5th and 5th Stray

By Sylvia Gillespie

A horrifying past has left Izzy homeless and alone in the roughest neighborhood in the city, so he runs with the dangerous 5th and 5th street gang for revenge and protection on the dirty streets. He serves his gang with pride until his survival skills are put to the utmost when law enforcement and his gang set him up for murder and brand him a traitor, a mark that means death to the wearer if caught by any gang. Having nowhere in the city to hide, Izzy flees to the seaside and finds safety and solace in an affluent community where he finds what his heart was looking for all this time, helping him to learn new rules to blend in and hide from discovery.
But gangs don’t let traitors go that easily and come for him, risking not only Izzy’s life but the lives of everyone he’s come to know. To defend his newfound home, Izzy must embrace his passed skills without betraying his new life before it kills him and those he loves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sylvia Gillespie
• Release date: May 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463111444

Sylvia Gillespie

Sylvia Gillespie has a BFA in Creative Writing for Entertainment from Full Sail University.Sylvia has been a Veterinary Technician, a customer service agent supporting home computers and network equipment, a warehouse worker, a surgery assistant for a Veterinary technician school, a janitor, a newspaper delivery girl, and has even picked corn to support her writing.She enjoys reading, writing, running (especially mud races), and spending time with her family.

Book preview

Chapter 1 - Konik

Upscale dark-skinned teens with few worries in life pack the busy Mile High Prep lunchroom, making Izzy very out of place with his pale skin and world-weary eyes. There certainly isn’t anything upscale about Izzy’s black mohawk, tattered backpack, old jeans, or the overlarge white t-shirt that hangs loosely over his muscular build. Everything about Izzy seems wrong and out of place, and yet the room still moves around him as if he doesn’t exist. Even though he searches through his backpack like the very fate of the world is lost inside somewhere, and he has only seconds to find it before the end, no one notices him.

Miggs hurries in from the parking lot, taller and little lighter-skinned than the others, but one of them. He unzips his new coat and looks at his watch with a bright grin. His dark, healthy skin is the antithesis to Izzy’s pale flesh and a profound innocence that Izzy has never known lights Miggs’s eyes.

Unlike the others, Izzy’s frantic search arrests Miggs’s movement, and he slows, cocking his head to the side as he approaches Izzy.

Can I help you find something? Miggs offers kindly.

Izzy looks right at Miggs, then around the room, and then his eyes drop right back to the backpack. Nope, he replies.

Are you new here? Miggs asks eagerly. He takes a step closer to Izzy. I haven’t seen you around.

It’s one of my skills, Izzy mutters, barely paying attention.

Miggs blinks and scratches his head, Being new?

Not being seen, Izzy says and then glances back. Doesn’t seem to be working today, though.

Miggs looks over Izzy’s shoulder and sees the stately authority Principle Jones barreling down on them. Izzy digs faster. Miggs steps to the side and lowers his head respectfully.

You’re three months behind, Jones tells Izzy sharply. The lines of the principal’s face make it seem he has a permanently etched frown on his face.

I know, Izzy says, rushed, It’s here. I swear.

Miggs sneaks a look into Izzy’s backpack and frowns upon seeing more clothes and cans of food than school supplies. Miggs’s eyes flutter back to the calm anger of the principal.

If you had kept up on your tuition, I might not have looked at your intake papers more closely, Jones growls.

Izzy’s movements stall out, and he turns his full attention to the unrelenting eyes of the principal. Perhaps in his youth, Principal Jones might have liked kids, but the angst of far too many teens have drained any caring nature that might have once lived in that rigid form.

Out, Jones orders, Before I get the authorities involved.

Izzy glares at the unflinching principal as he pulls out two thick schoolbooks and thumps them on the table. Izzy closes the bag and backs a few paces before tearing his eyes away, and exits out to the parking lot.

Get to class, Jones orders Miggs and then stalks away, eyes searching for any other glitches as he leaves the lunchroom.

Miggs starts to follow Jones slowly until the door closes between them and, then he turns and bolts out the door, down the walks and, around the parking lot to the football field in back.

The sky is a gray mobile mass that grumbles warningly but without shedding any rain to ease the great beast’s troubles. Miggs shivers and pulls his jacket close as his eyes scan the field, just barely finding Izzy on the far side, strolling comfortably along as if he had no place to go. Though Miggs shivers as he runs up, Izzy looks perfectly comfortable in his t-shirt though it blows in the icy wind like a sail.

