CHAPTER TWO - APOLLO

Storms of Injustice

Apollo dragged his feet across the puddles of rain along the ground, his socks becoming increasingly cooler and soggier as he did. Holes on your shoe soles will do that to you. Strangely, the amount of water his socks absorbed reminded him of the abuse he’d absorbed throughout his life. The dense fog, concentrated in the air, mirrored the uncertainty of his future, and the barrage of raindrops beating off his head and shoulders equaled the amount of vitriol he had to deal with from his peers.

If anyone were to believe the nonsense Odion spat about him, nearly half—if not all of Sauga’s population—would’ve been reduced to ash. That’s approximately eight hundred thousand people and an awful lot of bodies to be on the conscience of a kid who wants to live a relatively normal life as a teenager.

Thank goodness for his MP3 player. Listening to some of Mama's favorite tracks was the only way Apollo knew how to keep her memory alive, outside of journaling. And, of course, to keep his mental health in check. There were only so many intrusive thoughts he could tolerate before whatever Odion was leery of bubbled to the surface.

As Apollo turned onto Sauga Valley Boulevard—also known as The Valleys—the apartment complexes around him gradually became more segregated, run-down, vandalized, and tagged with graffiti art. Garbage littered the sidewalks, and several of the vacant business offices down the street had broken windows and pieces of brick missing from their foundation. The entrances to the doors were also completely boarded with lumber to prevent anyone from entering. The Metro gas station across the street was fenced because it went up in flames a few months ago, the rumor being it was a burglary gone wrong.

Since the number of violent crimes taking place within the community increased each year, it was best to stay indoors. To be caught up in these streets as a young black male was a life risk with only two possible outcomes: death or imprisonment. Just a few days ago, Apollo overheard Marcella telling Odion about an individual who’d been fatally shot in front of the apartment building next to the plaza where the supermarket was located.

With the number of beggars, addicts, gangsters, and street hustlers frequenting the area, it wouldn’t come as a surprise if Marcella sent him out here hoping something fatal would’ve happened to him, given the numerous times she told him he was a “prick in her thigh.” Such is life. After a while, Apollo got used to the mistreatment.

Apollo stopped and removed his spectacles to wipe off the rain that spattered against it. The water was coming down in drenching sheets now, running through the portion of his dreads that wasn’t covered by his hoodie and dripping down his face, nose, and chin. He blinked a few times after putting his spectacles back on, looking both ways across the street to check for any oncoming traffic before crossing.

A couple of blocks ahead was St. Isabelle’s Parish. Mama would bring him and Odion there every Sunday morning to receive God's blessings for the entire week. Apollo narrowed his eyes and turned his head in the other direction. Just the sight of the building caused Apollo's stomach to churn. Why did God cut Mama's life short despite her being so devoted to her religion? Did The Almighty need her that bad? You’d think that a divine entity as benevolent as God would do everything in its power to protect its children. But Mama’s untimely passing made Apollo wonder if everything about God was a lie.

“Ah, shit.” Apollo put his head down, shifting his eyes between the police car and the ground just as the officer was pulling out of the apartment building where the fatal shooting took place. The last thing he needed was to be interrogated by a cop simply for getting a bottle of milk. Apollo picked up his pace, head locked to the ground. He turned the volume down on his MP3 player in case anything happened.

WOOP WOOP.

Apollo flinched and reluctantly turned around to see blue and red lights flashing in his direction. His heart started to bounce. Ah, great, now what? Apollo quickly slid his headphones around his neck and reached inside his hoodie pocket to pause his MP3 player.

“You there, in the red hoodie,” the male officer said, pulling up beside him. “Where were you coming from just now?”

“M-my house,” Apollo said, trying not to fluctuate his voice. It was bad enough that he stuttered in his response.

The officer looked at him for a long moment like he was trying to remember if he’d recognized him from somewhere. He had a very pronounced mustache with slicked jet-black hair and some streaks of gray sprinkled around the front. He wanted to look like one of those mafia guys you see in mob movies. The ones you don’t mess with if you want to remain alive and not have your remains found at the bottom of a lake somewhere.

The officer opened the laptop beside him and spoke on his radio. No sooner after that, another police car pulled up right behind him. Apollo looked to the skies and took a deep breath, the cool rain pattering against his face. Who knew it was a crime to walk to the supermarket?

“Excuse me, officer is this really necessary—”

“You be quiet!” the officer said, scrunching his face. He slammed the door as he stepped out of the vehicle, putting his cap on. “Put your hands where I can see them.”

Apollo raised his hands in the air. “Look, I was only heading to the supermarket—”

“What’d I say?” the officer said. “Do as you’re told, and you might actually leave here alive.”

Apollo twisted his face. What’s that supposed to mean? He glimpsed at the officer’s name tag. J. Sodimento

“Just be cool, and we’ll be out of your hair,” the other officer said. This one looked like a recent police academy graduate who couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. He had a narrow face and was clean-shaven. Apollo stole a glance at his name tag as well. B. Adams

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Lock both of your hands behind your head,” Officer Sodimento demanded. Apollo complied. “You have any illegal weapons and drugs on you?”

“No.”

“You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“Why would I lie to a cop?”

Officer Sodimento patted him down around his back, sides, and chest. He reached for the MP3 player Apollo had in his hoodie pocket and stared at it like it were some foreign device he’d never seen. “You tell me. And I’d suggest you watch your tone the next time you answer.” The officer curled his lip, and Apollo detected a stony hardness in his voice. “Place your hands on the vehicle and spread your feet,” Sodimento said, pointing to the car's hood, kicking Apollo’s feet apart. He patted both of his ankles, up to the inside of his legs and around, making his way up to his pockets, reaching inside. Again. “What’s this?”

