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The Missing Son 22

Patrick had trouble believing how much of a difference three week made, not just with him, but on the whole neighborhood. Three weeks without the gangs walking around like they owned the place, intimidating people, breaking into houses, stealing cars.

It hadn't happened over night, but now people were sitting on their porch after work, drinking beers. Kids were playing on the lawns and running around the houses. He'd mentioned it to Mother Rosetta, and she'd said much the same of her parish. The gangs had been this dark cloud over the area that no one really mentioned but that affected them all.

The gravity of the change made itself clear not long after that, when the smell of cooking meat had drawn him outside and Mister Omaka, an older ocelot, three houses down the road, was barbecuing on his lawn, people coming over with food from other houses.

Patrick had rushed back in and gone through the cupboard looking for something he could bring. He put together a quick potato salad from the bag of potatoes he'd cooked a few days ago to keep them from going bad.

He walked to the ocelot, realizing he should have asked first if this was open to anyone or a private affair.

"Mister Omaka, I hope I'm not intruding, I saw everyone coming with food and I thought I'd offer some too."

"Patrick, call me Jinko, you know that." The ocelot's fur was very pale, an indication he was quite advanced in age, but he didn't show any other signs. Patrick had seen him running some of the younger gang members off his lawn more than once. "And of course, you're welcome. today's such a fine evening I just had to grill something, and seems everyone's feeling much more neighborly these days."

"Yes sir. I've noticed that too. I brought potato salad, I hope that'll do."

"Of course it will. Just put it on the table there and tell me what you'd like."

"I'd take a sausage roll, and if I can I'd like a burger for my mom, she'll be back from work in a couple of hours and I know she'd enjoy something different from what we've been eating"

The ocelot looked Patrick up and down. "You only want one? Seems to me a boy your age should be eating more."

"I don't want to impose, I'm sure plenty of others are going be asking for some, and I didn't bring that much food."

"I'm sure everyone is going to want some, but I've got plenty, and Gillian brought a few packs of sausages too, not to say of all the burger patties I have."

"Well, if it isn't going to cause problems, I'll have two."

Mister Omaka snorted. "You'll have four and you won't complain about it."

Patrick's ears warmed and he fought a desire to refuse. He much preferred to earn what he got, but Mister Omaka was insistent, so he couldn't make too big of a deal out of it. He put the salad on the table and saw there were two other bowl of potato salad, but each smelled like different spices had been used, so he didn't feel too bad. There were three cakes, two platters of vegetables, three pies, and a large bowl of lettuce. Party plates and bowls were stacked at the end of the table.

In a cooler filled with ice he found lots of soda cans, and even a few of orange soda. Patrick was surprise, he didn't realize anyone else drank the stuff. He grabbed one and Mister Omaka had his food ready.

"I've set aside two patties for your mother, I'll cook them when she comes home."

"You don't have too, if you cook them now I can take them home and put them in the over."

The ocelot gave him the evil eye. "If you leave our little gathering, I am going to chase you down and beat you, got that? Now, go find a place to sit and eat."

Patrick couldn't stop the grin from spreading on his face. "Yes sir."

The rest of the evening was spent talking with people he'd seen daily, but hadn't spent the time taking with often, everyone then too busy looking over their shoulders or wondering who would cause problems next.

When his mother got home, she saw the gathering and came to investigate. Mister Omaka handed her two burgers, pointing to the condiments. She tried to refuse, but like Patrick, she lost that argument and settled next to him. Someone brought her a coffee.

The gathering lasted until late in the night.

* * * * *

Patrick ran across the court, stopped, dodged his opponent, looked for his teammate, waved to indicate he was clear. The ball was bounced to him. he caught it, dribbled two steps, leaped in the air and threw it at the basket. The ball hit the back board, then the rim and bounced outside the playing field.

"You still can't get a ball in to save your life, Sanders," someone said.

"I told you I sucked when you insisted I play," he replied, running after the ball. He grabbed it before it rolled on the street and threw it back. Of the people he was playing with he only knew two, Natalia was a tigress he'd met because their mothers worked at the same factory.

He strongly suspected his mother had arranged it hoping he and Natalia would hit it off, but while they got along, the chemistry had never been there. Patrick had never thought about it before, but now he knew why. He wondered if she'd guessed it back then, but he hadn't worked up the nerves to ask her since it would mean telling her he was gay. it was one thing to have admitted it to himself, another to tell someone else, well, other than Joey, but somehow Patrick felt he didn't count.

The other was the bull who lived across the street from him. he was a year older and heavily into sports. he'd managed to avoid being dragged into the gangs because he lived most of the time with him mom on the other side of the city, being here only every other weekend. He was the one who had insisted Patrick come play.

