The Ill Story
By Ben Beecher and James Pyo
The usual tenants walked into
the apartment as Francis welcomed them politely. The entrance to the
Metropolitan Apartments was brightly lit, as most of
“Hello, Mr. Narco. How are you
this evening?” Francis said as Mr. Narco got out of his car.
“Hurry up, open the door!
Quick!”
Shots rang out, and Francis
dropped to the ground, his head spinning with confusion. He felt something wet
on his fingertips and he panicked. He was too young to die. It was weird,
however, he didn’t feel anything. He heard a car screech away in the distance
and stood up cautiously, saying, “Are you alright, Mr. Narco?” He heard no
response. “Mr. Narco?”
“Call 911,” Francis shouted
frantically. “We need an ambulance now!” The bystanders in the street panicked
as people went on their cell phones, explaining what happened with shock.
Francis, not knowing what to do
and still in shock, took Mr. Narco’s briefcases to his usual room as the
ambulance sirens sounded in the distance. His briefcases were surprisingly
light, and Francis went up. As he set them down to unlock Mr. Narco’s
apartment, the briefcase popped open, showing neatly stacked 100 dollar bills
filling the briefcase to the brim. His mouth dropped in shock. “How did Mr.
Narco get all this money?” he wondered. “Maybe I should take it to him in the
hospital. For now, I’ll keep it at my apartment.” He thought about the money
his whole cab ride home.
“Damn!” Miguel exclaimed as he
ducked down in the driver’s seat of the Cadillac. He watched as Mr. Narco fell
to the ground right as he closed the car door. Miguel had never seen a shooting
before, and he hoped he never saw one again. The job was carried out
successfully, and all he needed to do now was pick up the briefcase and drive
away. “What’s that guy doin’ there? He isn’t supposed to there,” Miguel said to
himself. He watched as Francis picked up the briefcase and went into the
apartment. “No! Mr. Caput is gonna be pissed. Maybe I should go and tell him.”
Miguel sprinted off before the authorities got there.
Miguel was right, he was pissed.
“What do you mean you lost the money?!” Mr. Caput screamed as he pulled out his
9. “I told you to grab it when he got shot!”
“I tried,” said Miguel
frantically. “Some old doorman picked it up before I could get there.”
“Find him. You better hope we
get that money before the deal tonight. Christopher Smalls gets very angry when
he doesn’t get his money, and you’re gonna be the one answering to him.” Mr.
Caput threatened.
He heard a shot go off, and he started to run.
The red ground flew by as he sped down the line. He saw the tape at the end of
the track, and he was well ahead of everyone else. He felt the burn in his
muscular legs as he saw his rival pass to his right. Mickel Johanson saw the
tape break, but he didn’t feel it across his chest.
“11.235 seconds. A new school
record,” announced the official. “Congratulations to Lambo Ghini, the new
champion.”
Mickel beat himself up as he
drove home from the meet. For the past four races, Lambo had beaten him. He had
tried everything he could to train and get faster. Every step of the way, Lambo
had been in front. Mickel was starting to get desperate, and was willing to do
anything he could to win. He went to the gym 7 times a week. He ate a strict
diet full of protein, carbs, and antioxidants. He even started to take an
illegal supplement called hydroxycreatinine. It was a steroid that boosted a
person’s metabolism and energy utilization by 850%. He had just bought another
shipment from a dealer named Mr. Narco. It was supposed to come in that night,
but he had heard no word. Mickel was starting to get antsy, as he had paid
$12,000 in cash in advance.
He opened the newspaper the next
day and saw Lambo’s face on the front cover of the sports section. Disgusted,
he threw it on the ground, and opened the main section to a random article. He
read about a shooting involving two rival drug lords downtown in front of the
Metropolitan Apartments. He got nervous. The apartment complex was where the
deal was supposed to go down. He read on to see that the dealer had been taken
to the
“Where are my damn drugs?!” Mickel
asked Narco. “I gave you all my money in advance and I expect to have my
merchandise now!”
Narco, who was on life support,
struggled to speak. “It was Caput. He took the money. I don’t know where your
drugs are. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” said Mickel. He
knelt down next to Narco’s bed and unplugged the life support. “I need to win.
Francis was so excited about
finding the money that he decided to go out on a shopping spree for himself and
his soon to be fiancée. He lived off a measly $40,000 dollars a year from the
apartment tenants, and this was the first time he had seen so much cash in his
life. However, he failed to remember that the money was not his, but the money
of Mr. Narco, one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city. He wondered
what he could possibly buy with all that money, which he estimated to be about
$15,000.
As he was walking home from the
jewelry store after buying an engagement ring, he began to feel pangs of
nervousness. There was only one car coming down the quiet street, and its
lights weren’t on. He reached his girlfriend’s house and his nervousness melted
away as he asked her to come downstairs. She was a beautiful woman, about 5’5”
with brown hair and blue eyes. It was no wonder Francis was so in love.
"Jane, I need to ask you
something,” He started to take out the ring. “Will you…” Francis began.
“It was a mistake for you to
take something that wasn’t yours,” Francis heard a voice say. Shots rang out,
and Francis collapsed in Jane’s arms with two bullet holes in his forehead.
Miguel ran over, grabbed the ring and the briefcase, and sped off in the
unmarked car. Jane was still in shock, but the reality of the situation soon
hit her hard. She dropped to the floor and began to sob uncontrollably.
“You did very well,” Mr. Caput
said to Miguel. “There is much potential in you. This is for your services.” He
reached into his coat and pulled out the nine, emptying the clip into Miguel’s
chest. “Just a useless pawn in this war. Narco is dead, and now I’m the king of
this city.”
Caput heard windows shattering
in the back of the warehouse, shattering his thoughts simultaneously. “Who’s
there?” He walked to where he heard the sound while he replaced the empty clip.
He heard no response, but saw a shadow moving across the floor. “I said who’s
there.”
“I was expecting something from
Narco,” Mickel responded. “And now I want my money back.”
“I know who you are. Aren’t you
that kid who got beat by Ghini yesterday?” said Caput with a smirk. “How many
times has it been now, six? Seven?”
“Where’s my money,” shouted
Mickel through his teeth.
“The money’s mine now you stupid
kid!” Caput said as he fired shots into the crates where Mickel was hiding.
Mickel pulled out two automatic mac-10s an unloaded both clips wildly into
Caput. Caput fell to the floor and Mickel ran out of the warehouse as he picked
up the briefcase of money. His adrenaline was pumping, giving him a high of
endorphins that was greater than that of his drugs. Once he got into the street,
he blacked out suddenly as he was cracked on the head with a crowbar. He fell
to the ground, but kept getting hit. He looked up, expecting to see one of
Caput’s men, but instead he saw a shapely woman with brown hair and blue eyes
full of tears of anger. She was about five and a half feet, but that’s all he
could describe as he blacked out and breathed his last breath.
The next day, the newspaper’s
headlines said, “Six Dead in Drug Related Killings. Strangers United by Their
Obsessions with Winning, Money, and Greed.”