3.83
Dulac is
the ugliest town I’ve ever been to. Homes straddling muddy waters, others built
twenty feet in the air on thin poles, more that look as if they could double as
boats and every so often a large plantation. Each complete with delicately
trimmed grass. The people are nice, nobody has heard of Desitny or even her
grandmother, but they’re helpful. I got a free meal even if I didn’t get any
answers. I made my way to one of the hotels the locals mentioned and checked in
for the night.
The first
real shower I've had in days and it’s hot enough to burn my skin, but I don’t
turn it down, I just need the reminder that I’m alive. I can’t help but laugh
at myself, acting like some lead singer in an emo punk band when I think about
how silly I look standing here. Feeling more scorched than refreshed I towel
off and put on a pair of shorts. The steam from the shower doesn’t help cool
off the room any more than the air conditioner puttering along. I lie on the
bed just beneath the air conditioner, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think
about what I could have done different. Ignoring imaginary worlds where
everything worked out. I only close my eyes when the air begins to dry them
out.
I know I’ve
fallen asleep, and I’m awake now, but I don’t open my eyes. I have the feeling
something is watching me. I can smell someone else in the room. There’s weed in
the air, a really overpowering smell, but not as much of an assault as what
Elias smokes. My plan is to summon a blade to my hand and open my eyes, gutting
anything that doesn’t belong.
“Wake up
little bitch,” I feel hands around my throat
My eyes
shoot open, a man in a ski mask has his hands wrapped around my neck. I try to
fight through but I can’t seem to break his grip or reach anything to hit him
with. All I can see are his eyes and a mouth of gold teeth smiling at me. I
can’t think about anything but how massive his hands are.
“Tried to
play sleep, now you’re going to sleep for real,” my attacker laughs as he
finishes his sentence.
***
I wake up
tied to a chair, again. I’m getting tired of this cliché crap. Does everyone do
this? The décor is different this time around. Old green wallpaper with brown
flowers, hidden behind seemingly endless photos. Well, I’m not going to sit
here and get tortured again. For a moment I consider my options, then I
remember what I am. It’s easy to break my left wrist from the chair, even
easier to rip the ropes from my right. From there, I can just tear the ropes
from my torso; the claw thing Destiny did would be nice but I haven’t learned
how to do that yet. I take a minute to stretch before I start moving through
the place. I can tell it’s an old plantation, well taken care of. There’s one
thing that stands out more than anything, all the pictures and paintings,
they’re Black people. That’s not normal for a plantation, not that I’ve been to
a bunch, but history lessons. I’m just trying to get out so I can ignore the
investigation. I find an exit from the dining room to the backyard. My eyes
adjust to the sunlight as I step outside.
“How the
fuck did you get free,” I recognize the voice.
Standing
before me is a dark skinned man with a bald head who looks as if he could be
the best center the NBA ever had. He’s wearing nothing but shorts, sneakers and
muscles I didn’t know the human body had. More than anything I recognize the
massive hands and gold teeth.
“How about
you tell me how to get out of here, and we’re even,” I can hear my voice, but
the words are Destiny’s. I’ve never had a thing for talking tough, still don’t
but I can imitate her.
“Get back
in that house, before I break my foot off in your ass,” this guy is going to
make me mad.
“What do
you want?”
“I don’t
want shit from you, because you ain’t got shit that I want.”
“Do you
know how to speak without cuss words?”
“Oh, you
one of them smarty smart brothers. I got something for that,” he starts to walk
towards me.
I haven’t
had a fight since Destiny died, but I suppose this is as a good a time as ever.
I shouldn’t have a problem with this guy. I put throw a heavy punch at his gut,
the same way Destiny taught me. I expect him to drop to the ground and this
thing to be over, but he doesn’t. He just smiles and laughs. I don’t have time
to be confused before a big overhand punch comes down at me. I manage to move
so it only hits my shoulder. I feel something pop, but my shoulder isn’t done.
If that had hit me in the head, I’d be finished. Fights in action movies always
take a while, but this is a fast beating. He’s breaking me down, and nothing I
can do is hurting him. I wasn’t going to use a lot of my vampire strength, I
didn’t want to hurt this guy but this is the third time he’s tossed me on the
ground and I’m getting mad. It’ll need to be an uppercut. I get in close and
dodge one of his punches, too close. One more dodge, now I put a little extra
on this one and connect with the bottom of his jaw.
He backs
off and for a moment we’re just staring at each other. I’m tired, but I can
keep fighting. I don’t think he’s used to being hit. He just keeps touching his
face. He reaches into his mouth and makes some yanking motions. He pulls out a
strip of bloody gold, wipes it on his shorts and puts it in his pockets. He
gives me a big bloody smile, showing I did some damage.
“You fucked
up my grill, now I’m gonna fuck you up. No more play,” he starts to walk
towards me like I haven’t even hurt him.
My brain
must be scrambled because all I’m thinking about is how grills started in New
York, then the South became home for them, but the Midwest prefers gold caps.
I’m going to have to stab this man, Destiny never shied away from escalating a
fight, now that she’s gone, I can’t.
“Sampson,
stop playing with our guest and come on inside,” a voice calls from the house
behind me.
“Nah, this
one wants to fight granny,” the man responds, he must be Sampson.
“I got some
ice cold sweet tea,” she responds.
“Bring your
ass on,” Sampson grabs my by the arm and leads me to the house.
“Welcome to
Turnerville the woman says,” I only spot her back as she heads inside.
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