Пеpестройка

Пеpестройка=Perestroika

You know, most dudes can’t tell you exactly when it was that they started being adults. I mean, there’s one point when you just gotta stop and say, “You know what, I’m not a little kid anymore.” But it’s not like some kinda milestone where they crossed over, not for most people. But for me I remember the exact time and place my childhood ended, not that it was much of a loss but I remember it. It was in a warehouse in the industrial district and it was on a Christmas day. Sad to say that particular Christmas wasn’t the one that ruined the holiday for me. Funny, you can tell how fucked up somebody’s childhood was by how much they hate Christmas.

I wasn’t alone even though it felt like I was. Marcus was there. He was pretty much my new Dad by that point. That’s what I thought of him as anyway. Not sure if he felt the same way but it doesn’t really matter anymore. I was sitting in this cold chair right in the middle of the place and Marcus was walking around. The only light in the room was this naked light bulb dangling over my chair. I wanted that light to go out; I felt like I was burning underneath it.

Mark said to me, “You ready?” For a minute it seems like we’re the only ones in the room.

I shook my head and said, “I…I can’t do it,” all scared sounding and shit. I still had a little bitch left in me at that age.

Mark said, “Why not?”

And I answered, “It don’t…it jus don’t feel right.”

“That’s the old Daniel talkin, that’s all. You gotta let that part of you go, stop thinking like a boy and become a man instead.”

I knew he was right. Everything that’s been holding me back was that old part of me, that little idealist voice everybody’s got that makes them believe in fairytale things like God and Justice and Love and all that bullshit. You can’t survive with a conscience, that’s what my uncle said when I was eight years old but I didn’t know what it meant back then. My dad didn’t want me talking to him cuz he was scared I’d end up like him. But you can learn a lot from the people you’re most ashamed of.

I was off on my own again, off on a tangent somewhere til Marcus brought me back to the warehouse with a hand on my side.

He sorta squeezed my shoulder as he said, “I know it ain’t easy, son. It’s not supposed to be. It’s s’posed to be hard because that’s how the weak are weeded out from the strong. And you’re strong, son. I knew it when I first seen’t ya. And you knew it too. That’s why you ran away, because you ain’t the one to take that kinda bullshit from nobody. Think about yer family histry. Remember when you told me about it? All the soldiers in your family? You’re a warrior, son. That’s who you are, it’s in yer blood.”

In my blood, it’s funny to think about it now. Bad blood’s what I’d say now. Josh didn’t have it, that’s how I knew he’d be safe at home. But me, I had the bad Gideon blood in me. And my Dad, my real Dad, somehow he knew it too. That’s why I ran away, the real reason. We each saw something in the other that neither of us liked.

“Come on, Daniel,” said Marcus, “What’s it gonna be?”

He sorta shook me a little to get me outta my own head. I do that sometimes, retreat into my mind. I did it a lot more when I was a kid, but I still have to catch myself every once in a while. During hard times like when I was really hungry or my pops hit me with that belt of his, I’d retreat into my head like that. Try to solve some math problems or something, anything to take me away from wherever I was. But it wasn’t working for me in that warehouse. It was too real. The thing was staring me right in the face and I couldn’t deny it. I had to make a decision.

“I…I…,” I hate that stuttering shit I used to do when I was little; It makes me sound like a fuckin retard, “…I can’t do it. It ain’t right.”

I didn’t have to look up. I knew Marcus would have that same disappointed lookin face on him. Marcus’ face was always disappointed looking, never mad or hateful. If you failed to do something he wanted he’d just shake his head and give you that disappointed looking face and it made you feel ten times worse. I wanted to die when he sighed and took his hand off my shoulder. Marcus walked over to the metal work bench on my left and started tapping his fingers on the table. He was tapping his fingers in that way he does when we’re playing chess and he’s gotta think really hard about his next move.

He sighed once more and then turned around, talking in a really matter-of-factly sounding voice when he said, “Maybe I was wrong about you, Daniel.”

That right there cut me deep. I felt my soul hurt when he said that. When you got someone like Marcus who looks out for you and takes care of you, you never wanna disappoint them. It’s worse than a your dad whoopin you with a belt or punching you in the face. It’s worse than anything when you disappoint someone like Marcus.

He went on to say, “You’ve got the knowledge and the strength and the energy and all that, but you lack the ambition, you lack resolve. You know what that means, resolve?”

“Marcus I…”

He cut me off, “You remember what you said to me, the day Joseph and them brought you here?”

I stopped and tried to remember what he was talking about. My mind was like a goddam tornado and the thoughts was all scattered and messed up.

Marcus went on to say, “You told me that you wanted to be a member of our family, of my family. Was that a lie?”

“No!” I yelled.

“Well what about Joseph, then? He was your friend, wasn’t he?”

“Of course he was!”

“So as one of us, you thought of him as a brother, didn’t you?”

“Yes!” I shouted. And he was. Joseph couldn’t of been more like my brother if we both came from the same womb.

“And you love your brothers don’t you, Daniel? You’d do whatever it takes to protect them, even if it means risking your own life.”

“Of course!” I said, my voice all cracking up like I was about to start crying, “Why’d you even wanna ask me somethin like that?”

