Paton

By Mirika Mayo Cornelius

PATON, from the novel series Secret and Colored Lily: Poppa Took My Innocence

After witnessing the ruthless murder of his best friend while his own life hung in the balance, the many demons Paton Jones spends a lifetime trying to suppress, begin to emerge. Armed with an evil before its time, Paton's life becomes a thick fog of deadly secrets, hidden betrayal, and overt lies that carve a relentless path of revenge and destruction against anyone who crosses him.

Before Secret, there was innocence. Before Colored Lily, there was corruption. In the beginning, there was PATON!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mirika Mayo Cornelius
• Release date: Feb 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507047330

Book preview

PATON

––––––––

Mirika Mayo

Cornelius

PATON

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the rights of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. 

Copyright © 2014, Mirika Mayo Cornelius

An Akirim Press publishing

Book cover by Akirim Press

Free Picture: Old House ID: 198506

© Freds | Dreamstime Stock Photos

Woman in window illustration by Lawrence J. Mayo

Acknowledgements

All glory, honor, praise and total worship to God Almighty, Jesus Christ and Holy Spirit for every single thing because without Him, I am nothing.

To my son, I love you. You are my number one.  To my husband as well, I love you.  My parents – you rock, I love you, and thanks for everything.  Although gone from earth but always present and alive with the Lord, my granny Dora, I love you still.  See you and the rest when I get there.

To my readers, thank you and I want you to enjoy this one as you have enjoyed the others.  Thanks for your support.

PATON

After witnessing the ruthless murder of his best friend while his own life hung in the balance, the many demons Paton Jones spends a lifetime trying to suppress begin to emerge. Armed with an evil before its time, Paton's life becomes a thick fog of deadly secrets, hidden betrayal, and overt lies that carve a relentless path of revenge and destruction against anyone who crosses him.

Before Secret, there was innocence. Before Colored Lily, there was corruption. In the beginning, there was PATON!

More Akirim Press Books

Books by Mirika Mayo Cornelius

Secret

Colored Lily: Poppa Took My Innocence

Paton

The SECRET Novel Collection

Ain't Quite What I Thought!

Ain’t Quite What I Thought! 2

First Degree Sins

Inside the Gates of Doons

Sunny Sides of My Shade

Murders at Gabriel’s Trails: The Complete 5 Part Series plus bonus Sins of Bain

Murders at Gabriel’s Trails: An Alexis & Bain Love Story

Murders at Gabriel’s Trails II: A Son’s Sacrifice

Murders at Gabriel’s Trails III: Paths of Revenge

Murders at Gabriel’s Trails IV: Littered Deception

Murders at Gabriel’s Trails V: Lies in the Crossfire

Books by Rod Cornelius

Ugly

Diggin’ Gold

The Trusted

Single Again

Ghetto Eyes

The Best Kept Secrets

Books by Cyan Deane

Dead Man’s Mayhem

Execution’s Karma

Table of Contents

PATON

THE BOY

THE MAN

THE MONSTER

More Akirim Press Books

Preview FIRST DEGREE SINS by Mirika Mayo Cornelius

Preview UGLY by Rod Cornelius

Preview INSIDE THE GATES OF DOONS by Mirika Mayo Cornelius

Preview SINGLE AGAIN by Rod Cornelius

Preview MURDERS AT GABRIEL’S TRAILS: The Complete Series by Mirika Mayo Cornelius

PATON

the third and final book of the Secret & Colored Lily: Poppa Took My Innocence novel series; the story of Jocelyn’s father

THE BOY

Get down, man, get down!

Watch out, Paton, man.  Move over, a tall and lanky teenage boy by the name of Jesse strained as he shoved himself against the bottom of the wall as a car passed by.  They gon’ see me, Pate!  I ain’t got no room, man, I ain’t got no room.  The heel of his shoe dug into the dirt as his body scraped against the wall of jagged bricks, leaving patches of white dirt on his evenly toned, milky brown skin. 

Paton, who was seated directly behind Jesse, lost his balance while crouched down and fell backwards, slamming the back of his head into the other teenager behind him who goes by the name of Drowning Boy, a nickname given to him as a result of him nearly drowning more times than any other person that ever set two feet in water.  When Paton turned around, blood dripped from Drowning Boy’s bottom lip, but he quickly put his finger up to his mouth, warning him not to make a sound.

