Mad Maxxx, page 1
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Children Of The Catacombs
Copyright © 2013 by The Cartel Publications. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission
from the author, except by reviewer who may quote passages
to be printed in a newspaper or magazine.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,
Organizations, places, events and incidents are the product of the
Author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance of
Actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013951664
ISBN 10: 0989084507
ISBN 13: 978-0989084505
Cover Design: Davida Baldwin www.oddballdsgn.com
Graphics: Davida Baldwin
Printed in the United States of America
What’s Up Fam,
I know ya’ll anxious to get at this one, and I’ma make it quick but words need to be said about this joint. “Mad Maxxx: Children of the Catacombs”, in my opinion is, “Out The Box Original”. Twisted T. Styles takes you on a journey through the underworld. As I read this novel, my head began flooding with visions of this dark and mysterious place. And to make it more official and original, T. Styles sketched up her vision of The Catacombs so that her readers would know exactly where she was going. We included it in the beginning of the story so make sure you check it out!
Keeping in line with tradition, we want to give respect to a vet or trailblazer paving the way. With that said we would like to recognize and pay respect to our fellow author and legend:
Tom Clancy is a world renowned author who has penned classic novels such as: “Without Remorse”; “Rainbow Six”; “The Hunt for Red October” and his upcoming novel, “Command Authority”, being released posthumously on December 03, 2013. Thank you for sharing your gift with the world Mr. Clancy. R.I.P.
Ok, go ‘head and dive in! I’ll get at you in the next novel.
Charisse “C. Wash” Washington
The Cartel Publications
I believe in a world full of animated people. And I’m not talking about vampires, goblins and ghouls. But they are characters, just as mysterious and enchanting.
Take my hand. I want to show you.
- T. Styles
The Catacombs Sketch
Madjesty’s chest felt as if it were about to explode, as she swam quickly to the top of the murky water. Her eyes burned as the filthy liquid covered her face, and her body felt heavy. Madjesty would’ve allowed the water to enter her lungs, despite possibly drowning, if there was the slightest chance that calling her name would reunite them. That calling her name would ensure that her love was still alive.
When she saw the moonlight radiate against the surface of the water above her head, a sense of relief took over because she was almost there. But would Everest be waiting? Or would God take her too, like he did every other person she loved?
The moment Madjesty’s face broke the river’s barrier; water crawled down her nose and throat, threatening to choke her by filling her lungs. She coughed a few times, clearing her passageway before she was finally able to yell, “Everest”— she hacked a few more times—“Everest, where are you?” Her legs moved quickly under her body so that her head could remain above water.
She threw her head to the right, left, front and back, while treading the cool Chesapeake Bay looking for her love. “Everest,” she screamed again. “Please tell me where you are! Don’t fucking do this to me! I need you!”
Blackness took over the place, the moon only allowed her to see her hand before her eyes. The silence was deafening and unkind.
When it became apparent that Everest was not near, she called her name again. It was more to hear each syllable of her name out loud than anything else because she knew what Everest’s absence meant. Death invited itself into her life once again and she wanted to die to tell it how she felt.
“Everest,” she said a little louder. Except this time she used all of the power she could muster to call her name, including the energy she couldn’t spare. The blood flowing down her face, due to the open wound she sustained on her scalp, made it difficult to see. How could she save another, when it was possible that she couldn’t save herself?
“Everest, oh my God please don’t be dead. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I put you through this shit,” she called into the shadows. “I can’t take this again. I just can’t—”
Suddenly there was a soft splash in the distance, which forced Mad silent. She widened her eyes as if doing so would make her hear clearer.
“Mad,” Everest whispered from within the darkness. “I’m over here, but I think my arm is broken. Help me. Please.”
Mad could hear light splashing some feet away but still she couldn’t see her. “Are you able to move toward me? Toward my voice?”
“I can’t swim to you, Mad, can you come to me? I’m in a lot of pain.”
Mad’s heart punched the walls of her chest, because before that moment she was resigned to the fact that she lost her forever. Just like she lost Glitter and Passion, the only other women she ever loved.
In an effort to get closer to Everest, Madjesty scrutinized her surroundings, but the darkness was unkind. Where was she? It was as shadowy out there as being submerged into a body of black ink. No light.
