When Lambs Eat Lions

By Jerrimiah Stonecastle

 

A tall, mysterious white man moves into a neighborhood that is caught in a turf war between three rival gangs. He becomes a threat to the gangs when the residents begin to lose their fear of the gangs and they begin to lose members.

They plot to take this bible thumping interloper out, but soon discover they had made a mistake of biblical proportions.

Who or what is he?

The residents think he's an angel sent from heaven.
The gangs think he's a demon sent from hell.
The local clergy think he's the Lamb returning as the Lion to usher in the End of Days.

Or is he something else?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jerrimiah Stonecastle
• Release date: Oct 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215262764

Jerrimiah Stonecastle

Jerrimiah Stonecastle was born and raised in the South Bronx, New York to a single parent. His mom is a retired New York City educator who always pushed him to reach for excellence in all that he did. In 2002 he retired from New York City civil service and relocated to North Florida. There he started his writing career with a trilogy series called UC 630 Cop or Criminal:The Crack Wars. In 2016 he formed his own Indie publishing company Stonecastle Publications whose slogan is "Throwing Stones At A Glass House". He now has published 4 books and is currently working on his 5th which is due to be released in January 2018.

Book preview

CONTENTS

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

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Joanna Penn, your YouTube videos were so informative and inspiring for me. I discovered the ups and downs of this career through your experiences.

Bob Proctor’s speeches changed the way

I viewed my world as a writer and businessman.

My friends and Editors: Joel Hinrichs, Rosemarie Poggi, Diane Vasic, and Ms. Elaine McCarthy.

Special shout out to:

Julie Broad

Of Book Launchers

Your inspirational videos were valuable to me.

I

seven

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T

he clock was striking 2 a.m. in the sleepy town of Jennette, Arkansas and the only people awake were Jennette’s Sheriff Office detective Lou Gramble and Valerie Simms, a waitress at the all-night diner on Bings Shore Road.

Dane Rivers, the other officer on duty, was fast asleep in his patrol car outside. From inside the diner, Lou and Valerie could see Dane snoring with his mouth open.

Why is Dane always so knocked out, Lou? asked Val, refilling Lou’s coffee cup.

Well, he wants to go to law school. So, he got himself a second job at the sawmill in Denton.

Jesus, and I bet with studies he’s not getting much sleep.

Not a wink. That’s why I don’t mind if he takes a nap.

Don’t let my Daddy catch him sleeping. He’ll dock his pay.

If Bo had approved his raise he wouldn’t have to work the second job, Val.

Now you know my daddy is just the sheriff and not the mayor, Lou. It was the mayor that shot it down.

Your father holds a lot of weight with the town council, Val.

Are you calling my daddy fat again, Lou. I told you about that.

I would never make fun of my future father-in-law and his four-hundred pounds. He’s just big boned is all.

Val threw a dish towel in his face. Lou jumped up and chased her around the counter. He grabbed her before she could run outside.

Now little lady, you’re under arrest for assaulting an officer of the law.

Oh, no, what is my punishment, deputy? she asked, struggling in his grasp.

Well, the punishment will come after your daddy goes to work. But for now, I’ll just fine you one big kiss.

The couple embraced in a deep passionate kiss before Valerie pushed him off to catch her breath.

Lou, you got my dad all wrong, she said, wiping her lipstick from his lips. A town this small doesn’t have that big a budget to give everyone raises. We have a population of three thousand. Before these two other asshole gangs showed up we had a population of six thousand. The revenue just isn’t what it used to be. If it weren’t for the army base we’d dry up and blow away.

Yeah, I know, baby girl, sighed Lou. The only people who stay here are the ones too poor to move away or have lived here all their lives and have no place to go.

I heard Jesse quit yesterday after he got out of the hospital. Did you ever find out who shot him?

No, and there weren’t any witnesses, Lou said. I sure would love to get my hands on the son of a bitch that shot him.

At that moment there was a rumble of thunder in the distance.

Did you hear that? Valerie asked.

Yeah, it sounded like thunder, but that can’t be.

Why not?

On the news today, they said this three-week drought will probably continue for another four weeks.

