Dutch.
“Yo! Come here! I gotta show you somethin’,” Dutch hollered.
Craze was out the window and down the fire escape as if it was the normal way to exit the premises. Moving like a cat, he
jumped down onto the ground and walked over to Dutch.
“What up?” Craze asked.
“Just come on.”
They walked around the corner and Craze saw Roberto’s white van sitting halfway down the block.
“You finally got smart and robbed his old ass, huh?” Craze asked as he lit another cigarette.
Dutch just looked at him and wondered why he would think that after everything he’d been trying to tell him.
“Yo, Craze, I love you like a brother, but once I open this door and show you what’s inside, ain’t no turning back, nigga.
You either wit’ me or go on and walk away now,” Dutch solemnly declared.
Craze looked Dutch in the face and in his eyes. He had never heard such words from him before. He considered Dutch his brother,
his heart. If he didn’t die for the motherfucker, he would certainly die with him, and he knew Dutch knew this. So, for Dutch
to say what he just said, Craze knew whatever was in the van was nothing like he had seen before. His stomach knotted at the
thought and tightened as he spoke.
“Yo, Duke, you know how we get down. You and I, do or die, you ain’t got to tell me to walk nowhere,” Craze stated with all
the sincerity his heart could muster.
Dutch looked him in the eyes and, when he was satisfied, nodded and opened the back doors of the van. He and Craze stepped
up into the van and Craze saw a long, bulky object lying between two garbage bags. Dutch snatched back the top-layer garbage
bag to reveal the dead gunman. Craze took one look and threw up all over the inside of the van.
“Damn, nigga! We got enough to clean up wit’out yo’ ass addin’ to it!” Dutch told him over Craze’s bowed head. For years after,
Dutch stayed in his ass, always teasin’ Craze about his first sight of a dead body.
“Damn, nigga, took one look at that shit and his whole asshole turned inside out!” Dutch would say among the trusted.
After Craze emptied his stomach, he turned back to the body in amazement. It was the first time he had ever seen a dead body,
but it wouldn’t be the last.
“What the fuck happened to him?” Craze finally got the wind to ask.
“Never mind. We need a whole lot of cinderblocks and some rope,” Dutch said, looking like they needed to find that shit right
now.
They ran through neighboring backyards, tearing down clotheslines along the way until they found some cinderblocks in a vacant
lot to carry back to the van. When there were enough blocks, Dutch told Craze to drive while he tied the blocks to the clotheslines
and secured the lines to the dead body.
“Go to Weequahic Park cross town,” Dutch directed from the back.
“Why you want to go all the way over there with them police they got and shit?”
“Will you drive?” Dutch asked, looking at Craze, questioning why he was being questioned.
It was a long and dangerous way to cross town to that side. Newark police were keen on stolen cars. They knew the young car
thieves running around and Craze knew they knew him. So, he took the safest, most direct route, Elizabeth Avenue, straight
out. The trip was tense but uneventful. He pulled into a secluded area of the park near the lake and pulled over.
“Help me drag this muhfucker to the water,” Dutch told Craze.
Craze jumped out the driver’s seat and made his way to the back of the van. Dutch already had the back door open. They began
to struggle with the body, but they weren’t strong enough to drag it out of the van.
“Damn, this muhfucker’s heavy,” Dutch huffed.
“Yeah, he is,” Craze agreed. “Untie the cinderblocks,” he suggested, wondering how the fuck they were supposed to carry the
motherfucker all tied to cement and shit.
He and Dutch first carried the cinderblocks to a wooded area near the edge