Five Moons of Pluto (9 page)

 
      
             
Russell’s laughter stops. “When people die, they don’t come back from the dead like in those zombie movies.” His expression grows even more serious. “Hell, how come yo’ nana didn’t come back?”

 
      
             
Billy-Joel scratches his head and looks up to the sky. His nana had the greatest faith he had ever heard of—second only to Jesus Christ himself. Why
didn’t
she come back?

 
      
             
“Her faith was even smaller than a mustard seed,” he tells Russell.

 
      
             
Russell’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Mustards come in jars, not seeds.”

 
      
             
Billy-Joel shakes his head. “Her faith was too small, like—” he looks around, then points— “dat small, tiny rock over there.”

 
      
             
“Wow,” Russell says. “Dat’s some small faith.” He looks at Billy-Joel. “What about
your
faith? Is it bigga’ than yo’ nana’s?”

 
      
             
“Of course it is! I shall fear no death, so long as my Lord is with me.”

 
      
             
Russell scoffs. “Prove it!”

 
      
             
Billy-Joel stands still for a moment, thinking, then he throws the gun on the ground. “Here ya go,” he says.

 
      
             
Russell’s eyes widen. “I ain’t gonna shoot ya, stupid. I was just kiddin’ around.”

 
      
             
“Whaddaya…
scared
?”

 
      
             
“
No
,” Russell says furiously, then he picks up the gun and points it at Billy-Joel, who just shakes his head.

 
      
             
“You ain’t shootin’ nobody.”

 
      
             
“I said I don’t wanna shoot ya!” Russell’s hand begins to shake. “Don’t make me do it.” His finger is on the trigger, but soon enough tears run down his face and he slowly lowers the gun.

 
      
             
Billy-Joel approaches Russell. He places his hand gently on top of Russell’s and turns the weapon towards his own head. “You can’t hurt me, Russell. I won’t let ya.” He smiles at his friend. “It’ll be a lot easier if ya close your eyes.”

 
      
             
Russell wipes the tears from his eyes and closes them.

 
      
             
“I’m gonna count ‘til ten and then you gonna pull dat trigger, k?”

 
      
             
Russell shakes his head as he begins counting. Billy-Joel watches Russell’s eyes, then he bends down and picks up a long stick. “Six, seven, eight—” He uses the stick to poke Russell in the stomach. With a jolt, Russell squeezes the trigger, unleashing a bullet that goes into Billy-Joel’s head. In then out. Blood splatters onto Russell’s face. He drops the gun and stares at his dead friend on the ground, the whole in his head the size of a golf ball.

 
      
             
Russell’s eyes roll up into his head, and he passes out.

***

              Russell opens his eyes and looks up at the clouds as they pass by. His vision is blurry until he rubs his eyes, then he sits up and focuses them. Then he sees, just a few feet in front of him, right at the edge of the lake, Billy-Joel bent over. He’s washing the blood off his shirt and face. Russell feels his blood turn cold.
He did it!
He leaps up to his feet and rushes over to his friend.

 
      
             
“You didn’t die!” he shouts. “You really didn’t die!”

 
      
             
Billy-Joel turns around and smiles. He doesn’t have a scratch on him, though trickles of dried blood still remain on his face.

 
      
             
“Of course I didn’t die,” he says. “My faith in the Lord is too strong, not even death can make me doubt.” He starts to laugh, and then so does Russell.

 
      
             
“Boy, ya really had me scared. Did ya see anything while you were dead?”

Billy-Joel wishes immediately that the question didn’t come up. He doesn’t want to tell his friend the things he saw, the people he spoke to, and the events that are about to come. He wants to say that Russell is going to die in just two weeks, but he was told not to interfere with God’s plan and that he will be with his friend soon. Billy-Joel pleaded and begged to the angels to spare his life a little longer, but he knows the outcome will still be the same: death in two weeks.

Billy-Joel balls up his fists but pulls back after an angel touches his shoulder and whispers in his ear. He loosens his fists and accepts the plan.

 
      
             
“Nah,” he says. “I ain’t seen nothin’.” He stands up to face Russell and wipes the dirt from his jeans.

 
      
             
“Come on. It’s almost time for supper,” says Russell with his arm on Billy-Joel’s shoulder.

 
      
             
They walk along the muddy trail singing songs, laughing, and joking with one another, like usual. Billy-Joel tosses out the thoughts of Russell’s death and enjoys the little time he has left with him.

Besides
, he thinks,
we’ll have all the time we want in Heaven
.

THE END

GOOD BOY

             
The full moon gleams brightly as Jeffrey takes a pull of his marijuana cigarette. He looks up at the moon all lonesome and exhales the fantasy aroma towards it. Being up on the roof of a project building in Brooklyn is grounds for arrest, but the cops don’t care about some old man smoking weed to escape his problems. No, they care about the real crime, drug dealers, murderers and rapist. But here in Brownsville projects, you mostly get the drug dealers.

