Perfect Chemistry

The deal is supposed to happen here, at the forest preserve in Busse Woods.

The parking lot and area beyond are dark, with a sliver of moonlight to guide me. The place is deserted, except for a blue sedan with its lights on. I walk farther into the woods and catch a glimpse of a dark figure lying on the ground.

I run while dread washes over me. I recognize my jacket the closer I get. It’s like seeing my own death in front of me.

Kneeling on the ground, I slowly turn the body over.

Paco.

“Oh, shit,” I cry as I feel his hot, wet blood soak my hands.

Paco’s eyes are glazed, but he moves his hand slowly and grabs onto my arm. “I fucked up.”

I rest Paco’s head on my thighs. “I told you to stop interferin’ with my life. Don’t die on me, you better not die on me,” I choke out. “Holy shit, you’re bleedin’ all over.”

Bright red blood streams out of his mouth.

“I’m scared,” he whispers, then winces in pain.

“Don’t leave me. Hold on and it’ll be fine.” I hold Paco tightly, knowing I just lied to him. My best friend is dying. There’s no going back. I feel his pain as if it’s my own.

“Lookie here, it’s pretend Alex and his sidekick, the real Alex. Some Halloween night, ain’t it?”

I turn to the sound of Hector’s voice.

“It’s too bad I couldn’t tell it was Paco I was shooting at,” he continues. “Man, you two look so different in daylight. I guess I should get my eyes checked.” He pulls a gun on me.

I’m not scared. I’m angry. And I need answers. “Why did you do this?”

“If you must know, it’s your father’s fault. He wanted out of the Blood. But there is no out, Alex. He was the best we had, your padre. Right before he died, he tried to quit. That last drug deal was his challenge, Alex. Father-son drug deal. You both make it out alive, he wins.” He laughs, a cackling sound reverberating in my ears. “The stupid motherfucker never had a chance. You’re too much like your old man. I thought I could train you to take his place as a great drug and gun dealer. But no, you really are like your old man. A quitter . . . un rajado.”

I look down at Paco. He’s hardly breathing, the air barely making it out of his lungs. Looking down at his blood-stained chest, the growing red bull’s-eye reminds me of my papá. This time, though, I’m not six years old. Everything is crystal clear.

My eyes meet Paco’s for an intense second.

“The Latino Blood betrayed us both, man,” are the last words Paco says before his eyes glaze over and he falls limp in my arms.

“Put him down, already! He’s dead, Alex. Just like your old man. Get up and face me!” Hector yells, waving his gun in the air like a lunatic.

I gently lay Paco’s lifeless body on the ground and stand, ready to fight.

“Put your hands on your head so I can see ’em. You know, when I killed el viejo you cried like an escuincle, a baby, Alex. You cried in my arms, the guy who killed him. Ironic, huh?”

I was only six. If I’d known it was Hector, I wouldn’t have joined the Blood. “Why’d you do it, Hector?”

“Boy, you’ll never learn, will you? You see, tu papá thought he was better than me. I showed him, didn’t I? He bragged that the south side of Fairfield was a cut above since the high school was in a rich hood. Said in Fairfield there were no gangs. I changed that, Alex. Got my guys to go in and make every house hold belong to me. It was either come to me, or lose everything. That, my boy, is what makes me el jefe.”

“It makes you a madman.”

“Madman. Genius. Same thing.” Hector pushes me with the gun. “Now get on your knees. I think this is a good place for you to die. Right here in the woods, like an animal. You want to die like an animal, Alex?”

“You’re the animal, asshole. You could at least look me in the eye when you murder me, like you did to my father.”

When Hector walks around me, I finally have a chance. Grabbing Hector’s wrist, I force him to the ground.

Hector swears and is fast to his feet, the gun still in his hand. I use his disorientation to my advantage and kick him in the side. Whirling around, Hector knocks the side of my head with the butt of his gun. I fall on my knees, cursing the fact that I’m not invincible.

Thoughts of mi papá and Paco give me the strength to fight back through the blur. I’m all too aware Hector is trying to get a good shot at me.

When I kick Hector back, I scramble to my feet. Hector’s Glock is pointed directly at my chest.

“This is the Arlington Heights police! Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air where we can see them!”

Through the woods and the haze, I can barely see red and blue lights flashing in the distance.

I raise my hands. “Drop it, Hector. The game is over.”

Hector holds the gun steady, aimed at my chest.

“Put the gun down,” the police call out. “Now!”

Hector’s eyes are wild. I feel his rage from the five feet separating us.

I know he’s going to do it. Es un cabrón.

He’s going to pull the trigger.

“You’re wrong, Alex,” he says. “The game has just begun.”

The whole thing happens fast. I move to the right as the shots ring out.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Stumbling backward, I know I’m hit. The bullet burns through my skin as if someone is pouring Tabasco on it.

Then my world goes black.