Homeless Read online

  Homeless

  Ms. Michel Moore

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I Can Touch the Bottom

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  “It’s all fun and games, right? You thought you could get something for nothing, and no one would care? You thought I was gonna really put on a cape and save your pathetic ass? Hell naw; not me! Shit don’t work like that; not today, yesterday, or fucking tomorrow!” Lonnie’s deep husky voice grew more sinister with each passing word. His purposely weathered cracked hands shook as his grip tightened around “number four’s” quivering throat. He was caught in his unstable emotions; withdrawn from the god-awful realism he was putting into motion.

  “Please! Please! I’ll do anything you want, just please, stop. I’m begging you. I have kids, please,” she repeatedly pleaded with the man from the homeless shelter she’d recently grown to trust. “If you want the pussy, you can have it! You can have it, I swear! I’ll do whatever!”

  “Look, you’re a nothing-ass crack whore; nothing more and nothing less. You don’t deserve to live anymore. Begging, asking for handouts, acting as if the world owes you something just because you call yourself all of a sudden getting clean. Fuck all that. I’m doing society a huge favor, you tramp! And for the record, please don’t mention them babies you don’t even have custody of! The ones you threw away like garbage just so you could go suck some random, diseased-infested dick and get a rock or two of some heroin! Matter of fact, maybe I’ll twist your head off and send it to one of your kids as a souvenir to remember you by. Sort of a ‘Momma wasn’t never nothing but a neglectful tramp’ kinda gift. What say you, Ms. Thang? Would you like that?” Lonnie’s smiled was unwarranted and uncalled for. There was nothing to be happy or joyful about in that moment. The devil himself would hide his face in shame at Lonnie’s actions. There should have been no celebration of what was taking place; yet, in his mind, it was. The more the panicked ex-drug addict he’d overpowered struggled to break free and hopefully see daybreak, the more pleasure Lonnie evilly derived.

  As his victim’s needle-tracked arms flung wildly, her legs kicked in another failed attempt to get him off of her smaller body. “Please don’t do this! Don’t,” she huffed out of breath.

  Lonnie’s adrenaline kicked into total overdrive. He couldn’t help himself. The six foot one monster was like a kid in a candy store feeling he’d just won the sugar fix lottery. His mind was gone, focused on one thing: death. Inhaling the musty stench of his own breath bounce back off the frantic female’s ear into his face, he smiled once more with satisfaction. “That’s right, you dirty-bodied cunt; fight Daddy! Make Daddy work to send you on your way to hell! Make me remember you and this night,” he grinned as the once-bright light in her eyes started to grow dim.

  “Why you doing this?” barely escaped her now blue-colored lips. “I thought you liked me. I thought we were friends.” Frustrated, she was quickly running out of steam to fight off the unexpected brutal attack. With one arm stretched out, she tried to reach a large stick that was near a Dumpster, but couldn’t. Plenty more objects and debris filled the alley that could bring harm to her captor, but like the stick, they too were out of her reach.

  “Me like you? Seriously? That could never truly happen. See, I’m nothing like you. Never was and never will be,” Lonnie snarled coldly, staring into her face. “I’m too good for you; you and all the rest of them conniving homeless whores you run with every day trying to run game. I know y’all true motives.”

  “No, please,” her voice grew faint.

  “Stop begging and accept it.”

  “Please.” She had no more energy left to give.

  Lonnie shook his head while still choking her. “Naw, sweetheart. Please don’t play with my intelligence. I pulled your card, and females just like your ass cards years ago right after my mother died. Y’all go around build up good brothers like me only to tear us down when we not looking; take everything we got and bounce like you worked for it. Like it’s yours just because we dicking you down. Well, no more,” he hissed in anger. “Just like the other dumb females out here in these streets, the joke is on you! All you women are a bunch of hateful hoes that need to pay! The only woman that was ever worth a damn on this earth was my mother; God rest her soul. The rest of you bitches . . .”

  The full moon was semicovered by a few passing clouds. She knew time was not on her side as the brightness of the moon grew darker. Disorientated in a final act of defiance, the wayward mother of three dug her dirty fingernails deeply into the side of Lonnie’s face. Dragging them down his jawline, she prayed he’d show her a small bit of mercy or at least momentarily loosen his death grip.

  Lonnie immediately felt a breeze blow across the exposed lines of open flesh. Knowing his new “lady friend” drew blood, it was everything the calculating murderer could do not to scream out in ecstasy as she bucked one final time. Knowing the homeless woman he befriended, then lured, behind the abandoned dwelling was seconds close to meeting her Maker, Lonnie slowed down his near-lethal attack, wanting nothing more than to casually enjoy this; his fourth kill.

  Reminiscing on what he felt was “the good old days” in the streets of Detroit he called home, Lonnie McKay, accused serial killer, was abruptly snapped back to the reality of what was currently taking place: his trial.

