Impetus (10 page)

Solomon nodded
again.

“
Does she still live here?”

Solomon clenched his jaw and then
suddenly began to hit himself repeatedly in the head. Whack, whack, whack.

“
Solomon,” Mick said, reaching out to stop him. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” Stopping him was not easy. His strength was something to behold, firm and unwavering, the antithesis of his personality.

Solomon
eventually did stop, but not before reddening the side of his head, almost to the point of breaking the skin.

Why the hell did he just do that?
Mick worried that this was becoming too taxing for Solomon. He was about to back out of the situation, walk Solomon out, and forget he even knew about this place, when Solomon reached down and picked up the picture that Mick had dropped in his haste. A small crack traced the front of the glass, running from the top to midway through the frame.

“
I’m so sorry, Solomon.” And he was. It didn’t take a lot to understand that this picture meant something to him.

Solomon
did not say anything. Instead, he walked back to the picture room, then quickly returned without the picture of himself as a child. He bent down without so much as a word and heaved the trapdoor in the floor open.

No sooner had the door locked in place when the shout came from outside.

“You in there, boy?”

Both Mick and Solomon turned their attention back down the hall
and toward the front door.

Who the hell is that?
He knew he should have left the yellow house when he had the chance.
Dammit, Mick!

The voice from outside
sounded harsh and agitated. Most of all, it sounded exactly like what Mick wanted to avoid.

A noticeable
look of fear washed over Solomon’s face. His eyes widened but remained locked down the hallway. Solomon quickly and quietly closed the trapdoor and replaced the area rug in exactly the same position it was in prior to them arriving, careful of even a centimeter of discrepancy. Solomon then walked past Mick and down the hall.

Mick
turned and followed him back onto the warped wooden deck outside. He had a bad feeling about this. Solomon had already gone down the small flight of stairs and was now on the street. There was a group of three men in front of him. One in particular had both an air of authority and evil to him.

The man closest to Solomon smacked him in the
back of his head. “Didn’t I tell you, boy? Huh? Didn’t I?” He again smacked the back of Solomon’s head. “I told you what would happen if you did this again.”

“
Hey,” Mick said. He knew he had to be careful with what he did now. The men were armed, and they certainly did not have the look of people that he wanted to mess with. “Listen,” Mick said. “It was my fault. I asked—”

Solomon shook his head
very softly but enough for Mick to notice. His stomach knotted at the thought of confrontation. This was not how he’d wanted the day to go.
Stupid canned meat.
He should have stayed on his hill and stared at the billboard.

The man next to Sol
omon, the one that had hit him and the one that Mick figured was in charge by the way the two others flanked him, trained his eyes on Mick.

“
And who are you?” King said authoritatively. His voice was raspy, as if he had a slight case of laryngitis, but firm in its tone. A hint of a southern twang hung on his words.

“
Mick.” He could not find more words to offer. And it was probably better to leave it at that.

“
Well, Mick,” King said. “It looks like we have a problem here.” He wore a long black leather trench coat over his dark-blue jeans. His hands were covered with black leather biker gloves, the type with the knuckles exposed. His head was clean shaven and razor smooth, which was not something Mick had seen in a long time. His head played the yin to the yang of his neatly trimmed goatee.

“
There’s no problem,” Mick said.

“
Well, now,” King replied. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t see it that way.”

Mick
’s gut told him to run as fast and as far as he could. And that is exactly what he would have done if the circumstances were different. While Mick wasn’t scared, the grounded adult inside him reminded him that he had priorities. The one thorn in this predicament was Solomon. If Mick ran, then he left Solomon to fend for himself. And while Mick felt that Solomon could handle himself, he could not bear to be the cause of problems for the young man. His conscience would never let him. The few hours of sleep that Mick managed a night would be filled with Solomon’s image and lamenting his own lack of conviction.

Mick
said, “I ran into Solomon outside the house. I followed him in because I thought he was in trouble.”

He
’d offered too much. That much he could tell by the look of pain that suddenly struck Solomon’s face.

King
laughed. His goons laughed with him. “Hear that, boys?” he said. “Our new friend—Mick was it?—followed the boy into my house because he thought he was in trouble.” King stopped laughing, but the others continued. “You see, the problem with that is I don’t much like people in my house. And we certainly don’t like trespassers around these parts.”

