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Writer's pictureMilton Davis

Why Petey Came Back




Happy Halloween!


They laid Petey Cole to rest on a sunny Sunday morning at Big Bethel AME in Harris County. Reverend Charley Mitchell presided over the homegoing ceremony, and most of Pete's family was in attendance. There was a fine repast afterward that became sort of a family reunion with family coming from as far as Ekleta, Alabama. Death has a way of bringing relatives together like that.

Eight days later old Pete dug himself out of that five-hundred-dollar pinewood casket and through six feet of red clay, rising up a lot dirty and a little ripe. Why? Because Petey had unfinished business, and he was never a man to leave loose ends.

Petey surveyed his surroundings with a bad attitude. He had no illusions. A few minutes ago, he was as dead as a slow armadillo crossing an eight-lane highway. But the good Lord above gave Petey a little more time because the circumstances of his demise deserved some recompense. The only problem with being dead is that the body had commenced to become one with the earth. The crackles shaking his legs as he stood told him that he only had so much time to do what he had to do, so he needed help. There was only one person that Petey could depend on no matter what, at least when he was alive. And it was his good fortune that that person lived a few miles away from the cemetery. So Petey set his hips as good as he could and stumbled his way to Xavier Johnson’s apartment on Buena Vista Road.

Xavier lay sprawled on his air mattress, deep in intoxicated bliss. The temp job he landed two weeks ago provided enough for him to pay his bills and have a little left over for a few indulges. When Petey died he didn’t know how he would make it. Petey was always good for work when a brother needed it, legal or otherwise, and he paid well under the table. The tears he shed at his friend’s death were more for himself than grief.

The urgent knocking on his door pissed him off. He reached for the baseball bat he kept beside the pallet before answering.

“Who the hell is it?”

“Zee! Get yo’ ass up and answer the damn door!”

Xavier bolted upright like somebody shoved a stick up his ass. His hands trembled before he spoke again.

“Petey?”

“Who else would it be?”

Terror swept through Xavier, quickly followed by rage. Who was acting like his dead boy? He jumped off the mattress, stomping to the door with the bat raised high in his right hand. He undid the four latches, unlocked the door handle then snatched the door wide.

“Who the . . .”

Petey stood before him, his death suit stained with Georgia red clay, his skin sagging on his face and smelling like a full dumpster in the middle of the summer. Xavier’s mind went blank as he collapsed.

Petey caught Xavier and carried him to his mattress. He dropped him and then surveyed the room, shaking his head. He’d only been dead one week and Zee was already struggling. He tried to teach him the business, but some people were just meant to be the help. And with Zee’s reputation, not too many folks would want his help.

“Wake up, man!” Petey said. “We got work to do, and not a lot of time to do it.”

He shook Zee again and his right middle finger fell off.

“Shit! Come on, Zee!”

Zee’s eyes cracked open. They focused on Petey’s decaying face and rolled up.

“Lawd Jesus!”

Zee began going limp in Petey’s arms but Petey wasn’t having it.

“Hell naw, bruh. Wake yo’ass up. I need you.”

Zee began struggling. “Why you here man? You supposed to be dead!”

“I know,” Petey replied. “But I got something to take care of and you’re gonna help me. You know how I am about my business.”

Xavier pushed away from Petey. “Why I got to help you? Can’t you find somebody already dead to do it?”

“I’m not that dead, at least not yet,” Petey replied.

Xavier began blinking.

“What the hell you doing?” Petey asked.

“Trying to wake up,” Xavier said. “This ain’t nothing but a fucked-up dream!”

Petey sighed and three teeth fell out of his mouth. Time was running out.

“Yeah, this is a dream,” Petey said. “And the only way you can wake up is to help me.”

Xavier stopped blinking. “For real?”

“For real.”

“Okay,” Xavier said. “What I got to do?”

“You got a gun?”

“You sure you Petey, ‘cause Petey would know I’m scared of guns.”

“That’s right,” Petey said. “Because of your mama.”

Xavier’s eyes closed for a second. “My sweet mama.”

Xavier’s expression became serious.

“What’s my favorite color?”

“What?”

Xavier’s hands clenched. “What’s my favorite color?”

“How the hell I’m supposed to know!?!”

“If you were, Petey, you would know.”

“No I wouldn’t! I wasn’t your damn friend!”

Xavier grinned. “You Petey alright! So why you in my dream?”