Izzy looks back as Miggs gets closer and frowns but doesn’t stop his forward motion.

Hey man, what just happened? Miggs asks in a friendly way.

Why’d you care? Izzy asks and faces forward again.

I don’t know, I just do, Miggs says with a shrug. How can you stand that t-shirt in this weather? Miggs asks as he looks up into the sky just as a few raindrops finally eek their way out of the angry clouds. I’m freezing to death here!

A bell rings off in the distance.

Izzy turns fast and stops so short Miggs just about runs into him. Luckily, Miggs noticed barely in time and freezes in place, eyes full and happiness fading.

Get. To. Class, Izzy orders.

Miggs swallows hard but stands firm. Why’d he kick you out? Miggs demands

No money. Weren’t you listening? Izzy says.

Why not go to public school then? They have to take locals, Miggs says.

Izzy rolls his eyes and turns to walk away.

Is it your records? Why can’t you go to school? Miggs asks, keeping exact steps with Izzy. Everyone that wants to go should be in school!

Izzy growls and looks back. Do I look like a kid you want to have around? Izzy balls his hands into relaxed fists. Now, get to class. Izzy nods to the school. It’s safe in there.

No. It’s not right. If you want to learn- Miggs squeaks, flinches and blinks rapidly as Izzy’s fist comes within a hair of his left eye, in a perfect punch Miggs didn’t see coming and stiffened against, instead of ducking away.

Miggs throws up his hands, Alright! Alright.

Izzy slowly retracts his fist, turns sharply, and walks away.

Chapter 2

The moon is just a smudge of light in the dirty brown clouds. The deep shadows make the old houses of 500 west and 500 south even more horrifying than usual. Those shotgun domiciles probably never had better days. Constructed fast and cheap for low-income workers, as close as possible to the refineries and manufacturing plants that rise in the distance, belching filth into the sky, but even that was nearly a century passed and the time had not been kind to this street. Duct tape is one of the few things keeping the icy winds out of the houses. A few strands of grass grow, but it’s mostly dirt and cracked pavement that’s just as brown as the skies. The land drops off after the street to a field strewn with litter, but there is no green in that field. Darkness is what this land produces.

Dirty brown kids play under a flickering light from the streetlight while their barely older parents get drunk on the porch. Up the hill, a tough gang of kids comes. Young, but terrifying in their flight jackets and gang tattoos.

It isn’t much of a surprise that earlier generations of those dirty kids grew up to become a violent gang. The real surprise is that they lived long to become a gang in the first place, having no money or supervision to guide or protect them from a city full of guns and drugs.

The only real guidance or leadership at all on that street came from Two-Pence. He was the leader of the 5th and 5th street gang. He is one of the smallest of the group, but he leads, and the street follows him. Rend, Fiver, Dink, and Menner are usually with him. The generals as it were.

Two-Pence pauses and looks back down the hill. He scowls, elbows Dink and nods his head downhill. Dink laughs but runs into the closest house and comes out with a thick hoody that he gives to Two-Pence. Two-Pence nods his thanks and then looks back down the hill.

Dude! Coat! It’s freezing out! Two-Pence yells as he tosses a thick hoody down the rise.

Izzy steps up the hill, just in time to catch the hoody and slide it on. Instantly more fitting in the situation with the dark coat to hide his white shirt and skin, but he is still apart, not one of them.

The mere sound of Two-Pence’s voice is enough to bring Smoke, Mace, and Kimber out of another house with beer. They are very young, but all the 5th and 5th members seem to be. Izzy, at fifteen-years-old, is one of the oldest.

Smoke gives Two-Pence a beer first, and then the other gang members except for Izzy. Izzy doesn’t look at the others or seem to notice the exclusion. Instead, he watches the young kids and the night around them restlessly.

What’s up? Two-Pence asks Izzy as he cracks his beer and approaches. The generals huddle up to talk and joke as they drink their beer.

Don’t know, Izzy replies as his eyes scan the darkness, though his face remains calm and detached. Something.

Never known your instincts to be off, Two-Pence says, then chugs his beer down to half. Rolly! he yells and then shoves the beer at Izzy, Get the lead out! Izzy takes the and finishes it in one gulp.

