A Plague of Flowers
********
Gerry Pantera counted 17 lit candles on Junior’s makeshift shrine and probably several dozen flowers, some real, some plastic. Junior's family and friends gathered what money they could and bought what they could afford in memory of their loved one. Gerry was on his way to work at the Pronto Advertising Agency, a few blocks down from the liquor store, but stopped by for a second because he wanted to see the murder site after hearing about the attempted robbery on the TV news last night. He was surprised to find the shrine put up so fast. The mourners must have been at work on it from midnight to five this morning. Mr. Park appeared in the doorway followed by the ring-a-ding of the entry bell. “Police no charge me,” he told Gerry, who smiled but remained silent. He nodded at the shrine and Mr. Park said, “For two 12-packs of cheap beer. Not Corona. Not Bohemia. Just Natural Light. It’s stupid.” Gerry nodded agreeably and continued his walk to work.
As Gerry slouched in his leather chair in the corner office assigned to him when he was promoted to Marketing Vice President, Eddie Rodriguez, P.R. VP, entered without knocking. “Did you hear about the cholo shot up the street?”
“Saw it on TV last night.” Gerry turned his swivel chair to face Eddie. “Just came from the liquor store. Bunch of candles and flowers piled in front of the store. Mr. Park said mockingly, ‘Police no charge me.’”
Eddie laughed at the dead-on impression of the Korean store owner. “And I remember that kid. He used to play with Tony, my oldest boy. But they went their separate ways once they reached high school. My Tony went out for the school football team, and Junior joined his big brother’s ganga, Los Twenty-Sixers. If I remember correctly, his brother’s name’s is Marco, but his gang name is Navaja: the Knife. I wouldn’t want to be Mr. Store Owner right now.”
“Or any other time.” Gerry exaggerated a sigh.
“I hear that.” Eddie played a rim shot on Gerry’s desk and stood. “I’ll see for lunch at twelve.”
“You’re on.” Gerry swiveled back to his window view after Eddie had shut the
door.
********
Eddie’s 2003 Mercedes bounced over the speed bump. “Careful,” Gerry warned his co-worker and friend, “those shocks are almost three years old.”
“I’m thinking about getting a new car next week—as soon as the Banyon Account closes and we get our bonuses.”
“Hell, mine is already spent," Gerry laughed without humor. "Wife and kid, man. After marriage, you never see your own check anymore. Not that I'm complaining."
“I told you: It costs more to divorce them than to stay married to them.” Eddie joked, but no laughter followed. He took his marriage too seriously, he thought just as he saw the traffic-light turn yellow. It was either hit the gas pedal or slam the brake. He went for the former. A car honked at him. “First come, first served.”
Gerry grinned at his friend. “Unless it’s you that comes in second, right?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Eddie turned on the radio and switched to the all-news 980 AM. “Let’s see what tonight’s weather looks like. The Clippers are playing tonight and I’ve got me a pair of seats to die for.”
Suddenly, Gerry grabbed Eddie’s shoulder. “Stop the car. Pull it over now.”
Gerry was not one to joke around when it came to driving, so he pulled over next to a yellow zone curbside. Gerry raced out of the car. Eddie noted that they were by the Park Liquor Store, exited the car and joined his nervous looking co-VP. There was a sign on the closed front door of the store, which read: CLOSED. WILL NOT REOPEN. There beside the door were bundles of flowers and tall glass candle holders. At the center of the lit candles was a picture of Mr. Andy Park with sprawled letters that Gerry could barely make out. “Rest in peace, Joon Li, 1969-2006. The shrine was no more than twenty feet from Junior’s.
“Look.” Eddie pointed to the glass front to the right of the door. There was blood splattered over the glass and across the NATURAL LIGHT BEER neon sign.
“Yeah, something like that.” Eddie turned on the radio and switched to the all-news 980 AM. “Let’s see what tonight’s weather looks like. The Clippers are playing tonight and I’ve got me a pair of seats to die for.”
Suddenly, Gerry grabbed Eddie’s shoulder. “Stop the car. Pull it over now.”
Gerry was not one to joke around when it came to driving, so he pulled over next to a yellow zone curbside. Gerry raced out of the car. Eddie noted that they were by the Park Liquor Store, exited the car and joined his nervous looking co-VP. There was a sign on the closed front door of the store, which read: CLOSED. WILL NOT REOPEN. There beside the door were bundles of flowers and tall glass candle holders. At the center of the lit candles was a picture of Mr. Andy Park with sprawled letters that Gerry could barely make out. “Rest in peace, Joon Li, 1969-2006. The shrine was no more than twenty feet from Junior’s.
