Devil's Pocket by John Dixon

Author:John Dixon [Dixon, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Young Adult, Science Fiction, Fantasy
ISBN: 9781476738710
Google: 1_htAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1476738661
Goodreads: 21412259
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2013-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

TWENTY

THERE WAS A KNOCK AT THE DOOR, and Carl said, “Come in.” He was expecting Agbeko, but Davis walked into the room with his med kit, saying he wanted to take a look at Carl’s injuries. Carl took a seat on the edge of the bed, and Davis examined his forearms, then said, “Take off that shoe.”

Carl didn’t understand for a second. With the pain dialed down, he’d forgotten all about his damaged toe. He dialed pain back up, and sure enough—his toe was throbbing in pace with his forearms. Once again he was struck by the inconvenience of pain. Other than letting him know something was wrong, it served no good purpose. He took off his shoe.

There wasn’t much swelling, but the toe was already black-and-blue. Davis knelt and pressed the top of Carl’s foot. “That hurt?”

“No.”

“That?”

Carl shook his head. “Only the toe.”

Davis stood. “It’s broke.” He tossed Carl a roll of medical adhesive. “Tape it to the next toe. That’s all you can really do.”

“Thanks,” Carl said. He ripped off a length of white tape and started winding it around the toes, drawing them together.

“The first teardrop burns,” Davis said.

Carl looked up at the dark, haunted face and its tattooed tears. Hooded eyes stared back at him as flat and lifeless as pennies. There had been no accusation in his voice this time, no taunting. More than anything, he sounded weary.

“I was eleven when I got my first one. Little Leaguer, you know what I’m saying?”

Carl nodded. He’d known lots of kids growing up who’d signed on to some gang’s junior division. Half-play, half-business. Sixth-graders trying out gangbanging like other kids might try soccer. It’s geography, Stark would say.

“How many they burn tonight?” Davis asked.

“Seven.”

Three of the day’s twelve fights had ended in death. The other four dead had held on from the first day’s bouts only to die between the first funeral and the second night’s burning.

Davis shook his head. “And there’re more lying in the infirmary, waiting to die.”

Alexi, Carl thought.

Davis gestured toward the door, the apartment beyond. “Those guys need you.”

“They’re all right.”

“Man,” Davis said, and his face contorted, shifting through anger to disgust and finally settling on disappointment. “What happened to you?”

Carl filled with a curious foreboding. Intuitively, he knew that he didn’t want to hear what Davis was about to say, and yet, as people so often do in moments like these, he said, “What do you mean, what happened to me?”

Davis said, “Back on the island, when you stood up to Parker? It was beautiful, man. I mean, that took real nerve. You knew what would happen, but you still gave it to him. You earned my respect. There’s guys would take a bullet to earn my respect, you feel me?”

Carl shrugged. He saw where this was going and just wanted it over, just wanted Davis out of here so he could get this place and Phoenix Island and everything else behind him.

“That’s why I jumped in,” Davis said. “They locked me up, locked my boys up, then said, Okay, you hunt Ross, we’ll let bygones be bygones.

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