Read Online I Will Rise by Michael Louis Calvillo - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Louis Calvillo
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surface is knobby and angular. Closer and closer. Crosses and stones and metal rectangles cover every inch of its surface. A world of reminders. Life remembered, not lived. Life as memory.
The girl’s pupils shrink down and I am spit back into my own head. She licks her lips and smiles bigger.
Lumpy gives up trying to get through to me and turns for his car. He walks right past the girl, paying her no attention.
“He’s going for the dog. He thinks you’re dusted.” She twists a lock of red hair around a finger.
“Wha—” Speech stalls out. My mind is spinning. The images in the girl’s eyes were the exact same ones in my dream, the same ones I prayed for at Albertson’s.
“He thinks you’re on drugs. The dog is gonna sniff your bag.”
“No, I, I know what you meant. What was all of that about?” I point at my eyes for emphasis.
“Not now, Charles, there isn’t time. Pick up your shit and run.”
And for some reason, despite the questions floating about in my head, this suggestion makes perfect sense. Officer Lumpy is across the street and I could get a mean head start. The mini forest is only a few feet away. If I ducked into the woods it is doubtful he would find me, it would be too much trouble. The dog might be another story, but fuck it, I can climb and it can’t.
“Hurry up, Charlie.”
Again with the name.
“How do you know my—”
“If it makes a difference, I’m Annabelle. Now we’re even. Just hurry up!” She runs off, a red blur trailing behind her. I grab my backpack and zip it shut. The instant I make a movement, Lumpy yells “Freeze, motherfucker!” I ignore him and run like hell.
He won’t shoot me. As far as he’s concerned I’m just a harmless druggie.
He won’t shoot me. I’m not worth it. I’m just an inconvenient distraction and if I’m quick enough he’ll probably just shrug his shoulders and wander back to his cruiser for a little peace and quiet.
He won’t shoot me.
“Go get him, Paunch!”
He won’t shoot me.
Not with a gun anyways. But he might as well have because before I make four, maybe five, full strides, Paunch, the canine bullet, is nipping at my heels.
In case you were wondering, dog teeth hurt like hell. Paunch gets a vicious grip on my left calf and with a quick jerk of his powerful neck he wrestles me down. Falling, twisting, I look for Annabelle, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I catch a glimpse of blurry red, but then Paunch’s brutal bite turns all to a starry white. Slamming down, I land on my tailbone. Ouch. The white stars multiply and go electric, charging the insides of my skull with more hurt.
When I hit the ground, I bounce and Paunch loses his grip. He immediately recoups and lunges for another hunk of flesh. I bring my right arm up to cover my face and jut my left arm outward, hand splayed in futile stop-sign fashion.
The flesh of my left palm appears to explode outward. From my vantage point it looks as if I have squashed a large clump of pinkish p lay- d oh flat and its edges have spread out messy around the sides of my hand. Here comes that familiar buzz and for the first time in an eon my hand has chosen an opportune time to act up. I hope I won’t snap out of it until I am safe in the back of Officer Lumpy’s car or jail or wherever. I hope I won’t have to actively participate in this dog mauling or bear witness to my arrest. I hope I can coast along in my blurry, muddled, hand-produced netherworld and deal with things later, after I’ve had time to cool. I am fucked anyhow so I might as well fade out while I can.
Paunch has his doggy mouth open wide, lips pulled into a snarl, teeth sharp and eager. Ready to eat my hand down to a stump, he springs from lunge to leap. Airborne, his doggy eyes go wide and his little paws futilely start to backpedal. His fur raises fright-wig-style and he looks like an overgrown flying porcupine. Something is scaring him out his doggy wits. Can he see what I see? I’ve heard
The girl’s pupils shrink down and I am spit back into my own head. She licks her lips and smiles bigger.
Lumpy gives up trying to get through to me and turns for his car. He walks right past the girl, paying her no attention.
“He’s going for the dog. He thinks you’re dusted.” She twists a lock of red hair around a finger.
“Wha—” Speech stalls out. My mind is spinning. The images in the girl’s eyes were the exact same ones in my dream, the same ones I prayed for at Albertson’s.
“He thinks you’re on drugs. The dog is gonna sniff your bag.”
“No, I, I know what you meant. What was all of that about?” I point at my eyes for emphasis.
“Not now, Charles, there isn’t time. Pick up your shit and run.”
And for some reason, despite the questions floating about in my head, this suggestion makes perfect sense. Officer Lumpy is across the street and I could get a mean head start. The mini forest is only a few feet away. If I ducked into the woods it is doubtful he would find me, it would be too much trouble. The dog might be another story, but fuck it, I can climb and it can’t.
“Hurry up, Charlie.”
Again with the name.
“How do you know my—”
“If it makes a difference, I’m Annabelle. Now we’re even. Just hurry up!” She runs off, a red blur trailing behind her. I grab my backpack and zip it shut. The instant I make a movement, Lumpy yells “Freeze, motherfucker!” I ignore him and run like hell.
He won’t shoot me. As far as he’s concerned I’m just a harmless druggie.
He won’t shoot me. I’m not worth it. I’m just an inconvenient distraction and if I’m quick enough he’ll probably just shrug his shoulders and wander back to his cruiser for a little peace and quiet.
He won’t shoot me.
“Go get him, Paunch!”
He won’t shoot me.
Not with a gun anyways. But he might as well have because before I make four, maybe five, full strides, Paunch, the canine bullet, is nipping at my heels.
In case you were wondering, dog teeth hurt like hell. Paunch gets a vicious grip on my left calf and with a quick jerk of his powerful neck he wrestles me down. Falling, twisting, I look for Annabelle, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I catch a glimpse of blurry red, but then Paunch’s brutal bite turns all to a starry white. Slamming down, I land on my tailbone. Ouch. The white stars multiply and go electric, charging the insides of my skull with more hurt.
When I hit the ground, I bounce and Paunch loses his grip. He immediately recoups and lunges for another hunk of flesh. I bring my right arm up to cover my face and jut my left arm outward, hand splayed in futile stop-sign fashion.
The flesh of my left palm appears to explode outward. From my vantage point it looks as if I have squashed a large clump of pinkish p lay- d oh flat and its edges have spread out messy around the sides of my hand. Here comes that familiar buzz and for the first time in an eon my hand has chosen an opportune time to act up. I hope I won’t snap out of it until I am safe in the back of Officer Lumpy’s car or jail or wherever. I hope I won’t have to actively participate in this dog mauling or bear witness to my arrest. I hope I can coast along in my blurry, muddled, hand-produced netherworld and deal with things later, after I’ve had time to cool. I am fucked anyhow so I might as well fade out while I can.
Paunch has his doggy mouth open wide, lips pulled into a snarl, teeth sharp and eager. Ready to eat my hand down to a stump, he springs from lunge to leap. Airborne, his doggy eyes go wide and his little paws futilely start to backpedal. His fur raises fright-wig-style and he looks like an overgrown flying porcupine. Something is scaring him out his doggy wits. Can he see what I see? I’ve heard
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