“Look.” Eddie pointed to the glass front to the right of the door. There was blood splattered over the glass and across the NATURAL LIGHT BEER neon sign.
"This is no more than a few hours old," Gerry pointed out with surprise. "I just talked to the guy this morning. We should have heard something. A shot or some gossip at the office, something. This is too weird. Let's grab some take-out and get back to the office."
"You don't have to convince me this is weird," Eddie agreed. "How'd he get killed, the cops investigate, close down the crime scene, and put up the sidewalk memorial? Look, there's no police tape anywhere. Who closed the store? You're right, let's get back to civilization."
********
After picking up some Jack in the Box take-out, the two VPs returned to the office and sat themselves before the TV in the executive lounge. Some subordinates and coworkers were already there, watching the Channel 9 News Update. Tisha Suyana, the field reporter, was standing by Park’s makeshift shrine, saying “…and that makes two deaths on this once peaceful corner of Lincoln Drive and Rosemead Boulevard in the City of Monte Alta. Police suspect gang retaliation. Back to you in the studio, Dave.”
Dave Johnson, the Channel 9 News Anchorman, seemed to be caught off guard and quickly shot a question to Tisha. “Do the police have any leads?”
“As I said earlier, they didn’t rule out gang retaliation in the death of Mr. Andy Park, the naturalized name Joon Li of South Korea chose when he became a U.S. citizen. Gang members are being rounded up and questioned."
"Thank you, Tish," said Dave now that he had regained his composure. He continued, "We have since learned that police have questioned and released a friend of Benito Lopez, who had found the corpse of Andy Park, also known as Joon Li. According to the witness, he was at the store to leave flowers on Benito's sidewalk memorial when he noticed the blood in the open doorway. He followed the bloody trail that led to the cash register counter, where he found the decapitated head of Andy Par. The name of the witness was not released because of his age, but police say the boy has no gang affiliations. And now to our Weather on the Spot reporter, Jill Banks.”
Eddie used the remote to turn off the set. “Back to work, folks. You can get the latest when you get home.”
Gerry waited until only he and Eddie were left in the lounge. “Well, it looks like you were right about the retaliation.”
“Next time, we’ll make a bet, and I’ll give you two to one odds.” Eddie snapped his fingers in the air.
“If there is a next time.” Gerry snapped right back. Chills ran across his chest with a painful tightness after he said it. He thought, Must be the Breakfast Burger, rubbing his chest till he burped. Should have went to Denny's.
Eddie used the remote to turn off the set. “Back to work, folks. You can get the latest when you get home.”
Gerry waited until only he and Eddie were left in the lounge. “Well, it looks like you were right about the retaliation.”
“Next time, we’ll make a bet, and I’ll give you two to one odds.” Eddie snapped his fingers in the air.
“If there is a next time.” Gerry snapped right back. Chills ran across his chest with a painful tightness after he said it. He thought, Must be the Breakfast Burger, rubbing his chest till he burped. Should have went to Denny's.
********
Gerry awoke the next day at his usual time of 5:30 a.m. Marta, his wife, was still asleep. He had trained himself to wake up at the crack of dawn so that he didn't need an alarm clock. Early on in his marriage, he found that Marta hated waking up to an alarm. She'd fume for days. She'd send their daughter Becky off to school without a kitchen made up lunch and instead give her five dollars to buy herself something at the cafeteria or a nearby fast food joint. No wonder the poor kid was a bit on the portly side. (Was that word still in use? Sounded better than chubby, that's for sure). Marta just had a way of taking out her anger on Gerry through their daughter, Becky. Bet the kid couldn't wait to leave home for college.
Gerry showered and shaved, ate a hearty breakfast alone, trying to be as quiet as possible, and opened the morning Los Angeles Times newspaper. The article on the two liquor store deaths yesterday was tucked away on the last page of the California Section. Five paragraphs. No photos. And no mention of the decapitation. No update either. Just another gang banger in the morgue and one less Korean store owner. There were probably some people out celebrating the deaths. L.A. was a morbid town. Gerry let the events of the previous day sink in good and deep. He wouldn’t even be thinking about it had it not occurred so close to his office. And something deep down told him that the retaliations were only beginning. He’d have to watch his ass as he drove to work this morning. He'd skip his walk to work today. There's been enough gruesomeness for a lifetime. Better to waste a gallon of gas than suffer another look at those sidewalk memorials.. He folded the paper, donned his coat, and headed for the office.
