The Choice: Chapter 1

Here is a draft of chapter 1 of my next novel, “The Choice”. I’d love to hear what everyone thinks:

The Choice

The group of men circled Jared. His heart raced. They all carried guns and were bigger than him. Each had already aced their initiations by murdering at least one person. The gang watched him, each anxious to see what he’d do to the old man kneeling on the ground in front of him, pleading for his life. A gang member close to him – he had not yet learned everyone’s name – smiled and spat on the ground, nodding to Jared to do what needed to happen.

Thoughts of his past life ran through his mind. Why did I end up in this mess? I should be at home – not here. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath and glanced around at the tall building, spiraling into the night’s sky. Thinking about the horrible day when his father shared the news of losing his job – all on Jared’s 15th birthday. It felt like so much time had gone by, yet it was only a few month’s ago.

His parents shared everything with him. They didn’t believe in surprises so they told him both good and bad news. His dad and mom sat down with him at the kitchen table in the home, a Colonial in a quaint neighborhood, that Jared had lived since birth.

”Jared, your mom and I have some important news,” said his dad.

“Sure, Dad. You finally landed the promotion you wanted and have a huge birthday bash planned for me!” he replied smiling. He wasn’t expecting the bombshell that was to follow.

It was then that he had gotten the full run-down and his happy mood erased in a matter of moments.

His father’s lips tightened, “Your mom and I lost our jobs. The bank isn’t doing well and we were part of the first cuts.”

Jared glanced to his mother who sat next his father, nodding slowly, her eyebrows creased. He could glimpse wetness in her eyes. She looked tired. It was the first time he had noticed that. He had been so caught up in his own life, he never noticed how warn out she had become.

Jared shook his head and smiled, “You and mom will find something else soon.”

“I’m not so sure. Times are hard. We’re going to have to move.” His dad said.

“Move?” Jared’s eyes widened. “We can’t move. Why?”

Jared’s mom reached over the table to take his hand, “We can’t afford the house anymore.” A tear dripped down her cheak. “We have to move until we can get back on our feet.”

“Well where then?” Jared freed his hand from his mom’s hold.

Jared’s father sighed, “The city. We have a small apartment in the city.”

That was when Jared stormed out of the room. He soon learned he had to take it all in stride, there was nothing anyone could do. He discovered the apartment was in a section of the city where gangs ruled the streets. If you were a young white man in a predominantly black area and not in a gang, you didn’t stand much chance of survival.

“In debt with no escape…” That’s what his dad had said. Those words echoed in his mind. Being a good scholar, Jared knew what that meant – especially in a world where the financial markets had become such a mess. He knew it would be some time before he could ever have the life he’d once had. Everything would change. He’d lose friends he knew all his life. He’d have to start over from scratch, but he knew his parents would suffer more so he tried his best. His grades slipped because he was afraid to attend class at his new school – surrounded by thugs.

“Hey, it’s your time. Show us you a man!” a voice echoed through the alley and he snapped back to the situation at hand as he felt someone placed cold metal in his hands.

He looked down to see that it was a .38 caliber. He could feel his knees weaken. I can’t kill him! God, what do I do? he thought. The old man cowered in front of him. He appeared homeless, pulled out of his makeshift hovel. But if I don’t, I’m dead instead of him. Glancing up, his eyes darted around the circle of young men standing and waiting for him to pull the trigger. Images of him blowing the poor man’s brains out made him queasy. The alley was empty, save for the gang and the scared old vagrant. Wind whipped through the street and he felt the collar of his windbreaker snap against his neck. He shivered from the breeze rushing through his clothes. The cool night air seemed to become dense and heavy with the violence about to ensue. He wondered if it was the grim reaper riding in to snatch its next victim. Either way, it was bound to take a soul that night, his or the old man’s.

The old man balanced on his knees, raising his hands up to Jared, pleading for him not to proceed with the task given to him. His face was full of whiskers and he reeked of booze.

A dark spot grew in front of his pants. “Pleash, I dun nothin’,” he cried out. “I, I have a boy, ‘bout yur age.” Tears streamed down his face.

“Just pop’ him!” a large boy in the gang yelled.

