Courageous (15 page)

Now we’re cookin’.

David spent ninety minutes on his computer on Google Earth, seeing the overhead view, then looking at the drive-by photos of the less-familiar parts of Albany, street by street. He did this most days, determined not to humiliate himself again by failing his partner.

As the evening went on, David felt increasingly lonely. All lights were off. As his grandfather would have said, it was dark as the inside of a cow. David lay back in his beanbag chair, self-medicating with a bottle of cheap wine. At first he enjoyed the taste, but he finished numb. His baseline unhappiness persisted, as it always did. The wine never kept its promises.

A vague dread haunted David Thomson. He told himself he had nothing to fear, but when he looked out at the world and in at himself, he knew otherwise. Subconsciously, he realized that facing life would mean facing his failures. So he spent his days at a job that would make up for his failures and his nights perpetuating them.

Drinking didn’t make him happy; it just helped him momentarily forget his unhappiness. Then, when he was sober, it gave him one more thing to be unhappy about and one more reason to drink again.

At Valdosta State he’d lived in the dorm—there was always something to do and someone to do it with. Playing college football, he had his teammates, even in the off-season, and lots of girls who hung around the players. But here he didn’t know many people. And he wasn’t the type to get to know them.

Instead of going to bed, he decided to throw cold water on his face, gargle, and catch a movie at Carmike Cinemas on Nottingham Way. With sixteen theaters and a full parking lot, he figured there must be something interesting. There wasn’t. But that didn’t stop him from watching another forgettable movie. So forgettable that when the big, bald guy waddled in ten minutes late and sat in front of him blocking his view, David hadn’t budged.

Near midnight, David meandered out of the theater toward his beat-up old Chevy Cavalier parked by itself, a hundred feet away, by the dumpster of an adjoining business.

When he got five feet from his car, he heard a deep voice from behind the dumpster.

“Hey, little 5-0. Whassup?”

The voice came out of the darkness, and David reached into the front right pocket of his cargo pants.

TJ never flinched. This cracker thought he could pull a piece on the Gangster Nation? Before the cop could touch his gun, Antoine grabbed his wrist from behind and pulled the gun out of his pocket.

“Nice. Looks like we got a 19C. The 5-0 love their Glocks.”

David couldn’t recall any off-duty ambush in the safe part of town being addressed at the academy.

The gangbangers wore black bandannas covering their noses and mouths.

“You think you somethin’, doncha, college boy?”

While Antoine held him still, TJ was mad doggin’, looking the guy over from head to toe, assaulting him with his eyes.

“Me and my road dog here, we gonna bust yo grill, Wonder bread!” TJ pushed David. “We gonna open up a can on you; whatchu think about that?” He pushed him again, harder. With the third push, David fell back. His head hit the dumpster with a dull thud. While he was down, TJ kicked him twice in the stomach.

TJ pulled David to his feet, looked him in the eyes. “Might let you live so you can deliver this message to yo black sellout partner who messed with my 211. You took my homeboys Clyde and Jamar from me, so maybe I take the two of you from the sheriff. Might use yo 19C, huh? Or maybe I just start off warmin’ up my fists and my feet.”

He let loose with a left jab that jarred David’s teeth. David hit the ground again, dazed and in pain.

“Clocked that dude,” TJ boasted.

“You don’t need me,” Antoine said, looking around. “Let’s get outta here before somebody notices.”

“Get the car while I finish this.”

Antoine ran across the alley into the adjoining parking lot while TJ stood over David.

He hit David again like two bursts of a jackhammer. David scuttled on the pavement, crablike, trying desperately to find his footing. Finally he fell back, helpless, legs splayed, barely conscious.

“You ain’t nothin’, boy. You know that? I got yo life in my hand right now. I decide if you live or die.”

David had never felt such fear. It ran through his body like freezing water, almost paralyzing him. The blood in his mouth tasted like death.

Suddenly a magnetic-gray Toyota Tundra truck with a front winch and oversize tires screeched to a stop six feet away. Through the blinding headlights, David saw something enormous leap out.

David’s assailants were normally the biggest boats in the dock; not this time. The new arrival charged onto the scene like a rhinoceros on meth. He squared off with TJ and tackled him. But the gangster sprang off the ground as if launched by a broken coil. TJ screamed and cursed as he pummeled his opponent’s huge solar plexus. The large man first moved backward, then suddenly, in a moment between punches, leaned forward on his toes and grabbed TJ’s ears. He projected his forehead into TJ’s, knocking him off his feet.

Stunned, TJ pulled himself up just as Antoine arrived with the car.

A shrill sound pierced the air. An Albany city police car rushed in with lights flashing and siren blaring. TJ sprinted toward the Caddy and jumped in; Antoine peeled out.

The big man turned to the cops. “Call an ambulance! This kid needs help.” Then he turned in the direction the thugs had driven off and hollered, “You wanna fight me again, big boy, you better pack a lunch . . . and bring a flashlight! You want my home address? I’ll be waitin’ for ya, punk. I’m meaner than a junkyard dog!”

He approached the officers while wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “We’re sheriff’s deputies, Dougherty County.”

The Albany police officer asked, “Your name’s Bronson, right?”

“How’d you know?”

“Word gets around.”