Mick
held up his hand. “I didn’t realize this was your place. I’m sorry about that.” This guy seemed a little off. Actually, he seemed a lot off. Mick did not dispute his ownership claim even though he knew from speaking with Solomon that this was clearly not the bald man’s house. Mick looked over the other two guys. And they kept their focus on him. One of them was tall with a wandering eye. Mick was unsure which one was looking at him, further cementing the uneasy feeling. The other was like something out of a comic book. He wore some type of goggles. He was short and stocky, and his fat jiggled each time he laughed.

The
bald man paused and stared at Mick. He squinted, magnifying the wrinkles around his eyes. He looked to be Mick’s senior by a decade or so. Despite his gruff persona, the man appeared to be well maintained—far better than most.

“
All of these houses are mine, Mick.” He let his name roll off his tongue with a noticeable twinge of animosity, the hard
k
sound clicking pointedly. ‘Everything you see is mine. And so is everything beyond that.”

Mick
looked around the street. “All of these are yours?” As soon as he said it, he wished that he could take it back. He did not want to engage in dialogue with this man any longer than he absolutely needed to. But to claim ownership over a city block was just plain mad. Then again, maybe that was exactly who he was dealing with: a madman.

“
Don’t question the Rubble King,” said the goon to Mick’s right, the plump nothing of a man with the goofy goggles.

Rubble King
?
Despite the gravity of the situation, Mick tried not to snicker.
What a stupid name.

The man
’s goons made an aggressive move toward Mick, their pistols now in plain sight.

“
You know what, Mick?” King said, stopping his men before the situation could escalate any further. “I’m in a forgiving mood right now.”

The
one with the lazy eye said, “You are?”

King looked at him quickly in disgust and then back to Mick.
“So I’ll tell you what. I’m going to let you walk away. This is a onetime deal. I don’t want to see you in these parts again. If I do,” King said, letting his words trail off and Mick’s imagination brew. He then slapped Solomon again in the back of the head. “Say good-bye to your little protector, boy.”

After eyeing Mick briefly, Solomon kept his head down.
He then turned and walked away with the group of men.

Mick
’s mind, choosing a fine time to show up, kept him cemented in place and stopped him from making the wrong decision of chasing after them.

When they
had traveled down the road far enough, Mick dropped his bravado and let the weight of what had just happened rush into his system. His hands twitched, and his pulse raced. He realized how close he’d been to getting into a gunfight. For a split second, not too much longer, Mick thought about aiming at the men as they walked away. Three quick shots would free Solomon. He was sure he could hit his marks. And he did not feel he would have much remorse over their loss. But Mick had no idea if they were the only ones around. For all he knew, there were others watching him, hidden from sight, strewn inside the surrounding buildings. It was a situation without any good choices. Because of that, Mick was not about to enter the yellow house again.

Not yet. No
t alone.

CHAPTER
11
 

King pushed Solomon through the front door of the police station, causing him to stumble into an overturned and broken desk that lay on its side.

“
I’m getting sick and tired of your actions, boy,” King said, stopping next to Solomon. “What exactly do you think you were doing at that house? How many times have I told you not to leave this building?” He turned and walked away slowly, turning back when the nearest wall stopped his progress. “Clyde,” he yelled.

Clyde slithered over in a way that only he could. He sneered at Solomon as he approached.

King said, “I need you to find out how the boy here keeps getting out.”

“
Show me how you leave,” Clyde said to Solomon.

King smacked Clyde in the back of his head.
“If that was all it required, don’t you think I could have done that myself? Idiot. He’s not going to willingly tell you. Find out how.” Clyde waited. “Now!”

Clyde waddled away in
a hopeless effort to locate Solomon’s secret holes in the walls. Solomon knew he would never find them. Even if he somehow stumbled upon one of them, his rotund belly would never allow him further access.

When King spoke,
Solomon rarely if ever looked him in the eye. He knew it irked him.

“
I expect an answer when I ask you a question.” King smacked Solomon across the face, sending him to his knees. “Don’t you dare disrespect me.”

Solomon
stood and pushed King away from him. It was an instinct, one he instantly regretted. Not that his actions didn’t reflect his feelings. In fact, he would do worse. Much worse. But as soon as he touched King, he knew it was the wrong move. There would undoubtedly be repercussions.

King
stumbled back into a small group of his men and, like a rubber ball, bounced back toward Solomon, punching him square in the nose as he neared.

