Childish Things

By Thelonious Legend

Someone is after the Parker sisters. They know the why, they just don't know the who. At least not yet they don't but they are working on it. The why is easy. You see the Parker sisters are special. I know, I know aren't all kids special? Yes all kids are special, but not all kids can move at the speed of sound, lift ten times their body weight, or hack into the most secure networks in the world before breakfast. But this kind of special comes out a cost. This kind of special has a price attached to it. A price that some companies would kill for. It's going to be an interesting ride.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thelonious Legend
• Release date: Dec 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370831616

Thelonious Legend

Thelonious Legend is a software professional who writes stories of triumph and intrigue that ask questions about race, identity, and class.

Book preview

The Parker Sisters, Childish Things

Thelonious Legend

Copyright 2021 by Thelonious Legend

Copy and Story Editor Melanie Scott

Story Editor Alisha Grauso

Cover Art Alona Russ

Mo powers mo problems. It's a new year but the same drama. So do your homework, keep your rooms clean, and try not to get killed or kidnapped by mercenaries. But there are new players in the game. Players as unique as the Parker sisters. But new players or not the Parker sisters can't lose. Because if they do, they're dead..

This follow-up to the fast-paced sci-fi thriller Sins of Father the Parker Sisters has leveled up. But so have their enemies. So while juggling boyfriends, new superpowers, kidnapping plots, they still have no idea who is after them. But they are getting closer.

1 Sins Of The Father

2 Childish Things

3 Before The Fall

Roxane Gay, Bad Feminist I would rather be a bad feminist than no feminist at all.

Dr. Maya Angelou There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

Dedicated to Delores Williams 1948 – 2014

Mom, I see you every day in your granddaughters. Your compassion for social justice. Your intellect. Your laugh. It’s a new day, mom, but the struggle remains constant, and we are still fighting the good fight. We hope to make you proud.

Fonzo Williams 1970 – 2021

They tell me God works in mysterious ways. That everything happens for a reason. But am I not allowed to be angry? To be mad to be frustrated about a life gone too soon? Fonz, I miss you, man, and I grieve for the memories we didn’t get a chance to make. But rest easy little brother, and I’ll see you on the other side.

To my daughters,

We live in a time of commercialism camouflaging as democracy while our leaders demagogue to divide us in a transparent attempt to retain power. I have no idea what the future holds but do not be afraid to take the path less traveled. You might change the world.

To my wife,

How did we get here? Luck? Providence? Fate? Does it matter? We’ve come a long way from riding our bikes around North Omaha. Looking forward to what the next chapter in our life brings because we’ve been blessed.

Prologue

Are you going to expense that? U.S. Marshal Russell asked US. Marshal Harris.

The hotel phone rang, interrupting the conversation. They both paused to look at Carlos as he answered. The line evidently went dead, as Carlos hung up and continued to flip through channels while glancing around the no-frills room. It consisted of one main area with two beds, a flatscreen TV, a sofa with a rollout bed, and a bathroom near the door entrance. Carlos laid claim to the bed closest to the window. Although it faced the parking lot, Carlos liked to sleep with a breeze on him. And, God willing, he was hoping to get a good night’s sleep finally.

I told you. I do all my expenses at once and don’t itemize. If you itemize, you have to stick to the caps for each meal, Harris explained to the younger and more fit Russell. Harris touched the pen to his tongue as he continued to work on the New York Times crossword puzzle. The older Marshal then shook the pen a few times as he sat on the bed and leaned against the backboard. For three days of driving and checking in and out of hotels, Carlos had entertained himself by betting whether he would ever see his smirk turn into a smile, but it never did. It was a maddening game, but it kept Carlos occupied in place of a phone and other devices.

We can do that? replied Russell as he punched the pillow and readjusted his position on the couch. He had been in a constant state of motion for the last twenty minutes, in a frustrating attempt to get comfortable. Carlos watched the younger Marshal, wondering if he would acknowledge he was too tall for that couch. Carlos also found it ironic that his security detail openly discussed gaming expense systems while protecting him before he testified against his former employer for gaming and defrauding the government in military contracts.

In that case, I’ll call back and order the ribeye too, Russell said, shifting positions again. The Marshal’s refusal to use the rollout bed feature led Carlos to believe his security detail’s competency was inadequate.