Suddenly, the night sky lit up from a blinding flash of lightning. A few seconds later a fierce wind arose followed by a torrential downpour. The sound of the rain pummeling against the patrol car jarred Dane from his slumber.

When his eyes focused, they landed on a tall figure of a man standing in the rain wearing a black hat, a long gray raincoat, and carrying a suitcase.

Jesus Christ, Dane said, when a flash of lightning illuminated the man’s face.

His face looked as if it was chiseled out of granite. It was only the glimpse of scars similar to those of battle tested soldiers that confirmed his face was made of flesh and not stone. The rest of his features were unremarkable except for his eyes which seemed to sparkle when a flash of lightning reflected in his pupils.

As soon as Dane stepped out of the cruiser the rain ceased. He removed his flashlight from its holder and shone it in the man’s face. Despite the blinding light the man didn’t blink.

Dane stood 6-feet 2-inches tall but had to look up at the man.

Hey buddy, where the hell did you come from? Dane asked.

A gentleman was kind enough to give me a lift this far, officer, he said, placing his suitcase on the ground.

Hitchhiking is a crime in these here parts, mister.

I wasn’t hitchhiking, officer. My car broke down a few miles back. I was merely trying to get to the town of Jennette to get it repaired.

Well, you’re in the town limits. You got any I.D. on you?

I sure do, officer, he said, handing Dane his driver's license. 

Patrick Politeri from Chicago, Illinois, read Dane. What brings you all the way over here to our little town?

I answered an ad for a job.

A job!? In Jennette? People leave here to find work. Are you sure you got the right town?

You do have a shelter on Eighth Street run by Father John Flannery?

Yes we do. Whatcha gonna be doing there?

What’s going on, Dane? Lou asked, stepping out of the diner.

His car broke down and he’s going to be working with Father Flannery.

Over at the shelter!? Doing what?

I’m going to be one of the substance abuse counselors, Patrick said, causing the men to break out in laughter. Did I say something funny?

Well, it’s just that in the past two years Father Flannery hasn’t been able to keep anyone there for more than two weeks, Lou said. How many will he make Dane?

Five by my count.

Six, you’re forgetting, Mr. Cox, Valerie said, walking over to the group.

Oh, this is Valerie Simms, Dane said. She’s the Sheriff’s daughter and runs this diner. She makes the best baked apple pie in Arkansas.

Then I’ll have to try some one day.

Just make sure that’s all you try, buddy, Lou interjected.

Oh, I should’ve mentioned that she’s his fiancée, Dane said. 

Am not! He hasn’t asked me yet because he’s too scared of my daddy.

Well, you both can be at ease. I have grandchildren older than you, Ms. Simms.

I might like an older gentleman, Valerie cooed. How old are you?

I’ve been told older than dirt, young lady. Is there a hotel nearby I can stay at, officers?

None close by, but since you’ll be working with Father Flannery, I can put you up in one of the Sheriff's apartments, said Lou. He owns an eight-apartment building and one of the tenants just died.

That tenant was the Mr. Cox I was telling you about, said Valerie. Someone hung him.

Your father told you about that, Val, snapped Lou. The coroner said it was a suicide; case closed.

Yeah, right after he had words with TK. What happened? He was so upset about telling TK to stay away from the shelter that he went home and hung himself?

He left a note, Val, now knock it off.

You ain’t the boss of me yet, Lou, she said, sticking out her hand. How does my girl Beyonce say it? Single ladies put a ring on it.

Keep it up and the only ring you’ll be seeing is the one in the bathtub.

Dane laughed out loud.

That’s okay, Dane will take your place, she said, placing her arm under Dane’s. Won’t you, Dane?

I like you, Val, he said, removing her arm. But unlike Lou, I ain’t afraid to admit I’m scared of your pappy. I still remember what he did to Buster when he caught him on his back porch with his tongue down your throat. By the way, did he ever get over that speech impediment like the doctor said?

I wouldn’t know, Dane. I never saw him again after he got out of the hospital.

I don’t believe anyone ever saw him again after he got out, Dane said with a chuckle.

Dane walked over to his patrol car and opened the back door for Patrick.

You think he’ll fit in there, Dane?

Don’t mind him, Dane said. He thinks he’s a comedian. Are you coming, Lou?

