The Assigned (11 page)

“And what’s that’s supposed to mean?” she asks.

“I mean c’mon,” smirks Mr. Memphis. “You landed a punch or two but let’s face it. If I hadn’t came in and saved your behind—”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” she snaps. “My
behind
is none of your concern. I was doing just fine until you showed up. Why you …”

The girl walks off muttering something in Spanish.

“Ooh la laaa!” he teases. This guy is something else. “Now listen Zeek,” he says turning his attention back to me. “I’m just saying. There’s something going on here, with all of us. We need to figure out what we have in common.”

Mr. Personality is really starting to get under my skin. “Look,
bro
—”

“The name’s Tre. Tre Turner.”

“Okay, Tre. I appreciate you and J-Lo over there, sticking up for my little girl. Really I do. But there’s nothing else
we’ve
got to figure out. And even less
we’ve
got in common, okay bro—uh, Tre?”

“Okay, Zeek. Yeah I see ya with your biker vest and your tattoos. And here I am, the chocolate debonair. Yeah, you’re right, we probably wouldn’t have anything in common on a normal day, but I’m sure you can agree that THIS … is not a normal day.”

Turning to join my family, I’ve heard enough. As I walk off, Tre blurts out a question.

“Is there anything weird or abnormal that’s happened in your life the past few days or weeks … even
before
today?”

I don’t mean to show it, especially by pausing, but for some reason his words intrigue me. He continues, “Just a few hours ago, I was in a crazy wreck. My truck flipped four or five times—blood everywhere. Now you can’t find a bruise on me. Not even a single scratch.”

“A week ago I didn’t know how to speak Spanish, or Russian, or even German for that matter,” the girl joins in. “But now they flow from my mouth with ease. I somehow even heard your daughter’s voice from half a mile away.”

“Look Zeek,” Tre continues. “I think we all know deep down inside, there’s something going on with all of us. Spiritual, supernatural, unnatural, however you wanna say it. But there’s definitely something. And I think I may know someone who can help us make sense of all this.”

I glance back to watch Tre hand the girl a card from his pocket. I’m too far to tell what it says, but they seem to discuss it in detail. I can’t lie, his words cause me to reflect on the visions that led me to Christina.
Oh please
. A father’s intuition.
And my baby getting well overnight?
She’s a fighter, just like her dad. Plus, the doctors always said my leg could get better one day. Besides, I don’t have time for this hocus pocus.

“Well whada say Zeek? Me and Gloria here are gonna go meet an acquaintance of mine. I think she may have some answers. I’d sure like to know more. What about you?”

“Once again, I thank you … Tre. Go Tigers. And
gracias
to you, Ms. Gloria, but I have a child to look after.”

The officer interviewing Christina’s abductor comes over to ask me some questions. His line of questioning becomes more and more like an interrogation. As if I did something wrong. After a few rounds, I’ve finally had enough. The sheer audacity of this
officer of the law
is unbelievable.

“What else do you need to know?!” I shout. “That guy tried to abduct my daughter!”

“Sir, please calm down,” he says scanning my vest and tattoos. “So, you’re a member of the Road Hog’s, hunh?” he asks as if that matters.

“What? What does that have to do with anything? Did you hear what I said? That—that perv just tried to kidnap my daughter!”

“Did you actually see him take her?”

“Hunh?”

“Mr. Sanderlin states he found your daughter wondering in the woods and was only trying to help her find her parents.”

My eyes hunt down the now modest Mr. Sanderlin, still sitting in the patrol car. Deceivingly reserved, the man timidly adjusts his glasses, bearing no signs of the drug-charged rage he showed just minutes ago.

“He then states you and your two buddies over there proceeded to accost him.”

“To what?”

“You beat him up.”

“Officer, he’s full of … croc!” I say grabbing Christina’s hand. “Baby, tell the policeman how that man took you from your daddy—Tell ‘em.”

The timid Mr. Sanderlin lowers his glasses, looking straight at my daughter. The nerve of this guy! Petrified, Christina runs, seeking safety behind Alicia.

“This is not the time, Zeek.” Alicia protests.

The girl—Gloria. She tries to intervene. “Sir, we saw the whole thing—”

“Did you see Mr. Sanderlin physically remove that child from her father?”

