Free The Assigned by A. D. Smith, Iii Page A

through my veins announces itself. Feeling particularly smashed now, I slowly make my way to my feet—MY GOD!
    The cause of my fall is lying next to me—a body. My eyes widened, gazing upon the figure. Although the face is hidden, by the size and build this—this has to be Martin. Wait a minute … My initial reaction of fear is now countered by assumptions.
    “T-Mart?” I nudge my brother with a foot. “High as a kite! I knew it!” The nudging continues, now harder. “Get up! And you bet not get nothing in the truck!” He doesn’t respond. I call again.
    I listen for any sounds. Martin usually breathed heavily when he was passed out. Making my way closer, I kneel down. Carefully, I turn him ov—
    “AAAAHHHHOWWWWW!!!!”
    A stomach churning noise emits from my mouth as I jump back. This is my younger brother. But not as I remember him.
    Martin’s face looks aged. His eyes bulge open, almost swollen. Once brown, his pupils have now turned into a faded grey. They stare into the unknown.
    He’s dead.
    The sight of his eyes is enough to sicken anyone. Blood stains soak his shirt although I can’t determine the source.
    He—He’s dead.
    “Oh God!” I spit while covering my mouth. Too late. A mix of alcohol and greasy food shoots from my guts up through my mouth. It soils the ground next to me.
    “Martin! What happened?!” I can barely stand to look at the body though I eventually gather the nerves to inch closer. Finally, I manage to close his eyes, caressing his head in my lap. Tears flow as I hold his hand. “Damn, Martin. What happened?” I notice an unusually shaped symbol branded on Martin’s wrist. It looks fresh. He had several tattoos but I’ve never seen this one before.
    At least not on my brother. Two crowned shaped symbols inverted with a tiny circle in the middle. Low-cut yellow top. But she wouldn’t know Martin. She couldn’t. They’re from two different worlds. What the hell is going on?
    “What did you get yourself into Martin?”
    A bright light shoots from my chest—my phone. I remove it from my shirt pocket. It reads ‘ Bree’. Low cut-yellow top’s name is Bree . And that’s when it hits me.
    “DAMN!!!”
    The word scrapes against my throat as I hurl the phone into darkness. “You told me to come get you!” I scream as I pull my brother tight. “Martin! Martin, I’m so sorry!”

    I can’t remember the last time we embraced though only one of us will share this memory.
    My brother—he’s dead.

Chapter 9
     
    The cold air shoots through my skin like piercing needles. My nose begins to run in the bitter night air. I’ve been walking for what seems like miles. Waking up this morning, I had no idea my life would drastically change like this.
    I’ve wondered all my life who my father was, if he lives in the same city, if he’s even alive. Now to find out he is alive and he’s someone I’ve known half my life? I should’ve seen the signs. The way he treated me differently from the others, A’ma’s disdain for the church and a man she ‘hardly knew’ . It was all right there.
    So many thoughts run through my head—pick one—any one. The very least of them would immediately cause water to gush from my eyes. It’s like everything I’ve been taught has been a lie. My family … the church … God.

    “Hey, you alright sweet-cakes?”
    The whiny voice startles me. I’ve been so busy thinking about my problems I’ve hardly noticed my surroundings. I’m nowhere near my neighborhood and two shifty characters now follow behind me. Quickly glancing back, I increase my pace.
    “Hey, I know you hear me sweet-cakes,” again says the whiny voice. That name along with his tone disturbs me. Why does he keep calling me that?
    “Now don’t act funny,” he continues. “Jimmy hates that. Ain’t that right, Beef?”
    “Yeah,” answers his partner. “Jimmy hates that.”
    The clatter of the men’s boots once again increases my cadence. In the horizon is a well-lit