The city officer turned to his partner. “Radio it in. Tell dispatch they’re headed south on Nottingham Way. And send an ambulance here. We’ve got injuries.” He looked at David, flat on his back.

David kept still as he struggled to gather his composure. He had taken a beating, and his heart was still racing ninety miles an hour.

Bronson looked down at David, who pulled himself up to a seated position. “You look like somethin’ the hound’s been hidin’ under the porch.”

David looked at Bronson. “Where did you come from?”

“I watched the same lousy movie you did. When I got to my car, I saw the guys come after you.”

“You called it in, right?” one of the officers asked. “How come no county cops have shown?”

“We’re off duty. Didn’t need backup.”

“I’d say you were lucky we happened to drive by to witness it. Anything you want to tell us about the suspects?”

“Yeah,” Bronson said. “The guy I
suspect
was beatin’ the crud out of Thomson here was on crack. I
suspect
his central nervous system was firing on all cylinders.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, I
suspect
he shouldn’t have messed with me. But you can’t fix stupid.”

David’s face felt like raw hamburger, but nothing seemed broken. He stood now and brushed himself off even though the officers told him to take it easy until the ambulance arrived.

“You really surprised him with that head-butt, Sarge. Thanks.”

Bronson smirked, using his sleeve to wipe a trickle of blood from his forehead. “Like my old partner Ollie used to say, ‘Messin’ with me’s like wearin’ cheese underwear down rat alley.’”

Chapter Seventeen

“There’s no reason for me to be in this hospital,” David said to Nathan early the next morning.

“They were concerned about a concussion. They’ll let you go in a couple of hours. You were fortunate, David. When gang members go after a cop, they mean business. They’ll treat him like a rival gangbanger. You ever seen two gangs take each other on?”

“I’ve seen the Bulldogs play the Yellow Jackets.”

Nathan laughed. “Put lethal weapons in their hands late in the fourth quarter, and you’ve got the idea.”

“Bronson caught the dude by surprise with that head-butt. That was a major
thunk
!”

David peeked over the side of the bed to look at the little duffel bag next to Nathan’s chair. “Something smells good and it’s not hospital food.”

Nathan looked both ways and then pulled out a sack. “Not sure I’m supposed to do this.”

He opened the sack. Based on scent alone, David said, “Pearly’s? Link-sausage biscuit?”

Nathan stepped to the door. “I’ll stand guard while you take care of business.”

For the next ten minutes David visited a better world.

“Thanks, Nathan. That was almost worth gettin’ beat up for.”

After more small talk, David looked at Nathan and cleared his throat. “Can I ask a question? When you were dragged alongside your truck, were you scared?”

Nathan laughed. “Of course I was scared!”

“So you’re afraid of dying?”

“Well, yes and no. A certain fear of death is healthy. But I believe that when I die, I’ll be in heaven with Jesus. So I can be scared of dying but not be scared about where death will put me. Does that make sense?”

“Not really.”

“Why’d you ask?”

“Because last night I thought I was a goner. You know how people say your life flashes in front of you?”

Nathan nodded.

“It’s like that was happening. I didn’t feel like I was ready to leave this world. I have some things I need to straighten out first.”

“That feeling comes from God, David.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“In the Bible, Solomon talked about how wealth doesn’t make you happy, status doesn’t make you happy. There’s an emptiness inside you. He says in a book called Ecclesiastes that God has put eternity in our hearts.”

“What does that mean?”

“That there’s more to life than what we can see, and life outlasts this world and will continue in another one.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.”

“I think you do, David. You just don’t know it yet.” Nathan paused to think. “Sometimes we have to go down a bunch of dead-end streets before we’re ready to take the one road that leads to God. Jesus meant it when He said, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’”

“That’s a little arrogant, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it would be. Unless it’s true. In which case, I’m glad Jesus let us know.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“Yeah, it is. How do you see it?”

“I haven’t given it much thought.”

“It’s worth thinking about. It’s the most important question in the world.”

“What is?”

“The question of who He is. If you get it right about Jesus, you can afford to get some things wrong. But if you get it wrong about Jesus, in the end it won’t matter what else you got right.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

“Myself? No.” Nathan laughed. “The only one I’m sure of is Jesus. Last night was a reminder, David—our lives hang by a thread. I mean, think about Adam Mitchell’s daughter. One day it’ll be me and you. We’ll be yanked out of this world. If it turns out Jesus was right and you’ve ignored Him, you’ll be sorry.”

“You mean hell?”

Nathan nodded.

“You really believe that stuff?”

“Yeah, I do. Jesus had a lot to say about hell; He talked about it like it was a real place. And I believe He knew what He was talking about.”

“You make it sound like Jesus is real, like He’s alive.”

“Exactly. He took care of all the ways we’ve messed up—wiped our slates clean when He died on the cross; then He rose from the dead, and He’s alive today in heaven. He promises He’ll be back to set up His Kingdom. He loves us, David—He has scars to prove it. He’s earned my trust.”

David felt his mind spinning. He wasn’t sure what he believed. But after this fight with death, maybe it was time to figure it out before the rematch.

At 9:00 a.m. Adam, dressed in dark khakis and a green shirt, sat in an office chair. Pastor Jonathan Rogers, wearing a muted-blue button-down, gray vest, and slacks, sat across from him in a room lined with dark wood shelves filled with books and pictures.