Sometimes They Come Back by TS Alan

Author:TS Alan [Alan, TS]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: TS Alan

SPECTER OF THE 1-2-3

Denton Calhoun stepped out of the last subway car of the 1 Broadway–Seventh Avenue Local onto the downtown 14th Street platform. At 1:38 a.m., Denton still wasn’t quite done with his commute home. He still needed to walk through the transverse tunnel that led to the 6th Avenue platform of the L 14th Street–Canarsie Local, and travel three stops to get to his East Village neighborhood. It had been a long workday, but he had no choice. Since Denton’s wife was struggling with her second pregnancy and unable to work, Denton had to take a second job to support his growing family. Tonight’s additional work had taken longer than normal, and left him a bit haggard. Though grateful for the extra hours, it put him at a dangerous time to travel by subway. Rule One for New Yorkers was: Don’t ride the subway if you don’t have to, especially late at night. The New York City rapid transit system looked like a deathtrap. The system had been vandalized from end to end. Most stations had graffiti all over their aged faces. It had the filthiest trains. The smell of urine at some stations was so horrible you needed to put a cloth over your nose, and the rackety trains were so noisy the sound actually hurt. Above all else, in 1983 things were rough, with over 250 felonies committed weekly within the transit system. Denton thought about taking a more costly taxi home but dismissed the idea. He needed to be frugal with his earnings, and a 75 cent subway ride was more sensible than taking a Checker cab on his budget.

Before Denton could make it to the concourse exit stairs, four members of the street gang the Kingsbridge Nomads, who rode both the IND Eighth Avenue Line and the IRT Seventh Avenue Line late night looking for easy victims to rob, accosted him.

“Where you think yous going?” the spokesperson for the group asked Denton, threatening him with a stiletto switchblade knife. “This platform belongs to the Kingsbridge Nomads. Yous gots to pay a toll. Now give me your wallet,” the young Black youth demanded.

Denton didn’t hesitate to give the thug what he asked for. He knew street gangs were ruthless and any provocation might escalate the confrontation. A wallet and its contents could be replaced; Denton’s life was irreplaceable.

“Seven dollars!” the leader exclaimed with irritation as he examined the wallet’s contents. “You betta have more, bitch, or else.”

“That’s all I have. I swear,” Denton told them, his voice quivering with fear and anxiety.

“The ring,” the leader said in an angry voice. “Give me dat ring. Or I’ll fuck yous up,” he threatened, gesturing with the knife.

Again Denton did not hesitate to turn over the ring. However, Denton was a bit panicked and couldn’t get his wedding band off his finger.

“Now, muthafucka!” the gang leader ordered, not caring that Denton was having difficulty removing it. “Or I’m gonna gut you.”

“Yeah, Dante,” a gang member with a jagged three inch scar across his chin said excitedly to his leader.

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