Bullets In A Cold Winter Breeze

Chapter Twenty-One Life Decisions

**Trent POV** 01/10/2002 (Thursday, 3:27 P.M, CTZ)

"Are you ready?" AJ monitors as I walk up to his white 1974 supra.

"Yes," I answer, although I don't know what I've agreed to. I eye his new car, hoping he'll explain why he's switched yet again. However, once he raises an eyebrow to say don't ask questions, I shake my head okay and get inside.

"Good. I brought you some food." AJ says, gently pulling off the break before handing me a heavy Shake Shack sack. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you; not to talk, use sauce, make a mess, or fart while I'm driving and you're eating. Ever."

"No. Of course not." I answer, cautiously opening the sack as I carefully dig into the burger, placing my bag on my lap, canceling the chance of spilling something. I wipe my hands on the provided napkins in the sack before wiping the ketchup off of my mouth and book bag before wrapping the used napkins in a clean one, setting them on my bag so I can eat my fries. While I eat, he drives and bobs his head to soothing Jazz tunes.

"We're here." A few minutes later, AJ alerts me just as I finish my ice water.

"The fuck is this?" I quickly realize I've kept my head down the entire ride. Too focused on not making a mess to gauge where I was going. The house screams abandoned, especially with the boarded-up windows, and the primarily covered car with multiple flat tires in front of it demands this theory to be true. However, since AJ's alluded to me what he does, I know this is a trap house.

"I'll break your face if you keep cursing around me," AJ promises without raising any octaves. Which permits him to be way scarier than if he had. "As a rule, you don't need to scream, curse, and plead to get your way. Use logic. We leave the emotions to females."

"My bad... Um, what's this?" I rephrase, quickly disregarding his words. If I need to holler to get my point across, that's what I'm going to do. No one would ever take me seriously if I didn't. I don't have the same presence necessary to do what AJ can. I don't think anyone does.

"You'll see what it is in a second," he says, casually reversing up the driveway and into the back of the house. As soon as we step out, his car is quickly covered by two guys wearing mechanic outfits.

"The package is in the basement." The most diminutive man voices, getting under the car with a small scooter before we hear subtle metal wiring.

"Stay directly behind me," AJ orders, calmly entering the dimly lit, rugged house. Despite the home being so dark, I attempt to emulate his movements, walking as tall as he does. Obviously, I've got some things to learn and critique.

"Don't look so nervous, Lil man." The not too much older than me teen opening the basement door chuckles as I walk on AJ's heels. "Us here? We're all on the same team now... Well, mostly anyway."

"Wake them up," AJ calls as we go down the wooden steps that offer absolutely no light. Unlike my old "house" with my cousins, the old steps make no sounds, which creeps me out far worse than the old ticking stairs. I've gotten used to everything around me ticking. Squeaks going down the steps seem necessary at this point. Another interesting feature this home has is a concrete wall that blocks off the view from whoever AJ is speaking with.

"Wake up, mothafucka!" As the unsolicited collaboration echoes around the room, I uncontrollably tense with terror. A deep voice demands as the sound of death punches awakens the victim. The high-pitched scream of JoJo quickly shuts my entire body off. Suddenly, the trap house becomes a cocoon lacking air, and my skin begins to sting with trepidation.

"Ahhhhghh! Aye, mothafucka, chill wit all that bull shit!"

"Leave my brother out of this! He ain't-" Russ begins, but the death smack that got JoJo awakened seems like a fly swat compared to the jackhammer strike that Russ receives.