No, you can handle that, Dane. I have to finish discussing my future with Val here. Pick me up after you tuck him in.

*_*_*_*

During the two-mile drive to town, Patrick discovered that Dane was a talker. He learned that there was originally only one gang operating in Jennette until a few years ago.

It was created by an ex-con named Terrance King also known as TK. He, along with six other prison mates he met in the East Central Arkansas Community Corrections Center while doing time for assault, formed the Black Cobras after his release. Within a few months, his membership grew to fifty when he sent word through the prison grapevine that he was recruiting.

Sheriff Bo Simms and his fifteen deputies were able to keep the Black Cobras under control, but as their numbers continued to grow and the town’s budget decreased, Bo found his control diminishing. Once Terrance realized how undermanned Bo was, he became more brazen with his criminal activities.

Terrance teamed up with a local pimp named Chris Sugar Taylor and shared the prostitution profits. When Terrance’s gang grew larger he took over the pimping business completely and allowed Chris to keep the four prostitutes who lived with him.

The real money the Cobras made was in selling weed which he got wholesale from a Jamaican connection in Memphis. When Bo got wind of the lucrative trade he cut himself a deal with Terrance for ten percent of the profits. Terrance resisted the business proposition at first until he learned that Bo’s older brother Ray Simms, was a sadistic Captain with the local State Police. Within a year, Bo had enough money to buy the eight-family apartment building at 349 Beekman Street.

Terrance had the criminal business locked up until Manny Cortez and the Loco Lobos moved into the north end of town.

Manny’s relocation was done covertly. At first, no one noticed the growing Hispanic population. Mayor Tom Daley thought one of the local ranchers had hired new workers at first. But when he noticed that most of the new residents had taken up occupancy in the abandoned trailer park on the north side, he asked Bo to look into it.

The first run in between Bo and Manny occurred in the middle of town with a full audience. Bo pulled Manny over for some imaginary traffic violation. Inside the Dodge Charger was his girlfriend Maria Velez, his 8-year-old son, Manny Jr., and his older brother, Juan Cortez.

Let me see your paper’s boy, Bo said roughly.

You mind telling me what the problem is, Sheriff? asked Manny pulling out his license.

Step out of the car, boy, Bo barked, opening the car door.

Manny was barely out of the car before Bo grabbed him by the collar and dragged around to the other side of the car. He spun him around and slapped him twice in the face.

Papi, shouted Manny Jr.

I’m the one who asks questions in this here town, boy. Now, turn around so I can check you for weapons.

Manny stared through the window at the tears streaming down his son and Maria’s faces. He shook his head when he saw Juan tap the butt of his Tech-9 pistol.

Wow, you’re the first wetback I’ve met that didn’t have so much as a knife on him, Mr. Manny Cortez, Bo said, looking at his driver’s license. What brings you all the way from Los Angeles, California? You ain’t running from the law, are yah, boy?

No.

No, what?

No, sir, Manny said, glaring back at Bo.

Well, we’ll find out soon enough, boy. You park your ass in that car and don’t move until I come back.

When Manny was in the car, Maria and his son hugged him.

We’re going to have to deal with that puta, hermano, Juan said. We can’t let this disrespect go, Yo.

We will, big brother, but not on his terms. He just wants to impress the town.

If he tries to take me out the car, hermano, I’m going to make a big impression on him, Juan said, racking the slide back on his pistol. You take out the other pig.

Hopefully, it won’t come to that, brother. This little town has potential. There’s no feds snooping around here. All we need to do is to get Johnny Law on board.

Manny’s record came back within seconds, but Bo made him wait fifteen minutes before returning his license back to him.

Well, boy, I see you did some time in California for drug trafficking, Bo said, leaning into the window. I want you to know I run a clean town here. If I so much as smell a joint on you, I’ll put you in jail for a very long time. Do we have an understanding Mr. Cortez?

Yes, sir, Manny said.

Then git, boy.

Manny looked in the rearview mirror as he pulled into traffic and said, Make the call, big brother.

A week later, Bo was sitting behind a billboard sign just over the City line waiting for speeders. The sun had just disappeared over the horizon when a pair of headlights came over the rise. Bo’s radar detector clocked the vehicle at 110 mph.

