Target 10

By Carlos Dotson

Growing up in the rough city of Memphis TN, Antson wasn't no stranger to the law. Though he was a known troublemaker, shortly after his eighteenth birthday, he decided to give the law-abiding way a chance. With the help of his long-time girlfriend, Quinisha the transformation went pretty well. During his journey from boy to man, he learned that living on the right side of the law didn't exempt him from trouble. People with weak immune systems, are prone to getting sick. Well Antson was prone to getting into trouble. He was like a magnet for it. And after multiple violent clashes with the law, Antson found himself growing more and more bitter towards the police. Which took a dangerous and violent turn for the worst...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781636926438

Book preview

Part 1

Chapter 1

Along the Mississippi River in Memphis, Tennessee, at Tom Lee Park, the aroma of barbeque filled the air. The park was covered with many entertainment stages, containing rock bands, soul, and R & B musicians, and hip-hop artists. Couples were playing carnival games, trying to win their mates teddy bears and balloons. Kites were being flown. In the midst of the hundreds of people enjoying the Memphis in May festivities were different news stations reporting the live entertainment.

Across town, inside the Raleigh Springs Mall, was a young couple, Antson Upchurch (17) and Quinisha Boyd (17). Before going to the mall, they had stopped by a Super Kmart and a Big Lots discount store down the street on Austin Peay Street. Antson stood five feet, nine inches with a medium build. He wore his hair in a low bald fade with waves at the top. He had a thin mustache with a light peach fuzz on his chin. His skin complexion was cardboard brown. He was dressed in a red FUBU T-shirt and a pair of black FUBU jeans with the slogan on the thigh of the pants. On his feet were a pair of black and gray Nike Air Max Plus. Quinisha was three inches shorter than Antson. She was a slim-thick, light-skinned girl with some cantaloupe-sized breasts. She wore her hair short like the actress Nia Long. She had hazel brown eyes. She was dressed in a fitted short-sleeved pink shirt, hugging her breasts, with some blue jean knickerbockers, exposing her smooth legs. On her feet were some pink Princess Reeboks.

As they walked around the men’s department in Goldsmith, Antson walked up to a rack of clothes, grabbing a sky blue and navy blue Phat Farm button-down shirt. Baby, check this out. This junt fresh as hell.

Yeah, it is, Quinisha agreed.

This blue in it will go super with them new Air Max 90s I just got. Especially, this sky blue.

Quinisha grabbed the hem of the shirt, looking at the price tag. Yeah, it’s cute and all. But for ninety-eight dollars, I don’t think so. It’ll be sitting right here where it’s at.

I feel you on that. And that’s why I do what I do. Cause I know they be overcharging for this shit.

So you like it enough to get it?

Yeah, but where the pants at?

When Antson found the matching blue jean shorts, he said, Let me go try this bad boy on and see how it fit.

Moments later, he was standing in front of the dressing room mirror, nodding his head in a pleased manner. Satisfied with how the clothes fit, he chose to get it. When he stepped out of the dressing room, he saw Quinisha nearby browsing through a rack of clothes. With the Phat Farm set lapped over his forearm, he walked over asking her what she was doing.

Nothing, just checking out this stuff, she answered, lapping the two plastic bags she held over her shoulder. So did it fit?

Yep, to the T.

So, whatchu gon’ do…get it?

Oh, yeah, I gotta have it. Wait to niggas see me in this junt.

So, what, you ready?

He looked at his sports watch, then looked around the store, replying, Yeah, let’s gone dip. So gone head to the spot.

Okay. By the hill, right?

Nawl. This time go to the Burger King. And we’ll meet up there.

Okay.

Before parting ways, Quinisha wished him good luck.

’Preciate, he replied. But I don’t need it. I got everything I need. My pepper spray and my speed.

When she walked off, Antson went to browsing around the surrounding racks of clothes. Shortly after Quinisha left the store, two young black security guards appeared thirty feet in the distance. The duo started walking toward Antson’s section.

Aw shit, he mumbled. Here come these folks. I hope I don’t gotta burn they ass.

As he continued to walk around the clothes, he pulled out a small can of pepper spray, cuffing it in his right hand. Halfway to Antson, one the guards broke off, walking through the other racks of clothes. The other guard walked over to the rack Antson was browsing through.

Hey, there, the guard spoke, fanning his hand through the clothes.

Antson responded with a nod, saying, What’s up?

You finding everything okay?

Yeah, I’m super. Just doing a lil shopping.