A roly-poly young kid with innocent eyes grins, nods, and runs for it. He is barely out of sight before a wave of Widow Makers, rival gangers in red flight jackets, swarm in and start beating on the unsuspecting. The Widow Makers are older, more streetwise thugs, but the kids of 5th and 5th are no easy targets. What 5th and 5th lack in age, they more than make up for in crazed violence.

Izzy chucks his can at a Widow Maker thug and hits him dead center in his forehead. The Widow stops and feels his head in surprise while Izzy ducks a hit and sprints to the kids. He picks up the smallest two, one on each arm, and ushers the rest up a set of steps and into the closest house.

Those aren’t ours! a surprised drunk yells at Izzy.

Are now, Izzy says as he gets the kids inside then turns on the drunk, stalking up to him.

Yeah, you got it. The drunk nods rapidly and rushes inside.

Izzy follows the drunk inside and yells, These kids in anything but perfect shape when I come back, and you and I will have words. Izzy comes out, holding a metal bat.

Izzy looks around only to find another young kid getting beaten on the ground by a huge Widow. Izzy sprints in, bowling the Widow off his feet and picking the child up to run him to another house. Izzy slams that door and looks around, but only sees a sea of black and red gangsters fighting ruthlessly in the street.

Children secure, Izzy charges headfirst into the fray, which is barely shy of full-scale warfare with knives, bats, and fists. No one holds back.

Rolly comes out of a house loaded with more bats, knives, and all sorts of fun, but his arms are too full, making him an easy target for the Widow Makers that jump on him. Rolly fumbles trying to pick one and then another weapon, only managing to drop them all before a Widow grabs a knife from the fallen arsenal and stabs poor Rolly with it.

Rolly hits the ground hard.

Izzy slams into the knife-wielding Widow, who falls on the stolen blade and yells in pain.

Karma’s a bitch, Izzy tells him.

Rolly laughs, grabs his side, and cries silent tears, while Izzy rushes in the middle of another brawl to block another bat with his own, saving Smoke a significant head injury. Smoke laughs and barrels into another group to continue fighting while the bat-wielding Widow swings fast at Izzy.

Izzy dodges two strikes and then spins around to wind up for his hit.

CRACK - Izzy’s bat connects with the Widow’s bat, right above his hands.

The Widow’s bat twirls in the air before it hits the ground.

The Widow shakes his vibrating hands and backs away fast, eyes trained on Izzy.

Izzy charges but is bowled off his feet by another Widow.

As he falls, Izzy spins the bat, so the top of the bat hits the ground and stops, just as the Widow falls on it.

Thud!

The Widow hits his throat on the bottom of the bat, rolls away, and stills.

Izzy grabs his bat, scrambles to his feet, and runs to Two-Pence not far away, brawling more viciously than any of the more massive thugs. Two-Pence proves his worth as a leader and pummels the invaders with no mercy.

Three Widows block Izzy from Two-Pence. One manages to get Izzy’s bat away only to get a mouthful of Izzy’s boot in an impressive kick. The other two grab Izzy’s arms.

Izzy drops to his knees, sliding out of the hoody and kicking the knees out from under one.

The other runs.

Izzy rolls to his knees to pummel the thug on the ground with him.

I just got a coat on you! Two-Pence yells as he jogs over to put a hand on Izzy’s shoulder, Let him go, man.

Izzy jumps to his feet.

The Widow scuttles away like a wounded rat.

Two-Pence kicks him as he goes, then turns and shakes Izzy. Settle out, man, he says.

Two-Pence points to the lowering number of Widow Makers around them.

Izzy huffs and shakes his head fast to clear it. Other 5th and 5th kids are winding down their fights and regrouping to celebrate.

WOOT-Police sirens ruin the celebrations while red and blue lights flash. Tear gas shoots into the area. Two-Pence looks to Izzy and cocks his head away. I got this, Two-Pence yells, Run, man.

Izzy doesn’t need to be told twice and runs. A wall of officers surrounds them. Izzy dances away from them to get to Rolly still on the ground. Izzy pats his shoulder. Go soft, Izzy whispers, State’ll pay for your healing.

Rolly grimaces a smile and nods. Get out! he says through gritted teeth.

