Page 6 of After the Knockout
I ended the call and stared through the rain. There was a parking garage just up ahead. Maybe the elevation would keep my car safe. I eased the car inside and lapped the garage until I found a space to park. I grabbed our bags from the back seat andslung one over my shoulder before climbing out into the storm with Dakoda tucked against my side. I pressed my palm against the dashboard.
“Please,” I silently begged. I couldn’t afford to lose this car. My 2019 Nissan Altima wasn’t much, but it was mine.
“Ma’am, we’ve got ponchos.” An officer jogged past and paused when he saw us. He pulled one from a box in the back of a truck. “Put this on him.”
“Thank you.”
I slipped the thin plastic over Dae-Dae’s shoulders and tightened the hood around his curls.
“Stay close,” I told him, and he grabbed my hand. We joined the line of people walking toward the nearest shelter. I knew these streets. That was the part that made my chest tighten. I knew which corners flooded first. I knew which buildings sat higher than others. I knew which church they were directing us to without needing to ask. We were three blocks in when we heard someone yell.
“Shelter’s full!” My eyes shot up in the direction of a woman shouting from under the church awning. “We can’t take anyone else. There’s another church six blocks west opening now!”Six more blocks.
Dae-Dae tugged on my hand. “Mama, I’m cold.”
I looked down at him. His lips were pressed tight, trying not to complain.
“It’s okay,” I said. “We’ll get there.” We turned and started walking again. By the second block, his steps slowed.
“Can you carry me?”
I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and lifted him into my arms. He wrapped himself around me, the poncho crinkling against my jacket. We had cleared maybe two blocks. My legs were burning. The rain was relentless. The bag on my shoulderfelt heavier by the second. I stopped under a streetlight and tried to catch my breath. Four more blocks felt like forty.
“Mama . . . I’m cold,” Dae-Dae said, pressing his cheek into my shoulder.
“I know, baby.” I pulled him into me even closer, glancing around, trying to decide if we should just go back. That was when I noticed where we were. We were standing right in front of KO’s old training facility, the same concrete building I used to walk into maybe twice a week. The windows were boarded now, and the front doors were chained shut, like it had been abandoned for years. I still recognized it, though. It was taller than the other buildings on the block, about fifteen floors. My chest tightened. Whenever I dreamed of Dakota, we were here. He was in the ring, and I was watching him, and everything was perfect.
“Mama?” Dae-Dae shifted in my arms.
I looked down the road toward the church, which was four more blocks in sideways rain, probably crowded with people scrunched together like sardines. Then I looked back at the building, and a lightbulb went off. Worst case, there was no running water and no electricity, but I had bottled water, flashlights, and candles. We just needed a place to wait out the storm for the night. We could move somewhere else in the morning or head back home.
“We’re going to stop here,” I said, and Dae-Dae slid down from my arms and grabbed my hand as we walked toward the front entrance. The heavy metal doors were wrapped in a thick chain and secured with a padlock. I tugged on them anyway, but they didn’t budge.
Dae-Dae looked up at me. “It’s locked?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, glancing down the empty street.Girl, what did you expect?This place had probably been boarded up for years.
“Maybe there’s another door, Mama.”
I looked down at my baby and smiled. He was a genius. There was another door around the back, and it used to stick. KO used to complain about it all the time. He used to say he needed to fix it before someone broke in.
“Come on, baby. Let’s try that other door.” I swallowed and tightened my grip on Dae-Dae’s hand. We moved along the side of the building toward the alley behind it. A black car sat abandoned along the block. I didn’t give it too much thought. Everyone had abandoned their vehicles once the roads started closing. The back entrance came into view at the end of the alley. Same metal door. Same warped frame. I grabbed the handle and pulled. It didn’t move.
“Come on,” I muttered as I braced my foot against the wall and pulled harder. The door jerked loose with a loud scrape, making Dae-Dae jump a little as it swung open. We stepped inside, and the stairwell was dark, but it was dry and warm, and relief rushed through me.
“Stay close,” I told him, and he nodded. I pushed the door shut behind us, silencing the wind howling behind us as Dae-Dae took off up the stairs before I could stop him.
“Dae-Dae, slow down,” I called, but he was already gone. I took a deep breath and hurried after him up the dark staircase, telling myself the same thing repeatedly. We were just waiting out the storm. This was just a dry place to stay until morning.
It always pissed me off how niggas acted like they didn’t know how to drive as soon as a little rain hit the pavement. This storm had everybody in the city acting brand new. Traffic was backed up for miles and miles with people trying to get out of dodge, everybody running, scared over a little water. My wipers slapped back and forth as the rain hit the windshield like it had beef with me. Hurricane Imani hadn’t even made land yet, and she already had the power lines swaying and streetlights blinking in and out. I tightened my grip on the wheel and weaved through the ton of abandoned cars on the road.
I turned off the main road and pulled up in front of my old training facility. I didn’t train there as much these days, but it was still mine. I figured one day, I’d turn it into some kind of reccenter for the kids around here. I parked near the front entrance and cut the engine. Rain hammered the roof of my truck as I stepped out and headed for the doors, my Glock in hand. Storms made motherfuckas act crazy, and I wasn’t interested in fighting for my life in some cold ass hospital room again.
I locked the truck and headed for the back entrance. Grabbing the handle, I yanked the door open. The frame jerked loose with a sharp pop. I pulled my phone out and checked the screen. My brother Jalen. Of course, it was him.
“Talk,” I answered on the second ring and started up the stairs.
“Man, what the hell is wrong with you?”