The guard took a shirt off the rack, replying, I hear you on that. I gotta do a little shopping later on this week myself.

That’s what’s up.

So whatchu got there? It looks pretty nice.

Just this lil Phat Farm set.

Phat Farm…yeah, they make some tight stuff. I gotta few outfits myself. It always takes me to the bank. But hey, it’s worth it. Gotta pay for quality.

Antson looked at his watch. I hear you, big homie. But I think this all I’ma get today. So let me gone over here and checkout…

When Antson walked off, the guard walked over to his observing partner. As Antson walked on the glossy white main aisle, he turned his head, seeing the two guards fifteen feet behind him. He stopped, saying, Damn, what’s up? Y’all following me or some’?

The guard that stood off from the initial encounter, replied, Nawl. Heck nawl. We just patrolling the store. Don’t pay us no mind.

Antson made a funny face, replying, Yeah, whatever.

When Antson made it to the checkout area, a young white lady was being rung up. While standing behind the lady, he turned his head, seeing the guards roughly twenty-five feet away still talking and browsing through the racks of clothes. Ten feet to his left was the exit doors. As the cashier put the lady’s items in a Goldsmith bag, Antson muttered, Forget these niggas. Then he darted to the exit, barging through the glass double doors.

What the— the cashier responded in awe.

The two guards quickly gave chase. As Antson fled across the large back parking lot, the guards yelled for him to stop. Antson kept looking behind himself, hoping that guards would give up. But when he recognized how hell-bent they were, he stopped running then turned around. With his chest heaving in and out, he said with a shortness of breath, Okay, I give up! Y’all can have it back!

Seeing Antson surrender, the guards fast running slowed down to jogging. As they neared him, one of them pulled out his handcuffs. Drop that shit now!

When they came within three feet of Antson, he raised up his pepper spray can and went to spraying them in the face. They put their hands in front of their faces and started moving backwards, hollering, AHH! After using half of the can, Antson ran off, leaving the guards bent over, rubbing their eyes. When he disappeared from the parking lot, he ditched the pepper spray then pulled out a Kroger bag and put the clothes inside. As he hustled down the street to Burger King, he muttered, They should’ve stopped chasing me! Trying to save them folk shit!

Chapter 2

When Antson walked in the side door of Burger King, Quinisha was sitting three tables to his right next to the window. Seeing his sweaty forehead and slightly heavy breathing, she figured something went wrong. When he walked over, she asked him what was wrong. He swallowed hard then sat down. He replied lowly, Two security guards got in the business! I didn’t want to, but I had to spray they ass!

For real? What happened?

After explaining the details, Quinisha shook her head in disbelief. So you maced ’em?

Yeah. I had to. What was I supposed to do…let ’em know where I was going? That’s on them. Trying to save them folks stuff like they paid for it or some’. People gonna learn about trying to be a hero.

Quinisha looked around the lobby at the patriots giving off curious looks on the sly. Well, bae bae, calm down and wipe off your face. Then she grabbed some napkins from the napkin dispenser, handing them to him. As he wiped off his sweaty face, she asked him if the guards were still chasing him.

Nawl, I doubt it, he answered. The last I seen, they were bent over rubbing their eyes.

Quinisha smirked, shaking her head in disbelief again. You crazy, you know that?

Shid, call it what you want. But I had to do what I had to do. I bet they’ll think twice before chasing somebody else. People gonna learn about getting in other people’s business…

As their conversation progressed, Antson looked at his watch, then said, Let’s gone go to the bus stop. It should be here in ten minutes.

Okay, Quinisha replied, grabbing the two plastic bags on the table.

As they stood on the sidewalk in front of Burger King at the bus stop, Antson cracked jokes about the guards’ reaction when he sprayed them. In the middle of their conversation, a bus on the opposite side of the street came riding down the street. Antson looked at his watch. Ours should be here in three minutes.

Good. It needs to hurry up.

You can say that again…

Seven minutes later, Antson looked at his watch again. Damn, where this junt at? It’s supposed to be here four minutes ago. This the type of shit I’m talking about. These junts don’t never come on time. This the type of stuff that’ll get a nigga caught.

Two more minutes passed; Antson saw in the distance at the Coleman and Austin Peay intersection a bus sitting at the red light.

That must be our bus, Quinisha said.

Antson took notice at the bus’s right signal blinking, replying, I don’t know. I think that junt finna turn.

Quinisha took notice, saying, You shole ain’t lying. I didn’t even see that.