“Well no, but—”

“Thanks.”

Gloria raises her voice. “There was this black—”

Tre nudges her and mumbles, “He won’t believe you.”

“Come again?” says the patrolman.

“Nevermind.”

“Okay,” I sigh. “So what now … officer?”

“Guess I’ll have to bring the both of ya down to the precinct for questioning.”

“Give me a break! Oh my g—okay, fine.” It takes everything in me to contain myself. “So ya wanna cuff me too?” I say, holding out my wrists.

The cop’s eyes scan me head to toe. “That won’t be necessary, I guess. You can sit in the front with me.”

“Fine. Alicia, take Chrissy home. I’ll call you shortly.” I lean over to kiss my fragile daughter, her eyes just like her mom’s. She puts her trust in me, but I keep leaving her frightened. It’s not supposed to be like this. I speak as assertive as I can. She’s got to believe this. “Daddy won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Those eyes. All they do is look at me. No yea. No nay. Just a look. And just like that, my baby is introduced to the real world. A world in which Daddy doesn’t control everything, where Daddy doesn’t win every time, or even most of the time for that matter. A world I’m tired of being a part of.

I feel a tap on the back. “Hey Zeek, I wrote down my number,” says Tre. “Me and Gloria are gonna try to figure this out. I know you didn’t say anything, but I bet you’ve got a story, too. If you change your mind, give me a call.”

“Like I said—”

“I know what you said man, but just take the number as a favor to me for helping you out. Please.”

It’s nothing but a gesture, guess it’s the least I can do. I shake my head before reluctantly taking the slip of paper, placing it into my pocket. Not even sure if these two will get where they’re going the way they hassle back and forth.

“So you wanna grab a bite to eat first?” Tre asks. The frown on Gloria’s face serves as a response.

“Okay. Well can you stop me by the house considering I just wrecked my truck?”

“I don’t even know you like that.”

“Oh come on Mami, I just need to change, pick up a new whip.”

“Don’t call me
Mami
. My name’s Gloria. Got it?”

“Okay, okay, chill. Got it. Well I’m Tre “TNT” Turner. Don’t let the grass stains fool ya.”

“Como un idiota presuntuoso!” says Gloria before storming off again.

“Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to
,”
says Tre. “Well, do you wanna meet her or not?”

“You said ‘her’ right? Fine. Any woman has to have more sense than you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

And we’re supposed to have special powers?
Yeah right
. Enough with these two. My next move is to join officer
idiota
in the squad car.

I can’t believe I let this practical stranger talk me into leaving with him. Well not quite a stranger, I know exactly who he is. It came to me earlier. All-time leader in yards at the University. But I dare not let him know.

Now in his
spare car
, a 2011 Mercedes sedan, with his name stitched into the upholstery, I’m reminded of the sheer excess these athletes squander through. I could do so much with only ten percent of what he makes. He doesn’t even know how good he’s got it. And all that gaudy jewelry. Where are we going, a video shoot? This guy tries way
too hard. The cologne he obviously drenched himself in nearly runs me out the vehicle. Or maybe it’s this sweater he let me borrow. There’s no way I was going to let him take me by A’ma and I’s apartment. For a number of reasons. He’s probably used to girl’s throwing themselves at him. Hmph. Well he won’t have to worry about this one.

Now, of all things, I find out he doesn’t even know this woman. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I say. “I thought you said she was your friend?”

“I said acquaintance. And I’ve—well, I’ve seen her a couple of times,” he answers.“You’ve seen her? What?”

“Look,” Tre says while glancing over. “You got a better idea?”

“So some lady you’ve never met hands you a card that says ‘Prophetess’,
of all things, and immediately you think she has the cure to cancer? Give me a break!”

“Look, if she’s in left field or she can’t help us, we can leave. It’s that easy. I mean c’mon, we just saw black smoke coming out of a man’s head while playing live action Mortal Kombat in the park. What do we have to lose?”

What the heck.
He’s right. The happenings in my life turned bizarre long before this current adventure. What’s one more? Not only did I see black smoke floating around a man’s torso, I saw Tre do some pretty remarkable things as well. There has to be a connection. No matter how immature, infantile, and materialistic he may appear.

“Just drive,” I sigh.

“Besides,” Tre continues. “She seemed to be expecting my call. Asked how many were with me. Not sure what’s that about.”

