GRIND (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 1) (12 page)

He’d fallen asleep on the couch as soon as he made it home, then dragged himself to his master bedroom when he came to. The walls of the small room were painted black, the ceiling covered in faux stardust as if to appease some 16-year-old that was wild about astronomy. It had been that way when he moved in, and he simply didn’t care enough to change things around, make them more to his liking. After staring at the ceiling for a while, getting his bearings, he sank back into the oblivion of sleep.

Hours later, 4:02 a.m., he woke once again. This time, a dull stomachache made slumber evasive.

“Damn.” He sat up, flicked on the nightstand light, and ran his hand across his bare gut. His abdominal muscles contracted and constricted, causing him to hiss between clenched teeth. “Oh yeah…this is…bad. Damn…” His churning gut reminded him of his conversation earlier in the day with Paw, about how the man was supposedly being poisoned once again, this time, with powdered laundry detergent. After a few moments, the pain dulled, and he could breathe better.

Oh, that’s right… Let me check the tape.

Zenith left the bed and walked to his computer desk chair, plopped down on it, and fired up the laptop. After a few sluggish minutes, he clicked the green icon on his computer…

For two weeks, he’d looked at daily footage of Paw, and it was just as he’d suspected. The man was a tyrant. Nurse after nurse, nurse’s aides, doctor, minister—it didn’t matter who—was cursed out in English, Kaneien’kehaka and Oneida with little restraint. He would buck the authority, refusing to take his medicine and having epic temper tantrums to boot. He hadn’t told the old man he’d had the goods on him just yet… he was waiting for the perfect time to strike. After their visit that involved a tale of Lysol, a withered nutsack and manipulation, he’d decided to hit up his friend Elijah and see what he could hook him up with in regards to placing a small, discreet camera in Paw’s room. Elijah had just what he needed… in the shape of a little, dirty teddy bear.

Not the type of thing one would want to steal, let alone touch and move. Inside of ‘Dirty Ted’s’ left eye, though, one would find a wireless camera that sent information right back to Zenith’s computer. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and yeah, Paw had bruises, but he was causing the altercations by trying to assault the staff, to show them who was boss.

…And here it was again. The old man was set to get up and go…

Paw, you’re losin’ your mind, man. This is killin’ me…

It broke Zenith’s heart to watch the man becoming so paranoid and aggressive, so angry and falling apart. He didn’t think Paw was lying, but no doubt, the old timer believed
every
word he’d uttered. He used to be so clear headed, level and together. Sure, he could always get loud, but he was never one to begin an unpleasant situation, start a confrontation. He was the guy called to
end
discourse, to make it better. After Zenith almost fell asleep several times watching the redundant material, he turned off the recording and turned it on Live Viewing.

And what he saw forced him to shoot eyes wide open…

There, on the screen, Paw was fast asleep, balled up in a fetal position. One of his long, pale feet peeked out from beneath the quilt and his snoring sounded like two subway trains racing down their respective lines. The man’s mouth was slightly ajar, and in the corner of the room stood a wide-shouldered woman he’d never seen before. The room was dark, but he could make out the figure and some of the features. The woman bent low and began to go through his drawers, one by one, looking here and there, ever so quietly. She peered out into the hallway, ensuring the coast was clear. Grabbing what looked like a prescription bottle, she slid it into her pocket. She opened another drawer then, looked into his wallet and retrieved a little money, too…

“What the fuck?!” Zenith got to his feet and stared hard at the screen.

The woman resumed her pillaging. Suddenly, Grandfather’s eyes flew open. Paw had always been a light sleeper…

“Huh?” the delirious man called out. He sat up, and took note of the woman standing there almost immediately.

“I was just checking your blood pressure, Mr. Taylor,” she stated, a smile in her tone.

“You’re a liar! You were in here stealing again, you big, ugly bear!”

Suddenly, the old man was backhanded so hard, the sound caused Zenith’s computer speakers to vibrate. The woman was upon him, pinned him down with her entire body. He fought and kicked beneath her, his wails like the soundtrack to a nightmare.

“You shut your damn mouth, you hear me?! I ain’t in here stealin’ shit! You are senile, you silly old man! People are tired of you, too!”

