Curbchek-The Box Set by Fortier Zach

Author:Fortier, Zach [Fortier, Zach]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-12-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Scarecrow

The word was out on the street that CVL13 and West Side 18th Street were planning to retaliate for the arrests of their gang members. I didn’t know how serious the threats were, but I guessed at least one of my co-‐workers took them pretty seriously.

I was in front of the “Arcade Centre,” a game arcade that used to be at the corner of 37th and Reynolds, talking to some 18th Street gang bangers; the business owner had asked that we make frequent stops at the arcade to keep problems with the gang members to a minimum. I was talking to a group of about 15 gang members with Det. Gamboni, who had been in the unit for about 4 months at the time. I had my back to Tony and was talking to a kid -‐ when suddenly the whole group started to laugh and point behind me. I was surprised; the gang members rarely laughed at anything that wasn’t dark humor. When I turned around, I saw Tony hiding behind a car; he had ducked down behind my car and was hiding, scared and shaking.

I asked him what the hell he was doing, and he said that a red two-‐door had just slowed down across the street and he thought that the CVL13 gang was doing a drive-‐by on me to kill me for the arrests of their members. He said all this out loud, so all the peewee 18th Street gang members heard him. They all looked at each other, then at me, then rolled their eyes and started to whisper that he was a “bitch” and “what a fucking pussy.” I looked at the car he referred to and noticed that it was similar to the CVL13 car that had been used in several drive-‐bys.

“So when were you gonna tell me that they might be trying to shoot me?” I asked. He didn’t reply; instead, he just tried to ignore me while he got up from behind the car, then started trying to talk to the laughing gang members again. They would have nothing to do with him, though; his true colors were now exposed.

I was pissed off as well. Not only could he not count how many bullets were in a six-‐shot revolver, but now I discovered that he’d leave me out in the open without even a verbal warning that I might be getting ambushed. I was done working with him. I never let him ride with me again, and from that point on the gang members called him “Scarecrow.”

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