Gerry knew it was morbid, but he had to see the shrines once more. They were still there and had grown quite considerably. The Lopez memorial now had over two dozen bunches of roses, mostly red, and nearly 50 lit candles. Someone had placed a picture of Junior at the center of a wreath tied to the storm drain of the liquor store so that the flowery adornment hung over the glowing candles. Its position there gave the shaved head youth the appearance of a saint. Mr. Park’s memorial had also grown. It had many flowers that Gerry was unfamiliar with, and added to the candles were foul-smelling incense sticks, burned halfway, as though they had just been placed there a few hours ago. More photos of the young Joon Li and the older Mr. Andy Park were added to the lone picture from yesterday.
Gerry heard the footsteps scurrying at a distance and getting closer. Suddenly, some homeys rushed by Park's memorial, knocking over the candles and scattering the flowers; the photos flew into the air and floated down, some in the street and others by the shrine. The young gangsters were no more than 15 years old. Gerry watched them run and come to an abrupt halt by Junior’s shrine. They turned to Gerry and threw him the middle finger, then resumed running. The shocked Marketing VP walked swiftly to his car and accidentally banged his head on the door frame as he entered. As he pulled away from the curb, he felt a trail of blood stream down his forehead, across his left cheek, and drop onto his collar. He headed for the company infirmary across the street from his office.
“This is nothing to worry about,” said the company nurse, Janice Eubanks. “If you want to go home, I can write you an excuse.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Gerry felt the bandage on his forehead. It was just a small cut. No snitches were needed. No tetanus shots. No need to go home. “Thanks, Janice.”
“Anytime, Mr. Pantera,” said the nurse as she started to clean up the bloody gauze and alcohol wipes.
The valet had moved his car to his private slot in the VP parking lot. He didn’t want to leave his Mercedes unattended on this street. Two deaths. One robbery. One retaliation. Gerry walked to the corner and pressed the cross-walk button. The light was engineered to change to green almost immediately pending traffic in order to reach the infirmary quickly from the company office in case of emergencies, and vice versa, so that the nursing unit could reach the company offices promptly. The light changed to green, and the little green figure appeared. A pigeon paced about in the green WALK sign, blocking view the letters WA, then LK, and back again. Gerry crossed the street, looking both ways several times as he was taught in elementary school. When he reached the other side, he saw the makeshift shrine by the palm tree that shaded the front of the company building.
At its center, leaning against the tree base, surrounded by the tallest glass candle holder and dozens and dozens of daisies, was a photo of Eddie. This was impossible. Was he still asleep? Was Marta trying to wake him? It was the security guard trying to get his attention. He said, “There were two kids running down the street. Mr. Rodriquez was just getting into work. He was climbing the stairs to the front door. I reached for my gun, but the punks were too fast; they ran right by me and stabbed Mr. Rodriguez in front of me. Then they threw me the finger.” The building security man, Billy Cadenas, a youngster no more than 22 years of age, broke into sobs. He hid his face in his palms.
Nelly from accounting sidled up to Gerry and said, “The ambulance took his body. The police really didn’t tell us anything or ask any questions, but admitted that it might be gang-related. They were just kids, not gangbangers. I know the difference between cholos and wannabees. I mean, they went straight for Eddie. They didn't touch Mr. Cadenas. Everyone is so angry these days. Can't tell your friends from your enemies. I saw the whole thing from my window there, and the cops don't want to know what I saw. They'll call me, they say. They don't even take my business card.”
She placed a comforting arm across Billy’s shoulders. His tears were endless.
“Thanks,” Gerry said, then wondered why he said it. He entered his office, closed the door behind him, and picked up the phone. He dialed the number he had dialed a thousand times over the past five years since he nd Eddie had become friends. His home phone.
“Hello,” said the woman who answered.
“Marcy, this is Gerry.” He waited to see if she would mention Eddie first. She
didn’t.
“Is Eddie okay?” Her intuition was good, Gerry thought.
“I’m sorry, Marcy, but Eddie’s dead.”
