ANIMAL TRIED TO GET SOME REST BEFORE he initiated the next phase of his plan that night, but it was futile. He had too much weighing on him to sleep, so he decided to go out for a walk. It was risky considering he was a hunted man, but between his long voyage and being holed up in a motel room the whole time he had been back was starting to make him feel caged. Besides, it had been far too long since he’d taken a stroll through Harlem.
Much had changed since last time he strolled the streets of Harlem. Where tenements and bodegas had once stood there were now high-rise buildings and fancy cafés. The changes to Harlem weren’t limited to the construction; the people had changed too. The once-predominantly black neighborhoods were now occupied by different ethnic groups of people who had migrated uptown to get their pieces of what was now considered prime real estate. It was as if they were the natives and he was now the outsider. Just about everyone he’d known was either dead or in jail, and he didn’t recognize any of the new faces hugging the blocks he once claimed as his domain.
He reached in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes and found it empty. With a sigh, he crumbled the empty pack and tossed it on the ground before heading into the store on the corner. The first thing he noticed when he entered the store was the pungent odor of weed. Several young men lingered inside the bodega trying to act as if it wasn’t a front for whatever they were up to. Animal kept his head down as he approached the counter, but he could feel all their eyes on him.
“Let me get a pack of Newports and two Dutch Masters,” Animal told the cat behind the counter. He was an older Spanish dude, rocking a do-rag and a chain that was supposed to pass for real, but clearly fake to someone who knew fine jewelry.
“Eleven eighty-five,” the Spanish cat told him.
Animal was caught off guard by the price hike. “Damn, shit really has changed in Harlem.” Reluctantly, he pulled out his bankroll and peeled off some bills to pay for his items. On his way out of the store, he noticed one of the boys tap his friend and nod in his direction. He knew they were sizing him up, weighing their options. There was no doubt in his mind about him being able to take the youngsters, but a confrontation with the street punks was something he didn’t need. He had much bigger fish to fry.
After making it almost a block away from the store, Animal felt the hairs on his neck stand. He knew the feeling well from his years of being both predator and prey in the streets. He veered to cut across the street and looked down the block as if he was watching for traffic and spotted two of the boys from the store at the end of the block, trying as best they could to be stealthy. They were amateurs and stuck out like sore thumbs. He had hoped to avoid a confrontation, but it didn’t seem like they were going to give him a choice.
Animal made a left on 126th and Seventh Avenue and headed west on a block that he knew was a less-traveled one. In the back of one of the buildings there was a dip that led to a small loading area that you couldn’t see from either end of the block until you were right on top of it. He stepped into a corner of the nook and undid his belt like he was about to relieve himself. His back was to the street, but he could see behind him via a small dirty mirror that sat above the loading bay door. Just as he had predicted, the two knuckleheads rounded the corner a few seconds later. Animal let out a sigh. They were little boys who were trying to play grown men’s games but would learn that Animal didn’t play well with others.
There were only two of them, one wearing a hoodie and the other only a T-shirt. It was simple to figure out which of them, if either, was armed. After some debate, the one with the hoodie was designated the point man on the caper. With his heart halfway in his throat and a knife in his hand, he approached his intended victim with his partner in crime on his heels.
“Yo, you know what this is. Give up before I—” That was as far as the kid in the hoodie got.
Animal spun, snatching his belt off as he did, and went on the offensive. The thick leather belt struck as quickly as lightning, snapping twice across the kid’s face and ruining his whole game plan. Before he could even consider swinging the knife, Animal had looped the belt around his wrist and slung him face-first into the loading bay door. The impact of the kid’s face hitting the door set off a thunderous boom, but it was nothing compared to the scream the kid let out when Animal broke his wrist with the belt.
The second kid tried to run, but Animal tripped him and he fell, face-first, to the ground. Before he could get up to scramble away, Animal was on him. He looped the belt around the kid’s neck and dragged him into the corner, where his partner was rolling around on the ground blubbering about his broken wrist. Animal let his attention slip for a second while trying to decide what to do and that was all it took. The kid with the belt around his neck swung blindly and managed to pop Animal in the mouth, busting his top lip. Animal licked away the trickle of blood and gave the kid a nod of respect before he stomped on his ankle and broke it. The kid in the T-shirt lost his balance, and Animal swung him headfirst into a brick wall, opening a nasty gash on his forehead. With a quick jerk of his belt, Animal spilled him on the floor next to his partner.
Animal looked down at the two crippled would-be robbers. “Everybody wants to be a tough guy.” He shook his head and walked off.