“That don’t matter,” Petey said. “I need a pistol. Where can I get one?”

Xaiver’s eyes narrowed. “You know where to go. You just don’t want to . . . because you’re scared.”

“I ain’t . . .”

But he was. There was only one person on the streets that Petey wouldn’t mess with, and that was Dirty Red. The man didn’t care about nothing and nobody and would shoot you without blinking an eye. But that wasn’t a concern anymore.

“Either take me there or give me directions,” he finally said.

“You sure?”

Petey laughed. “What’s Dirty Red gonna do to me? Shit, I’m already dead.”

“I ain’t though,” Xavier replied. “And since I ain’t sure this a dream or not, I’m a write them directions for you.”

Zee shuffled over to his bed then went into a large duffle bag resting beside it. He took out a pencil and a notepad then scribbled Dirty Red’s address and gave it to Petey.

“Where your keys?”

“Now hold up,” Xavier said. “I’m your boy, but I don’t let just anybody drive my ride.”

“Then you gonna take me.”

Something must have snapped in Xavier right about then. His eyes narrowed and he spit on the floor.

“I ain’t doing a damn thing! This is my dream, and I’m tired of you telling me what to do. Get your ass back to that damn hole in the gr . . .”

Petey slapped Xavier as hard as he could. He heard a loud snap then looked at his right arm. It bent the wrong way between his wrist and his elbow. The bone stuck out the skin.

“Damn,” he said.

Xavier was laid out on his back, eyes closed. A few seconds later his eyelids fluttered then rose. He sat up, then rubbed his cheek.

“This ain’t no dream, is it?”

“Naw, it ain’t,” Petey said. “Now get yo’ ass up and take me to Dirty Red’s.”

Xavier went into his bag again and got his keys. He shivered as he walked past Petey and out the door. Petey followed Xavier around the back of the apartments to a narrow alleyway. Parked next to the clothesline was a sky-blue Galaxie 500.

“Nice ride,” Petey said.

“Thank you,” Xavier answered. “I stole it last week. Figure I got about two more weeks before I have to ditch it.”

“I’ll get in the back,” Petey said.

Petey opened the door and struggled into the back seat. He was getting weaker; time was not on his side.

“Make it quick Zee,” he said.

Xavier made a bee line to Dirty Red’s café. The small juke joint was a cover for his real business, fencing stolen goods. Just inside of the door were two guards sitting in the last booth closest to the jukebox. Xavier parked as close as he could to the door.

“You want me to go in?” Xavier asked.

“Naw,” Petey replied. “Bo and Jimmy would beat your ass and toss you out.”

“They’ll do the same to you,” Xavier replied.

“I don’t think so.”

Xavier got out of the car and opened the door for Petey. Petey straightened himself up the best a dead man in a dirty suit could then walked as hard as his failing legs would allow. He pushed the swing door open so hard it slammed against the wall.

“Dirty Red! Where you at?”

Bo and Jimmy dropped their playing cards then jumped to their feet. They were rolling up their sleeves to give Petey a good ass whupping when they recognized who it was. Bo just ran out the door. Jimmy stood frozen.

“Got damn! Petey done came back!” He crumpled to the floor.

The shot filled the juke joint. Petey stumbled backward then caught the doorframe. The second shot hit him in the gut and he bent over from the force. There was no pain; why would there be? The third shot grazed his head, knocking his head around so far, he could see behind him. He reached up with both hands and turned it back around. Dirty Red stood there, a wet spot between his legs, his mouth agape. Petey smiled.

“That’s some good shooting. Real good. I came here for a pistol. I think I’ll take that one.”

Petey sauntered up to Dirty Red. The gangster flinched as Petey grasped his hand, then pried Red’s fingers from around the nickel-plated .357 revolver. Petey hefted the gun.

“Should be three more rounds in it. Two more than I need. Thank you, brother.”

Petey ambled toward the door, wet stains forming where the bullets struck him. Something ran from his scalp too, but he didn’t have time to check. He turned back around to see Dirty Red still frozen in place, eyes locked on him, teeth chattering.

“Looks like I scared the piss out of him.”

Petey’s laugh echoed in the juke joint as he walked out the door. He was stumbling down the steps when Xavier pulled up, slammed on the brakes then jumped out of the car to let Petey in. He shoved Petey inside the car, scurried back to the driver’s side then sped off.

