Dirt

Grey

Damn cold rat bastards.

Bernard was too young to die, too good for this life, he was a kid brother to me though I showed no affection, -part because I didn't want to look soft, part because I don't know how- the again no one ever showed me no affection and I'm sure as hell fine, and fuck any body that says other wise.

Bernard had been with the gang not long after it became one , early 80s I guess, he was seven or almost eight.

Came to me in the winter, from Texas, he was fixin to go some where in Albuquerque, but it was so cold then, and he looked poor and homeless, tattered and un-fed, a wreck, I may have been -and still am- uncaring but not heartless.

I took him in around the same time Irvan came in from California seems they where both headed for Albuquerque and taken a detour through Arizona.

They were both the same age same gender and tuff little rascals so not long after they ended up sticking like glue, and must have figured why leave when we've got food to eat, a place to stay, and we can be together.

But that was then and this was now, and Bernard was dead.

To be like me -to be like this you have to be cool

-I mean like rich kid cool-thug cool-

Not feeling any thing, cutting off emotions, otherwise you'd explode.

I stared at Bernard's body, imagining his soul going up, up into the sky -and from what I've been told to Heaven- and taking all of my memories with him.

I turned my attention to the body over him.

I was enraged and murderously angry -even though that wasn't different from me most of the time- some one like Dale wasn't worth the air that he breathed, I wished I could kick his body from over Bernard's, and shoot the bastard all over again... but I couldn't, I couldn't display that in front of my gang, I couldn't act like a wuss over this, I had to -unwillingly- be strong for them, be the tuff guy that I am.

Any one that knew me well knew -wether I was said or hurt- that I would always have hatred, and for me with hatred came revenge.

I was coming for Slicks and I was going to murder some body -any body the fact that Dale was dead meant nothing because this wasn't the first time some thing like this has happened, I'd lost two of my own by their hands and never had a proper pay back -yes there had been a few petty unidentified drive-byes, but that was nothing compared to what I'd seen.

Christopher, Columbis, and Christina getting cornered in a vacant lot on the wrong side of town during a rumble and all I could do was swear -being held down by three guys half my size- while burly Slicks -older than all of them, knifed Christina and Christopher, and almost Columbis, but no one could get to Columbis as he barged on like and enraged lion, beating any breathing thing in sight -even only at 13, that's what this town does to you- though the two that knifed them had already split.

Chris died immediately, Christina was hospitalized for two weeks before she died.

It was a tragic thing for Columbis -could you even consider him lucky to survive- he, Chris and Christina where triplets, the only thing closer to losing a brother or a sister than losing a brother or a sister was losing both, it was like losing a part of you, two people you shared the womb with -that had to hurt more than any thing and had to be a pain I couldn't even imagine.

Though I could imagine a pain close to would be the pain of being a leader and seeing some one you secretly loved and cared for and protected, die right in front of your eyes, especially a 13 year old girl who looked up to you, a little girl that you treated as your own sister -murder by an older bastard.

So some of the the motives may be different but me and Columbis had the same reason for attacking the Slicks

And that was to kill.