Izzy flees the scene while police drag Rolly away.

Another group of officers tackles Two-Pence and his generals.

Since they are in his path, Izzy plows into the officer arresting Kimber. Kimber escapes, but Izzy gets grabbed instead. The officer only gets one of Izzy’s hands zip-tied before Izzy slips from their grasp and runs again, this time clear of the fight, only a streak of white in the darkness.

Chapter 3

A forgotten set of railroad tracks bridge a highway. The slope is so high the lights of the cars passing under are just flashes in the dark. Dense bushes have grown up close around the forgotten tracks, and windblown trash is taking over.

Izzy sprints in, and heads for the tracks.

Widow Makers Mongo, Chops, Grover, and Banks rise out of the bushes to block Izzy’s escape path. Mongo is aptly named. He is a black behemoth of chiseled stone covered with gang tattoos on all visible flesh.

Mongo grins wide and steps closer to Izzy. Oh, I hoped it would be you. Izzy slides to a stop and lifts his chin. His chest heaves with exertion, but he doesn’t look worn out. Chops, Grover, and Banks laugh. They are all big and strong. It’s just their tattoo content that varies.

I thought you’d be running home to your mommies, Izzy says with a half-smile.

Mongo steps right into Izzy’s face, looking down on Izzy’s shorter but no less aggressive face.

I called the cops, Mongo says, deadly soft.

Before we jumped you, Grover adds, pushing in on Izzy’s side.

Cops would pick up most of you, Chops says and pushes in.

And we’d get the rest, Banks finishes, grins and rubs his fists.

Izzy takes a deep breath and points to each as he ticks them away on his fingers. He is cocky and self-assured as he silently measures both number and strength.

Banks laughs. You’re good and all, but not good enough to take us all.

I don’t need to take you all, Izzy replies with a grin.

Mongo reaches for Izzy.

Izzy side steps and smashes into Chops, pushing the sidekick closer to the downward slope. Banks moves to support Chops while Grover grabs Izzy’s shirt.

Izzy grabs Grover’s hand and twirls him into his buddies. Chops, Banks, and Grover dance precariously on the edge of the slope a moment, holding each other for stability before they drop off the steep hill and out of view.

Mongo grabs Izzy from behind and throws him onto his back.

Izzy kicks up and catches Mongo in the jaw with a light hit.

Mongo grabs Izzy’s foot and twirls him in the air.

Izzy sits, mid-air, to punch Mongo in the eye.

Mongo flinches and releases Izzy’s foot. Izzy flies away, rolls the landing, and pops right back up to land a sweet, hard strike on Mongo’s cheek.

Mongo doesn’t flinch from the hit and grabs Izzy tight starting an up-close, violent brawl. Izzy gets in more punches, but Mongo’s are far more devastating.

WHOOP! – police sirens start, and the red and blue lights flash the area.

Chops, Grover, and Banks climb back up the embankment, and sprint passed. Mongo drops Izzy and cuts it with them.

Izzy falls hard to his hands and knees, blood running from a torn lip and eye red from blood, but he looks back to the slope and gets one foot up, ready to sprint but taking the most extended break he can first.

Two officers jump up the wall. They are not in riot gear or the emblem of the last police, but they do have bulletproof vests on. The taller of the two, Officer Gus, pauses when he meets Izzy’s eyes. Gus is young, but not young to living.

Gus has seen just as much as Izzy has, way too much, but he still cringes when he sees Izzy. Besides Gus, the shorter form of his partner, Juana Maria Garza, the Spanish fire cat, appears.

Ah shit, Officer Gus mutters and puts his hands up, Look, kid, go easy. We’ll get you back where you belong so you can sleep it off. You look like hell.

Izzy chuckles and grins.

Officer Gus takes a cautious step forward.

Like a sprinter off a block, Izzy runs right at Gus. Juana is at Gus’s side in seconds, and they brace for impact.

Izzy plows right between them, knocks the officers aside, and sprints over the tracks. Gus rolls his eyes before he and Juana charge after Izzy.

**

Tall burnt grasses sway in the night wind. Cars speed passed on the freeway, but it’s late enough that the traffic is light. Both sides of the road have a sagging barbed wire fence to separate the highway from the scrublands around the refineries.