“I heard shooting!” Xavier said. He glanced at the gun in Petey’s hand then looked forward.

“You shoot him?”

“Naw. He shot me. Three times.”

“So you really is dead.”

“And you really are stupid.”

“Where we going now?”

“To Lucy’s.”

Xavier swerved into a right turn, throwing Petey into the driver’s side window. He slammed on the brakes and Petey bounced off the back of the front seat.

“Man, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Xavier shouted back. “Bad enough that you ain’t dead and come to haunt me. Now you want to get Lucy, too?”

“Just drive, Zee.”

“No,” Xavier said. “I ain’t letting nothing happen to Lucy.”

Petey blacked out for a second. His time was drifting away.

“I ain’t gonna hurt Lucy,” Petey replied. “I’m trying to save her life.”

Xavier turned around. “What?”

“Lucy’s old man has been beating her,” Petey said. “She came to work one day all bruised up. It’s been happening for a while now, but I figured it was none of my business. But this time it was bad. Real bad. I told her I’d fix things, but she told me it was okay. But it wasn’t. So I took it on myself to set things straight. Showed up at his job on the docks and told him if he hit Lucy one more time, he was gonna end up looking worse than her. He called himself pushing up on me, so I gave him a preview. I thought that was the end of it, but I underestimated him.”

Petey turned his head around and showed Xavier the dent in his skull.

“That wasn’t no accident,” he said. “Son of a bitch broke into my house and was waiting for me. Busted my skull when I got to the top of the stairs. I guess he figured folks would think I fell. He was right.”

Petey checked the .357 again. “Now it’s payback time.”

The smile faded from Xavier’s face. “Damn right it is.”

Petey didn’t have to tell Xavier how to get to Lucy’s crib; he’d driven her home from work a few times. He parked his car far enough away not to be noticed but close enough to see. An hour passed before the front door opened and Lucy emerged, followed by her old man. They got into her Malibu then drove away.

“Let’s go,” Petey said.

Xavier drove by the house then parked. He got out of the car then snuck to the back. A few minutes later he opened the front door. Petey dragged himself out the Galaxie then trudged inside.

“Get that chair and set it over there,” Petey said. Xavier moved the chair directly in front of the door.

“Now go,” Petey said.

“You sure?” Xavier asked. “You don’t look so good.”

Xavier laughed then went into of fit of coughing. Black ichor seeped from his mouth.

“Go on back,” he said. “I got this.”

Xavier locked the front door then exited out the back. Petey sat in the chair, put the .357 on his lap, then waited.

It was dark when he heard keys jangling. The front door opened and two figures entered. One reached for the lamp near the door then switched it on.

“Surprise,” Petey slurred.

Lucy looked at Petey then screamed. Her old man pushed her aside and drew a pistol from his pocket. He didn’t hesitate; the small caliber weapon barked three times, each bullet hitting Petey square in the chest. Petey gazed at the holes and the dark liquid oozing from his torso. He looked up and grinned.

“My turn.”

Petey blasted Lucy’s old man with the .357. Two rounds hit him in the mouth, the third in his forehead. The man was dead before he hit the ground. Petey struggled to stand then walked stiffly to the door. Lucy had screamed herself hoarse, her terrified eyes locked on Petey.

“I must look a mess,” Petey said. “You safe now. I always keep my promises.”

Petey left the house. Xavier met him halfway down the driveway. He grabbed Petey’s arm and pulled him along.

“We got to go!” he said. They were almost to the car when something told Petey to turn around. Lucy stood in the doorway. The fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by confusion.

“Petey?” she said.

Petey nodded, then climbed into the car.

“Where to?” Xavier asked.

“The cemetery,” Petey replied.

Xavier sped back to the graveyard. Petey got out of the car then stumbled back to his grave site. He was tired, so tired. He sat at the edge of the open hole.

“You want me to wait and cover you back up when you gone?” Xavier asked.

“Naw,” Petey replied. “Let them find me just like this. Folks gonna be looking for who killed Lucy’s old man. Those who know what he was doing to her are gonna think she did it.”

“We can’t let them think that,” Xavier said.

“No we can’t,” Petey replied. “That’s why I want you to go back and tell them the truth.”

Xavier looked confused. “Tell them what?”

Petey grinned and a tooth fell from his mouth.

“You tell them Petey came back.”

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