Patrick jogged back to the court, an unused parking lot that had been a Soranto gathering point before their mass arrests. Someone had procured the two basketball hoops and set them up. Natalia pointed in his direction and yelled something he didn't get. He turned to see what had gotten her attention. Thunder rang through the air and something punched him in the shoulder, sending him twisting and then falling to the ground.

He looked up to see a horse walking in his direction, waving a gun around, He heard screams over the pounding of his heart. His shoulder was hurting now, a lot. he glanced at it, and it was bloody. He made the connection between the gun and his shoulder.

"You fucking shot me!"

Emilio pointed the gun at him. "I said you were a dead man."

Patrick couldn't believe he'd been shot. Fuck, this was going to cause so much trouble. How long would he be off work because of this? Things had finally been starting to look up, His mom had had a slight raise at the factory so she'd been able to put some money aside. this was going to wipe all of it away.

"I thought you were in jail," Patrick growled. "Didn't they arrest the lot of you?"

"Yeah, I guess me showing up is a surprise. I guess you thought getting your buddies the cops to rough us up and then arrest us would free you, but guess what. when I promise something to someone I make sure it happens."

Patrick winced at the pain as he forced himself to stand. he was woozy for a moment but kept his footing. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Ohhh, you think we wouldn't notice you had people watching out for you? What? you were so scared of us you made a deal with the cops so they'd take us down?"

"You're not making any sense, as usual. I didn't call anyone, I didn't make any deal. I deal with my problems myself, without a gang to back me up, unlike someone I won't bother naming."

Anger crawled up the horse's face as the words registered. "I won't have some mangy cat bad mouth me!"

Patrick didn't wait for him to raise the gun. He ran at him. The gun went off, but he didn't feel anything. He slammed his good shoulder in Emilio's chest, sending him flying back, but Patrick almost blacked out as the impact caused his other shoulder to erupt with pain.

The horse was standing up when Patrick could see again, but he wasn't holding the gun anymore. Patrick was going to kill him. He had fucking enough with Emilio and the Sarantos.

Each step he took made his shoulder complain, but he didn't listen, he shoved the pain to the side, he'd pay for this later, right now he just couldn't give a damn. Patrick struck the horse across the face, hand open, claws extended. he felt them dig into the skin and rip. Emilio took a step back in surprise, four bloody lines on the side of his face and a piece of his ear ripped off.

The horse was furious. He looked around, then fear replaced the fury. He didn't have anyone backing him up. He'd never gone up against Patrick alone.

"I'm not going to let a punk like you do this to me and live," Emilio threatened.

Patrick slashed again, but the horse moved back. Patrick slashed back and forth with his good arm, but all that did was keep the horse at bay. He was losing blood. How long could he keep fighting until he lost consciousness? If that happened, he was dead. he wasn't going to let that happen. He wasn't putting his mom through this kind of tragedy.

He staggered, putting on a show of having trouble moving. his slashes were lower and slower. He panted heavily, but that wasn't an act. He lounged at the horse, even if he was still out of reach, and he saw the smile of confidence on his face.

Emilio did a quick lunge in. Patrick forced himself not to flinch back and let him strike him on the chest. It wasn't very hard, the horse hadn't gone all in, but when he staggered back Patrick almost couldn't stop himself from falling.

The horse pressed his advantage, and Patrick struck him. he'd aimed for his throat, intent on ripping it out, but his hand hadn't gone up that far. He ended up slashing deeply at Emilio's chest. He almost lost his balance, and a hand caught him. he lashed out, but that was caught too, then he saw the fur was striped instead of brown.

"I've got you," Natalia said, and then he was unconscious.

* * * * *

Patrick came to with a start, felt hands on him and saw brown fur. He trashed, trying to get away but the pain in his shoulder screamed.

"Hold him down damn it!."

Hands pushed him down, tan fur, long tapered muzzle, canine.

"Calm down kid, we're here to help."

The brown fur again, round ears, short muzzle, small eyes. Bear. Not horse.

The fight left Patrick. He closed his eyes and panted. He could hear beeps and whirls. he opened his eyes again.

He was in the back of an ambulance, on a stretcher. The bear was scanning his shoulder. He looked around, but didn't recognize any of the equipment.

"Sorry for trashing about. I hope I didn't hurt either or you."

"It's okay kid," the bear replied. "We've had to deal with far more difficult customers than you."

"How bad is it?"

"All thing considered? not bad at all, the bullet's intact and lodged in your muscle. I'll give you some local anesthetic and pull it out."

"Fuck."

The canine, a coolie regarded him.

"I don't have insurance," Patrick explained. "I can't pay for any of this."

The collie looked at the bear and then out the door. "Don't you worry 'bout that. Our job's to do what we can, not to bill the customer. Wallace there'll take out the chunk, then we'll take you to the hospital so they can make sure nothing bad happens. Infection and all that."

