Geraldo by Abby Moran (motivational books for students TXT) 📕

I had both the keys and the baseball bat. My feet were soaked but even so I splashed through the street to get to that alleyway.  It had no puddles. The pavement was not even wet. It was just dark. It was so dark that if one were to walk quietly, he’d be pretty invisible towards anyone else. I could just make out the shape of Mike so I tried to carefully whisper to him in hopes of not scaring him with that knife of his.

 

“Mike.”

 

“Why are you here?! I left you at home!”

 

“I don’t really know to be honest.”

 

He just rolled his eyes at me and kept looking straight ahead waiting for this guy.

 

“What just touched me?”

 

“The baseball bat.”

 

I could sense his head was shaking out of pure exhaustion of me. Now he know how I felt when I was first housing him back at my place. For once I could understand him clearly. I heard footsteps in the distance, or so it seemed at least. Then, what was heard were the puddles splashing about in the street and then dead silence except for a third person breathing beside us.

 

“You took quite the risk my friends.”

 

“You aren’t a friend of mine.”

Mike was stern with his voice that it almost made me jump out of my skin. All it made our new company do is grunt and mumble. I head Mike fumble around in his jacket pocket then come up with the knife.

 

“Here I have with me no ordinary blade Mikey.  This blade has sinned on many people. One was a little boy and I believe his name was Geraldo. But my, that was some time ago. So I sharpened him up before this evening.”

 

Mike chuckled once and I could feel him twirling his blade he’d brought in his hands. “Well my knife has not sinned yet, but you see it is no ordinary blade. It’s the one that is going to kill you.” As soon as he spat out his last sentence he lunged and stabbed the man right below the heart. He only missed because the darkness surrounding him.

 

The man plummeted to the ground and it sounded like the lightening I’d encountered early but much more vibrant and loud.  He chuckled himself and whispered “My turn.” and slit Mike’s ankles.  He fell in pain but didn’t wince or anything. Mike stayed down for a short period of time before coming up with his knife and quickly stabbing him in the heart. Just to be sure he was dead I came over with my baseball bat and bashed the man’s head in a few times about the bloodied pavement.  I used my shirt as gauze to stop the bleeding in Mike’s ankles and helped him stand up, then to lean against one of the brick walls on the side of the alley.

 

As he was leaning there panting like a dog that had been in the sun with no water, he raised his knife at me and brought it down to about where my elbow starts. He carved an ‘x’ into my flesh. “That’s for watching Geraldo die.” I grimaced in pain as tiny blood speckles dripped down my arm slowly. He waited a bit and carved another one where my elbow ends. “That’s for not helping me with this fight and just standing there coward.” I grunted with pain that came oozing out as blood dripping warm down my arm.

 

“Can you walk?”

 

“Not per say Jim.”

 

“You’ll have to go a hospital.”

 

“Yes. I realize this but now I am at peace.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

He tried to move a bit but instead realized this action would cause more pain. So he looked up at the sky and turned his head to slightly face me more.

“His killer is dead. If I go to jail, then I go to jail. It won’t matter because I have gotten my revenge already. I am now at peace.” He sighed what seemed to be relief but soon turned into a grunt of pain from his sharp wounds. I remember the mustang and carried Mike through the streets into it and raced off to the nearest hospital.  All the way he stared out the window playing like a small kid with the little water droplets on his window.  I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything at all. I occasionally looked at the marks on my arm but for the most part couldn’t feel them anymore. I was numb. We reached the hospital and I again carried Mike in to get his ankles stitched or whatever they needed to do. They gushed far more than I thought they would, to a point where the two piece of shirt I gave as gauze were completely drenched in blood. You would’ve thought the shirt was red to begin with. I could see Mike slowly shutting his eyes and his breathing becoming slower. They took him in immediately.  I was left to wait in a small claustrophobic waiting lounge for family and friends of patients. They had many magazines and books but I didn’t even pick one up. I just sat staring at my arm and the little carvings Mike had dug in me. The doctor finally came out late at night to where I was.  He had blood on his fingers, but not a whole lot. His face was expressionless as he took off his little blue mask.

