To Reap the Lightning

A gang thug recalls the events that landed him in prison.

My name is Ringo, and before recent events happened, I was one of the lieutenants for the Sharks, led by Diego Esparza. Now he is dead, and I am one of the few remaining members left. It all started just a few months ago.

The Bloods and the Crips may control the West Coast, and New York had their gangs, but we were gaining control in the Midwest. Our drug network was growing and making us rich. Then some hotshot district attorney decided to take us down. Over time, he almost succeeded, with more of our crew getting arrested, and the police-breathing heavy down our necks. One of our crew, Joe, was arrested for the murder of Jeff Harris, a local businessman who didn't take us seriously. The witnesses were put away so we couldn't get to them. We then had a meeting, and came to a decision that we needed to take him down.

The problem with that was the man was surrounded by bodyguards; big bodyguards 24/7. Unless we had a rocket, we couldn't touch him. But we could take out one of his kids to send him a message. Two of his four kids, Steven and Lindsey, were throwing a big party out on the patio of their place in one of the nicer areas in town. So we decided to clean up real nice and pay them a visit.

With our connections, we were able to get in real easy. Besides, we didn't look like gang people because we were wearing three-piece suits. Four of us came to make that visit: David, Diego's "left-hand man," myself, his "right-hand" man, Manny, who we either call "Machete" or "Ginzu," because he carries and owns so many knives. He knew how to use them too; and the man himself, Diego. We chatted with a few of the guests, okay, we were flirting with the ladies, and when we found out where our targets were, we made our move.

They were by a railing overlooking some woods below. They were talking to a few people, but what caught my attention was this woman standing a few feet away from the group, like she didn't belong or something. She wasn't very tall, about 5'4" or so, and had short dark brown hair, pulled back. She had tan skin, because she was mixed, half black, half white. She wore a sleeveless black dress that was cut just above the knee, and black clogs. She wasn't bad looking, but not my type. That was okay, because I wasn't there to make a connection anyway.

We headed toward the brother and sister with Diego in the lead, David and Manny not far behind him, and me carrying up the rear. Lindsey just left to get some more drinks, but that's okay, we just needed to hit one of them to send a message. Diego stopped about ten feet from Steven.

"Steven Tyler?" Diego asked.

"Yes?" Steven responded.

Diego reached into his suit and pulled a gun. "Tell Jeff Harris I said hi."

Suddenly the mixed girl grabbed Diego's gun hand, twisting the gun out of the way, shot three fingers in his throat, then grabbed his head to deliver one of those judo throws or something. All I know was there was something different about it. By the time his back hit the ground, he still hung on to his gun, but it wouldn't do much good now. His head was twisted at a bad angle, and his eyes were open staring at nothing.

The woman kicked off her shoes, and shot barefoot toward Manny like a rocket. He was about to pull out a flick-blade when the woman slammed her right palm against his chest. His blade was out, but now his body was acting like he was electrocuted. He fell down clutching his chest, with that same blank stare that Diego had.

David had his weapon out, but this woman did something weird. He was trying to hit her with his right hand, but she shoved her left hand up against his elbow. The blow broke his arm, but she wasn't through. She kicked his left knee with her right toes, and David fell down like a tree, screaming.

All this took place within seconds. I suppose the best thing for me would've been to run, but that would involve fighting my way back through the crowd. If the drop wasn't too high, I'd go that way. However, the woman wasn't going to give me that chance.

She grabbed my gun hand, twisted, and plucked the gun out like I was a child. I swung at her, and she grasped my arm, spun around, and somehow threw me to the ground. I hit the ground hard, but I managed to scramble myself part way up. Then I saw her eyes. They looked like the eyes of a demon. She wasn't finished with me yet. She was going to send me home in a body bag. I backed up on my feet and my elbows trying to get away from this woman, until I hit the railing. I had nowhere to run. The woman raised up her left foot to stomp me somewhere. I didn't know where, but I knew it would be painful or worse.

Other hands grabbed me, and I saw it was the police; they were close by. The woman, Loretta was her name I found out, was calmed down by some older woman, and almost collapsed. I never thought I'd say it, but I was glad the police were there to get me. They may have saved my life.

And now here I am, in prison. I received twenty years, not counting parole in five or ten years. My fellow gang member Joe was found guilty of murder, and now sits on death row. There were rewards on the four of us, and that day made this Loretta a rich woman. Before, if I ended up here, I'd be treated like a king; now because of Loretta and that martial arts thing she did, my street cred is gone. Someone actually pulled out their phone and recorded the whole thing. You can even find it on the Internet, from Diego's neck being broken to seeing the terror on my face when I thought I would be next to join him. Sometimes I get a taunt from some dude who said I got beat up by a little girl, but the fact that she killed Diego and Manny, crippled David, and beat me using her bare hands keeps them quiet. David is in the same prison I'm in, but he can't move the same way he used to.

It turned out Loretta was a bodyguard with a huge reputation of neutralizing big threats; and we made her famous. The rest of the gang got together to put a contract on her head, but they somehow ended up dead. No bullets or knife wounds, but killed by someone's bare hands. If this woman had decided to go on a killing spree, I sometimes wonder if David and I will be next? I think of her eyes, and what was in them.

I rather stay here than face her again.

For comments, suggestions, or story ideas, email the author at shrewsberry@juno.com.

#2007, Barefoot Heroines, Inc.