********
Gerry knew it was morbid, but he had to see the shrines once more. They were still there and had grown quite considerably. The Lopez memorial now had over two dozen bunches of roses, mostly red, and nearly 50 lit candles. Someone had placed a picture of Junior at the center of a wreath tied to the storm drain of the liquor store so that the flowery adornment hung over the glowing candles. Its position there gave the shaved head youth the appearance of a saint. Mr. Park’s memorial had also grown. It had many flowers that Gerry was unfamiliar with, and added to the candles were foul-smelling incense sticks, burned halfway, as though they had just been placed there a few hours ago. More photos of the young Joon Li and the older Mr. Andy Park were added to the lone picture from yesterday.
Gerry heard the footsteps scurrying at a distance and getting closer. Suddenly, some homeys rushed by Park's memorial, knocking over the candles and scattering the flowers; the photos flew into the air and floated down, some in the street and others by the shrine. The young gangsters were no more than 15 years old. Gerry watched them run and come to an abrupt halt by Junior’s shrine. They turned to Gerry and threw him the middle finger, then resumed running. The shocked Marketing VP walked swiftly to his car and accidentally banged his head on the door frame as he entered. As he pulled away from the curb, he felt a trail of blood stream down his forehead, across his left cheek, and drop onto his collar. He headed for the company infirmary across the street from his office.
“This is nothing to worry about,” said the company nurse, Janice Eubanks. “If you want to go home, I can write you an excuse.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Gerry felt the bandage on his forehead. It was just a small cut. No snitches were needed. No tetanus shots. No need to go home. “Thanks, Janice.”
“Anytime, Mr. Pantera,” said the nurse as she started to clean up the bloody gauze and alcohol wipes.
The valet had moved his car to his private slot in the VP parking lot. He didn’t want to leave his Mercedes unattended on this street. Two deaths. One robbery. One retaliation. Gerry walked to the corner and pressed the cross-walk button. The light was engineered to change to green almost immediately pending traffic in order to reach the infirmary quickly from the company office in case of emergencies, and vice versa, so that the nursing unit could reach the company offices promptly. The light changed to green, and the little green figure appeared. A pigeon paced about in the green WALK sign, blocking view the letters WA, then LK, and back again. Gerry crossed the street, looking both ways several times as he was taught in elementary school. When he reached the other side, he saw the makeshift shrine by the palm tree that shaded the front of the company building.
At its center, leaning against the tree base, surrounded by the tallest glass candle holder and dozens and dozens of daisies, was a photo of Eddie. This was impossible. Was he still asleep? Was Marta trying to wake him? It was the security guard trying to get his attention. He said, “There were two kids running down the street. Mr. Rodriquez was just getting into work. He was climbing the stairs to the front door. I reached for my gun, but the punks were too fast; they ran right by me and stabbed Mr. Rodriguez in front of me. Then they threw me the finger.” The building security man, Billy Cadenas, a youngster no more than 22 years of age, broke into sobs. He hid his face in his palms.
Nelly from accounting sidled up to Gerry and said, “The ambulance took his body. The police really didn’t tell us anything or ask any questions, but admitted that it might be gang-related. They were just kids, not gangbangers. I know the difference between cholos and wannabees. I mean, they went straight for Eddie. They didn't touch Mr. Cadenas. Everyone is so angry these days. Can't tell your friends from your enemies. I saw the whole thing from my window there, and the cops don't want to know what I saw. They'll call me, they say. They don't even take my business card.”
She placed a comforting arm across Billy’s shoulders. His tears were endless.
“Thanks,” Gerry said, then wondered why he said it. He entered his office, closed the door behind him, and picked up the phone. He dialed the number he had dialed a thousand times over the past five years since he nd Eddie had become friends. His home phone.
“Hello,” said the woman who answered.
“Marcy, this is Gerry.” He waited to see if she would mention Eddie first. She
didn’t.
“Is Eddie okay?” Her intuition was good, Gerry thought.
“I’m sorry, Marcy, but Eddie’s dead.”
"Are you sure? You''re kidding, right? I saw him off to work this morning. He kissed the twins goodbye and left like he always does. How can he be dead? There hasn't been enough time. There's something wrong with your clock." He fought back tears as he heard Mrs. Rodriquez grab something and throw it to the ground. He found out later that it was the kitchen clock.
*********
The funeral of Edward Jamie Rodriguez had a huge turn-out. His seven brothers and 2 sisters had brought their children, ages 4 to 17, undisciplined and loud, to the burial. The younger ones were playing hide and seek behind the tombstones, while the teenagers either looked bored or tuned out with their Ipods. Several adults, family, friends, and co-workers tried in vain to shush the kids. Marcy smiled weakly, telling the attendees not to mind the children.
