Chapter 1

It was a calm but very sunny day in Clear Water, Florida. Hamilton drive seemed to experience an unusual type of silence, far from what was typical every other day. On any other day, one would find a ton of corporately dressed people driving through the single-lane road. But on that Friday morning, only about three people could be seen walking down the road as honking cars sped off in a bid to avoid the morning lateness.

Somewhere on the far right-hand side of the close that ushered the pathway into Hamilton drive was a group of six fierce-looking young men. It was not uncommon to find people loitering about the place, but this wasn’t the usual meeting point for the Kluber Klan Fraternity.

“Today, we strike at exactly 12:30pm,” Johnson Baldwen, a notorious drug kingpin, commented. He was the Lodge Master of the Kluber Klan fraternity. He is never the sort to grace most of his fraternal meetings, but there was always a reason for the occasion whenever he was around.

“I need seven heavy shots from all brethren. No mistakes, please!” He added, looking frankly into the faces of his fraternal brothers as they nodded in affirmation to his words. In the hands of each of the masked-faced men were rifles and a revolver in the right hand of Johnson.

By the time he was addressing his brothers, they dispersed into their respective hideous locations, shuffling frequent looks to their sides. Trying to avoid any confrontation with the cops. Finally, when it was 12:25 pm prompt, they rocked the chambers of their guns in readiness for the deal.

Toby Rogers drove along the road that led to Hamilton drive. He was in his usual high spirit on that afternoon. He had rushed out earlier that morning in his brother’s red fanciful-looking car for a quick workout at the gym. He is the sort of guy that loves to take care of his looks. It had been working quite fine for him. His broad chest and abs had a unique sync with his round face. He is dark-skinned, which is the only feature that makes him look different from his brother. His macho looks and handsome face get him a lot of teasers from numerous female acquaintances, but love has never really been fair to him.

While Toby drove down that lane, he began to nod his head in tune with his favorite song from Lucy Cubana. He would have gone to the gym with his brother, but Booker has a detest for the songs that Toby listens to. “When next you come to this world brother, you had better come as a woman,” Booker would say to him on those days when he was listening to songs from Lucy Cubana.

Toby had been driving at the top speed of 100km/hr until he arrived at the bend from Gliddich street into Hamilton drive. He had to slow down the car for an easy entry into the street. It was exactly 12:30 pm, so Kluber Klan fraternal members raced out from their respective hiding places, standing all around Toby’s ride.

“Booker, we finally meet today!” The baritone voice of Johnson commented. He was the only one who wasn’t masked among all six men. He wore a grey-looking hoodie instead. The sight of the strange-looking men made him scared, and he had initially wanted to tell the men that he was Toby. But he thought they wanted some money, which he could have easily given them from the center locker in the car.

Each of the men clung tightly to their guns, pointing them at Toby. “What the fu…!!!” Toby was on the verge of exclaiming when the bullets came rushing at him through the car's windshield. Each of the Kluber Klan gang members took turns shooting at Toby, passing derogatory comments while shooting at him. “Motherfucker!” Johnson emphasized as he took the last shot.

Immediately after the shootings began, Hamilton drive grew all the more silent. Those that saw the men shooting raced for their dear lives. The gang members raced off on three different bikes, one bike with two people on it.

They all raced with so much tenacity and zest that one would have thought that their lives depended on that moment. By the time they got to the last end of Gliddich Street, they had dispersed their weapons into sewage as they feared that the police vans speeding at the other end of the express road were heading towards the direction of the shootout.

Johnson chuckled wickedly. Most of the Kluber Klan fraternity members didn’t know that he loved to be the center of attraction. As their bikes reached the highway, Johnson clung tightly to the waist of his fraternal brother, who was riding the bike. “We try another day again!” He muttered confidently. His cheekbones evidenced the fulfillment that engulfed his being on that day.

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Booker’s cell phone repeatedly beeped for close to an hour. He is never the sort to stay close to his cell phone. His penchant for smoking and listening to old-school rap has made him feel like he never has time for any other business. “Where is this crazy brother of mine again?” He panicked while walking out of his segment of the two-bedroom flat into the sitting room. He picked up his cell phone and realized that he had no less than twenty-three missed calls. “Must be one of my brothers from the New School gang.” He muttered to himself with a slight giggle hovering over his face.

By the time Booker unlocked his cell phone, he realized that all of the missed calls he had were from a strange number that he couldn’t identify from his contact list. “Who the hell could this be?” He commented while trying to dial the strange number back. Surprisingly, the same cell number beeped again.

“Who the hell are you, and why have you been trying to kill my phone!” The tone of his voice reeked with so much anger and irritation. The ringer who was at the other end of the call was no doubt terrified by his expression. The moment of silence after Booker’s words led to an uncanny form of silence. Something close to what would be the atmosphere at a funeral house.

“I am so sorry about that Sir. My name is Rachel from the emergency unit of St Andrew’s Hospital here in Florida,” the voice at the other end of the phone responded. It was a low voice of a woman, and from the tone of the voice, Booker could tell that she was perturbed about something. “Ok! I know why you have been bugging my cell phone. Is it a fraternal brother being involved in an accident again?” Booker teased.

There was a moment of silence between the two. Then, after a few seconds, the receiver commented, “On the contrary, Sir, I am calling with respect to a patient who was brought into our hospital.”

“Ok, I said it earlier that it must be one of my fraternal brothers. Wilson, right?” He commented.

“Actually, the patient’s name is Toby. From the details that I have on his cell phone here, are you his brother?” The voice inquired. At first, Booker tried to visualize what the feminine voice was trying to get at. Then, he thought about the name that she had mentioned. Could there be another Toby in the gang? He thought to himself.

“Hello? Are you there, Sir?” The voice on the receiver end commented further. Booker was still engrossed in his thought. The second voice in his mind told him to inquire about the last name of Toby that she was referring to. He cleared his throat and then responded, “Sorry, I got carried away with what I was doing before you called to give it a little bit of context. Don’t you mind telling me the last name of Toby you are referring to?”

“Alright, a minute, Sir.”

“It is a Toby Rogers. Do you by any chance know who he is?” The voice responded. Booker couldn’t bring himself to ask for further descriptions. His cell phone slipped off his hand in shock, and a few seconds later, he dashed out through the entrance of his home, screaming in shock as he made his way to St Andrew’s hospital. For every second that he spent on the road, he prayed a silent prayer in his mind. Hoping somehow that the patient in the hospital wasn’t his brother.