Paxton's Peace Read online

  Copyright © 2017 by Bailey West

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Paxton’s Peace/ Bailey West. -- 1st ed

  Cover Design by Cover Couture

  Photos (c) Depositphotos

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Let’s Keep in Touch

  Prologue

  “Everybody in here is dying tonight!”

  Nigel, my father, shouted at the top of his lungs. His voice carried through the closed door of my bedroom. I was in the front room hanging out with my mother until I heard him coming down the hall headed to our unit. I retreated to my bedroom and locked the door. There was a time in my life that I looked forward to him coming home, but that was years ago. Now I dread being in his presence.

  My Uncle Roland and Aunt Grace convinced my parents to let me live with them on Long Island so that I could attend the same school my cousin Roman attended. My mother thought it was a great idea. She wanted a better life for me. My father argued that staying in public housing with him and my mother would build character. Eventually, he conceded and let me move. I was spending the weekend with my parents, but I was ready to go back home.

  “You, me and Paxton! Tonight is the night!” Nigel continued to shout.

  “I’m sick of this Nigel! I’m sick of you making our lives hell!” Giselle, my mother, yelled. “We can’t have a moment of peace with you! Why don’t you take your ass back to where you came from?”

  I don’t know what triggered him this time. Maybe it was my mother questioning where all his money had gone. It could have been someone recognizing him from the past and asking him why he wasn’t playing music anymore. He was a professional trumpeter until drugs and alcohol caused him to lose his music career. Something as simple as my mother’s breathing pattern could have been the trigger. He would ask an ignorant question like, “why are you inhaling and exhaling like that?” Then my mother would respond, “I’m just breathing, Nigel.” He would say, “well stop!” “I can’t stop I will die, duh!” They would argue for the next three days because she was breathing. It would be funny if it wasn’t so stupid.

  “Aye, where is that Lil Nigga at, huh? Aye Lil Nigga, you hiding? Bring your big ass out here and say goodbye to your mother. We goin’ home on the morning train, Lil Motherfucker! The evening train might be too late. Aye, aye, Selle! You ‘memba that song from church? We recreating that shit tonight cause we all about to be up outta this motherfucker! Aye, aye Selle, Imma be like, ‘you get a bullet, you get a bullet, you get a bullet,’” he laughed at his poor attempt at humor.

  “Aye, lil nigga open up this goddammed door!” My dad yelled, as he banged on the door to my bedroom.

  My stomach churned as I stood frozen in place. I looked around the room trying to decide what I would do if he breached the door. Would I hide? There was nowhere for me to hide. I couldn’t fit under the bed, and the closet was too small. Would I fight? My Dad is a large guy. I’m big too, but I don’t think I can take him, yet. Would I scream? We live in the projects, no one would care if I screamed. People scream around here all the time. I had no clue what I would do if he made it through that door.

  “Is this lil nigga in here? I told you not to let him go nowhere. See that's why I have to stay on your ass, Selle, cause you don't listen!” He banged on the door again. “If I have to break down this door to get your ass I will!” I held my breath waiting for the inevitable. He’d never put his hands on me, but he had threatened me and my mother before. He has threatened to shoot us while we slept or cut the gas line and blow us all up but he never followed through with any of it. I was just tired of going through this with him. My mother told me to leave the next time my Dad started acting crazy. I wanted to stay and protect her, but she told me she could take care of herself. His drinking was getting worse and I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to control himself soon.

  “Stop beating on that door. He’s not in there! Stop waving that gun around before you hurt somebody,” my mother screamed.

  “Oh…oh…you…you think I’m playing, Selle? You think I’m not a motherfucking man of my motherfucking word? I said we all going together and I meant that shit! I just need to find my son and the shooting will commence.”

  I picked up the phone next to my bed and dialed my cousin’s number.

  “Blue,” I whispered into the phone. Blue is my cousin Roman’s nickname.

  “Pax?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. My dad is really tripping tonight. I’m scared. What should I do?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m hiding in my room. I’m scared to come out. He threatened to kill all of us; me, momma and himself and he has a gun.”

  I was thirteen years old. I didn’t have a way to get back home without the help of my Uncle and Aunt. I knew that they were at church and couldn’t be reached.

  “Pax, get out of your room through the window that we climbed out of when we used to sneak outside. Meet me at the corner of your block. I’m on my way.”

  “Okay.”

  We disconnected the call.

  I didn’t even question what Blue meant by on his way. I trusted that he would figure out a way to get me out of here.

  I did a quick assessment of my room to see if there was anything that I needed.

  “Lil Niggaaaa,” my Dad sang. “Come out here and talk to your Pops.”

