanning the shadows.

Luigi looked over at his brother, expectantly, fighting between waiting for something to be said, and saying it himself.  “Spit it out already,” Mario said with a heavy sigh. “You’ve been-a looking at me like-a you want to ask me out on a date, or something.”

“I’m-a sorry.  You know…  For what I said back there.”

“It’s nothing.  Let’s just try to get out of this mess.  We need to calm down, anyways,” Mario said with a grin.  When Luigi didn’t take the bait, only cocked a curious eyebrow, his brother only chuckled as he explained; “Our stereotypes are a-showin’.”

As the two shared a tension breaking chuckle, a high-pitched scream interrupted the serenity of the night.

“What in-a world was-a that?”  Luigi’s voice trembled and he nearly lost his footing as he ducked behind his shorter, stockier sibling.

“Someone’s in trouble!  Come on!”

Mario sped off, leaving the other behind as he rushed to the aid of the unseen caller.  As it always was, he ran much faster than Luigi, leaving him little hope of catching up.  He only hoped that he could maintain sight of him, and the direction he was heading, from few seconds he appeared beneath the streetlights ahead of him.

The scream punctured the air once again,  this time much closer than before. Mario, startled by the close vicinity of the sound, skidded several feet across loose gravel before coming to a full stop.  Seconds later, his younger brother slammed into the back of him and the two tumbled to the ground.

“Hold on,” Mario hissed.  “Did’a you see that?”  He pointed to the mouth of an alley just a dozen feet ahead of them.

Luigi nodded, his face now ghostly white, as he followed his brother’s direction. They both had been looking in that direction as they fell, searching for the source of the sound, when they saw a woman being dragged into darkness of the alley.

Mario struggled out from beneath his brother and rolled to his feet, pausing only long enough to help the latter to his feet.  “We’ve gotta help her,” he exclaimed in a panic.  His younger brother gulped, agreeing with a slight nod, and followed the other into what would be the beginning to the end of everything he ever knew or believed in.