An Eye for an Eye

by Bob Brongiel

“They ain’t gonna do it to us, Man” the thirteen-year old, named Louis, said to fourteen-year old, Douglas.  “You know they’re not.”

They were standing in an empty apartment on the seventh floor of the west wing of the Cabrini Green Housing project.  When they spoke, their voices echoed throughout the room.  The door was closed, but couldn’t be locked because someone broke the door frame awhile back.  A bored beat cop stood just outside the door preventing the kids from leaving.

Grafitti and gang symbols covered every wall in the apartment.  The top frame of the window they looked out of was so dusty and dirty that you couldn’t call it a window anymore.  The lower part was opened only because the glass was no longer in it.  Only little ragged shards remained around the dirty wooden frame of the window that they used to throw little nine-year old Richard out of just a week ago – because he wouldn’t let them have a knife he got from his father.  

“Bullshit they won’t,” Douglas began.  “Just a month ago, they threw gasoline on the face of the guy who burned his own kid.  Then they lit a match and threw it at him.  Did you see his face on the TV?  He looked like a ‘crispy criter, his face was so burnt you couldn’t even figure out what was his nose and what was his mouth.  And a few weeks ago, they beat that guy that killed his own kid because he couldn’t finish saying the alphabet.   They beat that guy to death, Louis.  Even used the same brick he used on his own kid.  Don’t tell me they ain’t gonna do anything to us.”

“But those are a-dults,” Douglas said.  “They ain’t gonna touch us cause we just kids, Man.”

“Oh, no?  Then, who’s getting out of that car down there?”

They looked through the broken window at the plain brown wrapper that pulled into the lot, and the two burly detectives that got out of it and walked toward their building.

“Does’t this job ever get to you, Bob?”  Detective Mark Brooks said, as they walked up the decrepit staircase because the two elevators in the place no longer functioned.  The whole place had a musty smell to it, but in the stairway, you could make out the strong scent of urine combined with alcohol and bug spray.

“Somebody’s got to do it, Mark,” Detective Bob Davis said.  “Don’t forget, if it wasn’t us, it would be someone else.  And some of ‘em deserve even worse.  I still think we should have made that guy who killed his kid suffer a little more.   He was dead after the first blow.  He beat his kid with his hands, a belt and a tree limb before he finally used the brick, Mark.  We should have taken our time with him.”

“Boy, you’re one nasty dude, Pal.  They found the right guy when they chose you.  But these guys up there are just kids.  They probably didn’t even know what they were doing.  They didn’t live long enough yet to know the meaning of dying.”

“Yeah, but that little nine year old didn’t even live long enough to know the meaning of living, or dying.”

They reached the seventh floor, nodded to the beat guy, and walked into the room.  The two kids were cowering in a corner opposite to the window, looking very much afraid. 

“Go easy on ‘em, Bob.  They look scared to death.”

They walked quietly toward the kids.

“If it was only that easy, Mark,” Bob said under his breath as they moved even closer. 

“Don’t worry, guys,” Bob said to the kids.  “We’re not the ones who do the dirty work.  We just want you to tell us what you did one more time.  Maybe something you say will give us an excuse to tell the other guys not to come here.”

Louis glanced sideways at the dicks, his mouth slightly ajar.

“That guy out there by the door said that the guys that “even thing out” are coming here today,” Louis said. 

“Well, they were going to, but one of your parents talked to the judge and he said we should come and try to find some way to get you out of this.  You know, just maybe go to jail for awhile,” Bob said.

Louis still looked suspiciously at Bob.

“That must have been my Ma,” Douglas said his eyes brightening, stepping away from Louis and looking less frightened.  “She was crying the last time I talked to her.  She says she was gonna try to help us.”  He looked at Louis.  “I told you she was gonna do something.”

“See what I mean,” Bob said.  “Now get over here and tell us what happened.”

Both kids moved closer to the detectives and began to tell their story.  About how they used the place as a gang hideout and smoked and did joints and shit like that.  Richard wanted to join their gang, but they wouldn’t let him in until he stole a few things for them.  But when they asked him for the knife his father gave him, he wouldn’t give it to them.  So they threatened to push him out the window, but he tripped and broke the glass and fell out of it accidentally. 

“So you guys didn’t push him, huh?”  Bob said.  “Show me how it happened.”

Douglas was the first to move towards the window.   Louis moved slower, but, finally stood next to Douglas.  When they both had their backs to the dicks, Bob grabbed  them by their necks and threw them against the busted frame.  Both fell to the pavement below amid a shower of rotted wood.  Mark walked to the opening where the window was and looked down at the two little bodies lying awkwardly in the parking lot.  He turned to look at Bob.

“Let’s get out of here,” was all Bob said.

He sat at the small round table in the kitchen at his apartment, and took another swig from the half-empty bottle of Killian’s Irish Red and stared at the picture of the horses head on the label.  He lied when he told Mark that it didn’t bother him.  It did bother him.  It bothered him a lot.  And, it bothered Karen a lot, too.  That was why her clothes were missing from her dresser and the closet.  And the bathroom didn’t have anything lying around in it that belonged to her anymore, either.  She left him that night – as she said she would.  She told him if he went through with it, she was going to.  He did, and she did. 

He put the bottle to his mouth and pored what remained down his throat, then threw the bottle at the garbage can.  He got up, opened the fridge, pulled another bottle from the twelve-pack, twisted the cap off and threw it at the garbage can, too.  

He walked into their bedroom.  She had taken everything, even the pictures.  Well, what was he to do?  He had a job.  He was taught from the earliest of age that “Duty, Honor and Country” were all that mattered.    Then, when he was in the Marines, it was “Semper Fideles.”  You always did your job. 

He was taught that anyone who comitted a crime should be punished.  And the new “Eye for an Eye” law enacted last year seemed like the perfect solution to end the wave of rampant crime that hit the city.  And it was working.  No doubt about it.  Crime statistics showed that within the last six months, major crimes dropped twenty-five percent, almost five percent a month and still dropping.  So, what he was doing was good for the city, good for the country -- since other cities were forging their own similar laws -- and good for him.  Made him feel like he was making a significant contribution.  That is, until now.

He walked across the hall, into the other bedroom – Douglas’ room -- and the tears poured from his eyes.      

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