Too late. I told you not to get that omelet for breakfast. You’ll go over now, Harris replied, touching the pen to his tongue again. His using a pen to do the Times crossword gave Carlos some hope. However, Carlos still second-guessed himself for listening to that hacker and dropping dime on his employer. It all seemed stupid now. Reckless. But at the time, being rewarded millions as a whistleblower was not a difficult decision. The hacker told him there was a False Claims Act that allowed whistleblowers to receive up to thirty percent of funds recovered from fraudulent or criminal activity. And thirty percent of a billion-dollar contract was generational wealth.

We still on for next weekend? Harris continued, now peering at Russell over his reading glasses.

Are you serious? Last time I went to a game, your son didn’t even play. Russell stood and looked at the couch as if he wanted to throw it out the window. He lay back down with his feet dangling over the armrest in a position that even made Carlos uncomfortable. Tired of playing the no-smile game, Carlos closed his eyes and dreamed about how he would spend his money. First, two new gravestones for his parents, who had worked every day in the fields to provide him and his sister a better life. They both were immigrants who died when he was in college and never got a chance to see him graduate, and their sacrifices realized. The second was to pay for his little sister’s wedding. She had honored him by asking him to give her away, and he would be honored to return the favor. He would honor her and his parents by paying for her wedding and paying off her student loans. She was an OBGYN nurse and had racked up crushing student debt. And lastly, buy his Abuela a big house in the suburbs with a maid. A white maid.

But he might start. His coach likes his attitude and says he is getting better every day. Plus, there will be a lot of hot single moms there, Harris persisted, and the comments made Carlos smile. For the last three days, Carlos had listened to Harris brag about his son’s athletic potential. But, based on remarks from Russell, that was more wishful thinking than anything. And Carlos knew soccer. Carlos played in college on a scholarship before he got hurt. And through all his years of playing, he never saw a lot of hot single moms. But maybe that was a suburb thing.

The phone rang with the light, indicating it was the front desk again, and Carlos was hopeful. Although they checked in late, they were able to get their order in before the kitchen closed. In an exhibition of defiance, Carlos quickly answered the phone. Carlos was instructed not to answer the phone, but hunger and boredom gave him courage. And he was relieved his body would get a break from eating McDonald’s before he settled in for the night. Hello?

Harris frowned at Carlos, then shrugged. Tell them if my steak is overcooked, I’m sending it back, he said, before refocusing on his crossword.

Well, hello, Mr. Alvarez! What a pleasant surprise. So, the Marshals are allowing their charge to answer the phone? Interesting. And did you get the ribeye too, Mr. Alvarez? You might as well. It’s not like you are paying for it. At least not directly.

Who is this? Carlos asked.

Harris sat up. Give me the phone, Carlos.

Consider me a friend, Mr. Alvarez. A friend of the family. As a matter of fact, I have someone here who would like to say hello…

Carlos? A different voice now. One with a fearful tone.

Anita?

Harris jumped out of bed, snatched the phone from Carlos, put it to his ear, and slammed it down. We have to move. We’ve been compromised, he announced.

Carlos was stunned. Why would they have my sister? Harris yanked Carlos up by his arm. Move it, Carlos! Carlos felt the fingers dig into his arm and knew it should hurt, but he was numb to it. He felt warm breath on his cheek as the Marshal yelled instructions at him. The blood rushed into his face as he nodded and put on his shoes. Both the Marshals grabbed their guns, and Harris spoke rapidly into his cell phone. Sir, we’ve been compromised. No! I mean, no, sir, too exposed. Yes, sir, I agree. Yes. Yes, sir, I will.

Russell was at the door with gun in hand. Harris chambered a round and grabbed a revolver from his ankle holster. He now had a weapon in each hand, and his perpetual smirk had changed into a frown. Carlos, keep up!

Russell peeked out the door, fully opened it, and looked around, whispering, Clear!

Harris then passed Russell as he went into the hallway. Carlos lost sight of him but heard him also say, Clear!

Let’s go! Carlos, let’s go! Russell said as he snatched Carlos by his collar and pushed him into the hallway. Carlos’ legs were heavy, and his feet were numb, but they managed to move on autopilot. Harris was waiting for him at the end of the hallway with the exit door open. The movement helped Carlos. He realized he was in danger. His sister was in trouble. And all this was because of the hacker. Carlos had been content being an accountant working for a company with health benefits. But he was told he had to do the right thing. And that it would change his life. So, he did. Now he was in a dimly lit hallway in a rundown hotel with unseen bad guys hunting him.

