Another Man's Treasure (Joey Bada$$ Story)

Part Ventotto

A/N: I've been so extremely busy this week, I can't even express it in a few lines. I squeezed in this chapter between homework and other things, and I actually neglected a few responsibilities for this, so if anyone gets on my case for how short it is, I probably won't have the patience to be polite. Love you. x

After Darius stormed out the door, I couldn’t stay inside. The energy he left behind was too intense. I didn’t know where he and the other guys were, and the possibilities of what they could be getting themselves into were almost deadly to think about. Staying in the hotel would just make it harder for me to take my mind off of them.

It seemed that’s what I was always trying to do. Always trying to keep my mind off of something, always trying to distract myself from the problems in my life. It wouldn’t be so hard if they weren’t always so many issues. I wouldn’t have to run away if there wasn’t anything to run away from. The funny thing was that I could always trace my problems back to me. I could always prove to myself that, in actuality, all of my biggest issues were my fault to begin with.

But my father used to tell me, before he died, that my ‘obsession’ with blaming myself for everything will be the death of me. So for now, I’d leave it alone. I’d get dressed, get Latara ready, and go outside to the nearest playground. I’d leave it alone because if I wouldn’t, I couldn’t survive.

I stayed at the playground with Latara for about an hour. It wouldn’t have been that long if I wasn’t so tired. For the first thirty minutes or so, I took her around the parks and helped her down the slides and pushed her on the swings. But for the rest of our time there, I sat down and let her play with the other babies. It wasn’t risky; all the other mothers were there, and they were more protective than me anyway. Nothing would happen to Latara under their watch, much less mine. It gave me time to close my eyes, to see the bliss of nothingness, and relax. Not sleep, just relax.

But it ended. Much too soon, it ended.

I’d never been awoken from a nap so harshly before. I didn’t even get a warning before Joey grabbed my arm and dragged me along with him as he ran to the very back of the playground. He had a painfully tight hold on my arm, his fingers digging into the flesh of my forearm. I couldn’t even recognize him; there was no time to. There was no time to look in his face, to think of questions to ask, to ask them. All I could do was let him drag me. He stood behind one of the play stations with me, still holding me.

Finally, now that I’d stopped moving, I could see it. The boys running toward the playground, the gunshots, the other boys chasing our boys. Unfamiliar faces.

Trouble.

“Where’s Latara?” I searched the playground with frantic eyes.

“Right here,” Joey had her in his arms. I didn’t even see him pick her up when he grabbed me. “Take her, and go in there. There is no time to talk now. Stay inside there. Come out under no circumstances whatsoever. Don’t even come out if I tell you to. Once you hear someone say ‘code four seven’, you get out. Anything else could be a trick. Someone could be forcing us to ask you to come out, so don’t trust anything other than the code.”

“Who’s coming? Who’s that?” I pointed to the approaching boys, the heaving chests and pelting feet that seemed to move faster than physically possible.

“Jamie, there is no time. Go in now. Go.”

And then he was gone. Just like that, he disappeared off into the distance, going closer to the entrance of the playground. All of the mothers and babies were gone. Just me, him, Latara, and in a couple of seconds...them.

I put Latara into the tube that Joey told us to go into first, and went in after. It wasn’t a long tube, nor was it wide, so we had virtually no space to breathe. But I had no time to shift or make room for either of us, because I could hear it. They were here, in the playground. Their loud screams and heavy feet were the only reason I knew they were here.

It started. One gunshot went off, then two, and before I knew it, I couldn’t tell the difference between silence and a raid.

The scariest part was that the tube was open on both ends, so if one of the guys managed to somehow end up on either side and crouch down to see if there might be anyone inside, they’d see us. It was likely, if they were looking for somewhere to hide themselves.

I held on to Latara, stroked her softly so she wouldn’t cry, but I was crying myself.

Of course, it didn’t work. She ended up bawling, but no one could hear. The shots didn’t stop going off. I could hear them running all around the park, but I couldn’t differentiate between my loved ones and my enemies. There was screaming between the shots, cursing and arguing. I heard one distinct voice scream:

“Y’all think y’all can fuck with us?”

But a few moments later, that same voice was screaming. It was a shriek of pain, a shriek that began at the top of his lungs and ended low, low at the bottom.

He was shot. He was killed.

This happened much more throughout the fight. I lost count of how many of those screams I heard, or who they came from. It’s probable that your voice changes when the life is being snatched from you. It was the only explanation that I had for why I couldn’t recognize any of the final shouts I heard. Either that, or our side was up in casualties, and they hadn’t taken any of us. That was hard to believe. Possible, but hard to believe.

Time passed. After a while, I wasn’t there anymore. I was in fifth grade, winning the citywide spelling bee for my school. I was at dinner with my parents on my birthday, smiling as the waitresses sang the annoying song to me. I was on the floor, at five years old, surrounded by my Christmas gifts and their destroyed wrapping. I was in a happy, nostalgic place. Not here. Not now.

But I heard when it ended.

I heard when there was finally quiet, when the movement and breath and gunfire had stopped. There was only awe and suspense.

And then this: “Four seven. Code four seven.”

I almost didn’t understand what Joey said with how out of breath he was, but I assumed it was the code and slid out of the tube with Latara. Once I saw the bodies on the ground, I realized that I was right. Not all of them were dead. Some were only wounded by the bullets, still breathing but too weak to move. There was blood - so much deep, dark blood - on all of them, on the playground equipment, everywhere. The Pro Era boys still stood. They were all alive.

“Let’s go.” CJ said. “We have to get him to a hospital!”

“No! We can go to jail for this.” Powers.

“So where do you want to take him?”

“We’ll take him to the hospital, just not one close to here. We have to move now.”

“Who?”

“Leave Jamie and Tara behind.”

“I’ll take them somewhere. I’ll call you.” Sole offered. I didn’t understand what was going on or who they were referring to until they ran for one spot of the playground and helped pick him up. Him, the only one of them who’d been shot. Others had been grazed or hurt in other ways - they were all bleeding. But he was shot, really shot, right in his side. Blood soaked his shirt, his pants, the arms of the boys who picked him up and tried to carry him out the back entrance of the park. The others split up, and Sole gestured for me to follow him. But I couldn’t walk straight, couldn’t turn my head away from him. They shot him. His eyes were closed and he couldn’t walk and he was bleeding. They shot him.

They shot Darius.