Shh...don’t say nothing.  Then, Paton carefully turned back to Jesse who had already stopped breathing altogether.  Even when Paton touched him on the shoulder to get his attention, Jesse didn’t move a muscle because the fear of being near death had already crept over him.  Paton continued to whisper to him anyway, You got to peek around the corner, Jesse, to see if those white men are still there.

I ain’t doing nothing, Jesse sharply retorted, finding it hard to inhale after the words escaped his mouth.  He was so scared that he was trembling in the ninety-eight degree weather.  Ain’t no way I’m peeking nowhere! That car full of white ‘uns could’a stopped, and they might even be coming this way!  We need to run, Pate, while we still got legs, he whispered while sweat dripped from his face onto his lips as the overpowering sun beamed directly into the entrance of the segregated restroom area that sat off on the side of the road.

Where we gonna go, huh, Jesse?  Tell me that!  Now stick your eyeballs around that wall and tell us what you see.  Hurry up in case we gotta fight.  He stared both of his long time friends in the eyes like his dad has always taught him to do when he wanted respect.  Ain’t y’all got some fight in you?  You better ‘cause if they catch us, they shole is gonna fight us, but they gonna do it ‘til we dead, he explained, smiling because he’d done this plenty of times all by himself at other stops.  The last couple of times, he convinced his buddies to tag along with him, and the fact that they could be caught at any minute had everyone but Paton on shaky ground.  Paton was only pretending to be terrified to play a prank on the other two.

Leaning forward, Jesse cautiously placed the whole side of his face against the dirty brick and then scooted it to the edge.  On the other side of the brick wall, he saw nothing but high weeds and an empty road which came as a relief to him because inside his left hand was the Whites Only sign that he’d just removed from the top of the door that only Caucasians entered.

Ain’t nobody out here, Jesse stated, letting out a deep breath.  They gone, Pate.  They gone.  Get this thing outta my hand.  Jesse threw the sign onto the Colored side of the restroom, and Paton burst into laughter.  Drowning Boy followed suit, and all the laughter made Jesse feel like he had to prove himself, prove he wasn’t scared at all.  

Come on, y’all, get up.  We gotta finish switching these signs before somebody comes.  Get up quick, the young, seventeen year old Paton told his friends as he shoved his body off of Drowning Boy and pushed Jesse out of the way.  He leaped to the other side of the restroom while Drowning Boy brushed the dust from his good pair of jeans with one hand and wiped his bloody mouth with the other.  Drowning Boy was a heavy set young man, just turned eighteen years old and seemed to be still growing, not up but out.  That was because whatever he found during the day, he ate.  Every summer, he would win the hog eating contest where everyone got together to see who could eat the most of the pig.  The contest was just two weeks ago, and Drowning Boy took the crown again for the third straight year.  Drowning Boy had never met his dad who died soon after his birth, but according to his mother and the other ladies in the town, he was the huskiest man they had ever seen, not fat, but husky with huge shoulders and a chest that felt like pure iron.  It was never a guess where Drowning Boy got his size. 

Look what you did to my lip, Pate, he complained.

Paton turned back to face him as he elevated the Whites Only sign into position where there was once a Colored Only sign.  Look at what you did to my head, he chuckled back.  The front of your face has more muscles than the back of my skull, Drowning Boy.  Stop cryin’, and keep a look out.

We could go to jail for this, Drowning Boy continued, slowly looking around at the street, his paranoia having already taken over from their close encounter.

We could, but ain’t these some stupid rules to go to jail for?  Ain’t nothing different about the bathrooms ‘cept a black butt sits on one toilet and a white butt on another.  Ain’t that right, Jesse, man?  Plus, all that comes out is the dirtiest of us all!  We ain’t no different ‘cept at the skin and hair.  The crap comes out the same - green or brown! Paton laughed as he turned to Jesse for help.  Come on and shove this nail in.  I can’t get it on this side good.