A brig
ht light consumed Solomon’s vision. Blood gushed down his face and over his lips, dripping onto the dusty floor. He blinked to regain his vision, while a sharp, shooting pain ran up his spine and into the base of his skull.

“
How dare you,” King said, getting right up into Solomon’s bloodied face and grabbing him by his shirt. He stared at Solomon in disgust. King must have realized he was losing his cool in front of his men, as he quickly regained his composure and backed away a few steps. “See what you’ve done? Your insolence drives me to the brink of doing something that you’ll regret.” He stroked his bald head. “I’ve let you live all these years because it amuses me. As soon as that amusement dies, so do you. I will ask you again. Tell me what you were doing at that house.”

Solomon said nothing
even though he knew he should have. Out of everyone around him, King was the one not to be toyed with.

“
Very well,” King said. He grabbed Solomon by the shirt. “Come with me.”

King pulled Solomon across the main room and down the stairs to the basement. He tossed him forward, over the last three or four stairs, and headfirst into the cold steel bars of Ms. Stella
’s cell. King wasted no time. He closed the space behind him, pushing Solomon’s face hard into the bars, keeping the pressure on so he could not move.

“
Now,” King said. “Tell me what you were doing at that house. If you don’t, I will show your little bitch friend how things get done in my kingdom.” He then leaned in close to Solomon’s ear and whispered, “And then she’ll experience it firsthand. And it will all be because of you.”

“
I w-wasn’t doing anything,” Solomon said.

“
Let him go,” Ms. Stella said. “You are an evil man.”

“
Shut up, bitch. Don’t open that mouth of yours unless I tell you to.”

“
I’ll do whatever I like,” Ms. Stella said.

King laughed.
“As long as it’s inside your cell.” He then turned his attention back to Solomon. “Well, if you weren’t doing anything, then why were you there? You think I’m a fool, boy? You were there for a reason.”

“
I w-w-was g-g-going for a w-w-walk.”

“
A walk?” King laughed again. “Out seeing the sights, were you? You hear that, bitch? Your little boy here was out on a walk. What have I told you about leaving the building, boy? Huh?”

Solomon said nothing.
He looked through the bars at Ms. Stella.

King
brought his arm back but stopped. “Last chance, boy.”

Solomon gave in. It wasn
’t worth it to hold back. He decided to give in to King now. If he didn’t, the only one who would lose would be him. Or worse, Ms. Stella.

“
You t-told me not t-t-to leave.”

King
let his hand fall back to his side. “You hear that, bitch,” King said. “He does understand.” He snickered and leaned in closer to Solomon. “I expect you to listen this time, boy. The next time I will not be so easy on you.” He then looked to Ms. Stella. “Or maybe the next time I’ll go straight for her. We could have a little”—he paused—“talk.”

Solomon tried to push his head off the bars. The anger inside him seemed all encompassing. He stopped as quickly as he started. It was useless. Even if he did overpower King, it would do him no good. Where was he going to go? What was he going to do?
The King had claimed everywhere Solomon had ever known as home. To run would be stupid. King and his goons would find him eventually; King would never let Solomon go free without a fight. And Ms. Stella’s health was a sneeze away from worsening. Solomon’s life was an inescapable prison, both physically and psychologically.

“
Now,” King said. “This will be the final time I ask. What were you doing at that house?”

“
I—I s-s-s-aw,” Solomon said before stopping. He took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. “The m-m-an went in. I w-w-as c-curious.”

“
And how did you stumble upon this man? Mick, I believe his name was.”

Solomon tried to come up with an excuse, but
he realized that the truth would do just as well. He knew nothing about Mick, so there was no way he could get him in trouble.

“
H-he w-w-w-as on th-the street.”

“
Where?”

“
Outside.”

King
smacked Solomon on the side of his head. “I get that part, dummy. Where outside?”

Solomon pointed toward the back of the station.
“B-b-back there.”

“
I see,” King said. “Well, I’ll find out soon if you are telling the truth. I sent Robert to follow him to see where he goes.”

Solomon
had noticed Robert, the man with the lazy eye, disappear from the group as they’d headed back to the station. He hadn’t given it any thought as King’s henchmen came and went at King’s bidding. But now he knew where he’d gone, and he realized that Mick’s life was about to change for the worse.