Livin' After Midnight by Tom Nelson

Author:Tom Nelson [Nelson, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Best Seller Publishing, LLC
Published: 2020-04-06T22:00:00+00:00

1987

Johnny, a thin African American with a short haircut, wearing jeans, a button-down shirt, and a sports jacket, is standing in a hallway that has only two ways out. He looks down the hall toward the stairs from which emanate the unmistakable sound of the Hollywood narcotics squad crashing down doors. They are on the lower floor but making their way up. He can hear their muffled, but still loud and authoritative, voices as they go from room to room kicking down doors, enforcing warrants, and making arrests.

He looks toward the other end of the hall. It’s either the stairs, which are crawling with cops and guaranteed jail time, or the window. The sounds of heavy footsteps of the narcotics officers coming up the stairs increase. Johnny runs to the window and tries to open it, but to no avail. It’s stuck! The sounds of the cops coming up the stairs is becoming a roar.

Johnny frantically tries the window again with no luck. The panes have been painted over so many times that the window is sealed shut. Johnny runs halfway back down the hall as the cops come busting through the exit door at the other end.

“Don’t move!” the more vocal of the two cops shouts. “Hollywood narcotics officers!”

Johnny quickly considers his options then turns and runs at full speed toward the window. At the last second, he leaps through the glass-paned window in a protective position.

~~~

Tom is in his car heading down Cahuenga Boulevard in Hollywood. He hears a loud crash and glass suddenly comes flying out of a window on the second floor of an old apartment building. Lights from the hallway illuminate the silhouette of a man flying out the shattered window, arms flailing as though he is swimming in the air. Tom makes brief eye contact with the wide-eyed African American as he falls directly in front of his car. Thump!

Tom comes screeching to a halt. He slams the 1970 Mach 1 into park and jumps out to check on the flying black man. As he moves to the front of the car, Tom finds a gasping Johnny lying on his side struggling to catch his breath.

“What the fu—?” Tom’s words are interrupted by commotion from above. He looks up to see two Hollywood narcotics officers peering down from the smashed window.

“Stay where you are, motherfucker! Don’t move! We’re coming down!” Then “MOVE,” he shouts at his partner to get him moving in the direction of the stairs.

Tom’s attention turns back to the gasping black man lying in the middle of the street. “Dude, you’re fucked-up!”

Tom leans in close to hear Johnny’s gasping whisper. “Take me to my homeboy’s.”

“You need a fucking hospital, dude!” Tom says.

Johnny repeats, “Just take me to my homie’s house.”

Tom takes a half-second to think, then snatches Johnny up by his jacket and pants. Johnny groans from the searing pain of broken ribs. Tom half carries and half drags the injured man to the passenger side of the car, opens the door, and dumps him inside.

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