Move out the way, Pate, Jesse responded, shoving Paton’s leg resulting in him falling off the crate he used for elevation.  And move this crate, too.  Grow some and you wouldn’t need my help.  Jesse was the tallest yet the youngest of them all at the age of fifteen.  Learn somethin’ ‘sides running your mouth and talkin’ big... he said to Paton who was known by his friends as the loudest one with the most jokes, until he got serious, which was a rarity and only with an enemy.  He would always find a way to leave and calm down before doing something regrettable with his rage which could be overwhelming. This was something that his mother taught him from the time he was a little child, and so far, he’d held on to his mother’s teachings.

As Drowning Boy grabbed Paton’s arm to help him up from the ground, Paton caught movement from the side of his eye across the street in the corn fields.  Dusting himself off, he leaned in to tap Jesse calmly on the leg and spoke.

Get a move on, man.  Them corn fields out there don’t move without the wind or something alive moving them.  It’s either a dog or somebody watching us, Jesse, man.

Jesse immediately dropped one end of the Whites Only sign, and the nail that he attempted to manually drill back into the hole with his fingers, fell to the ground.  Terrified, he spun around and stared at the corn field as a daring Paton walked out front, being the boldest of the two friends.  Even though the corn stalks stopped moving, he was still paranoid because he knew those corn fields like the back of his hand.  He would always race through them from the age of seven all the way to ten and never got caught snatching corn to take back home to his parents’ kitchen table while he told them that it was a friend who would give it to him.  Therefore, when he looked over into the corn fields, he knew exactly what he was looking for, someone who looked like him or someone who looked the opposite.

As sweat dripped from Paton’s neck to drench his white T-shirt, Jesse inched closer to him.  That was when Drowning Boy pushed himself away from the brick wall.  They all searched the thick corn fields with their eyes but saw nothing for one silent minute until white skin revealed itself from beyond the green.

Run, y’all, run! Paton shouted as he escaped to the right, crossing over in front of Drowning Boy, and Jesse parted to the left.  They all headed as fast as their feet could carry them to the back of the small brick building, but instead of crouching down, they kept running through the large field of high weeds.  Jesse, run! Paton called loudly as his feet pounded the ground and the weeds whipped his legs like the switches his dad would use all the way up until he was twelve years old to make him behave.  Paton watched as Jesse ran swifter than he’d ever seen him run before, and when he looked back behind him, two white men were chasing, gaining on them fast.  Keep goin’, Drownin’ Boy!  Run! he hollered to Drowning Boy who was tailing him.

Paton!  Pate, I can’t make it.  They comin’! Drowning Boy called back, and the tone of his voice sounded of sheer terror.   

Come on, Drownin’ Boy!  Pick your feet up, Paton shouted, struggling to breathe as he tried to motivate his slower friend as much as he could, but then there was a gunshot.  Without the slightest hint of hesitation, Paton fell directly to the ground and continued to crawl forward in another direction, but when he didn’t hear Drowning Boy’s feet behind him, he flipped over only to shuffle himself back to a crouched position. 

Pate!  Drownin’ Boy! The yells of Jesse, who had already reached the trees, rang desperation into Paton’s ears as he continued to wait on any sign of Drowning Boy.  Just when he was about to move back toward the place he was running from, he heard a faint cry that deafened the sound of the pounding from his chest.  Right after that came a deathly moan, and Paton recognized the voice as his good friend Drowning Boy.

Quickly, he attempted to peer through the dense weeds and high grass, but when that failed, he got the courage to lift his eyes as high as they could go above the weeds to not be detected.  There were those same two white men pulling Drowning Boy off of the ground, but when they did, Drowning Boy clutched both his fists together like he was holding a baseball bat.  Before the white man holding the gun turned his head to duck, Drowning Boy knocked his jaw so hard that blood squirted from his mouth.  Along with the gun that flew from his hand, the white man fell to the ground as Drowning Boy grabbed the front of his stomach.

Get outta here!  Run!  They gon’ kill us!  Run! Drowning Boy shouted with all his might, and Paton fell back into the towering weeds, shaken in disbelief and fear, all of which was overpowered by his desire to help his wounded friend.  Quickly, Paton dove forward, only about fifteen feet away from the man who Drowning Boy punched.  Then, he started to crawl forward in a life or death effort to find the gun in order to help his friend.

