Free Alfonzo by S. W. Frank Page A

strings attached but she refused anxious to try to get on with her life . Despite her bravado he knew it was going to be difficult moving forward after what happened. He called her almost every day to make sure she was okay. She broke down on the phone las t night and his heart collapsed from the weight of her pain.
    The Mercedes slowed to a halt at the red light and he instinctively checked the car on his right . The driver of the old black Chevy stared straight ahead. Red changed to green and the driver pulled ahead and Alfonzo turned left on ninety-second street west to third avenue . He wanted to update the family on the police investigation before going home. There was a ten thousand dollar reward offered by the police , a paltry sum for two lives. O n the street he placed an even higher bounty of one million for anyone who came forward with credible information about the killer.
    Minutes later he found an empty parking space not far from his mom’s brownstone. He sat in the car for a minute looking around the quiet street. He decided to call Selange. She answered on the third ring and he grinned, “ Hola .”
    “Hello Alfonzo. ” .
    “How did your day go, chica ?”
    “ It’s getting better.”
    “ Bueno , but you know you can’t stay sequestered forever, you need to start going out or you’re not living.”
    “I’m not ready.”
    “Tomorrow I’m coming over. No argument.”
    She breathed out, “Okay, whatever.”
    “ Hey , chica ?”
    “Yes?”
    “Make sure you lock all your doors and windows before going to bed.”
    “I will. It’s pretty safe here. There’s a neighborhood patrol and Detective Johnson stops in occasion ly .”
    None of this satisfied him but he chose to end the conversation on a positive note, “I’ll see you tomorrow, buenos noche .”
    “Good-night Alfonzo…and thanks for calling.”
    He hung up then exited the vehicle. He crossed the street and s uddenly recognized the black Chevy parking not far away.
    C oincidence , maybe not!
    S enses heightened , Alfonzo strolled casually down the block listening for the man . An oncoming couple passed laughing then they crossed the wide street. Their voices drifted away and he continued on discreetly reaching for the blade secreted in his pocket. The last gift he received from Uncle Al ; this beautiful silver engraved retractable bowie knife.
    On this warm summer night the block boasted very little activity. In the distance , he saw a woman entering the Fernandez home . A group of youngsters walk ed toward the avenue and a car pass ed o n his left. Footsteps approached from the rear and he readied the blade in his hand as the steps quickened . Alfonzo turned catching the man by surprise. The man held a gun pointed at the back of Alfonzo’s head which he deflected before he gripped the man’s wrist in a vice . On the forearm he saw the Chinese symbol for death inked there. He raise the gun hand sk yward and used the blade to carve through the man’s flesh until it made contact with bone. The man howled in agony then quieted as the gun misfired shattering a car window and setting off the alarm. Alfonzo attempted to dislodge the gun again and met a powerful head-butt which caused him to stumble and lose momentum.
    The attacker took the opportunity to fire the weapon and a bullet grazed Alfonzo’s shoulder. Completely focused on the man and his movements Alfonzo twisted the wrist swirling the man’s entire body around in the opposite direction, placed a kick to the gunman’s leg bringing him to his knees then applied such force to the wrist it cracked loudly and the gun slipped from the man’s fingers to clang against the pavement. Another blow to the man’s spine sent him face-down on the ground knocking loose several teeth. Blood poured from Alfonzo’s shoulder wound like spilled paint as it trailed down the front of his shirt but he found the sticky warmth comforting in murderous rage. He bent low and li fted the man by his