Garden of The Humbled Gods

Untitled Part 28

SuperCenter is buzzing with back to school shoppers. The signs say two notebooks for a dollar and $0.99 for a pack of felt tip markers. The lines are backed up into the women's department. D'Andre is busy hanging maternity pants on the rack. It's hard to work full time during the basketball season, but he doesn't have a choice. Clark lets him off for his games, but if they are playing a home game, he has to come in after to help the night crew stock the shelves. It's taking a toll on his body. He's struggling to keep his grades up. He's still eligible, but just barely. While he was in jail, his mother's situation got worse. With no money coming in, she lost the apartment. They're currently living out of their car, but D'Andre hasn't told anybody. He's too proud. He's going to dig them out of this mess. They just have to hold on for a little bit longer.

A scout from Miami came up to watch his last game. Somebody told him that Indiana and Tennessee each sent somebody a couple weeks back as well. Word is spreading that he can still play and that he's staying out of trouble. A lot of this is thanks to Coach Allen. Despite being skeptical at first, he knows D'Andre doesn't belong on his team. He's too good. Coach Allen has been on the phone with every coach he knows, talking him up, and trying to help him get an offer from a power five school. A customer walks up to D'Andre in a hurry, "Excuse me, where are the batteries?"

D'Andre points to an endcap directly behind the man, "They're right behind you, sir."

"Thanks."

The man quickly grabs a 12 pack of AA's and scurries away.

It's hot outside. Any moisture that was on the ground from the morning has long burned off. The air is thick, like breathing through an N95 mask. Everything feels sticky. Car tires half melt to the pavement. Jose sits in his truck, waiting for a mother and two kids to pass in front of him. Once they pass, Jose begins to inch forward but then suddenly stops again. Braxton just emerged from between a station wagon and a conversion van, still dressed black. He's carrying a long black object at his side. Jose has to do a doubletake to make sure it's real. But then it settles on him. Braxton has a gun— a big one— like the guy in Orlando had.

Braxton doesn't even look at him. His eyes are focused on getting into the store. Turning his back to Jose's truck, he slams back the charging handle and marches forward—

This is it.

Steeling himself with each step towards the door—

Fuck D'Andre.

Fuck the niggers.

Fuck the spics.

Fuck the all.

People begin to notice what is going on—

No hesitation.

They scatter behind cars and anything else they can find for protection—

No mercy.

Jose is still can't believe this is happening.

Shoot the cluster first before going after the stragglers.

It's 12:30 pm on a Tuesday for god's sake.

Heil Hitler.

Whit power mother fuckers.

I love you, Conner.

In the aftermath of things like this, people always say, "It was only a matter of moments, but it seemed like an eternity. Everything was in slow motion."

If Jose gets out of this, he'll say the same thing. Only seconds have passed, and already a million thoughts are racing through his mind—

He sees a vision of Elena growing up without him.