“Stay right where you are,” Mad suggested. “I’m coming, Everest. Just keep saying my name so that I know that I’m getting closer.”
“Mad,” Everest said weakly. “Mad…Mad…Mad…”
With each call of her name Mad was brought closer to her presence, until she was within Everest’s breathing space. There she was…finally. The new love of her life. Under the glow of the moon Mad could see Everest’s distraught face. She looked paralyzed with fear, and Mad knew she had to be strong for both of them if they were going to survive.
“I’m right here,” Mad said, as her legs wagged within the water. “I fucking thought I lost you. You can’t do me like that. You messed my head up just now. Do you know what I’ve been through? Do you have any idea what going through a loss again would do to a nigga like me?”
When Everest drifted under the water as if she was about to drown, Mad grabbed her arm to prevent her from floating away, until Everest screamed out in pain.
“No, Mad, please don’t touch my arm, it hurts too badly.”
Mad released her right arm and gripped at the collar of her shirt instead so that she wouldn’t submerge into the water. “I’m sorry, which one is it?” She looked her over.
“My right arm. It feels like it ain’t attached anymore.”
Madjesty treaded in front of her, close enough to see the hazelnut color of her eyes and the sparkle of her wet braids. “Try not to move it so much, just keep treading. Whatever you do don’t stop moving your legs or you’ll go under. You gotta fight, Everest.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can tread either, Mad.” She sounded defeated. “I feel so weak, and tired. It doesn’t look like I’m going to make it.”
“Well float on your back instead. And I’ll hold onto your shirt so that you won’t drift away. Whatever you do don’t give up so easily, we gonna be okay.”
Everest quickly obeyed and her body popped up on the top of the water, revealing the curves of her breasts through the yellow t-shirt she was wearing. Even at her worst, Everest was still breathtaking.
“That’s good, just like that.” Mad gripped a small portion of her shirt, not enough to weigh her down but just enough to prevent her from washing away into the bay. “Just relax, and move your legs softly because I got you. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”
Even though Everest was the focus, Mad’s vitality was depleting also but she wouldn’t let Everest know, because she didn’t want her to worry.
“Are you gonna be okay?” Everest asked with hopefulness, as she looked into Mad’s face. “Your head looks kind of bad, baby.”
“Who me,” she smiled, “Shit, I’m gonna be fine. I’m a soldier. You just relax because I’m worried about you.”
Everest smiled believing every word. “Are we gonna be okay?”
“Yes, somebody’s gonna find us.” Mad looked out into the darkness and saw nothing and no one. “Trust me,” she said less confidently.
Everest sobbed quietly as she continued to flap her legs to stay a float. “It was all worth it to me, Mad. Every painful moment of it. And if I had it to do all over again, I wouldn’t hesitate for one minute.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“Yes.” She smiled again. “You saved me from myself the day I met you and even if we die together tonight, that will always be true.”
SIX MONTHS EARLIER
I was lying face down on the ground, with the taste of yesterday’s Hennessey, cheeseburger and blood in my mouth. A pile of hock spit rested not too far from my face. An old lady threw it there as she yelled; get a job bum, at me about an hour earlier.
Fuck that bitch!
I fought a dude the night before who kept telling me that I stole his shoes even though he wore a size thirteen to my six in men. He hit me pretty hard in the mouth and that was the last thing I remembered before passing out.
When I raised my eyes, I could see Tito The Bum sitting against the brick wall some spaces away from me. I don’t know him like that but we shared a bottle a few times when we came upon some dough, which was few and far between. Suddenly Tito moved closer and closer to me, like some weird 3D movie, until I could see the copper Levis button on the pocket of his blue jeans and smell the odor of feces on his skin.
Without my permission, he rubbed my red curly hair softly, and I allowed him for a minute. It was the first affection I had since I’d broken up with my ex-girlfriend Passion almost a year ago. A long story.
Every time I think about my past I get angry. My life is fucked up. Real fucked up. I wake up everyday with so much hate in my heart; I can feel my chest hardening. My son not in my life. My twin sister and me haven’t spoken in over a year and the mother I hated died, and I never got to tell her how I felt about how she treated me to her whore face.