“Imma…Imma tell my grandson!” Paw’s voice quivered. Zenith’s heart broke as he watched the woman raise her hand again. Paw flinched, frightened, his eyes glossing over… a sight Zenith could clearly see even in the darkness. “Zen!” the old man cried out. “Someone help me! Zen! I’m going to call my grandson! He’ll get you! He’ll get you, alright! Get your claws offa me!”

“You ol’ pissy, prune juice drinkin’ fool! This ain’t no tribe! This ain’t no Powwow, you dried up, stankin’ ass fucker! Some mean ass old Indian in here causin’ a bunch of trouble… that’s all you do! I can’t stand y’all asses! Fuckin’ Indians thinkin’ you better than somebody. Tell your grandson, huh? Don’t nobody believe you and you got such a fucked up attitude, you lucky I don’t do
more
!” She shook him real hard, causing his ponytail to unravel, then flung him back down on the bed before storming out. The old man whimpered and rocked, his hand clawing at the sheets, as if he didn’t know what to do or where to turn.

“Shit!”

Zenith practically tripped over his own feet as he grabbed his jacket and keys, and hopped in his truck. He was certain an angel had been by his side, perhaps two, for he did 75 mph on the highway and wasn’t stopped or pulled over by the police. By the time he arrived at the nursing home, the doors were closed and locked, just as they were intended to be. Visiting hours ended at 9:30 P.M. and here he was pounding on the damn thing and ringing the buzzer.

“Open this goddamn door!” he screamed as he pulled and snatched hard on the handle. Suddenly, two security officers marched swiftly towards him, their faces reddened with anger.

“Sir! We are closed! Come back tomorrow at 7:00 a.m.”

“I need my grandfather out of here NOW, or I’m callin’ the police!”

One guard reached for his phone and backed away while the other watched him from the other side of the doors.

“You got some bitch in there beatin’ up on my grandfather!” he screamed so loud, his throat ached. “Open these goddamn doors! I’m getting’ him out, NOW!” He kept pounding the door with both fists, his hands sore and throbbing, but he wouldn’t cease. Then, he began to kick the damn thing, over and over until his calves burned. Seconds passed as he stood outside for an eternity while a small crowd gathered, but no one let him inside, not even the staff that knew him well.

They glared at him like
he
had the problem, as if he were the one running amuck, acting enraged due to some drugging and drinking, partying way too hard or grappling with a mental illness that had come full circle. Red and blue lights soon shined around him, enveloping him in a hazy glow, and before he knew it, his hands were cuffed behind his back and he was jammed inside of a squad car. One officer, a white woman with strawberry blond hair and sleepy, hazel eyes, spoke in a calm yet direct tone.

“Mr. Taylor, what’s the problem tonight?”

“Oh, so now you all want to hear my side of the story?” he barked, his hair shrouding most of his face after the ruckus. Sweat pooled down his face as the cool air from the open patrol car door hit his skin, causing him to shiver every now and again. “You didn’t care to hear about my side when you grabbed me and threw these handcuffs on me.
I’m
the victim here!” He watched the cop open his wallet and remove his license, then look back at him before she placed the wallet beside him on the seat.

“We were called about a disturbance. We were told that you were asked to leave several times but refused. You are not allowed inside of the facility right now, Mr. Taylor.”

“Officer.” He pointed towards the building, the one that kept his poor Paw hostage. “My grandfather is being abused, okay?” His voice shook as shaky tears welled in his eyes. “He has had bruises on his body, and tonight, an employee, don’t know her name, smacked and shook him! They’ve been stealing from him, too! I have his power of attorney and I am his Legal guardian. I have the right to demand he come home with me,” he said between gritted teeth.

“Okay, I understand your allegations Mr. Taylor but you can’t just come up here and handle it like this, okay?” she stated in a lowered voice, infused with hints of sympathy, authority, and control. “You can’t take matters like these into your own hands.”

“Let me ask you something. Do you have a parent or grandparent you love who is still alive?”

The woman hesitated for a moment before answering. “Yes, but Mr. Taylor, this isn’t about me; this is about you.”

“What if you trusted somebody to help you take care of ’em, right?” He wiped away a tear from his cheek. “You were busy with work, tryna make ends meet, but you love him and want him to be well looked after. He needs help, right? Because he’s losing his mind a little bit, right? So, you trusted a place to help you and all they did was hurt him!

