Red White and Black

Chapter Twenty - Part A

Sammy

It was proving to be a long summer. A summer filled with frustrations, one after another. Sammy negotiated his old pickup truck down the alley, skirting an abandoned car and piles of debris left behind by uncaring residents and lazy garbage men. He ground his teeth, silently irritated at anything and everything.

The meeting at the mill had proven to be a waste of time; the key union representative hadn't shown. After waiting almost forty-five minutes and placing countless phone calls, it was discovered he had been in an accident en route to the meeting and was now in the emergency room facing surgery. The mill representatives and attorneys dithered for several minutes upon learning the news, then voted to postpone the review until a date to be determined. Sammy couldn't help voicing his opinion--with his frustration barely held in check--that he was getting the short end of the stick. While the mill messed around jumping through their bureaucratic hoops, he was left fending for himself, unable to work and trying to live on the measly checks he received. Before he was through, everyone at the meeting was on edge and knew exactly where Sammy stood on the issue.

Then, to further irritate him, the mill representative cornered him as the group was filing out the door.

"Mr. Morris? Just a second, if you please." When Sammy paused letting the others pass by out of the room, the man continued. "You do realize you're not going to win this thing, don't you? We can prove you were negligent and at fault, not to mention verbally assaulting and physically threatening a fellow employee."

Sammy just stared at the man and said nothing.

"We have witnesses, Mr. Morris."

A little muscle in Sammy's jaw flexed as he grit his teeth, but he remained silent.

The mill rep shuffled and looked at his shoes. "Well. I see. Perhaps we'll talk later, Mr. Morris."

Sammy left the man standing in the doorway.

If they thought they were going to bully or intimidate him into backing down, they had better think again. It had now become a matter of principle and his stubborn Irish roots were making themselves known. He hadn't backed down from anything in as long as he could remember and he wasn't about to start because some pasty faced college boy in a suit with a weak handshake tried to strong arm him.

He parked the truck in the garage and after making sure the overhead door was secure, turned out the light and locked the door behind him. The sun was beginning its descent, casting his shadow long across the lawn and allowing him to momentarily believe he was actually that tall. If there were one thing about his appearance Sammy wished he could alter, it would be his rather squat stature, always a sore point. He would have never admitted his lack of height concerned him in the least, but secretly, Sammy wished he possessed the tall lean look his shadow now seemed to indicate. He turned sideways, admiring the way the sinking sun altered his profile into a lithe, athletic figure. Maybe one even able to show that neighbor kid how to really play ball.

Then the thought of running and pivoting on his damaged knee occurred to him, along with the accompanying pain and discomfort such activity would be sure to initiate. He winced, knowing the wrong type of movement would send a arrow of pain shooting through his knee. My athletic days are over and done. Not that he really had a history of athleticism in his past to begin with. His life had been centered around work, even as a teenager. Sports had never much entered the picture. He worked as a kid, he worked as a teen, and his adult life was no different. That's the problem with these kids today, especially all those black kids. They don't want to work, they want everything handed to them.

A cloud rolled across the sun and sent his shadow, along with his aspirations of vertical grandeur into hiding.

"Hey, Ma! I'm back," he called as he unlocked the back door and stepped into the house. "Abbie? Where's everybody at?"

He tossed his keys on the countertop, his view of the broken bottle and splattered beer obscured by the kitchen table. "Ma? Where are you guys?"

He walked into the living room and flicked the switch controlling the lamp. Nothing. He flicked it several more times, irritated the lamp refused to cooperate. It was then he noticed the front door standing slightly ajar.

With his eyes fixed on the door, he walked toward it with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Abbie?" he called once again.

A low moan caught his attention and he gasped when he caught sight of his mother curled into a fetal position on the floor beneath the end table. A small circle of congealed blood pooled beside her head.

"Ma! What happened?" cried Sammy dropping to the floor while trying to ignore the pain rocketing through his damaged knee. Fear and indecision paralyzed him. Should he try to move her? What if something's broken? He tried to get to his feet but the knee gave out and he collapsed in a heap, forcing him to crawl across the room to the phone. With a trembling hand he dialed the operator and begged her to get help: the police and an ambulance. His mother moaned again and he dropped the phone and scooted to her side.

"Ma, talk to me! What's happened? Where's Abbie?" The idea popped into his head with vicious alacrity. They've taken Abbie! "Ma! Have they got Abbie? Did they take her?"

Sadie's eyes flickered open and she struggled to form words, her breath coming out in short gasps. "Abbie... gone... Markus took her." Her eyes rolled up in her head and she was silent.

"Ma! No, this can't be happening," railed Sammy. He gently cradled her head in his lap while the voice over the phone buzzed in the background like a horsefly on a hot day. Again stricken with indecision, he could do nothing other than hold his mother and worry about Abbie.

A knot of fear began building as he tried to assimilate what he had heard. Abbie taken? By Markus? He had thought the kid was dangerous, but he never thought he would stoop to anything like this. He looked down at this mother, tears suddenly filling his eyes, and silently promised to himself that payback time had come. Enough was enough. He had withstood everything the kid and his hoodlum friends had thrown at him, but now they had crossed the line. Markus had better pray the police got to him first, otherwise Sammy intended to introduce him to a whole new world of pain.