As the Pastor reached the “ashes to ashes” part of the service, it started to rain. Everyone, except for two of Eddie’s older brothers and Gerry remained to watch the coffin lowered to into the six-foot depth.
“Was it Los Twenty-Sixers?” asked the elder brother Jose. The question could have been meant for either Gerry of the second oldest brother Dionicio.
Gerry answered. “It was LTS. Two of the punks attacked me yesterday. Must have known where I worked and tried to ambush me there. Poor Eddie got caught in the crossfire.”
Jose nodded. “They still hang at the Brady Courts?”
"Far as I know," answered Gerry. "They don't usually stray far from the projects."
A loud long squeak broke the patter of rain on the glossy white coffin as it was lowered by hand crank and pullies into the grave.
Gerry added, “Same turf we hung out when we were kids, 'member?”
Jose said, "Some things we never forget." He hit Dionicio on the chest with the back of his hand. “Time to go.” As the brothers left, the squeaking stopped. Only Gerry watched the tarp as it was removed from the pile of dry dirt. The caretakers shoveled the dirt into the grave quickly before it turned to mud. He made the sign of the cross over his heart and left to join his wife and daughter waiting for him in the car.
A loud long squeak broke the patter of rain on the glossy white coffin as it was lowered by hand crank and pullies into the grave.
Gerry added, “Same turf we hung out when we were kids, 'member?”
Jose said, "Some things we never forget." He hit Dionicio on the chest with the back of his hand. “Time to go.” As the brothers left, the squeaking stopped. Only Gerry watched the tarp as it was removed from the pile of dry dirt. The caretakers shoveled the dirt into the grave quickly before it turned to mud. He made the sign of the cross over his heart and left to join his wife and daughter waiting for him in the car.
********
“Channel 9 News Special Report. Dave Johnson Anchoring.”
As the intro voiceover trailed off, Dave Johnson saw the green camera light flash on. “Dave Johnson here. We have just received word that Joon Li Park, son of murdered store owner, Andy Park, has been arrested for gunning down a teenager at Marshall High School during lunch at an estimated time of 12:30 p.m. Police report that Joon Li Park may have been seeking revenge on members of the LTS gang better known as Los Twenty-Sixers, but according to witnesses who knew the victim, he was not a gang member and teachers describe him as a good student who kept out of trouble. We cannot release his name because he is a minor. The school has been closed and parents have been called to pick up their kids. Police vehicles have closed off the entrance to the school and have barricaded the driveways in and out of the school grounds. However, according to the latest reports, many students have begun rioting, breaking windows of the many Korean stores lining Laramie Avenue a few blocks from the school. We are switching now to Rick Muri in our SkyNews Copter. Rick.”
“Thanks, Dave. The story here is that looting has erupted along Laramie Avenue. At first it was only students breaking windows, but now it seems there are many locals stealing items from the store fronts that the broken windows give them easy access to. Police are slow in arriving to the scene. From what I’ve been told, City Police from Maybrook Police Department and Vista Gardens P.D. have joined Alta Monte P.D. and have mobilized riot squad on Winter Boulevard and Laramie to block further access to the vandalized shops.
"We just received word that the County Sheriff’s Department have dispatched deputies to support the P.D.s' blockade by setting up road blocks on Riverdell Boulevard, boxing in the rioting high schoolers and vandals. As you can see from our aerial view, there are about two hundred kids and adults looting shops and stores and attacking any salesperson inside the shops and stores.
"Police in riot gear are now beginning to enter the hot spot. Looters are fleeing toward the residences on the west side of Laramie, where many of these vandals live. Fires are breaking out at some of the stores and the smoke is beginning to thicken and we are having trouble seeing down below. We can hear what appears to be firecrackers but may be gunshots. We are going to circle around and try to find a clearer shot for the camera. John, back to you in the studio.”
“We’ll be returning to Rick in the SkyNews Copter as soon as we more news. Meanwhile, for those of you just tuning in, riots have broken out on Laramie Avenue between Riverdell and Maybrook after the alleged shooting of a Marshall High School student allegedly by Joon Li Park, son of Andy Park, owner of the Park Liquor Store, the origin point for this riot. Rick? Any more news from the hot spot? Rick?”