  My mother had already told him that I wasn’t here. I didn’t know why he was still calling me so, I didn’t respond. I was too busy planning my escape route. I settled on taking a picture of my parents and me during happier times. The first thing tomorrow morning, I was going to speak to my Uncle and Aunt about my visitation arrangement with my parents. I don’t want to ever come back here. If my parents want to see me, they can come out to Long Island. I hope my Aunt and Uncle agree.

  I peeked out my bedroom door to see where my father was. He was in the kitchen with his back to me still yelling and cursing. After closing and locking the door again, I tried to open the window in my room. It wouldn’t open. I tried again with all my might…nothing. It didn’t budge. My heart began to thump loudly in my ears as I used the back of my hand to wipe the sweat that had formed on my forehead. I looked around my room for something to break the glass in the window. Then I thought, if I break the glass, my Dad will hear it. Will I be able to get out fast enough before he busts through the door? No, I was too big to quickly fit through the window frame. Then I remembered the bathroom window that led to the fire escape. To get to the bathroom, I would have to leave my room and risk my dad catching me. I decided I would risk it. I quietly opened the door and peeked out to locate my Dad. He was still yelling but had his back to my bedroom. I quickly and quietly moved down
the hall. My legs felt wobbly, like cooked spaghetti, as I made the short trip from my room to the bathroom. I closed the door, then opened the window which gave me access to the fire escape. I climbed out and made my way down the side of my building until I was on the ground. I thought about calling the police. I’d called them on my Dad once before but my mom was more upset with me for calling the police, than she was with my Dad for acting like an ass. I told her I was trying to protect her, but she wasn’t hearing it. She denied that anything was wrong and my Dad had already left, so the police didn’t file a report. She told me to never call the police again. So, I didn’t.

  I ran until I got to the end of my block. I looked back to make sure no one was behind me before I tucked myself into a dark corner and waited to be rescued. My stomach was in knots, and I had to use the bathroom, but I stayed in place until I saw my Uncle’s sky-blue Cadillac Sedan Deville turn the corner. At first, I thought Roman had figured out a way to contact my uncle. As I neared the car, I realized it was Roman driving and Ezekiel was sitting in the passenger seat. I didn’t give it a second thought as I climbed into the back seat, buckled my seat belt and Roman pulled off.

  “Was Uncle Nigel still in the house when you left?” Ezekiel turned and asked me.

  “Yeah, he’s in there tripping. I hate coming over here. I hope Uncle Roland don’t make me come over here no more.”

  “Did Uncle Nigel see you leave?”

  “Nope. He was in there screaming at my mom. He didn’t know I was in there.”

  I sat back and watched the passing scenery as Roman expertly maneuvered the car back to our house on Long Island. Roman took his time and parked the car back in the exact same spot he’d gotten it from.

  “Okay, so what do we say when Dad asks how Paxton got back home?” Ezekiel questioned.

  “We are going to say we called him a yellow cab. We both just got paid, so he will believe that,” Roman answered.

  “What do we say when he asks how come Pax didn’t tell Uncle Nigel and Aunt Giselle goodbye?” Ezekiel continued to question.

  “We are going to tell them that…”

  “They were arguing,” I interrupted. “They were arguing and didn’t hear me say goodbye. That’s basically the truth.”

  “Alright, everybody got the story?” Roman looked at both Ezekiel and me waiting for our answer.

  “Got it,” Ezekiel smiled.

  “Got it,” I agreed.

  Roman put the keys to the car back in their special hiding place. I took a shower and changed into my pajamas. Ezekiel and I went into Roman’s room and watched TV until we fell asleep.

  My Uncle came barreling through Roman’s bedroom door startling all of us awake.

  “Roman! Have you heard from…”

  He paused his sentence when he looked over and saw me sitting up on Roman’s spare bed.

  “Oh, my God!” He rushed over to me and pulled me into a tight hug. He released me from the hug but held onto my shoulders when he asked, “Paxton, when, how, when did you get here?” He did a quick visual head to toe inspection of my body.

  “Umm…”

  I was trying to remember the story that Roman, Ezekiel and I had put together when we arrived home.

  “I have to call the police.”

  “Police? Uncle Ro, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  I mean I’d heard of parents calling the police when their children did things that were inappropriate, but I just didn’t believe that this situation called for those drastic measures.

  He scrubbed his hand down his face and said, “Your father shot your mother and then turned the gun on himself.”

  It felt like someone snatched my heart right out of my chest leaving me feeling hollow.

  “He did what? Why would he do that? Is she okay? Is he okay?” I wasn’t sure if I was saying anything out loud until my Uncle pulled me to his chest.