Izzy dodges a speeding car and sprints across the road. The officers have better luck, and the traffic clears just in time for them to run across safely.

Stop! Gus calls and then huffs a few breaths, FENCE!! he yells louder, but Izzy doesn’t slow. Izzy picks up the pace just as the fence gets close enough for him to see that the top and the bottom strand sag, but the middle strand is missing.

Izzy dives through the open part of the fence and rolls to his feet. He pauses, wobbly a second before he sprints away. Gus and Juana slow to a stop and pant.

How does he always get away, Gus asks as he leans over to breath.

Not all of him, Juana says with a sigh and starts swearing in Mexican as she pulls a piece of white fabric off the top strand.

Gus turns to examine it. It is part of Izzy’s shirt, now torn and partially blood-soaked. Gus swears in plain old English.

Chapter 4

The sun rises above the hills, throwing soft light on a little fishing pond in the middle of a big park. It isn’t far enough from the city to be clear of the smog, but that only provides a brilliant sunrise to glow across the placid lake like two skies instead of just a reflection. Reeds and large rocks scatter the shore and tightly bundled people fish from the rocks, though the shopping carts and sleeping bags around show that it’s homeless folk fishing for their breakfast. The sun advances to display a fishing station and a parking lot just on the other side of a grassy slope from the pond.

Miggs strolls in with a new rod, fishing gear, and a big coat and looks around. The sun hasn’t had time to lend its heat yet, so Miggs’s breath hangs on the air a moment before fading, but its light enough out to find a mostly spot near someone sitting on the rocks a bit away, back hunched against the wind and eyes on the water. The old hoody conceals the person’s identity from him, but Miggs isn’t concerned. It seems like common sense for the early morning anglers to cover up every inch against the cold.

Miggs puts a pad down on a rock and casts a beautiful cast out to the middle of the pond before he sits down and gets comfortable. He takes a deep relaxing breath and watches the reflection of the sunrise ripple around his bobber. After a few moments, he pulls out some donuts and munches happily in the quiet beauty.

Next to him, the hooded fisherman gently reaches into the weeds and pulls out a bucket, revealing he doesn’t even have a pole, just a line in the water. Intrigued, Miggs turns to watch the odd fisherman who wraps the fishing line around his heavily covered left arm.

YANK! He pulls the line from the water with the left, dragging a nice sized fish out of the water and swooping it up into the bucket. The fisherman backs to the shore to dump out the bucket and kill the fish. He flops the dead fish down, removes the hook, and winds the line around his hand before putting hook line in the bucket. He then hooks the fish with his finger and moves to the washing station.

As the fisherman passes, Miggs tries to make eye contact, eager to congratulate the angler on the strangely fantastic catch. Instead, Miggs jumps to his feet. It’s you, Miggs shouts and points to Izzy, the fishermen. Izzy looks up, and they make eye contact. Izzy’s eyes are tight with pain, and his red eye looks more than a little demonic with his purple, black, and gray face around it.

Izzy blinks in surprised recognition but only sighs and looks down again.

Wait, what happened to you? Miggs reels in his line quickly. He sets down the pole and runs to match pace with Izzy, which isn’t difficult. Izzy isn’t moving very fast at all. That was amazing. How’d you learn that?

Desperation teaches plenty, Izzy says in a ragged voice before putting his face into his shoulder away from Miggs and coughing a hard cough that shakes the fish in Izzy’s other hand and slows his forward progress. Miggs hurries in front of Izzy.

Hey man, Miggs says and then stops, right between Izzy and the fish station. Completely unaware that would be a problem, You okay? You’re like… Miggs searches for the right description. Gray and scabby! Miggs exclaims, Izzy chuckles, Who the heck hit you?!

Izzy shakes his head and drops his bucket to draw a knife from his belt that he points aggressively at Miggs.

Miggs throws his hands up and moves out of Izzy’s way quickly.

Izzy shuffles to the station and leans heavily on the sink while he guts and cleans the fish. He doesn’t even finish cleaning the fish before another coughing fit nearly drops him to the ground. He leans both arms on the station to keep from falling as he continues his work.

Dude! You’re homeless! Miggs shouts as he finally gets it. That’s why you got kicked out of school!

Izzy leaves one arm on the sink as a prop while he cleans the knife on his pants and sheaths it.

