Authors: Samantha Lovern
“I took a chance calling you when I did.”
“Well, just be glad you didn’t get a free ride downtown to booking. You’re lucky I was close by, passing out candy with Nyssa.”
“You call this lucky,” Angel leaned forward showing Joe a cut on the side of his face.
“You’ll live.
I don’t think it’ll affect your looks any. Don’t be a cry baby.”
“Hey, who went to hold your hand at the dentist last month?”
“I was getting two teeth pulled. That’s a lot more serious then a small cut on your face.”
“Speaking of bad teeth, you got any candy?”
Angel looked over the seat.
“Nope.
I got a couple of sandwiches you can have. I can get more when I go back to help clean up. Where do you want me to drop you off?”
“It doesn’t matter.
I can walk to my apartment from here. This is Rico’s part of town you know. I’m hoping this will win me some brownie points with his boys.
“So you think you might get to meet Rico soon?”
“I’m still working with some of his punks. It’s really hard to break into the inner workings of this group. But I don't think it should take much longer. I showed them tonight I’m willing to fight the cops. I told the guys I needed the work. I’m hoping they’ll contact me soon.”
“The chief said to keep the apartment for another month.
I got some money for you, too.”
Joe pulled the car to the corner and Angel bent around so Joe could take the cuffs off.
Once his hands were free he reached for a small bag and laughed at the smiling pumpkin on the front.
“Did you take the kids out trick or treating?”
Angel began rummaging through the bag.
“Nyssa took them to church for some apple-bobbing and pin the smile on the pumpkin. We didn’t take them out; there was plenty of candy at the party.”
“You went too?”
“Yeah, Nyssa put her foot down. She wanted me to see the kids in the play. They did a good job. I’m glad I went.”
Joe turned in the seat and handed Angel another bag. “Here’s a few other things.”
“A new phone already?”
Angel took a couple of bites of one of the sandwiches.
“Yeah, this one comes with a tracking device.”
“I’m not sure I like the amount of faith they have in me.”
“You’re new.
No one here knows you but me.”
“I know. I like to complain. Here’s the old phone.”
Joe took the phone and tossed it into the glove box. “I’ll drive you around the street and then you can jump out.”
“Works for me.
I’ll try not to get arrested this time.”
“Do that, and keep your nose clean.
I’ve got a wife, unlike some people. I don’t need to be babysitting you every time I turn around.” With this comment, Joe checked the mirrors and slowed the car. Angel opened the door, and in the shadows of the side street, he slipped out to make his way back to his apartment.
It was half past ten when Angel walked across Maple and Lincoln. A streetlight flickered, but he paid it no mind. He was taking out his phone to learn the features when someone jumped out, holding a knife. Angel looked at the punk and, speaking in a weary tone said, “It’s been a long day. Is this really necessary?”
“Trick or treat,”
the kid sneered and Angel could see another knife blade in the moonlight.
“Will this night ever end?”
He slipped his phone back into his pocket . . .or tried to. As he moved his hand he felt the hit. He almost passed out. He closed his eyes and fell to his knees. The phone flipped out of his hand and went scooting across the ground to the kid with the knife.
As Angel scrambled to his feet, the leader of the gang put his knife away and bent over to pick up the phone.
Angel knew he was out-numbered; there were at least three of them, not counting the punk on the stairs.
He threw a few punches and put up a good fight, but after a few minutes, it was over.
He felt them looking through his pockets, and barely knew when one of them pulled out his ID. He was out cold when the youngest kid ripped away the gun that was strapped to his ankle.
The tallest kid opened a small bag, but when he found two sandwiches,
he tossed it over his shoulder.
“Someone’s coming.” The kid by the stairs yelled. “Throw him in the bushes and run.”
Chapter 6
Good Samaritan
Charlie couldn’t talk Allie into going to the church festival, so she went alone. When she arrived and heard they were going to be short-handed, she jumped at the opportunity to help. The puppet show started at six and ended at eight, so they could have everything wrapped up before it got too late. Halloween night on the back streets of Chicago could get scary.
It was nine forty-five
when Charlie, Nyssa, Joe, Tracy and Donna finished cleaning up and locked the church doors. They walked to the parking lot and stood talking.
“We sure appreciate all your hard work.”
Pastor Tracy once again shook Charlie’s hand, and then turned to his wife and smiled, “I guess we should go pick up the kids.” Donna nodded and the two walked off leaving Nyssa, Joe and Charlie to say their goodnights.
“We need to get our kids, too. I'm sure glad Nyssa's folks volunteered to take them home so we could help clean up.”
Joe moved to his cruiser and motioned to his wife. “I’ll follow you home. No speeding! I’d hate to pull you over and give you a ticket.” Joe started to leave but turned as his wife spoke.
“You better not give me a ticket, Joe Morganson. I’ll give you a trick instead of a treat.” Nyssa laughed and winked at Charlie as she unlocked the minivan.
She and Charlie got in, buckled up and were on their way.
It was a short ride from the church to Allie’s apartment, so Charlie and Nyssa were in no hurry to part ways. They were talking about next week’s service, and when Joe flashed his lights, Nyssa laughed. “Well, I better get moving. Joe’s tired, and I don’t want to push my luck. He’s not usually willing to help me do anything at church, so I was thankful he came.”
“Well, he picked a good night to go. You guys did a great job tonight. I loved the play.”