“My wallet,” Apollo said, turning around.

“Keep your hands on the vehicle and do not move until I tell you to!” the officer barked, right hand on his gun, the left forearm shoved against Apollo’s throat. Apollo’s heart started to dance faster inside his chest as he choked and gurgled, the anxiety traveling down his spine and wobbling both his knees. “Move again, and I’ll be forced to shoot you.” Officer Sodimento forcibly spun him around, and Apollo took a large gasp of air as his feet were kicked apart again, harder than the first time. “Don’t you move! I’ll be back.” He looked to Officer Adams. “Watch him.”

Officer Adams responded with a single nod and held his hand firmly on his gun as Sodimento returned to his patrol vehicle with Apollo’s wallet. There were a few moments where people walked past the situation and rolled their eyes as if to say, “Oh look, another black kid stopped by the police. What else is new?” The few who stayed to watch had their smartphones out, shaking their heads at what they were witnessing. If Officer Sodimento was true to his word, at least justice would be served by the fact a homicide was committed in front of witnesses who had proof of the incident on their smartphones. Or perhaps Apollo was instilling too much faith in the criminal justice system. Officer Sodimento and Officer Adams would probably get away scot-free. Man, why won’t this clown hurry up?

“Why isn’t there any identification in your wallet?” Officer Sodimento asked, rolling down the front passenger window just wide enough so the rain wouldn’t soak his seats. Apollo shrugged, unable to answer his question. “What’s your name?”

“Apollo Biobaku.”

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Whereabouts do you live?”

“Twenty seventy-nine Silvius Drive, unit twenty-four.”

Officer Sodimento kept darting his eyes back and forth between Apollo and his laptop, rubbing his chin as if he were in the midst of solving a quantum mechanics equation. “Pull up your left sleeve and show me your forearm.”

Apollo kept his palms visible and carefully rolled up his left sleeve to show the officer. Sodimento pulled down his shades a touch, again looking back and forth between his laptop and Apollo’s forearm.

Officer Sodimento dismissed his arm with a wave of his hand. “You got any siblings?”

Apollo nodded. “Yeah.”

“How many?”

“Just one.”

“Brother or sister?”

“Brother.”

“What’s their name?”

What’s with all these damn questions? “Odion.” Just saying his name caused a pang of anger to roll throughout his body, wishing it were him out here in this pouring rain. “Am I free to go now?”

“No! You’re not!” he said, pulling his shades down to his nose. “I tell you when you’re free to go. Continue with the attitude, and the longer I’ll keep you out there in the rain. Your choice.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth, his nose flaring hot. The fear and anxiety screaming in his body slowly transformed into irritation. He tried his best not to stare at him for too long because he knew the prick would take it as a threat. Why couldn’t these two bozos drop dead already?

A good ten minutes—or what felt like it—must’ve elapsed before the officer stepped out of his vehicle and permitted Apollo to turn around, handing him back his wallet. “Okay, listen up. The reason I stopped you was because my partner and I are part of the Gundam Regional Police Street Crime & Gang Unit, and there was a fatal shooting that took place at this very building a few days ago.” He pointed to the building. “Were you aware of that?” The officer looked at him suspiciously.

Apollo stared at him for a moment before responding. “No,” he said, working his lips around like he wanted to say more but held off on it for obvious reasons. The fewer words said to these assholes, the better.

“Well, the suspect we’re after looked like you, except he had a tattoo of two Glock 17’s in the form of an ‘X’ on his left forearm.”

’Course, he looked like me. Apollo remained silent, trying to keep the disgust from showing across his face. What he really wanted to say was, “Just because I’m a young black kid doesn’t mean I’m a criminal or part of any street gang, you power-hungry piece of shit. Your mama should’ve swallowed you.” He left it alone.

Officer Sodimento looked him up and down. “Where are your parents?”

Apollo processed the question and then matched his eyes, something feral grumbling in his stomach. “Dead,” he said, looking away toward the sidewalk. Like you should be.

“You sure about that?” Officer Sodimento chuckled. “I’ve had kids like you lie to me before.”

“Why would I lie about something like that?” Apollo snapped, his heart skipping at an unhealthy amount of beats per minute.

“What’d I say about your tone?” The officer bit off the question, squinting his eyes. “Your crackwhore mom did a shitty job raising you after your dad cut loose for a pack of smokes.” A smile grew on the corner of his mouth as a sizzling spark jolted across Apollo’s body. “Do me a favor, kid, and stay off these streets. You’ll live a lot longer if you do.” He and his partner headed back to their respective vehicles.

Your crackwhore mom did a shitty job raising you after your dad cut loose for a pack of smokes. Apollo squeezed his fist so tight he wouldn’t have been shocked if his nails broke through the skin of his palms. He took several deep breaths as the officer’s words about his parents played in his mind over and over again. And then to smile … as if he were happy, they were dead.

A violent rage crashed and tumbled in Apollo's soul: a bubbling and crackling at his guts, slowly rising toward his chest, past his neck, boiling up to the crown of his head. Apollo winced at the pain, like hammers smashing against his temples. He watched as the two police cars spun around and drove off, concentrating on the sensation boiling at the top of his head. Apollo reached into his mind and expelled a forceful burst of energy in their direction.

Sodimento’s patrol vehicle swerved left, then right, then flipped several times along the road, colliding with Officer Adams’ vehicle as his, too, flipped and tumbled before both vehicles exploded, shooting furious streams of fire into the air.

Apollo’s eyes shot wide, mouth agape, his body paralyzed with panic. Perhaps that was too much energy. The noises around him became silenced and replaced with a sound like a rabbit squealing in pain. Maybe it was his heart; he wasn’t sure.

The only thing he was sure of was that it was time to get out of here.

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