            
 
As Jeffrey sits in his lawn chair--one that he actually stole from a friend during a cookout--he grabs his can of Colt forty-five and takes a huge gulp. He burps and clumsily places the can down.

            
 
Jeffrey looks over at the old dead bones of fried chicken. Some chewed and broken in half that the now dark red marrow is visible. The dry bones are bleached white from the months, maybe years, of decay. Some of those bones, he imagines, had to be from the days he would bring Dolo up here. Project elevators always had a way of breaking down and taking Dolo down twelve flights of stairs is a workout for some but a death sentence for Jeffry. He was a good dog an even better friend. Loyal, trustworthy and would take secrets to his grave. And to the grave he went. Not because of old age, Not because of sickness but because of some trigger happy wanna be gangster didn’t like the way Dolo was barking at him. Dolo didn’t like Damarien, he never did, Dolo was a very good judge of character.

            
 
Jeffrey looks over to his left at the next project building. A couple of teens are crowded around one teen who is looking through a telescope--that they most likely have stolen--up into the dark sky hoping to see the meteor shower again. It’s only been two months since the phenomenon and people still talk about it to this day. Jeffrey's neighbor Tawanda called the local news station and asked if they wanted to interview her about it...for a fee of course. With their expensive cellphones, neighbors were taking photos of the shower, it was more like a downpour. Hundreds of blue pieces of space rock ignored our planet. Less than a minute after the meteors passed, another meteor came racing by. But this one was much different from the previous meteors. It had a red ominous glow and was much bigger. When it passed by it gave off a horrifying animal roar sacring the young children and some adults.

            
 
The door to the roof opened with it’s rusty hinges. Damarien steps out of the door first and turns stone when he sees Jeffrey’s shadowy figure. He soon realizes it’s Jeffrey and exhales softly.

“
Godman nigga!! da hell you doin up here?” Damarien said.

Jeffrey continues looking up at the moon. “Just wanted to enjoy the night breeze
thats all.”

“Well enjoy that shit downstairs. We got business and you in my office.”

Jeffery takes another pull of his marijuana and exhales slowly. Any other time Jeffrey would oblige by Damarien’s request. But not tonight or ever again.

“
Im not finished yet nigga.”

Damarien’s
crew scold and laugh at him. Damarien runs up to Jeffrey, kicks him dead in the chest, knocking him out of the chair and onto the gravel floor. Damarien pulls out a black Glock and points it at Jeffrey. The laughing stops.

             
“Got something else to say? You want me to waste you like I wasted your dog nigga?”

             
Jeffrey whistles. A blue glow shines from above on top of the elevator control tower. Damarien and his crew looks on at the mesmerizing light. A creature that resembles a wolf jumps down blocking the exit to the roof door. It’s big like a Camry but slim and muscular. It’s golden eye’s locks onto Damarien and his crew. It’s long tail whips side to side knocking gravel off of the roof.

             
Jeffrey smiles. The power has shifted. Jeffrey stands and watches the fear on his enemies faces. Piss begins to run down Dararien’s right leg.

“
sick’em boy”

The beast obeys his master commands and begins to rip and tear into the fleshes of his meal. Jeffrey stares as the butcher slices and dices its meat. Screams and gunshots ring out then ceases. The beast licks the blood from the tiny pebbles. Jeffrey spots a torn piece of
Damarien’s arm and picks it up. He whistles again and throws the arm up into the air. The beast responds, leaps high and swallows the last piece of Damarien. Nothing is left. The roof returns to it’s original state of empty beer cans, chicken bones and used condoms. The beast walks over to Jeffrey and begins licking and rubbing his face. He’s happy that his master is unharmed and even happier that dinner was fulfilling. Jeffrey rubs and pats his new best friend.

             
“Good boy.”

THE END

SINS OF A HERO

              Jacob, a sixteen-year-old with thick black hair, pale skin, and acne that seems to get worse and worse, stands on a crowded New York City train with one lanky arm holding onto a metal pole and the other gripping a Quantum comic book. He’s absorbed in the comic, a new issue that he simply couldn’t wait to buy. He was even able to get a copy early, before anyone else.
It’s a good thing I’m cool with the owner,
he thinks to himself as he reads.

             
But his moment of peace is interrupted when an older teenager and his friends make their way through the train. They intentionally bump into Jacob, knocking his Quantum comic out of his hand and onto the dirty subway floor. Jacob bends to retrieve his precious comic but pulls back briefly when a Jordan sneaker stomps down on it. Angrily, Jacob grabs for the comic and yanks it out from under the shoe. He looks up at the group of teenagers, glowering at them as they jeer and laugh. Although he finds it irritating, Jacob brushes off the encounter. By now, he’s used to being bullied.

The next stop is Jacob’s, and he exits the train and walks up the stairs to the street level, where police cars are speeding down and a large crowd is beginning to build.