When the light changed green, the bus did what they speculated. When the bus made the turn, it exposed an MPD squad car. Damn, the police, Antson said, uneasy.

Aw, boy. They would have to be there…shoot.

I hope they finna turn.

When the police car crossed the intersection, Antson said, Damn, this the last thing I need. I hope he just finna pass by. See, this why these buses need to be on time…stupid ass bus!

So whatchu gonna do?

I don’t know. Like I said, I’m hoping he just passing by. Mane, I hope this a coincidence.

Well, why don’t you go wait in Burger King. And when I see the bus coming, I’ll come get you.

Uhh, he replied, nonchalantly, scratching his forehead. Aight. That’s what I’ma do.

Halfway across the Burger King parking lot, the police car was riding past the bus stop, looking at Quinisha and the back of Antson. Quinisha said loudly, Bae bae, you might wanna hurry up. He just rode by looking over here pretty hard.

Antson stopped, looking at the back of the passed squad car. Approximately a hundred feet from the bus stop, the officer cut on his emergency lights then made a U-turn. When he got on the opposite side of the street, he cut off his flashing lights.

Bae bae, he just turned around. You might wanna gone on and run or some’.

Fuck! Antson muttered.

When the officer got in the turning lane, preparing to turn on to the Burger King lot, Antson started walking back to the bus stop. Baby, whatchu doing? Quinisha asked.

When he stepped back on the sidewalk, he said, Just be cool. Everything okay. Just follow my lead. If he ask where we been, just tell him to Big Lots and Kmart.

But what about the mace? Don’t you still got it?

Nawl. I threw it away when I got off the scene.

But still…what about the clothes? What if he wanna look in the bags?

Be cool. We don’t even know if that mane is coming for us. He could be just finna get something to eat.

Come on, bae bae, you not stupid. You just stole them folks stuff. And then you maced the guards too. So why else would he be turning around? I told you he was looking over here kinda hard.

Mane, will you relax. I told you I got this. Be cool. Damn.

Quinisha released a heavy sigh, shaking her head in an uneasy manner. Bae bae, I don’t think this is a good idea. Forget making up a lie. You need to just run. Why won’t you just run?

No, I told you what I’ma do. We straight. I got this. Just follow my lead and don’t be acting all nervous and shit.

She released another uneasy sigh. Aight. But don’t say I didn’t tell you so.

When the officer turned into the parking lot, Antson started looking across the street at the neighborhood behind the shopping center, pondering on the best move to make. As he contemplated on running, he looked back to the parking lot at the officer, pulling in a parking space by the main entrance. After a brief debate with himself, he chose to stand his ground.

When three minutes passed and the officer didn’t get out of the car, Quinisha said, I wonder why he ain’t got out yet?

Shid, I don’t know. Like I said, he might finna get something eat. Like I said, just be cool…

Minutes later, another police car came riding down the street, turning on to the parking lot, pulling next to the first responder. The first responder was a tall medium built white man in his late forties. He had streaks of gray hair blended in his brown fade slicked to the back. On his hairless face were some black sunshades. When he stepped out of his car, he stretched his arms over his head, then walked to his trunk. The second responder was a dark-skinned pudgy bald-headed man. He was a few inches shorter than the first responder. When he got out of his car, he walked over to his fellow officer, speaking. Hi, there. How’s it going?

Great. Just trying to bear with this heat wave.

Yes, siree, he replied, pulling a rag out of his back pocket. You said a mouthful just then. Then he wiped the sweat forming on his shiny bald head.

After greeting each other, the black officer looked to the sidewalk. So what’s the situation? What we got here?

After a concise briefing, the officers walked over to Antson and Quinisha.

Hi, there, the white officer spoke.

Antson responded with a nod. What’s up?

The officer pulled off his sunshades, sticking them in his shirt pocket. It looks like y’all waiting on the bus.

Yeah, and it’s running late too. It’s supposed to be here twelve minutes ago.

That must be a drag.

Tell me about it. That’s why I’m saving up for a car. Especially on a hot day like this.

That’s good. Then the officer nodded at Quinisha. Ma’am.

She waved. Hey.

Y’all a pair?

Yep, Antson answered. That’s my baby.

Hmm…okay, the officer replied, looking at the bags in their hands. So where y’all coming from?

From Super K-Mart and Big Lots, Antson answered. Aw, yeah, and Burger King. But that was just to kill some time while we waited on the bus.

So y’all haven’t been to the mall?