  * * *

  “Case MI-1966217-R; the People of Michigan v. Lonnie Eugene McKay.” Pudgy in build, the bailiff held in his stomach while still trying to make sure he was being clearly heard. Pretending not to care the case was being recorded by the court TV cameras, he then handed a thick manila folder to the presiding judge. With an expression of arrogance, Officer Martis then passed off a small collection of white and pink documents to the secretary. He was in his element making direct eye contact with the humbled, innocent-eyed defendant. The bailiff slightly pulled up his pants, letting the perpetrator, along with the victims’ families, know he was all about his business, and this was his house.

  “Thank you,” the newly elected judge nervously replied while staring out into the shoulder to shoulder packed courtroom. As the bright lights of media cameras shined in her face, small beads of perspiration started to form. “Let me look this over. Everyone, please be patient. And, of course, please remain quiet as I do so. Don’t take time to do anything else besides being as still as possible.”

  “I hope you burn in hell, you fucking monster,” an angry voice rang out, followed by another person leaping to his feet.

  “Yeah, I swear when you get to jail, my people gonna be waiting for your evil ass! You gonn
a pay in blood, you bitch!”

  The judge wasted no time attempting to regain order in her courtroom. “Officer Martis, can you and the other officers please escort both of them not only out of this room, but the building as well.”

  “Judge, he strangled my sister in the back of an alley and left her to die behind a garbage can like she was an old stray cat,” the man, still on his feet, tried breaking free from his wife’s hold. “He needs to die just like that!”

  The judge ignored the man’s heartfelt statement in regards to his deceased sibling, knowing she had a job to do. “Okay now, I just said I was not going to tolerate any sort of commotion, and I meant it. The next outburst will result in contempt paired with incarceration and fines. Now, if there are any more persons in this courtroom who feel they can’t control themselves, please take the time to leave right now.” She took the time to scan the room. “I completely understand that five families have been tragically affected by these terrible crimes. And although I completely sympathize with your heightened emotions, I cannot, and will not, allow this system, this courtroom, or these jurors, to be compromised. Justice will be served.”

  The accused, Lonnie McKay, didn’t flinch as his life was threatened. He didn’t say a single word while the loved ones of the women whose lives he ended paraded out, one by one, most in tears. It was as if he was oblivious of what was taking place or just had no remorse. As the last person vowed to “see him again,” Lonnie finally turned his face toward the court TV camera and disrespectfully grinned.

  This high-profile case was one the city of Detroit would never forget. Every “t” had to be crossed and every “i” dotted. There was no room for error; not in any murder trial when a person’s freedom was hanging in the balance and the victim’s family sought justice. However, this instance was one criminal case that reared its ugly head once every blue moon. The eyes of the entire world were focused on the outcome of the trial of the century; the trial of the “Homeless Shelter Maniac,” Lonnie Eugene McKay. The prescription pill-addicted resident was accused of callously kidnapping, torturing, and brutally murdering five people, mostly homeless women and one man, within a year’s span. After the Detroit police reluctantly allowed the federal authorities to assist them in the manhunt for Mister McKay, he was quickly apprehended and brought to justice. After tons of witnesses and testimony, today would finally be the killer’s day of reckoning. The five families could maybe have some small sort of closure and peace.

  “Okay, everything seems to be in order.” The judge looked up at both attorneys as well as the accused directly in his eyes. “Let me just say this before reading the verdict. Mister McKay, I’ve read over your personal history several times. And although this court can indeed commiserate with your unfortunate childhood and early adolescent tragedies, you were overcoming those obstacles and on the fast track to beating those odds. I’m fully aware of your troubled history with drinking and abuse of prescription drugs, yet the court must punish you for violating your probation not to partake in narcotics. In addition to that, whatever took place to cause such a drastic change in your mind-set, the general public will probably never find out, and it’s not this court’s job to speculate. We live in the here and now and deal in the harsh reality of today. And sadly, for all the families of the people whose lives were cut short, their reality is realer than some.” She then signaled for the additional officers from the sheriff’s department to stand on point, ready for whatever. “That being said, I don’t want, nor will I, tolerate any more outbursts when the verdict is read. Is that understood? Any such action will result in that person or persons being immediately led outside this courtroom and directly to the county jail.”

  Remaining almost as stone-faced as he’d been since being arrested, Lonnie zoned back out. His demented mind was no longer present with his body. Whatever words the judge was saying no longer mattered. What would be would be. Defiant, the probable to-be-convicted murderer of five closed his eyes. Not muttering a word, Lonnie transported his thoughts back to what ultimately led him to the heavy chain steel shackles that currently bound his feet and arms. He knew he wasn’t born the monster the world now labeled him as; his circumstances forced him to become that way.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The day started just as any other in the crime-infested area of Detroit. Lonnie, a hard sleeper, fought to wake up in the wee morning hours. Allowing his bare feet to touch the splinter-ready floorboards, the teen wiped the sleep out of the corner of his eyes. With each step he took, he wanted nothing more than to jump back in the bed. Splashing semiwarm tap water in his face, Lonnie lifted up from the small white sink staring into the mirror. Checking for any signs of new pimples, he reflected on his reality. He hated the fact his mother had been cursed with cancer, but sadly, she was. So that meant he had no choice whatsoever but to grow up fast, becoming the man of the house.

