Chapter 1: The TANK
"A'ight, I think we done here. Lock her up." Samuel slaps the garage door of the workshop and walks off to his Benz.
I wipe the sweat off of my forehead with the greasy sleeve of my uniform and flip the lights of garage A off. I walk inside the office and hit the showers. The warm water runs down my back and steam fills the room. I think about Pop and when he gon' be back.
He left about a year ago, visiting America for a good job. Pop got a degree in law in college, and here at the workshop wasn't enough for him. So he set off late at night last Christmas.
I shut the water off and step out of the little shower. A pile of clean clothes lay in my locker. Jeans and a t-shirt. I throw the uniform in the washing machine and let it run, then pull my new clothes on.
Outside the window, fireworks explode. Fourth of July. I shake my head. I never believed in holidays since Mama died when I was young, and Pop was never much for celebration. I can hear kids scream and music blare. The lights flash through the window, saving waves of red and gold across the floor.
I lock up the office and garage, then hop into my pickup truck. I pull out onto the little road tucked behind the shop, and turn my brights on. I slam on the brakes. Fifty feet ahead, lying in the road, is a naked body. Its stomach is caved in and bones protrude from its chest. Blood is smeared twenty feet along the street. I curse and frantically dial 911.
"911, state your emergency," the operator says.
"H-Hi, I'm calling for a- um, murder, dead body, I don't fuckin' know!" I scream.
"Alright sir, we will track your location and sent cars over immediately." The line shuts off and the dial tone sounds.
I put my head in my calloused hands. I can't breathe, so I roll the window down. A body in the middle of the road? What if whoever did this is still out there? I empty my stomach out of the window.
A minute later, I hear the sirens. Three cop cars and an ambulance pull up and immediately start at work. They secure the area and begin to question me. The rest of the night is a blur. They interrogate me for what seems like hours, throwing questions at me that I don't know how to answer. I mean, come on! I just saw a body! I ain't the freakin' suspect!
Finally, the man who was asking me all of the questions stands and shakes my hand. "Thank you, Mr. Fisher, we will call your home phone number if any additional imformation is needed." He offers a small smile and straightens his tie. I look down at my white Nikes. The world seems to swim around me, and I black out.
