One Blood

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-Nine

 

Monday

Lake City, LA

 

“Where the hell is it?” Fat Pat asked. They’d been driving around for almost twenty minutes.

“I could have sworn it was on this street,” the kid replied. “It’s around here somewhere, I’m sure of it. Make a left at the next light.”

Fat Pat knew when someone was giving him the runaround. He eased the car into the next lane. The structure on his left was definitely not headquarters.

“What the fuck is this shit?”

“St. Mary’s Hospital…that’s where you wanted to go, right?”

“You skinny fuck…I told you to take me to the old school!”

“Listen man, I’ve lost a lot of blood, I got a hurt arm, and you expect me to be able to pay attention?”

“You ain’t slick, kid.” Fat Pat looked at his captive with new eyes. The kid was definitely in bad shape and besides, Fat Pat could use some stitches of his own. He’d gotten a few deep cuts in his scalp when those bastards shot through the glass at Simmons Park.

How the hell am I supposed to walk into a public hospital with guards and everything and get out in one piece? It’s a fucking hospital. They got doctors everywhere. Creep in, hijack one of them maufuckas, and then move the fuck on.

Fat Pat was never good at planning, but he felt good about this one. On impulse he grabbed his cell phone and called Amir. If anyone could have made it out alive, it would be Amir. No answer. Fat Pat closed the phone. He was on his own.

“Aight,” he said. “We go in, but if you try any slick shit, a lot of innocent people gone die, including yo’self.”

“Scout’s honor,” the kid replied.

Fat Pat just had to figure out what to do with the girl. She was still passed out in the backseat, but he knew she wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“Don’t try no shit,” Fat Pat said to the kid as he got some rope out of the trunk to tie her up.

* * * * *

Brandon watched as Gordo walked around to his side of the car and yanked the door open.