“You think Zeek will call?” I ask.

“Who cares,” Tre blurts. “That guy’s got a serious attitude problem. We helped save his daughter and he barely says thanks.”

“Well you never know what people are going through,” I say reflecting on my own situation.

“Tell me about it,” he counters. “So, what do you think we all have in common?”

I watch as Tre vigorously bobs his head up and down to the hip-hop song playing on the radio.

“I have no idea.”

-----------T H E A S S I G N E D-----------

Now this is a change of scenery
, I mutter under my breath from the front passenger seat as the police cruiser jets down the street. It’s definitely a different look.

“Say something, Mr. Myers?” asks the stern-faced officer.

“Nah,” I say, glancing over at the emotionless lawman. He looks to be about fifty, hard chin, that same generic haircut every patrolman has in the movies.

I try to shake the anger brewing inside, taking a few deep breaths. Looking over my shoulder, I see the mild-mannered Mr. Sanderlin, cleaning his glasses. Slowly, I do a double take trying to catch a view of the blackness or any other abnormal signs. Nothing.
What am I doing?
Pencil-neck sits in the back humming some country tune as he looks out the window.

“You alright, Mr. Myers?”

I give up. Slouching in the front seat, I finally say, “Yeah, I’m fine, Officer.”

With the ride lengthening, I wonder what precinct we’re headed to. We passed the closest one, East, nearly three blocks back. I try to remain patient but the incessant humming of this clown in the back is driving me insane. The detached officer doesn’t seem to mind. Go figure. I check the time as my thoughts drift to Christina and Alicia.

“Hey officer? How long do you think this will take? I really would li—”

The policeman slows the cruiser, finally coming to a stop on the side of the road. He places the car in park, opens his door, and steps out.

Am I missing something?
Confused, I stare out the window. There’s no precinct in sight. Suddenly, the back door opens. The glass plate separating the front from the back, obstructs my view.

“Get out,” commands a voice. The perv, steps from the car. The same voice murmurs a word in an unfamiliar language.

“Koon-cha”

“Koon-cha,” repeats another. Must be Sanderlin. Not sure what language they’re speaking. I strain my neck to get a better look. I can hear Sanderlin’s footsteps as he distances himself from the cruiser. Moments later, the policeman returns to the car.

“Wait a minute,” I say. “I know you didn’t just let that guy walk scot-free?

Tell me you—”

The car buckles as the officer slams on the gas. “Hey! What are you doing?” Still, he says nothing. His accelerating speed makes me uncomfortable. “Hey man! I asked you a question!”

No response. I stare the officer down hoping for any rise in the soundless driver. As my eyes cut through the patrolman’s flesh, something catches my attention. A small tattooed symbol seems to almost stand on his wrist.

Smoke-like vapor rises from the Policeman’s skin. Its color reflects the navy hue of his uniform. Like steam, it hovers around his torso, slowly swirling about. I watch the life-like substance in amazement.

“Can’t be …”

My heartbeat accelerates. Adrenaline pumps through my veins once more. I look down at my fingers, flexing them. Power pulsates through my nerves. My body prepares … but for what?

“AAHHSSSP!”

The Policeman lunges for my throat. His strength is superhuman. I gasp trying to free myself of the vicious hold. The car swerves as the shadowy substance recollects itself around the disturbed officer. I reach for the door but it’s locked. The Policeman attempts to choke me out but I finally fight him off with an elbow to the head. Using my shoulder, I ram the car door. It bursts open, and I jump from the speeding car head first, my body tumbling down the street.

Twenty yards up, the squad car comes to a stop. The angered Policeman snarls as his haze-engulfed body emerges from the car.
Too late
. I make my way through a blocked-off industrialized perimeter. I don’t know how, but my body tells me to leap, so I do, with supernatural ability, over a 15-foot wall, never looking back.

-----------T H E A S S I G N E D-----------

“Looks like your acquaintance is doing alright for herself,” mocks Gloria as we enter a five-star hotel located in the heart of the city.

“Haha,” I say, sarcastically. She’s had jokes the whole ride here. “Looks that way.”