Russell passed Harris and entered the stairwell. They were four floors up and methodically descended every floor, making sure to ‘Clear’ it before moving on. They crept and stopped when they got to the bottom level. Once they stopped moving, Carlos became a vessel of fear. It whispered into his ear, telling him the Marshals couldn’t protect him. It told him to run. It told him he needed to get away and save his sister. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to silence the doubt. He grabbed the cross he always hung around his neck and said the Lord’s Prayer for courage. He convinced himself he was doing this for the greater good and to provide for his family.

Two new gravestones, Abuela’s new house, sister’s wedding, sister’s student debt

Russell opened the door and scanned the parking lot. He nodded for Carlos and Harris to follow. It was after ten in the evening, quiet and still. The flickering light of the hotel sign gave the parking lot a haunted look. As they advanced, their shadows danced, then froze, then danced again. There were only seven cars in the parking lot. Carlos didn’t know if the vehicles provided cover or ambush opportunities for the unseen El Fantasma. He heard the hum of distant traffic that he could not see through the rolling hills. The gas station and McDonald’s across the parking lot had no activity. Carlos knew the hotel was on the route to his court appearance, and the Marshals wanted to avoid crowds; however, they could not have picked a better place for an ambush. But Carlos was going to make it through this. He was his parents’ dreams realized, and he would not die in a parking lot. He repeated his new mantra to himself over and over to stay focused and calm his fears.

Two new gravestones, Abuela’s new house, sister’s wedding, sister’s student debt

There was one parked car between them and their vehicle, which was fifty yards away. There were another two hundred yards of open space before the on-ramp and their escape.

Two new gravestones, Abuela’s new house, sister’s wedding, sister’s student debt

Then it hit Carlos. Anita! They have my sister! The words came out louder than he intended. His voice scared him and reverberated in his ears as it washed over the parking lot. All three froze as if his voice had awakened El Cucuy. Even their shadows stopped to listen.

Russell grabbed him by the arm and whispered, They don’t have your sister. They’re messing with you. Now, come with us if you want to live! Carlos winced, but he understood. He had to make it through the night, and a new life waited for him in the morning.

Two new gravestones, Abuela’s new house, sister’s wedding, sister’s student debt

Stay close behind me, Carlos, Harris instructed, and his smirk was back, which gave Carlos hope. Maybe after all this was over, Carlos might get to see him properly smile. Harris took off on a brisk walk, leaving the cover of the parked car, and headed for their vehicle and their salvation.

Go! Russell pushed Carlos in the back. His mouth was dry, making it painful to swallow. Following Harris, he attempted to mirror every step like he did when he followed his father’s footprints in the sand when he was a kid. Although the night air was cool, Carlos was sweating, and his every sense was magnified. The hum of distant traffic, the smell of McDonald’s. His dancing shadow now to the side of him, taunting him, daring him to walk faster. Carlos grabbed his cross and kissed it.

Two new gravestones, Abuela’s new house, sister’s wedding, sister’s student debt

Russell coughed behind him, and Carlos turned in time to catch him as he stumbled into his arms, dropping his gun. Carlos heard himself say, It’s going to be OK, man. It’s going to be OK. You going to check out some hot single moms next weekend, remember? It was an out-of-body experience. It didn’t seem real. Carlos turned to yell for help but felt a sudden sharp burning session in his lower back as his legs gave out, sending them both crashing to the ground.

Russell opened his mouth to say something, but the light in his eyes dimmed and went out. His mouth stayed open with warnings left unsaid. No! No! Carlos screamed to everyone and no-one. Carlos released Russell and tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t even feel them. Tears in his eyes, he turned to Harris for help. Harris was on his knees. His mouth was reflexively opening and closing. His eyes looked confused. He swayed for a minute and then fell face-first to the concrete with his guns scattering in opposite directions. Never saw him smile.

His legs useless, Carlos pushed himself up by his arms to get a better view. A red stain was forming in the chest area of his shirt. Bullet hit my spine. His arms shaking from holding his weight, Carlos tried to steady himself. His vision blurry, he saw a figure approaching, fading in and out of focus. Carlos had been a good kid. Studied hard, stayed out of trouble, and got a degree in accounting. But El Cucuy came for him regardless. The gunman was not El Cucuy. The hacker was. The hacker baited him. The hacker played on his greed. The gunman was just an instrument. But Carlos was not ready to give up yet. He had too much to live for. Grunting, Carlos attempted to reach Russell’s fallen gun. He couldn’t move. He tried to scream for help and coughed up blood. The gunmen were only steps away. Carlos realized he had lost a game with secret rules not known to people like him. He had tried to do the right thing and got beat. He struggled to kiss his cross and then closed his eyes.