"Can you give me antibiotics? I can't go to the hospital. You're not charging me, and I'm grateful, but they're going to bill me for just looking at me. I don't want to think what it's going to be when they actually do something."

"Look kid." The bear injected Patrick's shoulder, "Sure, we can give you stuff to make sure it doesn't get infected, but you've got muscle damage. If you don't get that looked at you could lose a lot of flexibility in your arm, is that what you want?"

"Of course not, but It's not worth ruining my mom."

"Maybe you should call her so she can make the decision?" The collie offered.

"I don't have a phone."

"That's okay, I'll lend you mine, you know her number?"

"She's at work."

"I'm sure they'll let her take the call, this is something of an emergency."

Patrick thought it over. He didn't want to bother her with this. But no matter what happened, she was going to be affected. He cursed halfheartedly and recited the factory's number.

The paramedic punched it and unhooked the top of the phone, bending it so it would fit around Patrick's ear and placed it there.

He heard the ringing, then a click and a man's voice.

"Olympic Mattresses, where we make mattresses fit for Gods, how can I improve your sleep?"

"Hi, I need to talk to Margarette Sanders, she's one of your seamstresses."

"I'm sorry, but this is the sales department."

"Sorry, this is the only number I have. Can you transfer me her supervisor? I really need to talk to her."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think floor employees are allowed to take personal calls during work hours."

Patrick sighed, feeling tired all of a sudden. "I'm her son, I need to inform her I've been shot."

"You've been shot? Oh my God, do you need me to call the police? an ambulance?"

"No, they're already here, I just need to talk to my mother."

"Yes, of course. I'm going to put you on hold while I find her."

Patrick closed his eyes, and then opened them, he didn't want to risk falling asleep. He felt pressure on his shoulder and realized the pain was gone. He looked and the bear had thin pliers in the wound. There was a slurping noise as he pulled out and he had the bullets.

"Can I talk to him?" a police officer asked from the doorway.

"He's trying to reach his mother," the collie replied. "By the time he's done we'll have sanitized and sealed the wound, you can talk to him then. I'll call for you."

The yak nodded and left.

Patrick was about the thank him when his mother was on the spoke in his ear.

"Patrick? Are you alright? They told me you've been shot, how bad is it?"

"I'm okay mom. Just a shoulder wound, nothing vital. Look, they want to take me to the hospital."

"Of course, doctors need to look at it. I'll explain things to my supervision and go there immediately, do you know which one they are taking you to?"

"Mom, I can't go. We don't have insurance."

"That's fine, I have some money aside."

"Mom, this is a hospital, I don't think your savings are going to be enough."

"Then I'll get a loan. Patrick, you are going, it's final. I'm not going to risk your health just for money, do you hear me?"

"Yes, mom." He sighed. "Which hospital are we going to?"

"Four Clovers is the closest one."

"Four Clovers, mom. That's where I'll be."

"I'll see you there as soon as I can."

He took off the ear piece and handed it to the collie. "Don't worry, if Clovers can't take you I'll call her to tell her where we'll end up."

"That the factory number. She doesn't have her phone."

The collie looked at him questioningly.

"We only have one phone for the two of us, so it stays at home."

Patrick got two horrified looks. He was too exhausted to laugh.

"If you're done I'm good to talk to the police officer now." That was going to be a pleasant conversation, he thought wryly.

The collie called the yak over and stepped out so he could come in. The bear stayed and continued scanning his shoulder.

"I'm officer Androny," the Yak said, "we're taking statements from all the witnesses. Can you tell me what happened?"

Patrick took a breath. "I was playing basketball with my friends. I missed a hoop, the ball bounced away so I chased it. got it and was coming back when I heard thunder and fell. My shoulder was bloody. Emilio was pointing a gun at me. I defended myself."

"You knew the man who shot you?"

"We're had altercations before. He's been trying to force me to join the Sarantos for years now. I thought he'd been arrested with the others."

"During the fight, did you slash him?"

Patrick sighted. "Yes. my claws were all I had to defend myself." He really didn't need this. He's managed to avoid getting in trouble with the law his entire life. Now because of that horse he was going to end up with an assault charge on his record. "Look, I need to know. what am I going to be charged with?"

The yak stared at him. "Charged? what for?"

"I clawed him. That's assault, they teach us that really early at school."

"Buddy, he came at you with a gun. What you did was self-defense. No judge is even going to want to see you in her court. All you're going to have to do is go over the statement to make sure it's accurate and sign it. Your buddy Emilio is sitting in the back of my cruiser right now, and he's looking at prison time for possession of an illegal firearm, not to mention shooting you." He stood. "You just focus on healing, we'll contact you when everything's ready for you to sign." He left.

"So, you're ready to head to the hospital now?"

Patrick smiled. "Yeah, I am."