Bleeding Out

As the woman stepped through, Frank flung the door open. It bounced against the wall. In slow motion she saw Johnnie step inside. Frank followed. They'd walked into a small entry in front of a kitchen. A figure—black/male, Frank registered—had slipped down a hallway off the cluttered living room to their left. Johnnie yelled at him to freeze, but his shadow slid down the hall. He and Frank drew their pistols at the same time. She was vaguely aware that Noah and Kennedy had done the same. Her peripheral brain acknowledged a greasy pile of rock on a coffee table. A cold drop of sweat splashed onto her ribs as she stepped long-legged across the open doorway to the hall. Their suspect had turned, facing them. He was unarmed, but not Tunnel. Where the hell is he, she wondered?

Frank's adrenaline rush made each word coming from the radios crisp and distinct. 'We have a second black male in custody. Not the suspect.'

Two, she thought, neither Tunnel. Stealing a terrified look to his right, then back at the cops with 9mms drawn on him, the man at the end of the hall slowly raised his hands.

'I didn't do nothin',' tumbled breathlessly out of his mouth. Outside, the skinny woman started crying, wailing to be released.

'Okay,' Johnnie soothed, walking toward him with gun lowered. 'Be cool. Just keep your hands behind your head and kneel down for me.'

Frank held her gun on the man until Johnnie cuffed him. Noah was just inside the hall, gun drawn. Kennedy was next to him, a step behind. Johnnie hustled his man between them, out to a waiting cop. The skinny woman's wailing increased. Frank distinctly heard her scream, 'Timmy! Come out, baby,' and the hair on Frank's neck stiffened.

He's still in here.

She motioned Noah to take the door to his right, and Kennedy the room to her left. Frank stepped into the bathroom. Rain water was blowing in from the open window. She reached toward the closed shower curtain.

'GET OUTTA HERE MUTHA-FUCKAS! GET OUTTA HERE OR I CUT THE BITCH! GET YO FUCKIN' ASSES OUT NOW!'

Frank froze, but her brain screamed, Kennedy. Fuck! He's got Kennedy!

The woman was screaming louder now. Frank heard Noah say very calmly, 'Okay. We're gone. We're outta here. Just relax, man.'

'GET OUT! GET OUTTA HERE! GO ON, MUTHA-FUCKA, 'FOR I CUT YO' ASS TOO!

Frank stood in the little bathroom, barely breathing. Automatically she clicked off her radio, abstractly noting the cracked, faded linoleum, the dirty white towel hanging on the bathroom door, the old toothpaste scum in the rusty sink. She heard scuffling in the hallway, Noah's easy voice, in the living room now. She couldn't hear him clearly, the woman's crying was drowning him out.

'GO ON! GET OUT!'

Then Noah's voice, louder than it had to be, for Frank's benefit. 'Okay! We're all gone! We're all out of here, man. It's okay now.'

A door slammed and the woman's screams receded. Through the open window radios bleated for back-up. In the living room, a man she assumed was Tunnel was repeating, 'Aw motherfuck, aw Jesus, aw fuck.'

'Hey, it's alri—'

'SHUT UP BITCH! I WANT YOU TO TALK I'LL TELL YOU. SHUT YO' FUCKIN' MOUTH!'

Kennedy said something quietly, then Frank heard Noah talking through the door. It sounded like he was trying to reassure Tunnel that he was going to be okay, that this could be worked out if he just stayed cool. Frank strained to hear him asking Tunnel what he wanted.

'JUST BACK OFF!' Tunnel shouted, then said more to himself, 'I gotta think 'bout this.'

Noah replied they couldn't back off without Kennedy.

'You understand that, don't you? You wouldn't leave one of your homies and we can't leave ours. So what do you want us to do? Talk to me, Timmy.'

Noah was engaging him, keeping him occupied. Tunnel had no idea Frank was in there with him. Her gun hand started to shake and a completely irrational memory flashed through her head of driving up Highway 101 in the sunshine, Mag laughing and getting whipped by her own hair.