Go back to the fishing kid, Izzy recommends weakly before pushing himself off and walking away without the bucket.

Hold on, Miggs calls, walking to keep pace with Izzy but eyes back on the bucket.

Izzy takes two more steps away. His legs wobble just a little, and then Izzy goes limp, and his body slumps to the ground, dead weight.

Miggs blinks.

Izzy doesn’t move.

Miggs rushes to him, kneels, and prods Izzy’s back, but there is no response.

Oh my gosh! Miggs shouts.

Miggs pulls out his cell phone and dials 911.

Another homeless man runs over and checks Izzy’s pulse.

Izzy doesn’t move.

The homeless man takes Izzy’s fish and runs off.

911 Emergency, a voice says through the phone.

Hey! Get back here right now! Miggs yells at the homeless man, Give that fish back!!!

**

Officer Gus and Juana drive in traffic slowly but steadily along the dirty, noisy city streets. They know enough of the area that Juana has the window down and chats with the hardened city-goers they pass in a joking manner. Everyone seems to know the officers and have a decent relationship with them.

The radio crackles, 2450, please respond.

Gus grabs the receiver but pauses to point to a heavy-set gentleman outside the police cruiser. The man laughs and waves.

2450, go ahead, Gus answers the call.

Ah, Gus. Head over to Peachwood Meadows, will you?

Sure thing, what’s up? he asks.

Some kid called dispatch screaming about stolen fish. Perp matches your runaway and is down.

Gus hits the lights.

Ambulance? Gus asks.

On their way, but told to wait on you.

I thought that kid couldn’t surprise me, Juana mutters, Stealing fish now?

**

2450 at Peachwood Meadows. More details needed, Juana says into the radio receiver while Gus turns the cruiser into a park with a weathered sign bearing the name Peachwood Meadows and the founding date. The parking lot is long and wraps around a small park next to two soccer fields and another playground for older kids before it gets to the fishing pond.

Gus kills the sirens, but the lights continue to flash.

Maybe we missed it? Gus asks. I don’t see anyone. He drives slowly beside the soccer fields, looking everywhere for movement.

Juana shrugs. It’s your runaway. You tell me.

When’d he become mine? Gus asks, sounding somewhat irritated.

When you showed the mildest interest in him. The rest of us just want to put him in jail for all times.

He just breaks out again, Gus mutters, eyes searching for any movement. What good does that do anyone?

Death row then? she asks.

Cuz we need him backed in a corner, Gus says wryly.

Juana’s eyes open wide, and she looks at Gus in horror. He meets her gaze and nods. Luckily, Gus still pays enough attention to the road that he notices movement and slams on the breaks, just as Miggs runs in front of him, waving his hands around crazily.

That’s our cue, Juana says wearily.

Miggs points to the fishing pond end of the parking area and runs for it. Ambulance sirens fill the air as Gus follows after Miggs.

At least the medics didn’t have to wait on us. Where were they coming from? Gus asks.

Hiding next door till they saw you turn in is my guess, Juana says and then chuckles.

Damn, Gus says as he puts on some speed to get around the park to the person-sized lump on the ground. He stops the cruiser, locks the transmission, and jumps out. Juana stays back by the radio with her hand on her gun, and her eyes trained on Gus.

Gus runs to Izzy, crouches by him, and then checks for a pulse. Relief washes over Gus as he feels one. He takes a deep breath and then searches Izzy taking Izzy’s knife before he starts the real search to see why Izzy is down.

Juana stands up out of the cruiser, nervous but calm and alert.

Gus looks back to see Miggs rushing at him. Miggs is so nonthreatening that Gus drops his eyes back to Izzy.

Is he going to be ok? Miggs asks desperately, as he crouches by Gus.

Who knows with this one, Gus replies. He stole your fish?

No! Miggs says emphatically. It was his fish they stole. He caught it with no rod or anything.

Gus half-smiles. Does what he has to, Gus mutters respectfully.

He cleaned it even and was leaving when he fell. Miggs points to Izzy.

Gus hisses as his hand comes away from Izzy’s back with oozy dark blood on it. He wipes his hand clean on Izzy’s tattered clothes.

The ambulance roars up as Gus peaks under the back of the hoody to see where the old blood was coming from and frowns. "Guess that barbed