An hour after dealing with the two knuckleheads, Animal found that he was more wound up than when he had initially set out. The two kids were little more than a warm-up, but their screams had stirred the monster that lived inside him. The beast demanded to be fed, but the meal was not yet ready.
Animal continued to walk, lost deep in his thoughts. He didn’t have a particular destination; he just knew he needed to walk to burn off some of his anger. Twenty minutes into his walk he was passing a church and stopped abruptly. The church was old and looked like it had seen better days but was still beautiful in its design. Staring at the church, there was something familiar about it that tugged at his brain. He couldn’t recall ever having been to the church, but something about it was familiar to him. He started to walk away, but curiosity made him go inside.
The interior of the church wasn’t as dilapidated as the exterior, but it needed serious work. A rat scampering across Animal’s foot drew his attention to the wooden floors; at least he assumed they were wooden. All of the varnish was stripped away, turning the floor a very pale shade of brown. The purple cushions that padded the benches were faded and stained on the few seats where they hadn’t fallen or been ripped off of. It was obvious that there hadn’t been any worshiping within those walls in quite some time.
Animal quietly made his way down the aisle, eyes fixed on a stained glass mural that depicted Jesus Christ which hung over the podium at the front of the church. It was the only thing in the entire place that didn’t seem to have been touched by time and neglect. The ruby eyes seemed to bore into the killer accusingly, as if the mural could see his sin-laden soul.
Animal sneered at the mural. “Who the fuck are you to judge me?”
“Have you no respect for the church?” a feminine voice startled Animal. He spun, expecting to find an enemy, but was surprised when he was confronted by a young woman dressed in leather pants and a white shirt, sitting on one of the benches. She was a beautiful girl with olive skin and long, jet-black hair. From her features he knew she was from somewhere in the Middle East, but her thick lips and hips indicated that she may have been mixed with something else too. Her fierce black eyes stared at Animal accusingly.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was here,” Animal said sincerely.
“It shouldn’t matter if you were here alone or not. This is still a house of worship, and you’d be wise to leave all that street mess at the door when you enter these walls,” she scolded him.
“Damn, who are you? The freaking church hall monitor? Look, I said I’m sorry. What more you want, shorty?” he challenged.
She stood and approached Animal. “My name isn’t shorty. It’s Khallah, and you will address me by my name or not speak to me at all.” She got in his face.
“Baby girl, you better back up. You’re a little too close for comfort right now,” he warned.
Khallah laughed. “Little boy, you have a sharp tongue. Maybe we should see what we can do about dulling it a bit.”
“Ma, back up before one of us gets hurt and ends up having to apologize for clowning in this church.”
“And I would gladly accept your apology, as soon as you’re released from the hospital,” Khallah said in a deadly tone. Her hands hung at her sides, but her fingers were rigid and pointed like spears.
“That will be quite enough, Khallah,” a male voice called from the podium at the front of the church.
Animal had been so focused on the girl called Khallah that he didn’t even see the bald man in the army jacket standing a few feet away.
“If I were you, I’d listen to him, shorty,” Animal taunted her.
Khallah took a menacing step forward, but the man’s voice boomed again. This time it was more of a command than a suggestion. “Khallah.” He stepped from the podium, his shiny black combat boots clanking heavily on the wooden steps. “Please do not make me repeat myself.”
It was apparent from the look on Khallah’s face that she wanted to tear into Animal, but the man’s words outweighed her rage, and she reluctantly let it go. “Yes, Father.” She lowered her head and turned away. “Pompous jackass,” she mumbled as she headed for a door leading to the church office.
“Love you too, boo,” Animal called after her.
“It’s not smart to taunt her like that. Khallah can be a real spitfire when pushed,” the bald man told Animal as he approached. He was tall with a clean shaven head and thick goatee that was sprinkled salt and pepper. He wore a black army jacket and blue jeans tucked into a pair of black combat boots. A black leather patch covered his right eye, but you could see the scar beneath that stretched from just above his brow to his cheek. A silver rosary swayed slightly in his left hand.
“I think I could’ve taken her,” Animal said sarcastically.
The man thought about it. “Hand-to-hand, I doubt it, but if you’d pulled that hammer, it might’ve tipped the scales in your favor.” He nodded at Animal’s waistline.
Animal looked down to see if the gun was noticeable, but it wasn’t, so how the hell did the man know it was there? “Fuck is you the police or something?” Animal drew the gun, looking frantically from side to side as if at any minute the church would be swarmed with law enforcement.
“Easy,” the man said, holding his hands so that they were visible. The rosary rattled in his trembling left hand while he reached for the collar of his jacket with his right. Carefully, he pulled his jacket open so that Animal could see the white priest’s collar that snaked around his neck. “There’s no need for that.”