“It’s time to get up, they kick us off this spot soon,” Tito said. “You know the employees don’t like to see us when they going in to work. Mothafuckas must think we gonna pull our dicks out and jerk off in their coffee or something.”
He was right. I hated them and they despised me. I used the wall to stand up, and the earth felt like it was leaning sideways. I’m dizzy, tired and feel nauseous. As much as I drink I can never get use to the hangover. But being sober is worse.
When I reached into my pocket, I felt the crumpled fifty-dollar bill stuffed inside of it that I stole out of this dudes pocket last night while he was walking down the street with his hand on his girl’s ass. All I needed was some liquor and I’d be okay. This world won’t even matter no more.
I made my way down to the corner store and bought a half pint of Hennessey. Mr. Lin stopped giving me a hard time after I turned eighteen. He said eighteen was the new twenty-one if you had money. With about twenty something dollars left, I went to Gates Motel where I could get a room by the hour. For fifteen bucks I grabbed my room key, and the ice bucket and walked around the back of the spot to fill it up with cubes for my drink.
But when I went to get ice and saw Wild Hair Betsy sucking the security guard’s dick by the ice machine I changed my mind. Betsy, the village prostitute, would charge the John’s extra for the room without them knowing, and pocket the extra ends to score dope when she was done. She was cool though, always looked out for me when she saw police circling around the motel asking questions. And since my picture was plastered on almost every building due to a murder I didn’t commit, Betsy’s extra eyes came in handy.
Once I was in my room I showered, popped the top to my Hennessey and pulled the sheets back on the bed to catch a nap. But when I saw a used condom, with brown curly pubes stuck to it, I pulled the blanket back and slept on top of it instead.
While I was trying to get some sleep, thoughts of my son Cassius haunted me again. This happened every day, for every second of my life. It gets so bad sometimes that I can’t look at another kid without thinking it’s him. I know he’ll never know who I am, and that makes it hard for me to function. I had to let my sister keep him because I’m wanted, I ain’t seen him since. I don’t understand why God would put this kind of pain on me and expect me to survive. Maybe my pain is his pleasure.
I dosed off after drinking the entire Hennessey bottle, but when I woke up I saw three people in my doorway. I was so tired that I didn’t move, and before I knew it I drifted off to sleep again. This time when I woke up, I felt someone sitting at the foot of my bed and every time the person moved, the bed weighed down on one side and rocked.
Someone nudged my arm. “Mad, your time is up, son, we gotta go.”
When I opened my eyes wider I saw Gage who was wearing her gold hoop earrings, bending down in front of me. “Come on, Mad, Betsy said some white men in suits been looking for you. You know we can’t be here when it happens.” Her brown skin looked red and her eyes were low like they always were when she did heroin.
Gage’s real name is Lazo. Her family disowned her when she got up with Wick
It took me forever to stand up, and when I did Spirit straightened my shirt and helped me to my feet. His slanted eyes, due to his black and Chinese mix, look disappointed in me. As if I didn’t feel bad enough already.
I never found out Spirit’s real name. He said that in the Chinese culture a name brings with it spirits from your past good or bad. He must’ve been trying to leave his past behind. The only details he gave me was that he killed somebody in defense of his baby sister. So I left it alone.
“How you find me,” I asked sitting back down to put on my shoes before realizing they were already on my feet. “I didn’t tell nobody where I went.”
Spirit rubbed his Mohawk backwards and sighed. He seemed annoyed, but so am I. “You always come here when you want to get away. We cool with that but the least you could do is tell us where you’re going. We thought something happened to you.”
“Yeah, we thought you got arrested,” White Boy said.
White Boy, who we called WB, got skin as black as an opal stone. He hate his complexion too. Said when you are as black as he is you too dark for people to see your heart.
“You can’t be bouncing on niggas without telling us where you going,” WB continued.
WB, whose real name is Nathan, was raised by a white couple that adopted him shortly after moving here from Africa. When they were killed by carbon monoxide poison in their home, he was placed in the system where he said they gave him a hard time because of his skin tone. I guess he got tired of the abuse because he ran away and hit the streets with the rest of us.
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