  The only child did the best he could, yet sometimes, came up short. In between the added medications and supplies his mother needed not covered by welfare, Lonnie, most days, went without eating. But to him, his situation didn’t matter. His mother being as comfortable as possible was on the top list of his priorities. Faced with the emptiness of the kitchen shelves, the determined youth managed to scrape a small bit of breakfast together to put something on his growling stomach.

  Fighting to make it out of his current living situation and make something more out of himself besides a common thug, he remained focused on the positive. Determined in his faith, he left the small one-bedroom apartment he shared with his sickly mother. As always, he made it to school seconds before the second bell rang. Although considered an at-risk student by his teachers and most of his counselors, the living-below-poverty-level Lonnie stayed on the honor roll as well as the dean’s list. Despite it all, he was determined to make it out of the hood.

  * * *

  “Yeah, hello! Can you send an ambulance to 5328 Leslie Street, Apartment 417 real quick?” Lonnie’s panicked voice trembled shouting through his government-issued cell phone. “I just came home from school and found my mother passed out on the floor! Please send some help, please! Damn, please hurry up!”

  “No problem, sir, we will. You just have to try to calm down a small bit so I can understand you. Can you do that for me?” The operator recognized his panicked tone and attempted to get ahold of the traumatic situation so it wouldn’t get worse.

  “Okay, okay, okay.” Lonnie’s hand shook as he rubbed the side of his mother’s frail face, praying for a miracle. Normally having an even-tempered demeanor and quick on his feet, he was confused on what to do or say to aid his mom. Distraught, he knew his entire world would fall completely apart if she left him. Even though Lonnie knew her cancer was too far gone for any type of recovery, he still prayed every night for God to spare him the awful loss.

  “All right now, I just need to type in a small bit of information and help will be on its way.”

  “Okay, okay; what information you need? I already done told you the address, now send help! You straight wasting time! Come on now; send help! She’s dying!”

  “Okay, now, like I said, please try to calm down,” she reasoned using trained skills, easily discovering he was a nervous and frightened teenager. “A truck is being dispatched as we speak. And the information I’m trying to get will aid the paramedics more efficiently when they arrive.”

  “All right, operator; but please hurry,” Lonnie openly sobbed, watching his mother’s lips turn a strange shade of brown.

  “Help is on the way, young man. I know it’s hard, but just be patient.”

  “Okay, I’m trying, but it’s hard. My mother was diagnosed with stage four cancer the earlier part of this year, and I don’t know what to do right now to help her.” Lonnie momentarily left his mother’s side to get a washcloth, hoping it would cause her to snap out of the unconscious state she was in. While holding the rag under a cold stream of water from the kitchen sink, he remained on the line with 911.

&nbs
p; “Okay, I see. Well, did she go to chemotherapy today or have had any other medical treatments in the last twenty-four hours that we need to be aware of?”

  Lonnie wasted no time returning to his mother’s side. Rubbing her face, he started to cry even more. “No, she hasn’t been to the doctors after they made her leave the hospital. Some crazy lady administrator claimed there was nothing more they could do for her and she needed to go to a nursing home or some damn hospice place or something like that!”

  “Just hold on a little longer, son. The truck is definitely en route and should arrive shortly.”

  After following proper procedure in gathering all the required information needed to dispatch a rig, the sympathetic woman, a mother herself, continued to speak with the worried youth. Trying her best to reassure him everything would be fine and that help was on the way, she allowed him to vent as he waited. She knew the young man was at odds and remained as calm as possible as he went all the way through it. The operator understood he was caught in his emotions and bit her tongue as he ran back and forth to the window, looking out for the promised ambulance. After the first five minutes and it had yet to arrive, Lonnie lost the small bit of self-control he did have, calling the innocent 911 operator any and everything, excluding a child of God. He accused her of not truly sending for help to being in cahoots with the devil himself to let his beloved mother die. Over the years, she’d heard folks say many of things and launch various threats, but Lonnie’s conviction in tone was strangely different. However, she didn’t let that deter her from doing what she was trained to do.

  Eleven to twelve long, grueling minutes later, her mentally broken-down verbal attacker heard the paramedics’ siren closely approaching their destination. With medical bags in hand containing basic supplies, the bare-minimum medically trained technicians entered the five-story dilapidated building. Opting to use the stairs not the elevator, the pair of white shirt-wearing man and woman team was at Lonnie and his mom’s apartment. Flinging the door open wide, Lonnie threw the cordless phone across the room onto the couch. He then wasted no time directing them to his now-barely responsive mother.