Nope. We haven’t even been up that way. We just been on this end.

Is that so?

Yes, sir.

Well, that’s strange, because we just received a call from Goldsmith about a shoplifting incident and an assault.

The black officer folded his arms across his chest, giving Antson an inquiring look.

And it could be a coincidence, the white officer continued, but the description that was given, you fit it.

Antson responded with a baffled expression. Huh…for real? Yeah, that’s definitely gotta be a coincidence. Because we haven’t even been up that way. We didn’t even come out here to go to the mall. Only to K-Mart and Big Lots. Ain’t that right, baby?

Quinisha responded with a light nodding of the head. Yep.

What’s in the bags? the black officer asked, cutting his eyes at their bags.

Aw, nothing, Antson answered. Just some lil hygiene and cleaning supplies we bought.

Hmm, the black officer responded, looking at his partner. Well, you mind letting us look in them?

Aw, that’s all good. But I don’t see why, doh. It ain’t nothing but some hygiene stuff.

Well, there was a theft in the area, and we’re just covering the area. And for some reason you fit the description. No offense.

Well, like I said, I don’t know how that could be. Cause we haven’t even been up that way. We don’t even got no reason to go to the mall. We just came out here to pick up some hygiene and cleaning stuff. And besides some pants and a shirt that I saw in K-Mart. Other than that, we went in Burger King. But like I said, that was to kill some time while we waited on the bus.

Well, if that’s the case, it shouldn’t be a problem for us to look in the bags, the black officer replied.

I mean, y’all can look in the bags. That ain’t no thang. But I’m just saying, it’ll be a waste of time.

Well, let us be the judge of what’s a waste of time.

Aight, it’s all good…

Antson grabbed the bags Quinisha held, then opened them. The black officer stepped forward, sticking his hand in the bag, fanning his hand through the hygiene and cleaning supplies. After looking in the bags, he went, Hmm…what’s in the other bag?

Some pants and a shirt that I seen in K-Mart, Antson replied, opening the bag.

The officer stuck his hand in the bag, grabbing the shirt, saying, Phat Farm. Nice…real nice.

Phat Farm? the white officer replied. What’s that?

A high-end clothing brand. Very expensive clothes.

Aw.

But I didn’t know K-Mart sold this type of stuff, the black officer said, looking to Antson.

Me neither, Antson replied. Messed me up. When I seen it, I couldn’t believe it. Especially, for the prices they were letting it go for. I couldn’t pass it up.

The officers looked at each other in unison, giving off the expression are you kidding me. After putting the shirt back in the bag, the officer said, Well, here’s the situation. We’re not saying you’re the suspect. But since you fit the description that was given to us, we’re gonna have to take you to the mall to validate your story.

Antson showed his first sign of nervousness. Take me to the mall? For what? That ain’t even called for. I told y’all where we been. We haven’t even been up that way. I’m telling y’all the truth.

If you’re telling us the truth, you don’t have anything to worry about then.

But what about my bus? It’s already running late. It’ll be here in a minute.

The officer looked at his watch, replying, It’s still early. Don’t worry, if you miss it, you can catch another one. If we gone get this out the way, you might still catch it.

Mane, this some bull. A nigga ain’t even did nothing. A nigga can’t even stand at the bus stop without being harassed. Talking about I look like somebody else…

As the officer put Antson in handcuffs, Quinisha asked with a sad face, Bae bae, whatchu want me to do? You want me to wait?

A frowning Antson, replied, Nawl. I’m good. Gone go to the crib. I’ma catch you on the rebound.

As the officers drove off with Antson, Quinisha looked at the back of the cars and softly cried. When Antson was taken to Goldsmith, the workers quickly pointed him out as the culprit. As the white officer went to the back to fill out some paperwork, his partner stayed out front, holding Antson by his right bicep, twenty feet from the exit. In the midst of the black officer waiting on his partner to finish, Antson was having a marathon of thoughts. Who gon’ get me out of juvey? I know my daddy ain’t messin’ with me. And if I stay gone too long, Quinisha might mess off.

In the middle of his rampant thoughts, the officer released his arm then kneeled down to tie up his black combat boots. Antson looked down at the back of the officer’s bumped up head then to the door. Then without warning, Antson took off running toward the exit.

What the hell? the officer muttered, standing to his feet, jogging toward the doors. When Antson barged out the doors, he accidently shoulder-bumped a white man entering the store, knocking him to the ground. The officer stopped at the doors, then yelled in his shoulder radio. Jeff! Jeff! The suspect just ran off!