This girl’s different. She hasn’t once mentioned who I was. I mean come on, she’s had to at least heard of Tre “TNT” Turner. Most chicks go crazy about the Mercedes but she seemed turned off by it. Again, she’s nowhere near my type, but having a girl my age not throw herself at a young millionaire is quite …
different.

We take the elevator up to the top floor, the twenty-first. Only two doors representing two enormous penthouses cover the entire level.

“You wanna knock?” I whisper.

“What? She’s your friend. You knock.”

“Like I said, acquaintance. As a matter of fact, I—”

The door opens. “Tre Turner. Welcome. Come in.”

“Uhh … Prophetess?”

“Call me Anna.”

This woman seems only similar to the mysterious figure I’ve encountered over the past couple of weeks. They share similar features, but this particular woman looks … normal. Her usual formal attire is now replaced by a University of Memphis pull-over. Her hair has the same grayish tone, although pinned up into a tightly squeezed bun. The unusual accent and ‘Old English’ idioms have been replaced with a southern drawl. Same age group, though. Late fifties, early sixties. Nah, come on. This is a joke right?

“And who’s your beautiful friend?” she asks.

“I’m Gloria,” she blushes, in the oversized sweater I let her borrow.

“Gloria. What a beautiful name. Well don’t you two just stand there. Come on in!”

The now seemingly ordinary woman’s suite is the size of most people’s houses. With three large bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, a large den, kitchen, and balcony, it was definitely built with the elite in mind. Reminds me of something I might own.

Looks as if she’s been here quite some time, her eclectic effects all over the large living space. Vases, figurines, statues, and relics from all over the world. Not the fake airport ones either, these things look pricey.

Gloria and I take a seat on an elegant mahogany-lined sofa. Our host, now going by the name of Anna,
sets a tray of lemonade and sugar cookies in front of us. Gloria and I take a look at each other before scrutinizing the almost suspicious treats. The woman takes a seat on another sofa across from us.

“So, what brings you children here?”

I start. “Well, you remember earlier how you said, ‘as things continue to manifest’?”

The Prophetess—uhh Anna—or whoever she is, pours lemonade. “But of course. Your brother has just passed and I know that can be a trying time.”

I scoot to the edge of my seat. “Yeah, but HOW did you know about my brother?”

“Why, I read it in the paper. You were pretty well known for college football around here, weren’t you?” The newly energetic woman points to her sweater. “Go Tigers! More lemonade?”

Sitting, my mouth open, I’m not sure what to make of all this. Not waiting for a response about her precious lemonade, the woman sets off for the kitchen.

“I thought you said she could help us?” whispers Gloria.

“I don’t get it. Earlier, she was finishing my sentences and acting as if she’s known me my entire life, almost like she was reading my mind.”

“Yeah, and now she’s serving milk and cookies.” Gloria rolls her eyes. “See I knew—”

“Just hold on a minute, okay?” Standing, I make one more attempt at reaching out to the woman I met earlier. “Hey, uhh excuse me, Prophetess?”

“Oh where’d ya get that silly name from,” says the woman, returning from the kitchen with another tray. “Just call me Anna.”

My patience wanes. “Where’d I get that silly name from? I got it from you! From the card I took after you gave me that long Jedi-Knight pep talk! Now tell me what’s going on! You follow me around, tell me all this stuff about myself. You’ve finally got my attention and now you act like you don’t know what I’m talking about?! Feeding us cookies and sour lemonade …”

“I’m sorry, Tre. Guess I’m just an old lonely alumnus who loves University football. And when I heard your brother passed, I just wanted to reach out to you. You are the school’s all-time leading rusher, after all.

I’ve heard enough. “You know what—” My phone rings, interrupting my vocal onslaught. Boy, she better be glad. I answer the unknown number. “Yeah, Tre Turner.”

“Yo, Tre. What’s up bro?” speaks an unrecognizable voice.

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“It’s Zeek.”

“Zeek?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey everything alright down at the station?”

“Yeah … about that … did you guys go see that friend of yours?’

“Yeah, but sorry man. Looks like—”

“—tell him it is NOT a dead end. He is the remaining portion we tarry for and he must come now. Your efforts are not in vain, William Turner, III.”

I shake my head as the woman ends her performance by finishing my sentence in her normal unusual accent. Expelling a laugh of relief, I resume in answering Zeek’s question. “On second thoughts man, let me give you directions.”