PLEASE STANDBY. TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. PLEASE STANDBY.
Gerry aimed the remote control at the TV and turned it off. “What do you think happened?” Marta asked her husband.
“We’ll worry about that later. Let’s go pick up Becky at the school. She’s probably scared to death right now.”
"Her school's nowhere near Marshall," Marta said, wondering what Gerry was really worried about.
"Better safe than sorry," he said.
Then she understood Gerry's concern and joined her husband as they walked to the carport.
Becky saw the helicopter fall like a stone from the sky. Something had hit it and the copter shifted sideways. I spun out of control, and then it just fell. The teacher, Mr. Irwin, closed the blinds as the students began to chatter and whisper. The news of the riot was only rumor, but the kids were afraid. The teachers were informed to keep the students inside until they received further instructions. Though that didn't make sense to Mr. Irwin, he followed orders even against his better judgment.
Gerry and Marta abruptly entered the classroom. Mr. Irwin lifted his hands defensively, but before he could say anything, Becky ran to her parents and hugged them. They whisked the scared girl to the car and headed for home, ignoring the nosy neighbors along the block looking at each other with paranoid thoughts.
********
Becky saw the helicopter fall like a stone from the sky. Something had hit it and the copter shifted sideways. I spun out of control, and then it just fell. The teacher, Mr. Irwin, closed the blinds as the students began to chatter and whisper. The news of the riot was only rumor, but the kids were afraid. The teachers were informed to keep the students inside until they received further instructions. Though that didn't make sense to Mr. Irwin, he followed orders even against his better judgment.
Gerry and Marta abruptly entered the classroom. Mr. Irwin lifted his hands defensively, but before he could say anything, Becky ran to her parents and hugged them. They whisked the scared girl to the car and headed for home, ignoring the nosy neighbors along the block looking at each other with paranoid thoughts.
Once Becky was taken by her parents, the other kids in the math class ran out of the room and ran for home. Irwin mouthed the words, Sit down, but he couldn't speak the words. He put on his coat, locked his desk, and headed for the teachers' parking lot.
Midnight brought with it a calm that masked the violence earlier that day. There were extra patrol cars cruising Laramie Avenue and surrounding streets. The rioting was stopped, but there were some reports from neighbors in the area that gangbangers were cruising, looking for Koreans. So the police were randomly pulling over vehicles with more than one person and checking for weapons.
Gerry pulled the curtain aside to look out the front room window, and a police flashlight beam struck his face. He didn't move. The light stayed fixed on him until a suspicious looking vehicle with two older looking cholos drove by. The policeman got back in his patrol car and gave his siren a short blast. The 1985 Lincoln Coup pulled over and the police aimed his searchlight into the car. Gerry saw that it was Jose and Dionicio. He exited his house and walked toward the cop to explain who they were.
“Sir, go back inside,” the officer yelled.
********
Midnight brought with it a calm that masked the violence earlier that day. There were extra patrol cars cruising Laramie Avenue and surrounding streets. The rioting was stopped, but there were some reports from neighbors in the area that gangbangers were cruising, looking for Koreans. So the police were randomly pulling over vehicles with more than one person and checking for weapons.
Gerry pulled the curtain aside to look out the front room window, and a police flashlight beam struck his face. He didn't move. The light stayed fixed on him until a suspicious looking vehicle with two older looking cholos drove by. The policeman got back in his patrol car and gave his siren a short blast. The 1985 Lincoln Coup pulled over and the police aimed his searchlight into the car. Gerry saw that it was Jose and Dionicio. He exited his house and walked toward the cop to explain who they were.
“Sir, go back inside,” the officer yelled.
“Those are my friends, Officer.”
In the moment that Gerry said those words, Jose lifted the .38 off his lap and fired into the backs of the officer, who crumpled onto the sidewalk. The Lincoln’s wheels spun for a second, burning rubber, then carried the Rodriguez brothers down the street, leaving a trail of smoke and the wail of the screeching tires. Gerry backed away and reentered his home. Becky and Marta were shivering with looks of horror on their face.
In the moment that Gerry said those words, Jose lifted the .38 off his lap and fired into the backs of the officer, who crumpled onto the sidewalk. The Lincoln’s wheels spun for a second, burning rubber, then carried the Rodriguez brothers down the street, leaving a trail of smoke and the wail of the screeching tires. Gerry backed away and reentered his home. Becky and Marta were shivering with looks of horror on their face.
