Life After Death

          LIFE AFTER DEATH...                                           THE  NOVEL

By

Cliff White, III

Chapter 1

    "Mr. Combs. You are free to leave. Bailiff, please remove the ankle chains from him and release him immediately. This court is adjourned."

      I heard no movement behind me as the judge quickly exited the courtroom. I knew that the people seated behind were in a state of shock that not only was I no longer a death row inmate, but I was now a free man. I had been praying to God for this day to happen, and I had also prayed that the people who sent me to prison, or at least the ones that had supported my death penalty sentence, would display compassion and remorse for falsely accusing me.

      Sitting somewhere behind me was Calista McBeal, who, for the previous fifteen years had testified unwaveringly that she was a hundred and fifty percent sure that I was the one who had raped her, and also raped and killed her best friend. Now that the DNA tests, as well as a confession from the real perpetrator, finally proved my innocence, all I needed to move forward was for her to display remorse for forcing me to miss both of my parents’ funerals while I rotted away on death row.

     After the shackles and handcuffs were removed, I slowly turned around and searched all the faces of all the people who wanted to see the State of Maryland kill me. After searching for her, my eyes finally locked onto her eyes. It seemed like time stood still as she slowly stood up. My blood went ice cold as she flicked me the bird, rolled her eyes, and left with an indignant strut. Then, all of her supporters flicked me the bird and left with their own indignant struts as well. Right then and there, I made my mind up that I would kill as many people as I could who had had anything to do with my fifteen years of being on death row as an innocent man.

Chapter 2

      The year was now 2013, and the world had dramatically changed since I was last on the streets in 1999. For one thing, both of my parents were dead, and my oldest brother was now a crack fiend. My little brother had sent me a big money order two years ago, but I hadn't heard from him since, so I knew I was in for a difficult transition back into the society that I'd missed more than any words could express.

     Taking some of the worry away from my racing thoughts was the six hundred dollars in my pocket, as well as the forty thousand dollar check that my parents had left me when they died. My first mission was to find my brother and see how he was living.

     I took a cab from the Baltimore County circuit court in Towson, Maryland, to the last address that my brother had written me from, which was in Essex, right next to Baltimore City. We had grown up in Tall Trees, right next to Kingly Park. They were two of the worst apartment complexes in B-More County.  I wasn’t even worried about anybody being able to recognize me, because I looked totally different from how I had when I first got locked up. I was two hundred and seventy pounds of good eating back then. Right now at  this  point in time, I was a very solid one hundred and ninety pounds due to the extreme amount of stress relieving exercising, coupled with the bad prison food. I went into prison with shoulder length dreads, but now I had a rock shiny ass bald head because stress snatched my hair away. 

The condition of the neighborhood was a bit surprising because there was no longer a difference between this 'hood and one in the city. I walked past crack heads searching the ground for imaginary lost crack rocks. I had to turn away little kids who tried to sell me drugs. I bought an iPhone 5 for two hundred dollars. I turned down females who were selling their bodies, and who were built like they had AIDS. I was happy to finally get to the apartment building that I was looking for.

     As soon as I entered the building, I was surprised to hear my name being called, until I saw who was calling me. I looked up the stairs and saw Alex, and smirked as he rushed down toward me. Before my arrest, Alex was real cool with me, though he was the neighborhood crack head. After my arrest, he did some bullshit by getting on the news and saying that he had always thought I had it in me to rape somebody because of how I acted toward women.

     I guessed that he thought that, because so much time has passed since he had said the non-sense, I wouldn't still be pissed off. WRONG!  As soon as he stepped off the last step, I caught him with a right hook, and followed that up with a left hook that dropped him to the ground. I hopped off the ground and onto his head with both feet. As he curled into a tight ball, I stomped him out until I was suddenly slung into a wall. I bounced off the wall and rushed at the person who had tossed me into the wall.

     Me and my brother, Redman, froze in our fighting stances and stared at one another for a few seconds until we both exploded into laughter and embraced one another! After our minute long embrace, we backed up – just looking at one another.

     "Damn big bro, you just getting out and you already beating up Alex? I know why, too. It's about that bullshit he said on TV right before your trial, right?"

     I nodded yes, and looked at Alex still balled up on the ground. I was tempted to continue the ass whipping. Redman began to laugh as he stood in front of Alex.

     "Big bro,  I whipped his ass before and after you got found guilty. Then I had a group of chicks jump him once you was put on death row. Let's go inside my spot. He definitely deserves all the ass whippings he got for talking foul, but this man brings a lot of money to me. So for me, leave this cat alone."

      I looked at Redman in his eyes, and nodded yeah, letting him know the issue was dead. Redman went into his pocket and pulled out a few vials of crack. He threw them on Alex, who instantly came up out of his balled up position and grabbed the vials off of him. After stuffing them in his underwear, he continued to lie on the ground – moaning and holding his face even after we had entered my brother’s apartment.

Chapter 3

    I was not too surprised by the lavish setup of his apartment. I had expected him to have the usual drug dealer flavor – especially the black leather living room set with a huge TV screen. He had a sixty inch plasma TV screwed into the wall; but his light grey colored cotton couches, his matching color bean bags and lamps, as well as a matching kitchen set, all quietly let it be known that he was above your typical drug dealer. The steel grey .45 that was sitting on the table let me know that he had enough for others to scheme on him. Though his success was as a drug dealer, I was still proud of him. The bottom line in this country was, and always will be, money. If money wasn’t involved, why did George Bush pardon John Forte? 