Soon afterwards, the two officers were running across the parking lot. Stop, goddammit! the white officer yelled.

Antson looked behind himself, continuing to flee. With his hands still cuffed, you would think it would’ve slowed him down. But with his blood overflowing with adrenaline, his speed increased. As his lead grew bigger, a young slim built white man came walking across the parking lot holding a small Sears bag, talking on his cell phone. Hearing the dragging officers yell for Antson to stop, the man stopped then pulled his phone from his ear. Seeing Antson trucking toward him, he pulled off his black sunshades. As he observed the situation, Antson ran past him.

Stop him! the black officer shouted.

The man looked at the back of Antson, then dropped his phone and Sears bag, then joined the pursuit. With a fresh start, the man quickly caught up to Antson. Antson started zigzagging.

Mane, this don’t got shit to do with you! Leave me alone! Whatchu doing! Stay out of this!

The man ignored Antson’s pleads, continuing to chase him. When he was close enough, he kicked the back of Antson’s shoe, causing him to lose his balance and stumble to the pavement. He landed on his shoulder, sliding a little. When the out-of-wind officers walked over, they thanked the Good Samaritan.

No problem, the Good Samaritan replied. Y’all need me to do anything else?

The heavy breathing black officer bent over, resting his hands on his knees, replying, Nawl. We got it from here. Thanks a mill.

When the Good Samaritan walked off to get his phone and bag, the white officer rammed his right steel-toed boot into Antson’s side. Fucker! the officer said, followed by a rough cough.

As they walked Antson back to Goldsmith, the black officer slapped him across the back of the head. Dumb bastard. Thought you were finna get away, didn’t it? And if you did, what was you gonna do? You still got the cuffs on. You didn’t think about that, did it? Stupid ass!

A frowning and scratched up Antson didn’t respond. When they were out of view of the parking lot, the white officer stopped along the sidewalk they were walking on.

What’s up? the black officer inquired. Why you stop?

His partner turned his head, then went to eye-scanning their surroundings. Seeing no cameras or people, the officer turned around, replying, This. Then he made a fist, punching Antson in the eye. Antson dropped his head, seeing colorful spots. Then the officer grabbed him by the neck, pushing him into wall, giving him four, back to back slaps. Fucking dimwit!

When the officer prepared to punch Antson again, the black officer saw a security car riding by. He put his arm between them, pushing his partner back. There go security. Be easy.

As they continued to their squad cars, Antson sucked the blood off his bottom lip. When they made it back to Goldsmith, the white officer went to his car, putting Antson in the back seat. His partner went inside to finish up the paperwork. Shortly after the black officer returned to his car, he pulled next to his partner, letting down the window. You okay over there, Jeff?

Jeff stopped filling out the affidavit, replying, Yeah. I’m all right. It’ll take more than a little punk to slow me down.

His partner smiled. I heard that. But I was just thinking, when I leave here I don’t have anything else going on. So if you wanted, I could finish up the paperwork and transport the suspect…you know, just to save you the hassle.

Trust and believe, I’d love to let you have him. But you know the procedure, the first responder gotta bring in the perp.

Yeah, I know. But you know just like I know, procedures are hardly ever honored. At least at our precinct. They really don’t care who brings him in as long as he was caught.

After moments of going back and forth, the first responder agreed to his partner’s request, removing Antson to his car. Thirty minutes after the first responder left the scene, his partner was putting the finishing touches to the affidavit. Once finished, the officer looked in the back seat at a slouching Antson, saying, You ready, you little shit?

Antson didn’t respond.

The officer turned around then put the car in drive, saying, Well, let’s get to it.

In the middle of the ride, the officer turned on to an out-of-business Chinese restaurant lot. As he drove to the back of the boarded-up building, Antson rose from his slouching position, looking around, inquiring, Aye, where we at? Why we going back here?

The officer didn’t answer.

I thought we was going to juvenile? Antson continued. What’s back here?

The officer continued to cruise in silence, stopping in front of a city dumpster, fifteen feet across from the building. It was a long eight-foot tall gray brick wall next to the dumpster. After putting the car in park, he popped the trunk. As he stepped out of the car, Antson continued to ask him what was going on. The officer didn’t respond, he just slammed the door. Then he unbuttoned the two buttons by his collar, then threw his head side to side, popping his neck. Then he walked to his trunk. After fumbling inside, he grabbed a pair of black leather gloves, putting them on.