Two new gravestones, Abuela’s new house, sister’s wedding, sister’s student debt

***

Not feeling this, Slim. They got us ghosting civilians now? Three hots and a cot isn’t worth this, bruh. But I guess it is what it is. Hit the cleaners, and let’s be out. Goldie talked as he put two bullets in the back of the accountant’s head and briefly held up his new silencer to admire his modifications. The silencer worked as designed, sounding like a soft whistle, but he shook his head. Probably not a big enough market to make modifying silencers a legit side hustle. He unscrewed the silencer, placing it in his pocket and the gun behind his belt at the back. He kept his head up to scan the area as he bent down to wipe the blowback blood on his loafers and pick up his shell casings. He was getting too old for this.

You been talking that same mess since we got back in the world. But look where we at? And the cleaners on the way, Slim replied while putting bullets in the back of Harris’ head and retrieving his casings. And your silencer is rad, but don’t start, Slim added, smiling.

Goldie smiled back. Wasn’t too many killers Goldie trusted. Killing warped reality and damaged souls, making most dysfunctional without medication, be it prescribed or otherwise but him and Slim were built different. And Slim was one of the better marksmen he ever served with. He had just hit three targets from over two hundred yards out in under ten seconds. That was special. But they were both special. Different. Goldie and Slim lived everyday lives, escaping damage caused by the fog of war and the taking of lives. They were a unique breed of killers who could kill and then have a cup of cappuccino without their hands shaking. That was a rarity. Let’s bounce, Slim.

Slim nodded as he readjusted the strap on his guitar case, which contained his long-range sniper rifle. Goldie grimaced. He didn’t want this. But he didn’t have a lot of marketable skills. He was a five-foot ten-inch Black man with a bronze complexion and hazel eyes who had sold his soul a long time ago. Now he was seeking an exit strategy. He smoothed the oversized, nondescript polo shirt he wore to hide his muscles and gun. He had contact lenses to hide his eyes. Muscles drew attention. People remembered muscles for some reason. Slim didn’t have that problem. He was a six-foot three-inch gangly white guy with Chinese tattoos and a long blond ponytail. He looked like any hipster in any city in America, making him virtually invisible. Goldie had to work harder. People noticed muscular black guys with hazel eyes, so oversized shirts and contacts were a must.

Slim, I’m serious. Did you see our next assignment? We babysitters now? Isn’t right. Plus, we’re working with that crazy chick from Kabul. I’m going to reach out to Sarge because you know he got that phat assignment. Heck, he already hooked up Big Mac. And remember Perry? Dude is out in Hollywood getting paid as a consultant for war movies and stuff. He said he might be able to put us on.

I’m happy for Patch and Big Mac, but babysitting rich folks isn’t my thang. I didn’t know you talked to Perry. I thought he bit it in Jalalabad? But if you got the hookup, that be rad cause I don’t trust myself if we got to work with that crazy chick. Some friends from my first tour died because of her.

Forget her. I’m working on something. And everybody thought Perry died, but he just lived in Nebraska for a minute. But, as I said, he in Cali now, and I’m with you on the babysitting rich folk, but anything must be better than this, right? I’m just waiting for Perry to get back to me and see where that goes.

Hook it up, hook it up. But how are we getting out of our contract?

Goldie turned around, noticing the bodies were already gone, and a white ACME Cleaning van was headed for the on-ramp. The cleaners were quick. Don’t worry about the contract, Slim. I’ll take care of that, Goldie said as he and his friend disappeared into the rolling hills.

Chapter One

Stop blowing that whistle! I’m getting up already! Eve yelled. Gwen was in Eve’s bedroom, standing over her while Eve put her head beneath a pillow.

Let’s go, Princess! You were supposed to be downstairs five minutes ago! I’m adding fifty more pushups to your workout! Gwen shouted. She then snatched off the covers and ran out of the room, barely escaping a thrown pillow.

Gwen smiled as she marched into Ana’s room. It was six in the morning. Gwen had been up since five, counting the seconds. Sleep no longer came easy to Gwen. Watching