********
The following morning, Gerry and Marta decided to keep Becky at home.
Although Marta protested, Gerry went to work. He had to make sure to close down the office and send all employees home. He opened the front door expecting to see either a dead cop or a swarm of forensics experts and some groggy detectives ready to ask him questions. He had called 911 last night but there was only an answering machine taking messages. He fell asleep in front of the TV that still had the TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES posted on all the channels. What he did see there on the bloodied sidewalk where the cop was shot, shocked him more than it did his wife: A makeshift shrine of Carnations, candles and a police badge next to a picture of the fallen cop.
"When did they put that up?" asked Marta.
"Doesn't matter," said Gerry. "Get back inside with Becky and wait for me. I'll call you when I secure the office. Got to have an office to go back to once all this madness is over."
Marta nodded in agreement, though in her heart, she knew it was just beginning.
********
The front of his office building was covered with flowers, lit candles and photos of all his co-workers and one of the security guard. Across the street, there were memorials for the Nurse and her staff. Gerry looked up and down the street and all he could see were makeshift shrines, the candles still glowing fresh, the scent of flowers filling the air with a thick nauseating perfume. Gerry abandoned his car, still running, its driver’s door still open, and he began to walk. He passed the liquor store and saw several new shrines: Joon Li Park, Mrs. Andy Park, Marco Lopez, others whose names he did not recognize. Most of the photos were of the gang members he'd seen around the projects. There were also pictures of police officers and politicians, doctors, lawyers, and children, so many children.
There was no room to walk, for the sidewalks were covered with easels and wreaths, flower bundles, teddy bears, votive candles and smoking incense sticks, and, of course, photos and photos and more photos. The streets were empty so that's where he walked. Most of the cars were abandoned, some had shrines inside. No buses. No airliners. No white noise, other than the wind and the beating of his own heart.
When he reached the San Inez Church, he went in. A lone priest was seated at a pew, praying with a rosary chain. "Father," said Gerry. The priest turned, surprised to see him. "My son, welcome to my parish," the priest said, standing and extending his hand. Gerry accepted the gesture and shook his hand.
"I am Father Sanchez," he said warmly. "I, too, was left behind, as they say."
Gerry was somewhat creeped by his smile. It was no longer friendly. "What do you mean, 'left behind'?"
"They've been taken. They've been judged. Most people assume the taken are taken up." He gestured with his hand and upward motion. "But no, for many are taken down. The partitions have been set. The reservations have been kept."
Gerry stepped back when the priest approached him and said, "We are not alone, my son. There are those in Heaven and those in Hell, but us, not us. We are the judge-less, neither good nor bad, innocent nor guilty. We were left behind."
"Whatever has happened, it is not the end of the world," Gerry argued.
"No, not the end, but the beginning," said the priest sternly, "for The Beast will soon arrive, and the Anti-Christ will rule. Just now, when you came in, I was praying for death."
Gerry asked, "It is just people killing people. No Devil."
The priest answered, "No, not the Devil; it is God who leaves the memorials on the streets, after he's chosen their path. It is those without a street shrine who have been taken down to Hades, and those with shrines of candles and flowers, they've been taken up to Heaven. Before they took Sister Maria, she said the plague of flowers is upon us. Poor sister, for she did not get her flowers. She was always lost in her body and soul. We both were. But she was taken down, and I was abandoned here."
"But my family..." Gerry started to say.
"You must go to them," the priest warned. "You should not have abandoned them. There may be time for you and your family. Hope, my son, that the Day of Judgment has a few moments left before The Beast arrives. Go!"
********
Gerry ran for miles. Nothing. No one. But for every missing person, there was a shrine. Then he thought of Becky and Marta. Home. He tripped over a vase and it shattered into pieces. He sprung to his feet and dashed homeward. He ran and ran, and as he ran, the streets began to disappear, replaced by a jungle of plants in pot holders next to favorite toys, lucky T-shirts, worn down sneakers and tennis shoes, blankets with Pokemon and Charlie Brown, reading glasses, F. Paul Wilson novels, and Playstations. Gerry could see home in the distance, beyond the rainforest of death memorials, and all he could think of was: Would there be one—or two shrines on the porch of his house. If they were gone, maybe that was good, but at the same time, he didn't want to be alone without them. What kind of God made such a world?
Before he got his answer, The Beast howled in the distance, and Darkness showed its true face to those who were left behind.