“So says you. I’d rather have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.” Animal tucked the gun.
“Or you can remove yourself from situations that leave you such limited choices,” the priest countered.
“News flash for you, old-timer, in the ghetto, you play the hand you’re dealt, and you play to win. Being a man of the cloth I wouldn’t expect you to know too much about hood politics.” Animal flopped on the tattered bench and cast his eyes back to the mural.
The priest sat down next to him, but kept a safe distance. “I think I know a thing or three about hood politics.”
Animal looked over at the priest. “What? You gonna tell me how you, an ex-dope boy, found religion?”
“Nah, I never really had the patience to stand around selling drugs. My lane was a little faster, if you know what I mean.” The priest shaped his fingers like a gun. “Gained some, lost more.” He pointed to the patch over his eye.
Animal reflected on Gucci. “I know all about losses.”
“Money or a woman?”
“What?” Animal asked confused.
“It’s either money or a woman that’s got you sitting in a church with a gun looking like you’re planning on doing something you’re probably gonna regret.”
“I’m planning on doing a lot, Padre, but I highly doubt if I’ll regret any of it. Sometimes the principles of a thing outweigh the repercussions.”
The priest nodded. “Talking like that, I’m guessing it’s a woman. Only a lady can send a man on a kamikaze mission and have him convince himself that it actually makes sense. Love comes and goes, kid, but you won’t be able to be there to catch it the second time if you throw your life away over some broad.”
“What the fuck does a priest know about love? Ain’t all you muthafuckas virgins or something?” Animal said mockingly.
The priest smirked. “It’s like I told you; I haven’t always been a priest, and even my long walk with the Lord hasn’t been without its detours. Love is a double-edged sword. It can be a gift from God or a curse from the devil, all depending on how you chose to wield it. When in doubt,” he shrugged, “leave it in God’s hands.”
Animal snorted. “That’s a fucking laugh. So far, leaving things in God’s hands hasn’t done much for me but making sure that I’m on the short end of the shit stick every time. God don’t give a fuck about kids from the ghetto.”
“God loves us all,” the priest assured him.
“Then how come he don’t love me?” Animal looked up at the priest. His eyes were moist, but he wouldn’t let the tears fall in front of the stranger.
“Young man, I assure you—” the priest began but Animal cut him off.
“Assure me what? That God loved me when my family abandoned me to the streets and I had to eat trash to survive? Did he love me when he let my stepfather beat me until I shitted blood for a week? Or maybe he was just showing me love when he tried to take away the only thing I ever cared about?” Animal’s sadness was replaced by rage.
“I’m sorry,” the priest said sincerely. His heart truly went out to Animal.
“Not as sorry as my enemies will be when they’re choking on their own blood.” Animal stood to leave. The priest stood to block his path. “Stand aside, old man. I’d hate to hurt a servant of the Lord, but don’t think I won’t if you try to get between me and my due.”
The priest ignored Animal’s threat. “Revenge is not the answer.”
“Maybe not, but it’s all I got left. Thanks for the chat, Padre.” Animal stepped past him and headed for the church exit. When he was halfway there the priest called after him.
“Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.”
Animal looked up at the mural. “Not this time, Padre.” He patted the gun on his hip. “Not this time.”
Long after Animal had gone, the priest still stood in the aisle, looking toward the door as if he expected Animal to change his mind and come back. Deep down, the priest knew that he wouldn’t. From the moment the young man had walked into the church the priest could smell it on him, the stink of death. The tormented soul had his feet firmly planted on the ground and would not be deterred from his path of vengeance, and there was nothing that the priest or anyone else would be able to say to sway him.
“I don’t like him,” Khallah said from just behind the priest. She moved so silently that he hadn’t even heard her approach. She was learning.
“The boy is in pain. Don’t be so judgmental, my child,” he told her.
“And his pain is going to get him killed,” she said.
“Or show him the light,” the priest countered.
“Only those who acknowledge the higher power are fit to receive his light. He’s just like the men who turned their backs on you. He does not believe!” she said heatedly.
“And neither did you at one time,” the priest reminded her. “It was the Lord’s divine will to interweave these particular strands of fate, and like good servants, we will watch what is to come and reap the rewards of the faithful. No matter how either of us feels, the boy has already started his walk down the lonely road and nothing short of death or victory will stray him from his path. It’s in his blood.”
“Do you think he’ll succeed?”
The priest measured the odds. “Honestly, no. But with faith, anything is possible.” He smiled knowingly.