Tales Across Crimson Cove (Anthology)

Part 4: Kyle Mathis the Ghost Dreamer

• • •

     "KYLE, WHERE ARE YOU!" A black man with locs that kiss the bottom of his neck enters the rink. He's wearing a black leather vest over a white V-neck and straight fit black jeans.

"Kyle, where are you?" The man repeats while searching through the smoke and flames with his pistol at the ready and bandana covering his mouth.

"Over here puto," a Latin man yells as he steps through the flames.

The first man spins around pointing his pistol at the big-muscular Latino fellow, who's dawning the same outfit as him. The Latino man also has his gun. trained on the African American man, holding it sideways.

"GOOSE," the black man yells.

"YOU DON'T GET TO CALL ME THAT NO MO' PUTO," the Latino man screams back.

"Where's the boy, Marco?" The man with locs coughs out before covering his mouth again. The smoke is getting to him.

A wicked smile appears upon the Latino man, Marco's, face as he yanks on a rope and a little black boy bound and tied up stumbles from the shadows. The rope is tied around his wrists, as tears run down his face and into the edge of the tape around his mouth. The boy is coughing in pain. His little lungs can't manage the smoke, especially while his mouth is covered.

You watch in horror at the scene unfolding in front of you.

Despite the distance between the man and the boy he can see the fear in the little one's eyes. "Don't worry son, everything will be alright," he says with a hint of sorrow in his voice.

"I really thought we were brothers, Keith if that's even your real name. Know what I don't care what your name is," Marco says angrily while placing his free hand on the boy's head.

"Keep your hands off him," Keith drops the bandana, grips his pistol with both hands and trains it on Marco.

Marco kneels down to the eye line of the boy as Keith tries to keep his composure under the pressure of the flames and smoke.

"You won't dare take the shot," Marco says while the boy's eyes begin to go blood shot, "I'm sorry to tell you niño, but that man over there ain't gon' be ya hero," Marco looks back at Keith and gives him a venomous stare. "That's no hero, that's a snake, ain't that right Kieth."

Keith's composure does not waver as he keeps his feet grounded and gun at the ready. He starts to look like a cop that's weighing his options of taking the shot.

"Ever heard of the story of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi niño?" Marco says to the boy, "If not, well he's a little mongoose that handles snakes. I take care of snakes; they call me Mongoose."

"C'mon man, this' between me and you. Let the kid go," Keith begs.

Marco stands up, "He needs to see the consequences of snakes being in my gang. Now drop the gun, or the kid gets a new hole," Marco says as he points his gun towards the kid's legs.

You see the kid's eyes go wide with fear. He begins to hyperventilate.

Keith notices the boy having trouble breathing and disarms his weapon by removing the magazine, tossing it in one direction and the gun in another. Marco retrains on Keith, who raises his hands up.

"Man, I did what you said now let the kid go," Keith exclaims.

"Go where tough guy, the whole place is on fire and I'm the only one that knows the safe way outta here." Marco laughs a bit.

As Keith starts to feel defeated the flames have made their way to the ceiling. The intense heat begins to bend and milt the metal rafts above the three men in the rink.