“You find out that you’re payin’ someone to hurt your loved one! You are actually shelling out money for him to be abused! Ain’t that fucked up?” he screamed, his throat constricting as his heart grew heavy. “THAT MAN RAISED ME! Every damn morning and drove the bus. At night, he worked in a factory makin’ nuts ’nd bolts. Late in the evening when he’d get back home, he’d read to me, take care of me, sit up with me, and we’d eat cereal with the Late Show playin’. He never fell asleep until I did, and he was dead tired! And what did I do? I fell asleep on him when he needed me awake. I took a nap when he needed me most! He
told
me several times they were doin’ this, but I didn’t believe him.” He frantically shook his head as the tears continued to stream; angry, hot tears.

“My grandfather is difficult. He doesn’t like being told what to do. Sometimes he doesn’t know truth from fiction anymore, either. Back in the day, he was smart and kind, but rough and unruly all at the same time. He’s the bravest man I know, but his health has gotten the best of him, made him defenseless, and now… now people are hurtin’ him. That’s why I’m here, officer! That’s why I’m HERE!”

The cop leaned in a bit closer, her gaze piercing. He surmised she was observing his pupils, trying to see if they were dilated… trying to see if she smelled any marijuana or alcohol on him, too.

“Mr. Taylor.” She casually glanced down at his driver’s license a second time before setting her sights back onto him. “Does your grandfather have any other family members besides yourself?”

“Plenty, but most of ’em live in Midtown or out of the state. He has one living son, my uncle Len. His wife, my grandmother, died a long time ago…” he said, swallowing down a lump of emotion. “When she died, his health started to decline, but he pressed on… But then, other things happened, and his mind started to slip, too…”

She nodded in understanding. He wasn’t certain why he was telling her all of these things, but he felt compelled nevertheless. Something needed purging, something deep inside, and right then seemed as good a time as any. After all, he was captive, and he wanted the truth to be told. The officer seemed to be all ears, concerned even.

“He was sayin’ things that didn’t make sense, and people knew it. Some people banked on it, but I started getting a little suspicious, so,” he said, shrugging, “I did what I needed to do… and videos don’t lie.”

“What video, Mr. Taylor?”

“I have proof of everything I’ve told you, but more importantly, right this second, I need him out of there!” He looked back at the building, a feeling of disgust coming to the fore. “Officer, please! Each second he is in there, the more time they have. They will mess with him and mess him over. They know why I’m here now! They know what I’m accusing them of… I can’t leave him in there!!! I’m not high and I’m not drunk. I’ll take any test you want to prove it. PLEASE! I’m beggin’ you! Let me in!”

On a sigh, the woman rose to her feet from her slightly bent over position while another officer babysat him, gave him the once over. She walked up to the nursing home, said a few words, and was promptly let inside. A few minutes later, she returned to him.

“Stand up.” She helped him out of the back of the police cruiser, had him turn his back to her, and swiftly removed the handcuffs. “Come on inside…”

“Did you see my grandfather?” The dark sky lit up with a crackling boom from a strike of lightning, but there was no sign of rain yet.

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“I woke him up, gave him a second to get his bearings, then asked him if he’d been hit by any of the staff. A woman, a nurse’s aide, was standing in the room at the time. I asked her to leave and restated the question. At that point, he said, ‘yes.’” He knew the officer had to keep a straight face, to just deliver the information, but he could see in her eyes she didn’t like what she’d seen, and she sure as hell didn’t like what she’d heard.

“I have proof, and now he’s admitted it. I also want to file a police report! Y’all asses are going DOWN!” Zenith yelled the moment he burst through the doors, making certain everyone standing around heard him loud and clear. He snatched his phone out of his pocket and made a call as he marched up the hall, the security guards, several members of staff, and two police officers all around him.

“Uncle Len! Wake the hell up!”

“Why are you screaming?! Wait… who is this?” retorted a sluggish, deep voice.

“Paw is comin’ home with me.”

“Whu? Dad is comin’ home with you?” The sleepy man yawned. “Zen, is this you?”

“Who in the hell else would it be? Nobody gives a shit about him but me, you know
exactly
who it is! It sure isn’t his fairy godmother.”