Tiger
827 Words
Inside the compound at 8800 South Highland Drive.
A little boy burst out—woman behind yanked his collar, dragged him back into the inner yard. “Shut the door—mind your own business.”
Julian recognized her—the landlady.
In the yard, the lead heavy tilted his head at the inner gate, grinned at Evelyn. “See? These days, people hide from trouble. Think yelling brings help? Dream on.”
Evelyn backed to her door, eyes sharp on the three men, voice small. “Brother—the camera’s not here. I turned it in. Don’t make this hard…”
The lead stepped in, grabbed her dark hair. “Little girl—why lie? Would I come without knowing?”
Evelyn saw his pocked face, leering eyes—heart pounding. “It really—”
Thud.
He lost patience, slammed her head against the doorframe. “Giving you face.”
Evelyn dazed from the blow.
“Reed—drag her inside. New way to talk.”
“What are you doing?”
“Face refused—warm our winter with you.” The left heavy grabbed Evelyn, kicked to force her in.
Creak.
Opposite door opened. Julian stepped out. “What’s this—bullying a girl?”
Evelyn looked up—saw Julian, overjoyed. “Brother—brother… help!”
Julian cold by nature—didn’t want trouble. But these men wouldn’t stop. If it escalated, Evelyn would report—same compound, hard to explain later. Plus her background—bigger mess.
He spoke.
“Who the hell are you?” lead barked.
“Police. Live here,” Julian flat at door. “Late. Talk tomorrow—no nonsense here.”
“Police?” Lead paused. “Which department?”
Julian no direct answer. “Let her go.”
“You talk tough.” Lead frowned. “Our business—not yours. Back inside.”
He ignored Julian, yanked Evelyn. “Last ask—camera or not?”
“I said—”
Slap.
Before finish, Julian grabbed the wrist. “Buddy—no trouble in this yard.”
Lead cold. “I’m Tiger from Slag Row. Don’t know me—ask your department.”
Julian frowned.
“f**k off.” Tiger jerked arm.
Julian gripped like vise. “Still not done?”
Thud.
Tiger spun—fist to Julian’s chest. “Cop—know your place?”
Julian stood silent.
Tiger slapped Julian’s head. “What—uphold justice? Arrest me—try.”
Slap.
Julian left seized Tiger’s arm, right leg swept low.
Thud.
Tiger down.
“f**k—Tiger? Any lions in Slag Row?”
Julian low, kicked Tiger’s head three times—he rolled down steps.
Left and right heavies drew knives—no care for badge—lunged.
Crash.
Julian yanked Tiger’s gun, racked slide, safety off, aimed right one. “Knife at officer—believe I shoot dead?”
“You bluff—”
Bang.
Evelyn crouched, hands over head.
Bullet grazed the knife man’s cheek—he froze.
“Said bluff—why dodge?” Julian glared. “Stand still—I’ll paste barrel to forehead.”
Both hesitated—unsure Julian’s edge.
Ground—Tiger shook head, rose. “Reed—call men.”
Thud-thud-thud.
Julian gun butt smashed Tiger’s head eight times. “Three men—one gun short? Can’t stand—don’t play tough.”
Tiger bloodied, slumped door.
“Squat!” Julian gun on other two.
They eyed each other, dark faces, squatted steps.
Julian mind raced, then to Evelyn. “My room—phone on bed.”
Evelyn crouched, head down.
Thud.
Julian kicked her. “Cause trouble—can’t handle? Stop whining. Phone.”
Evelyn snapped, ran to Julian’s room, grabbed phone, returned.
Julian one-hand gun, dialed Caleb. “Three suspects. Send car.”
Ground—Tiger heard, lifted head. “Little bastard—you serious?”
Julian raised butt to smash.
Tiger shrunk, silent—waited police.
…
Aside, Julian pulled Evelyn steps away, low. “Sis—why always trouble? What they want?”
“I… filmed them,” Evelyn blinked. “Work.”
“Filmed what?”
“Price gouging slum meds, selling fakes.” Evelyn thought, honest. “Followed days. Last time they took camera.”
Julian heart sank. “They deal fakes too?”
“Yeah.” Evelyn nodded. “Scum—no humanity. Crackdown—they jack prices. Poor can’t buy—force organ sales… blood buns.”
Julian thought deep.
…
Half hour later.
Caleb arrived, saw Tiger, paused. “Hey—Tiger bro—what you doing here?”
“Little Caleb?” Tiger perked at familiar face, stood. “Phone call.”
Julian to Caleb. “You know him?”
“f**k—you arrested him? He’s Marcus’s friend,” Caleb low.
“Kid—today I strip your uniform—or take your name.” Tiger wiped blood, phone aside, dialed Marcus.
- Writer