“Thanks. I hope you can come again. If you need a ride, call. The church owns a bus, and the number’s on the pamphlet the ushers passed out.”
“That’s good to know. Taking cabs can get expensive.” Charlie glanced into the mirror. “I better let you go. Thanks again for the ride.”
Charlie opened the door and climbed out of the van.
“Anytime,”
Nyssa added as Charlie closed the door.
Charlie walked up the stairs and was stepping into the building as Joe and Nyssa left. She turned when she heard a rustling sound. She glanced down the stairs and saw something white in the bushes.
She leaned over the rail peeking down into the dark shrubs.
There, with its head stuck in a bag, was a snow-white cat. “Hey there. What are you eating?”
Charlie
pulled out a flashlight, shining it in the direction of the cat and couldn’t help but notice the orange pumpkin smiling back at her. She hurried down the steps and walked around to the shrubs. She knelt down, reached in, and pulled the bag off kitty’s head, confirming it came from the church.
She took the sandwiches out, stuffed the bag into her pocket
and laid the scraps on the ground for the kitten. The cat purred as she stroked its soft fur. Charlie quickly remembered she was on the streets of Chicago, and not in the suburbs of Ohio, so she glanced over her shoulder.
She was about to stand when once again she heard a rustling sound. Thinking it might be another cat; she moved the beam of light from side to side. When she saw a man’s hand, she fell backwards and screamed.
For a moment she sat there, inches away from the fallen man.
It came to her as she began to move; this man was at church tonight.
The bag had been inches from his hand. “Hey! Are you okay?” She moved to get on her knees as she began to pray. It was tempting to run inside the building and call the police.
As she was thinking about leaving, the story of The Good Samaritan came to her mind.
She couldn’t just leave him there alone. “Sir. Wake up.”
After a moment she could see the man’s hand start to move.
“Are you okay, do you need an ambulance?” She watched as he tried to rise to his knees. She hurried to her feet and helped him to stand.
In the process, she dropped her flashlight. She left it lying in the bushes and helped the man out of the shrubs.
“If you can walk, I’ll help you into the building, then we can call the police.” She still couldn’t see his face, but by his build and clothes she could tell he wasn’t an elderly person.
“I need to get some of this mud off.
I don’t need the police now. I was mugged, I’ll be fine.”
Charlie looked up and down the street,
Could the muggers still be around?
She looked at the man. As he moved toward the light she could see him better.
His face was bleeding and caked in mud.
“You don’t look okay to me.”
“I will be.
I need to wash up and be on my way.”
The idea of taking a stranger into the apartment was intimidating but she couldn’t leave him alone.
He was bleeding and he’d be a good target for another mugging. She wondered for a moment if The Good Samaritan wanted to run and hide instead of help.
Charlie hesitated at the door, praying, wondering what should she do. The bag with the smiling pumpkin came to
her mind, and as she pulled it out of her pocket she asked. “Did you drop this?”
Then man looked down and Charlie moved the bag upward, where the streetlight would give him light to see. “Yes,”
he said after a moment, “it came from the church.”
This was the answer Charlie needed to feel safe. “Come on. Let's get you inside where we can see what’s wrong with you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help.”
Charlie managed to get the young man upstairs and to the kitchen. She pulled out a chair and helped him to sit down. She ran the water until it was warm and then took a towel and began to clean his face.
He was dressed rather nicely in new jeans, a black leather coat and a western cut shirt.
She noticed a fancy looking watch on his arm and a tiger’s eye ring on his finger.
She also noticed under all the blood and dirt was a very handsome young man.
He seemed to be mostly out of it as she cleaned him up, but he managed to stay in the chair. Now and then he’d moan, though she was trying not to cause him pain.
Under the mud she found a cut on his cheek, a small scrape above his brow, and he looked like he’d soon have a black eye.
As she kept working, she found a red scratch on the edge of his face, and another light cut on his neck.
Most of the mud was on his cheek, but she also checked inside his shirtfront and found
some dried blood spattered on his chest. She took all the leaves out of his hair, and then managed to get his coat off.
It was here she found a cut in the sleeve of his coat. Once she laid the jacket aside, she looked over his arm. “This looks ugly.” Since he wasn’t talking, and he didn’t want to go to the hospital she cleaned his arm the best she could, and bandaged the cut. It wasn’t bleeding by the time she finished wrapping the wound.
Forty-five minutes and a few bandages later, the man looked human again. Charlie stood, placing her hand on his shoulder, wondering if he was okay.
“Are you awake? I think you should see a doctor.”
“I’ll be fine.” When he spoke her brow rose in wonder,
so he is coherent.
“Are you sure?” She asked.
“My side hurts and I have a headache. Other than that I’m fine.”
“Your head hurts?” Charlie’s brow rose.
“Yeah, some punk hit me in the back of the head.”
Charlie moved behind the man and looked him over to see if there were any more wounds.
Finally she found a place on the back of his head.
She pulled his hair back and though there was no blood, it looked painful. She stepped back and came to stand in front of him and spoke in a soft tone.
“You took a good hit to the back of your head.”
The man opened his eyes and looked up. He squinted at the light but seemed to focus
“I’m fine. I just need some rest.
My side is aching.”
“Are you sure?
“I’m sure. Can I crash on your couch for a while?” Charlie looked at the clock and knew Allie shouldn’t be home until six the next morning, so she nodded and put her hand on his shoulder.