Rain (Hudson 1)

"They won't even talk to me," he declared. "I just get this nosy secretary who keeps asking what's it about."

"I don't blame them," Mama said. "If I had a choice, I wouldn't talk to you either."

That set him off on a tirade about all he had tried to do for our family and how no one appreciated his efforts. They carried their arguing into the living room and Beni and I prepared to leave.

"Don't stay out too late," Mania called to us. "Getting a good night's rest is just as important for a test."

"What would you know about that, woman? You never even finished high school," Ken told her and they were at it again, clacking their tongues like two angry chickens, neither really hearing what the other said. What would become of them? One day Ken would surely leave and never return, I thought. Surely once they had been happy and hopeful. What had changed?

Beni and I looked at each other and slipped away. Neither of us spoke as we made our way out of the building and into the street.

"You let me do the talking when we get there, Beni. What they're doing is blackmail and if they don't give us those pictures, we're going right to the police. We've got to get them to believe we'll do that," I said.

She nodded, too frightened to speak. I talked because I was too frightened not to hear the sound of a voice, even if it was only my own.

The neighborhood where the warehouse was located was in a dark, dingy area. It was a run-down industrial block with empty store fronts, their windows either smashed or boarded over. Some had notices and posters pasted on the doors. No one cared to repair the broken streetlights. The vacant

warehouses and buildings were taken over by homeless people or the gangs. If Roy knew we were here, I thought, he would be so angry, the top of his head would turn as red as a thermometer in boiling water. As we walked toward the warehouse, we drew closer to each other. It was quiet, deadly quiet. There was little reason for any traffic on these streets or any pedestrians.

The old mattress warehouse was a five-story building. It had a facade the color of rusted metal. Most of the windows were smashed and the sign dangled ominously on wires over the chipped and broken sidewalk below. I was surprised no one had done anything about it, but like so many of the dilapidated and depressed places in our city, government officials were satisfied pretending it simply no longer existed. They had more important areas for their attention and money.

There were three cars parked in front, but there was no one in them or on the sidewalk.

"What time is it?" Beni asked me.

"It's just past eight," I said. I took a deep breath like I would if I were about to go under water. "Let's get this over with."

The front door hung loosely on its hinges and was partly open. I stepped up to it and gazed inside. I could hear music coming from within and saw a lighted area. Then I heard some laughter.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," Beni muttered. I was frightened, too, my brave face evaporating like a mask of wax at the sight of the deep shadows and the large, empty room before us. I felt like we were about to step into hell itself.

Some heavy metal object clanged and then there was more laughter. I stepped farther in. What I was sure was a big gray rat scurried by, only inches from my feet. I gasped and stepped back.

"You're late," someone said above us. A flashlight was turned on us-, -the beam blinding me for a moment. I put my hand over my eyes and gazed up. Carlton was standing on a ramp. "You brought your white sister?" he asked Beni.

"Shut up, Carlton," she threw back at him. He laughed. "We have the money," I announced.

"Wait down there."

He turned off his flashlight and then we heard his footsteps on a metal stairway. Seconds later he was in front of us.

"Come on," he said.

"Why don't you just give us the negatives and the pictures and we'll give you the money?" I asked, not eager to go too much farther inside.

"Because I don't have them," he barked. "You want 'em or not?"

I hesitated and gazed back at the partly opened front entrance. For the rest of my life, in my mind's eye, I would gaze back at that door. I kept thinking about the Robert Frost poem we read in English class, the one about the two roads that split and the choice that made all the difference. Beni was wilting at my side. They would destroy her with those pictures. I had to go forward, I thought. I had to be brave and strong for her.

"Well?"

"We're coming," I said sharply.

He led the way deeper into the warehouse. There were cobwebs everywhere and more rodent sounds coming from the darkest corners. By the light of a few lanterns, we could see a group of about five boys and two girls, who were sitting and sprawling on old mattresses. They were drinking whiskey and vodka and cheap wine. Wrappers from fast food hamburgers and fries, some still holding food remnants, were on the floor beside them. Cigarette smoke spiraled into the darkness above and from the aroma, I knew that some of it was smoke from marijuana. They stopped laughing and talking when Carlton shouted.

"She's here!"

At first I didn't see Jerad anywhere and I was happy about that. We would pay the ransom for the photographs and go home quickly.