Falling

Two (Eye)

My eyes swing between their faces, making contact and shining some light bubbles into their tangled brains.

The air around us stiffens. I lock my eyes into the unrelenting intent swelling behind the whorl of anger seething behind theirs.

"How much blood do you plan on leaving on the ground today?"

"What you got to say?" The boy's words slide out of a sarcastic sneer riding across his lips.

He takes a careful step toward my face.

"What's your name?" I ask, showing respect for what matters in gang think.

His t-shirt bulges with muscles well worked out. A thick neck reaches up quickly to a brown face and a slick-shaved head. Dark green eyes complete the picture with a skull tattooed on his neck.

"Trip. That's what they be calling me!" He spits the words into my face. A bubble of froth hangs on one corner of his lower lip.

"And your name?" I turn my eyes on the other boy.

"I ain't sayin'!"

"Well, I Ain't Sayin', I see by the tattoo on your neck that you belong to the Perles."

"Whatever!" He drops the word with an eye roll.

"Anyway, you are both invading a neutral zone. It's been agreed that the gangs won't hang out around here."

"Who say's?" The one named Trip challenges.

"Everybody knows about the peace agreement that all the gangs on the island agreed to." I let my words coast into their ears.

"Ain't no law against walk'n 'round," I Ain't Sayin' says, the sound of disdain slips between his lips.

I let his words stand between us for a quiet moment. My eyes burrow into his. A light crosses the mind bridge reaching between us, causing him to rock back on his heels.

Ain't Sayin' raises his left hand to protect his eyes from the sudden flash of light. Crawling strings of light are slither'n down my legs, reaching out a feet and hold'n, like glue, tight to the street. What's with this guy?

I swing my eyes into Trip's face and lock onto his eyes. His left hand swings up trying to protect his line of vision.

"I tell you what. I won't turn in any complaints to your bosses if you just wonder away from our street."

I see confusion filling their eyes like the early morning fog that moves inland off the ocean.

"I don't know what you're doing, mister," Trip says through crinkling lips.

His left hand folds the knife blade into the white bone handle and shoves it into his jean's pocket. He turns and slips through the crowd.

Ain't Sayin' steps forward.

"Are you ready to leave?" I ask, digging deep into his eyes with an arresting eye lock.

He blinks, trying to clear the shot of light from his eyes.

"You ain't seen the last of me!" He folds his knife. His arms flip out and pushes his body between two lingering watchers.

"My name's Ojo!" He throws the words over his shoulder.

I hear the slap of shoes stop behind me.

"How'd you do that?" Toby asks.

Toby's question brings back the dream. One night this...this light walked into some deep place.

I turn and wrap my right arm around Toby's shoulders.

"Just a dream...that's all. Let's get back to work. We have a lot of people to feed."

"Yeah. But...what if they be come-min back?"

Toby's eyes seem to be fixed on a known fear. His brown cheeks hover, like rocks, over lips fixed together--tight.