When he shut the trunk, Antson murmured, Mane, what the hell is this mane doing?

When the officer opened the back door, Antson cowered away into the other door, balling up his legs. What’s going on? he asked with bucked and nervous eyes.

The officer reached inside then grabbed for his legs.

Antson started frantically moving around. Aye, mane, what’s this? Whatchu doing? We supposed to be going to juvenile!

Shut the hell up, the officer replied, continuing to grab for his legs. Get your ass over here!

Aye, mane, whatchu doing? Stop! Let me go!

After a brief tussle, the officer got a firm grip on Antson’s ankles, yanking him out of the car. When he landed on the trashy ground, the back of his head bounced off the ground. The fall also caused his handcuffs to constrict tighter around his wrist. As Antson shook off his dizziness, the officer grabbed him by the shoulders, then roughhoused him to his feet.

You finna learn a lesson today, boy, the officer said nastily, looking into Antson’s frightened eyes. I’m sick of you little roguish shits! Little shits like you is the reason why when I go shopping, the prices be so goddamn high! Then you made me chase you! Yeah, boy, you done fucked up! But you know something, that little chase actually got my blood pumping! I normally work out on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays! But since you got me started…got the blood pumping, I might as well gone get it in! And you finna be my little assistant today. Then the officer made a fist, stepped back a little, then punched him in the face. Antson dropped his head. Nawl, nawl, whatchu doing? the officer said, grabbing his chin, snatching up his head. Don’t run, you finna take this! Using the same right fist, the officer punched him again.

Ooh! Antson groaned as blood started running from his nose.

The officer hit him again and again. Then he followed the third face blow with a jab to the stomach, causing Antson to bend over. Then he grabbed Antson by the shoulders, throwing him to the ground. When he landed on his side, the officer kicked him in the chest, causing him to ball up and gasp for air.

Ooh! Antson groaned.

As he tried to catch his breath, the officer bent over, then snatched him on to his back, making the handcuffs constrict even tighter. Then he stomped his foot next to Antson’s head, making him flinch.

What’s wrong, boy? You scared?

Sir, please, Antson replied in a feeble wheezy voice. I’m sorry.

Whatchu say, boy? Speak up! I can’t hear you! You was talking real clear when you was lying to us! Then he put the toe of his boot on Antson’s neck, pressing down on his throat.

I can’t breathe, Antson muttered in a faint voice. Please, I can’t breathe, he continued as tears rolled from his eyes. I’m sorry.

Whatchu say…you sorry? No, you ain’t! You wasn’t sorry when you was stealing them folks shit, now was you?

Seeing Antson’s harsh breathing, the officer moved his shoe. Then he looked around the lot, then unholstered his gun. He bent over, putting the gun inches from Antson’s face. As Antson shivered in fear, the officer said, Look at you! I thought you was a tough guy! You ain’t scared to die, is it?

Please. I’m sorry, Antson replied in a slurry mutter.

The officer moved the gun closer to his face, saying, How you like this? You know I can blow your brains out all over this pissy-ass ground and wouldn’t give two fucks. And guess what’ll happen to me…not a goddamn thing. Free murder. You think the courts wanna waste time and money on a two-bit criminal like you. One less little shit the system will have to take care of. And my trigger finger shole haven’t had any practice lately.

Antson started praying in his thoughts. God, please don’t let him kill me. I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done. Please don’t let me die like this…

Then out of nowhere, the officer flicked on the safety latch then struck him in the forehead with the handle of the gun, creating a nasty gash. Blood started running from the wound, messing up his face.

Ooh, Antson groaned in pain, moving his head in a wobbly motion.

Then the officer holstered his gun, then grabbed him by the ankles and started pulling him across the ground. As he dragged him across the trashy ground, Antson blinked in and out of consciousness. In the midst of the assault, a rattling noise sounded in the distance. Then a homeless man with a shopping cart full of junk emerged from the side of the building. The officer released Antson’s legs, looking to the other end of the building, muttering, What the hell?

Seeing Antson on the ground, the homeless man murmured, What’s this?

As he silently observed the situation, the officer asked, What you looking for? What you doing back here?

What’s going on? Is everything all right?

Yeah. Everything is fine. Now whatchu want, and why are you back here?

Antson looked upside down, seeing a blurred vision of the man.

What’s wrong with him? the homeless man asked. Is he okay?

The officer looked at Antson, replying, "Yeah, he okay. I stopped to let him