 

My heart palpitated inside and my hands were clammy. The room seemed to feel extremely cold now and all the hair on my arm stood straight much like a cat’s does when it fights. He inched his way closer and closer; and each time he did so I grew colder and more frightened than before. 

 

“Are you here for Mike Bunsen?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“We lost him at one point……”

My heart shattered into two and I could feel hot tears swelling up in my eyes.

 

“But we revived him and he’s doing fine. He got cut pretty deep in his ankles so we had to stitch it up to stop the bleeding and help it heal all on its own. He’ll feel a little sore for a while so we’re going to keep him here for a bit.”

I sobbed those hot, salty tears but for joy. I shook his hands and thanked him many times and asked for the room number which he gave to me but not before he spoke once more.

 

“You can visit him but the fact of the matter is that you both are having some trouble with the law…you can’t stay here and he’ll be in jail once he’s better.” I nodded and headed out the door to his room.

 

Chapter 16

 

The room was pure white with newly polished tiles and clean white walls. There was a whiteboard saying the name of Mike’s nurse and a note of legal standard.

 

“We’re in quite a pickle now aren’t we Jim?”

I looked over at the bed and saw Mike sitting there in his generic white sheets and pillows half awake.

 

I laughed “I think we were in a pickle the first time, this is nothing new by now.”

He laughed in response and opened the bedside table draw next to him and pulled out an index card. He cleared his throat.

“You need to call this number.”

“Mike, I don’t know who this is or what to say-”

“It doesn’t matter. You just need to call it….for me. Tell her I’m in jail, and what I’ve done, this person really deserves to know. So please just promise. You need to call this number.”

 

I inched my way closer to his bed and reached out for the index card. On it was the phone number I apparently had to call. Who would I be speaking to? How do I tell them?  All these questions flew through my mind like rockets through outer space.  I took my other free hand and hugged Mike for a few seconds, knowing it could be the last. Much later, doctor’s proclaimed he was doing well, and the police would come for him tomorrow. I’ll be honest; I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek in that moment. Just one tear by its lonesome slid down my right cheek.

I looked at my feet for a long time hoping this would all be a dream. I knew it couldn’t have been and wouldn’t be so I just thought of all the good times we had. The doctor came out saying he was sorry but he had to do this. Behind him, were two police guards who were so stone faced I couldn’t even see if they had any empathy in them at all, I doubted the y did. One, a man with black hair and sunglasses stepped forward and started to speak.

 “The case of Mike Bunsen will he held on the 22nd of March, before this three week trial he will be held in a cell not a home of a loved one or friend. The case of accomplice Jim Bunsen will take place on the same date with the same conditions. Jim Bunsen will be the only one able to make one phone call, which will last only up to seven minutes. The two will appear in trial separately and be separated through-out the entire trial. Do you understand these conditions?”

“I understand these conditions.”

“Good. Until Mike Bunsen is taken away, Jim Bunsen cannot leave this room. A guard will be watching his every move until he may be escorted by that guard.  Everything done and said will be reported back to the station. Is THIS understood?”

I just nodded at him. He saluted his partner, one with blonde hair and blue eyes and muscles that could be clearly seen through his shirt.

“I need to call someone.”

The guard looked around for his partner. His stone-faced expression still plastered on his face. He turned back towards me, head held high.

“Make it quick. This will be counted as your one and only phone call. I’ll be counting for the maximum minutes of seven. You may begin as soon as I take down the number to which you are calling.”

 

I handed him the index card and he wrote down the number on a pad of paper he was carrying in his jacket pocket. He handed it back to me sternly and reminded me I only had seven minutes.

 

I looked once more at the index card with the phone number on it. I decided to use Mike’s phone because maybe it would be a contact of his. It was, but with no name or title. I slowly typed in the numbers and pressed send. It rang five times and then there was an answer.

 

“Daddy?”

 

Chapter 17 - The end of a journey