     "So, now that you’re  home, what’s your plan, Chris? Big Bro, if you want to jump into the game, I can afford to give you nine ounces of hard crack on the house, but if you want to stay in the game, you better come back with some money for your re-up. The guest room is your,s if you want it. If you do, rent has already been paid for a year. I'll take you shopping and put some money in your pocket, then you on your own. It's too hard on these streets to take care of a grown man so you have to get it how you live. Moving on to the main topic, what’s your plan."

     I stared into  in his eyes and wondered how he was going to react to my plans. I had some other questions that needed to be addressed first.

     "We'll get to my plans in a minute. My mind won’t rest easy until I know why  you disappeared on me the way you did? I mean, before you disappeared, the two thousand dollars you dropped in my commissary was all love. But damn, not hearing from my little brother after losing my parents  was almost too much to handle some days."

     He sat down, sparked up a blunt, and looked me directly in my eyes.

      "Honestly, Big Bro, waiting for the courts to give us a decision was killing me. I just had to leave that prison life alone for a while. Your lawyer told me he was almost positive that you was coming home; he just couldn't tell me when.  Plus, that wasn’t the first time he told me that. Believe me, I was coming back, I just needed a break. I apologize for doing that."

     I sat down next to him, accepted the blunt, and took a deep inhale.

     "I guess I can understand that. For the ones that support somebody that's in prison, that person is also doing the time and everything that comes with prison life is beyond stressful. So, I can definitely understand you taking a break. Lord Knows I needed a break too!  Look, try not to judge me when I tell you my plans because my mind is made up, and it is whatever it's going to be. I'm going to kill the bitch that lied on me and whoever else that played a part of me being on death row. She is not a bitch because she  misidentifiedme. She is a bitch for not feeling and extending any remorse for what she has done to my life.

     “ Sitting in a jail cell waiting to get put to death by lethal injection is the lowest point one can get in life. Just 'cause I got my freedom back doesn't mean I was given my life back. Though I'm free, I'm pissed off and forever scarred. Since this country doesn't care when innocent people are misidentified, especially a black man, I have to take matters into my own hands and get them bloody, all in the name of revenge for me and others that have and still are in the position of being murdered for a crime one did not commit.

     " I convinced myself before I stepped into that courtroom this morning that if the woman who placed me behind bars apologized, I would  forgive her and live my life. Check out what this bitch did after they took off my handcuffs and shackles; she looked me in my eyes, got up slowly, then flicked me the bird. Then, all of her supporters did the same thing. That stunt made her, and as many as I can get to, dead people walking. I still plan on enjoying the rest of my life to the fullest and this is why I will be careful and get away with all the murders that I commit.”

     Redman looked at me, and I was not shocked to see genuine anger in his eyes; but his devilish smirk was confusing me. Was he mad at my plans? Or, was he mad at what the bitch did to me in court this morning? He left the room suddenly, and was gone for a few minutes. I finished smoking the blunt and was giving him his space. He came back – smoking another blunt, and holding a Gucci back pack, which he dumped out in front of my feet. Guns galore spilled out! I looked up at him and smiled.

     "You know how it is, big bro, crack heads come through with all types of guns for a few crack rocks, and all of them around here know that I buy all guns. Some of these joints are dirty, and two of them I dirtied myself.”

     I picked up an mp-5, checked the clip, and chuckled because it was fully loaded.

     "Man, now that I got enough fire power, I need to get some info. Tell me, you know somebody that is nice with the computer?"

     "Yeah, there's Bill Allen, who is a beast on both the computer and the crack pipe, so he's on call at anytime to take care of anything I need for him to do. First things first, let's get you out of those jail clothes and get you to Columbia mall, which is way different than you remember it. Then I'll set you up to get some pussy. Your balls got to be as big as a two basketballs!"

     We burst into laughter, and went into his room to get ready. Since we wore the same size, I had a ball in his closet! I threw on a Hollister shirt with some True Religion jeans, and some all black Nike foam
boots that were a half size too big, but still very cool. In less than an hour, we were walking around the huge mall in Columbia, which is a suburb that is next to Baltimore City. After he spent close to four thousand dollars on me, and close to two on himself, we headed to Bill Allen's house.

Chapter 4

     For a crack head, Bill Allen owned a big boy house. The outside was cool but the inside was even more impressive starting with the white chick that answered the door.  Her face showed that she got high, but the little t-shirt and cut off booty shorts showed off a body that many drug dealers would kick out a nice amount of product to get. Expensive looking computers lined the perimeter of his entire living room. Card board boxes, store boxes, shopping bags, shoe boxes, game consoles, game cartridges, and CD's filled all of the corners everywhere I looked. Redman looked at me in my face, and I guessed I had a funny looking face because he laughed at me.

     "Chris, I told you this cat is a beast on the computer. All this stuff is hot, and he has his real expensive stuff upstairs. This is where most of my clothes and foot wear in my closet comes from, including the TV’s and most of all of my appliances. An ounce of coke goes a long way with this cat."

     Bill walked into the living room looking like your typical computer geek. He was about five something, pudgy, with round, gold glasses. His skin was pale because he obviously didn't get outside too much. He was genuinely happy to see Redman.

     "Redman, I was going to call you later on. I got that Gucci stuff for you, plus I need to re-up. You said you need me to get some info. Depending on how hard it is to get will determine the price. So what's up?"