Marcus was making me mad. And not the kinda mad you get when your parents takes away your Xbox for a week or whatever it is you kids play these days. It’s the kinda mad you get when someone questions your loyalty to something you really care about. I didn’t realize it at the time but he was testing my heart. You gotta test niggas hearts from time to time to see what they’re really about. A fact I was well aware of from all the fights and beat downs I used to get into. But somehow, I didn’t realize it when it was happening to me. Then again you never really do.

Marcus walked up in front of my chair and looked me dead in the face as he said, “So if all that’s true, why aren’t you willing to do what needs to be done? To get justice for what was done to Joseph; to your brother whom you say you love as your own?”

I froze up. I knew what he was saying, but that’s a lot to ask a kid. And that’s what I was at that point, a kid. Just for a few moments longer but I was still just a kid. My head was down, staring at my scuffed up Timberlands on the dirty cement floor.

Marcus slipped something into my right hand and said, “You do what you gotta do. Prove yer not a liar or take the coward’s way out. I won’t try to stop you.”

He said that and then he backed away. I looked at the thing he put into my right hand. It was a Glock 17, 9 by 19 millimeter parabellum; that’s German for little piece of lead that tears up your organs and causes sepsis. It’s what the police carry, a lot of them do anyway. I knew if I took out the magazine I’d see a hollow-point round inside there, specifically designed to mess up your insides. I felt the weight of the gun in my hand, mostly from the top because it’s a composite grip. The bottom part was Baghdad beige and the serial number on the underside was scratched out. When fired, the bullet’s gotta velocity of 390 meters per second and the energy of 570 joules. It makes a pea sized hole in the skin. When it tears through bone and flesh it mushrooms out so that it causes the most damage. Maximum pressure of 34,000 psi and a…

No, I thought to myself, get outta your head. This is real, no more number games. I rubbed my finger along the trigger, pressing down on the little lever inside of it that controls the safety. Part of me wanted to put the gun to my head and end myself like that kid at the playground. But I couldn’t do that. That’s a bitch move, murdering yourself. Especially when there’s plenty of other people to do it for you. Some people go out and get into fights with dangerous people, some take lots of drugs or drink ridiculous amounts of alcohol. Some do stupid shit and get arrested and end up getting killed while inside. And still others go out and fuck dirty bitches or share needles and end up catching AIDS or some shit. We’re all committing suicide, in our own special way. A bullet in the brain’s just a bit quicker, not to mention a lot less fun.

I put both hands on the gun. My right hand tends to shake sometimes when I’m about to fire a gun, so I used a trick that Marcus taught me and thought about all of the stress in my body like a fog floating around inside me, a fog which I drew into my lungs when I inhaled and when I exhaled it left me and I was calm and ready. I stood up from the chair, took aim at the other side of the warehouse and fired three rounds.

The bullet’s entered the chest of the guy on the other side of the warehouse. His hands were bound behind him with those plastic zip-tie things around the steel beam. He had a black bag over his head, Abu Ghraib style. The guy fell to the floor and kinda leaned forward as he twitched; the last spasms of life. The wounds were in his heart his sternum and his chest. I made an almost perfect equilateral triangle with the bullet holes. They were about 15 centimeters apart. Funny, how that’s the first thing that went through my mind after I shot him. The second thing was, holy shit! I just shot that guy! My hand never shook. My hand would always shake after I shot a gun in a shooting range, even if I did that breathing trick it would still shake a little bit afterwards. But not when I shot a person, not now.

I still had the gun trained on the guy tied to the metal beam when Marcus walked over and took the gun outta my hands. He put his arm around me in a sorta half-hug, like a Dad congratulating his son after scoring his first touchdown or whatever it is normal kids do with their Dad’s.

Marcus said, “I’m proud of you, son.”

I barely heard him. His voice sounded like it was miles away. All I thought of was that guy lying on the floor, hunched over while his blood poured out all over the place. They told me he was the guy who shot Joseph. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. I don’t know I never saw his face. But staring at him right then reminded me of Joseph when he was lying on his back in the middle of the sidewalk. The way the guy twitched after I shot him made me think about how Joe coughed up his own blood as he tried to breath. And when the guy finally stopped moving I could swear I felt Joseph’s hand in mine once more, becoming limp and lifeless like the grip of a gun.

Marcus squeezed my shoulder as he said, “It’s okay, don’t cry son.”

For the record I wasn’t crying. My eyes were watering a little bit, but I kept rubbing them so they wouldn’t start gushing. That’s all I needed, to start crying like a bitch in front of everybody.

Then Marcus said, “The old Daniel is gone. You’ve grown up now.”

He didn’t know how right he was. The old Daniel Gideon, the child was now gone, died by the sound of gunshots. And all that was left of him was a name. But in about a year’s time that part of me would be gone as well.

конец

Перестройка — общее название совокупности политических и экономических перемен, проводившихся в СССР в 1986—1991 годах.

В ходе перестройки (примерно c 1989) резко обострилось политическое противостояние сил, выступающих за социалистический путь развития, и партий, движений, связывающих будущее страны с организацией жизни на принципах капитализма, а также по вопросам будущего облика Советского Союза, взаимоотношений союзных и республиканских органов государственной власти и управления.

К началу 1990-х годов перестройка привела к обострению кризиса во всех сферах жизни общества, ликвидации власти КПСС и распаду СССР.