This nigger just hit me in my damn mouth, Lou, and I’m bleedin’!  Oh, you done did it now, boy.  How you like this?

Paton stopped crawling and dropped to his stomach as the echo of Drowning Boy’s holler sent waves of severe anxiety through his body.  Trying to remain quiet while lying flat, the pressure became too much to withhold as the desperation for his friend to remain alive broke through his vocal chords, Drowning Boy!  The veins in Paton’s neck protruded as he cried defenselessly on the ground, and the force of his anger caused him to rise up onto his feet to face the men who wanted Drowning Boy dead.   

As soon as he stood, his heart pounding to the beat of rage more than fear, he heard the voice of Jesse calling from the woods again, but he didn’t turn around as he came into direct eye contact with the white man who’d just punched Drowning Boy so hard in his stomach that he was hunched over onto the other white man’s arm suffocating and choking on his own blood as it fell heavily from his mouth. 

So the other little nigger boy wants to fight, too, huh?  Come on over here, boy.  Don’t you know whose land this ‘longs to now?  This here my cousin’s land now.  Bought and paid for yesterday, and he don’t take too kindly to niggers such as yourselves coming through here no more.

We ain’t know nothing about that!  We ain’t know nothing about the sellin’ of no land or this property.  Let him go!  Paton’s nostrils flared, and his eyes seemed to suffer from a lack of oxygen as they turned red while he memorized the man walking toward him.  He was around five feet five inches tall with jet black, straight hair that went from the top of his head to the thin of his chin.  When the hair on his face reached the chin’s narrowest part, there was a split – no hair at all.  As Paton continued to study him, he didn’t move as he watched the man lean over and pick up the gun that fell from his hands minutes ago.  In Paton’s mind, there was absolutely nothing that would make him leave Drowning Boy but death, so as long as he could see Drowning Boy alive, he was gonna stay with him, especially knowing in the back of his mind that none of them would have been in this position if it wasn’t for him.

What was y’all doing back there at them bathrooms that’s sittin’ on my family’s property, boy?  Them bathrooms so close to the field, hell, they may as well belong to us, too, he laughed.  Soon as you seen us, you took off running there, he continued as he pointed the gun directly at Paton’s chest, but Paton didn’t flinch.

We wasn’t doing nothing but fixing the sign.  Ain’t no law of death required for that.

What sign?  You looks guilty to me, the white man continued, swinging his gun from side to side with a huge ball of tobacco tucked in the side of his mouth.  Then, he tilted his head back while his eyes stay planted on Paton and began speaking to the man holding Drowning Boy.  Hey, Lou, drop that big nigger on the ground and run back there to see if there’s a sign that needs fixin’.  This boy here says that they was just fixin’ a sign, so I suppose there’s one back there broken.  Go check, he commanded as Paton stared down the barrel of his gun. And you bet’ not move an inch because if you’re lyin’, I’m gonna blow your head sky high, he threatened.

Paton turned his attention to his friend who was laying there on the ground gasping for air as his body dug into the dirt from him trying to handle the pain.  The huge guy he had grown up with was now reduced to near death, and the only thing Paton could do was shout, Drowning Boy, keep breathing.  Keep breathin’!  Then, he turned to stare back into the eyes of the gunman, and the very threat of Paton’s anger burst through his skin, so much so that the white man with the gun reminded him of his earlier threat. 

You jump, and I’ll kill you, boy.  You jump, and I’ll shoot you dead.  Be laying here with your bastard friend here.  Ain’t that, right?  Ain’t all y’all black bastards there, boy?  You even much got a last name? he taunted, growing extra courage from his gun as Paton’s anger grew worse, and his breathing deepened as his eyes gravitated toward the trigger.  His hands grew extremely light, just like a feather, as he motivated himself to fight as well as kill if he had to do so.  The blood continued to drip lightly from where Drowning Boy punched the white man in the mouth, and each time it dripped, Paton became distracted, hearing his mother in the back of his mind, warning him to calm down. 

"Whatcha’ thinkin’ ‘bout, boy?  You want this