  “I don’t know,” My Uncle said as he hugged me. “They both have been rushed to the hospital. The police called here trying to locate you. They thought maybe he had hurt you too.” We stood in the middle of the room hugging for several minutes. I didn’t know what would happen next, but I was scared. “Come on, put your clothes on. We need to get to the hospital to check on them. Roman and Ezekiel, you both, stay here. We will be back in a few hours.”

  “Yes, Sir,” they both responded.

  As I changed from my pajamas back into my clothes, I couldn’t stop the memory loop that was currently playing in my head. I could hear my dad’s threats and my mother crying. Should I have stayed and protected my mother? But, she told me not to stay. I didn’t think he would hurt her. Are they going to die? Are they in pain right now? Would he have shot me too?

  “Paxton!” Uncle Ro called from the hall effectively pulling me back into the present.

  “Coming,” I responded while I hurried and tied my sneakers.

  1

  “I was looking at your file, Private Bluette. I see that you consistently score above the perfect score of three hundred on your physical training test.”

  “Yes, Sir. I score on the extended scale.”

  “I also see that you’re a forty out of forty expert on every weapon that you’ve fired to include the M-16, M-9, and the M-249.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “No one has beaten you in hand to hand combat?”

  “No, sir. They have tried, but they have not succeeded.”

  “Good, have a seat.”

  I sat down in one of the chairs facing my Brigade Commander’s desk. I was told that the Brigade Commander wanted to meet with me. I was escorted from my training site to his office by one of my Drill Sergeants. I was in the fourth week of my Advanced Individualized training (AIT) at Fort Benning, Georgia. I had chosen to forgo college and join the Army after high school. Up until today, things were going well. I’d graduated from boot camp and won the Distinguished Graduate honor. I beat out every basic training soldier at Fort Leonard Wood to win the award. I was on track to win the same honor once I graduated from AIT.

  Being called to the Brigade Commander’s office for a new soldier is like being called to the Superintendent of the school district’s office. Usually, there are a lot of people that you have to go through before making it to the Superintendent’s office. In the Army, it’s the same way. Typically, you have to speak to your Company Commander, then your Battalion Commander, then several more people before you would ever get to the Brigade level. Brigade Commanders don’t show their faces, period. They are usually just signatures on forms, pictures on walls or names used to incite fear. Something serious had to have occurred for me to be called into his office. I was racking my brain trying to figure out what I’d done. I couldn’t think of anything, but I was going to deny whatever they were accusing me of, even if I did do it. I learned that from my younger brother, Ezekiel. Deny everything!

  I didn’t notice the man standing in the corner of the room until I sat down. I briefly made eye contact with him before I gave my attention back to the Commander, Colonel Perkins.

  The man in the corner came from the shadows and stood next to Colonel Perkins.

  “My name is Colonel Bowman.”

  He didn’t look like a Colonel. He was dressed in a uniform similar to the Army battle uniform, but instead of the normal green camouflage, his uniform was all black. He didn’t wear any name badges or rank.

  I stood up to greet him properly.

  “You can sit back down. I’m not into all of the formalities. I am here because I have a position on my team that I am looking to fill. I command a special joint force unit. That means that I have Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines that work for me. I only recruit the best and today, I am here for you. I’ve heard about the name you’ve made for yourself during basic training. I know that you switched jobs. You signed up to work on computers, now you are training as an Infantryman. You are looking for more from the Army than just sitting behind a desk looking at computers all day. Am I correct?”r />
  “Yes, Sir!”

  It was true. Partway through basic training, I decided that sitting behind a desk and looking at computer screens all day was not for me. I asked if I could change my MOS, (Military Occupational Specialty)-my military job. I was allowed to change it. I didn’t tell my family because I didn’t want them to worry about me. They all assumed that I was in a classroom somewhere learning about computers, but I was out in the field learning hand to hand combat and how to fire weapons.

  “Good, then go to your barracks and collect your things. You will be leaving with me. Do you have any questions?”

  I had tons of questions like, “where are we going? Why should I trust you? How did you find me? Why is your uniform different?” But, I knew better than to ask them.

  “No, sir.”

  “Good, this conversation should not be shared outside of this room. Your unit has been informed that you are leaving. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You’re dismissed.”

  I stood from my seat. Saluted both men and said, “Good afternoon, Sir.”

  They both saluted back, and I turned to leave.

  My drill sergeant was waiting for me outside of the office to escort me back to my Barracks.

  “So, they told me that they are pulling you because you need to be closer to home due to some family issues. I know I’ve been a hard ass, but I hate that we are losing you,” Sergeant Jameson patted me on the shoulder.

  I nodded and kept walking. If that’s the story they are being told, then that’s the story I am sticking with. I quickly packed my bags and then called home as I was instructed to do by Colonel Bowman.