Lightning struck in the distance and the sky filled with light. Well, isn’t that fitting? Nothing like making the situation more intense, he thought and looked down at the gun resting in his hands. Light reflected off the black barrel as another bolt of lightning graced the sky.

“Do it! Now!” another voice called out. He could almost feel the impatience in the man’s loud voice.

The old man, though smelly and drunk, reminded him of his grandfather. He had spent countless summers with him and loved him dearly. It was last summer that he died of a heart attack. God, I can’t do this, he thought. I have to, or I am done. He gritted his teeth with determination and slowly raised the gun to point it at the old man’s head. Just pull the trigger and be done with it, he told himself. A siren in the near distance blared. Wind was whipping, throwing trash around in the air.

“God Damnit! Kill him now!” the leader of the gang shouted.

The gun shook as he held it – the barrel pointed at the old man. Pull it you fool! A blinding flash of light hit a trash can, not far up the alley and he could see his reflection in the glass from a nearby window. There he stood, a medium built young man about to make a decision that would shape his future. Rain dripped off his blond hair to his shoulders as if the sky was crying for him. Either decision would not have a good ending. The light faded and another bolt of lightning streaked the sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. I’d never be able to live with myself. Knowing what was to follow, he dropped the gun. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was the right thing to do. Another bolt of lightning followed. It felt as though he was in the middle of a battle in the sky.

“No. I won’t kill him.” He focused on the ring leader, the largest of the crew closing in on him, cracking his knuckles, grinning. This was not going to be good. The old man looked up to him, his eyes narrowed and he gave an understanding nod, as if apologizing for the situation he was in. He crawled backwards and through an open hole in the group of boys moving in to punish Jared.

The gangleader stepped forward, “I offer you protection, and you do this? You refuse me, you refuse us. Over a drunk?” he motioned to the old man cowering in the shadows. “You’re dead.”

Pain spread through his back. He wondered if he heard the padded “thunk” sound first or felt the pain first. Jared fell to his knees and saw what appeared to be a bat in one of the thug’s hands. He tried to block another attack aimed at his face with a nightstick. It hit his forearm and he felt it pop as the nightstick hit bone followed by a crunch as it broke through his cheekbone. Red filled his vision and his face felt wet. He wished it were just the rain, but knew differently. Falling face first into the tar, he curled into a fetal position. Pain spread over his body as he took countless hits from many attackers. All for a homeless drunk, he thought. Pain stabbed him from everywhere on his body.

Another flash brightened the sky as he stared up past the faces grinning at the hurt they were causing. A bright bolt darted past clouds, branching out in several directions. His vision began to fade and his eyes stung from blood dripping down his forehead. A familiar noise rang in his ears and he tried to focus on it. Police! Hope sprang into his thoughts and he could hear the gang members talking among themselves.

“Time to go! We can finish this later.” the leader yelled.

“Man, look at him! The punk’s bleedin’ out!” another voice shouted, followed by laughter and then the sound of footsteps running away.

A moment passed and more footsteps approached.

“Son, hang in there. I need an ambulanc-“ the voice cut out and blackness closed around him.

Thunder boomed above, and to Jared’s surprise, he stood looking down at the .38. Instead of dropping the gun, he brought it up to aim at the man’s head and pulled the trigger. He wanted to stop himself, but couldn’t. Something else or some force had the control. The emotions frightened him. It wasn’t remorse or shock, but exhilaration. He had the power over this person. He chose whether he lived or died. Of course, the right thing to do was to kill him. That’s what a real man would do. The strong live, the weak die – easy as that. He felt himself smiling at the thought. Blood spattered the tar and the man’s body fell backwards into a lifeless heap. The body twitched and red covered the ground. Red contrasting with the blackness of the night was quite beautiful. The gang came forward and patted him on the back for a job well done. The respect felt good. A blinding flash stung his eyes.

“Clear!”

Flash! Darkness.

“Clear!”

Flash! Beep, Beep, Beep.

“I don’t believe it. We’ve got a pulse.” A voice echoed through a fog.

Pain followed, but was soon vanquished by a needle in his veins. Deep sleep followed.