Okay, she ordered, steady up, goddamnit. Despite a clamoring heartbeat and an incredible desire to take a leak, Frank forced herself to breathe deeply and smoothly, focusing on the present. Noah was talking soothingly through the door, and she thought, Good boy, No. She was glad he was out there.

Stepping carefully and without sound, she peered around the door. The hall was clear. She couldn't see Kennedy or Tunnel in the living room. She was grateful for the commotion in the apartment complex—anxious neighbors talking to each other, catcalls and insults, sirens, radios, cops in motion. A chopper was thumping overhead, and the rain fell on, a somber motif to the cacophony. Frank was acutely aware of sights and sounds, the smells of old grass and cigarette smoke, fried food and musty carpets, the texture of the 9mm, warm in her damp, cold hand.

Tunnel was telling Noah that he wanted a car, a black Explorer. Frank could hear him by the door, explaining he wanted a fully loaded vehicle.

Frank sucked in a deep breath. No one was in the hall. She darted into the bedroom on her left. It was dim and windowless and she froze beside the door. Holding her breath, heart thudding, she listened for Tunnel. He was still talking to Noah, who asked how Kennedy was.

Tunnel said, 'Your bitch be fine unless you fuck wit me.'

'How do I know you haven't cut her?'

'Fuck that. She my insurance. I cut her when I'm good an' ready.'

'Then how come I can't hear her?'

'Tell your homie, you alright.'

'I'm fine, Noah. I really am.'

Kennedy's voice was strong and steady. Her confidence encouraged Frank. Okay, she ordered again, breathe easy. Willing herself into a quiet spot amidst the chaos, Frank envisioned herself moving up the hallway, hugging the wall. She remembered the sheet hanging over the window in the living room. No reflection. Good.

Tunnel was nervously telling Noah that this was bullshit, like the cops were really going to let him get away.

'Hey man, I'm not saying we're gonna let you get away, but at least in a car you got a chance. I gotta tell you it's not a good one. The best thing you can do right now, the safest thing for yourself, is to send her out, and you follow, hands up.'

'I can't do that!' Tunnel pleaded. 'I can't be locked up again.'

There was a pause, then Noah, ever patient, saying, 'I understand you gotta do what you gotta do. It's on you, man. Do you still want the car?'

'Hell yeah! What other choice I got?'

'You can come out, man. End this right now, before you get hurt or a cop gets hurt. You know that'd be as good as the chair, Tim. If you stop now it'll go a lot easier.'

'I done it now, cain't stop. Done set it rollin',' Tunnel said pragmatically.

That was when Frank made her move to the edge of the hall. Now Tunnel was talking softly to Kennedy.

'I should just bleed you just like I'd bleed a Crab, and let your brothers take me out. Yeah,' he said wistfully, 'I go out a ghetto star and there be one less pig bitch in this fucked-up world.'

Again Frank felt the panic brush against her, like a huge, winged shadow, and she knew she had to do something. She knelt quietly and peeked around the wall. Tunnel was standing with his back to her, facing the door and holding Kennedy against him. It looked like he was holding something to her neck, but from her angle Frank couldn't see what it was. She retreated behind her corner, weighing her options. Sneak out the bathroom and continue negotiating. Stay hidden and continue negotiating. Pull a gun on him and hope he'd surrender. Not likely. Johnston's rap sheet was extensive and included numerous aggravated assaults and two murder charges, both of which he'd beaten. Clearly he was capable of violent and aggressive action.

'Get me that shit,' he was ordering Noah. 'And I want it now, like in ten minutes and—'

'That's impossible, Tim,' Noah interrupted.

'DON'T TELL ME WHAT'S FUCKIN' IMPOSSIBLE!' he exploded, 'CUZ IF I DON'T HAVE ME A FUCKIN' RIDE