Boy, you sho better be able to pay this fine, he said, starting the motor of his cruiser.

As soon as the car passed, Bo floored his cruiser while turning on the headlights. When he shone his spotlight into the vehicle he could see it was being driven by a blonde-haired woman.

Pick up, Betty Lou, he said into his hand-mic.

"Go ahead, Sheriff."

Give me a plate check on Bravo-2-Bravo-6-6-Delta.

"That plate comes back to a Jennifer Mott of Memphis, Tennessee, Sheriff. That plate should be on a four-door green Ford Taurus."

It sho is, Betty Lou. I’m going to stop her for speeding at the old Mill Road turn off.

"Do you need any backup, Sheriff?"

No, I think I can handle the little lady.

When he turned on his siren and overhead light, the Taurus turned off the highway and stopped a few hundred yards down Mill Road. It was far enough off the main road where passing cars on the highway couldn’t see them.

I might get lucky and get a blowjob if she’s not ugly, Bo muttered to himself. Alright little lady, driver’s license, registration and what the fuck!

Manny removed his blonde wig as Juan stepped out the back seat and placed the muzzle of the Tech-9 machine gun to Bo’s head.

"Adelante (Come on in)," Manny said into his cell phone.

Now, listen here, boy...

Bo’s message was interrupted by two hard slaps from Manny.

No, you listen, boy, Manny said. You hear that?

Bo turned his head slowly toward the highway where he heard the roar of thunder. A few minutes later the source of the sound came turning on to the old Mill Road. It was Manny’s cousin Jaquan Diaz and sixty Loco Lobos members on motorcycles.

Qué pasa primo, Manny said, hugging Jaquan.

Qué pasa. Is this the gringo puta?

Si, mi primo. We were just about to have a civilized discussion. Only the discussion we’re going to have is one where we have a mutual respect for each other, even though we may hate each other, Sheriff Bo Simms. You follow me, Bo? I hope it’s okay for me to call you Bo. I feel like you and I are family since you disrespected me in front of my wife and my son. The only people allowed to do that without being killed are my family. Do we understand each other? Nod your head slowly if you understand.

Bo nodded his head slowly.

Good boy, Manny said, patting Bo on the side of his face. Now, I have a proposition for you. We’ve already set up shop here and we don’t want any problem with you or your people Bo. What’s it going to take for us to be friends? How does two-thousand dollars a week sound?

How about ten percent, Bo said.

Jaquan pulled out a machete and said, Puto bastardo.

Chill, primo, Manny said. Bo thinks he’s dealing with the weed-selling Black folks. Bo, we deal in the white powder and I’m sure even your ignant, pig-fucking, inbred country ass can figure out that anything I give you is a good deal.

Well, I need to know what your gross is.

No, you don’t, Bo. All you need to know is that once a week you’re going to receive an envelope stuffed with cash. The other alternative is that your little, how many deputies does he have, hermano?

Thirteen now, Juan said.

Right, your thirteen deputies are going to be very busy, and I know you don’t want that, Bo, continued Manny. Now, do we have a deal?

When Bo hesitated to answer, Manny took out his cell phone and made a phone call.

Here, Bo, it’s for you, said Manny.

Bo listened as Ray told him he received a visit from Manny that morning at his home. Manny gave him fifty-thousand dollars to avoid going to war with his group.

Okay, Ray, give my love to Emily, Bo said, handing the phone back to Manny. I want the same thing you gave my brother.

You do realize that it is a once-a-year payment?

I’m not stupid, bro, Bo said. I can count. I need the lump sum now to do some renovations on my house.

Manny walked to the back of the Ford and opened the trunk. He opened a suitcase that was half filled with plastic bags of cocaine and stacks of bills wrapped in rubber bands.

Bo started to drool when he saw the product and the cash.

That looks like Federal weight, boy, Bo said.

That’s Mr. Cortez to you, gringo, Juan said, smacking Bo in the back of the head. Go ahead, do it. I dare you.

Bo removed his hand from his pistol and put them up in the air.

That’s a good boy, Juan said, removing the muzzle from Bo’s temple.

Now, do we have an agreement, Bo? asked Manny.

Yes, Bo said, grinding his teeth.

Nice doing business with you, Bo, he