I freeze. Benny’s gun is two paces to my left, and the cop is within an arm’s length to my right. I can attack him or go for the gun. I have seconds to decide before he catches onto my hesitation.
“No, I don’t have a son.”
“Funny. My records show you are Zachary Hinshaw…thirty-five…lives on 29860 Cherrywood Dr…one son…wife deceased…race…Mitowan.”
I dive for the gun, and fifty thousand volts of electricity cripple me. My broken nose feels like an itch compared to the sizzling of my muscles under my skin. The gun now lies two inches from my face, but I can’t move.
“You know, I could use some luck,” the cop taunts. “Caught the wife cheating on me and lost my savings at the casino. A promotion would be nice too.” He chuckles as he puts on gloves and grabs the gun. He leans me against the wall just like Benny had me. “Don’t worry about your son…little Dakota…I’ll keep an eye on him.” At this he winks, and I feel a fire inside of me stronger than the taser.
I pitch my head forward faster than Mariano Rivera can throw and give the bastard a black eye. As he stumbles back, I make another grab for the gun and thrust it into his mouth. The adrenaline is quickly draining from me, so I keep my monologue short. But I will always find a way to protect my son.
“Here’s the funny thing about Mitowans.” I lean down so my mouth is by his ear, partially for dramatics and partially because I can barely support myself. “You’re right we’re lucky, but if you kill us, our luck is not like a transaction at the bank. No, you all have it so wrong.” I shake and struggle to pull the trigger. I tell myself I have to, for Dakota. “You don’t get lucky when you kill us…” I count to three, turn my head, and shoot. Brains and blood splatter me, but I learned a long time ago to keep my mouth shut when I shoot someone.
“We get lucky when we kill you.”
I rise with renewed strength and make sure there are no witnesses. Of course there aren’t. Luck is on my side now. As busy as the city is, right now it’s quiet and serene. No one would guess the exchanges of power and revelations of corruption which took place tonight.
A light rain shower comes down and washes the evidence from me. When I step back onto the street, the warm glow of the neon signs comfort me. Though this will always be a dangerous city for my kind, my son and I made it our home, and we won’t let anyone take it from us.
Without looking back, I take a right and head toward Cherrywood Dr. By the time I return home, Dakota should have finished his homework and done all his chores. If I’m lucky.
