The Banks Sisters Read Free Page A

rush off it as he put the pedal to the medal.
    Underneath the George Bush mask Dougie freaked, “What the fuck we gon’ do now?” he said with a shaky tone. The youngest of the four, Dougie was eighteen.
    Ski-Mask—a.k.a. Mike—looked his cousin Dougie in the eyes, “We gon’ get it on ’em,” meaning go to war, “or die trying,” Mike declared.
    Mike was nobody’s fool, he knew the odds of them winning a shoot out with the RPD were against them. But growing up black and broke, being the underdog was nothing new, it was their daily day-to-day norm.
    Freddy Krueger a.k.a. Bennie was twenty-two years old and had already spent two stints up state, going back this time was no option. He knew if he was even caught with a piece of stolen bubble gum, this time, they’d fry his ass for sure. “Court is in session,” he said, “and it’s being held in the street.”
    â€œThen let’s get it poppin’,” said Jason whose real name was Jason Kill. Jason slammed a fresh clip into the assault rifle. His boys did the same. Then Jason swung the door open. Doug, Bennie, and Jason hopped out the van.
    Gun blazing.
    Jason put a new clip in the gun and slid the back side door open. He let loose firing on anything in sight. The shots rang out loudly sounding like a warm night in Iraq.
    The slugs from the AR’s blew huge holes through the police vehicles shattering windows, knocking the sirens off the roof. It was a shame he hadn’t joined to the army because he had a great aim and plenty of heart.
    The police returned fire. Both sides put it down hard.
    A police officer stood up and caught three slugs to the face. His partner fired back multiple times at the man who’d shot his friend and coworker.
    Meanwhile other shots were aimed for the driver. The front windshield of the van shattered, slumping the driver over dead. His head fell on the horn causing it to continuously. The men knew it was do or die and didn’t have any time to waste. The team witnessed their homeboy, Mike go down but there was no time to mourn. They would have to pay their respects to him with their war game.
    The three-masked men jumped out the vehicle and rolled into the street and was gunning like skilled soldiers, at war with the boys in blue. They were fueled as they opened fire on the police officers non-stop. The volley intensified. Both sides had lost a man and neither wanted to drop another, but knew there was no surrender or retreat. In no time, mixed with the sounds of guns going off, the air was filled with approaching sirens and first response vehicles.
    The fellas bullets tore the cruisers apart. Huge holes popped up over the vehicle, sending two of the cars into flames. That gave the robbers that extra push they needed as they reloaded and continued gunning.
    The gun exchange went on for a few minutes.
    Being out numbered and out gunned neither intimidated nor deterred the crew from firing their weapons. Two more boys in blue kissed the asphalt as blood leaked from their bodies. The AR-15’s bites were as vicious as its bark.
    Bennie tried to take cover behind a parked BMW and got chopped down like an Oak tree. His body hit the pavement like a drunken Monk. Pain soared through his body as if he’d been struck by lightening.
    Blood poured from his mouth as he choked trying his damndest to hold on as life slipped away from him. He died staring at the Bush mask by his side, but not before letting off a reign of gunshots, going out in a blaze of glory.
    Dougie snapped. He’d watched his cousin and best friend die. Even a high school drop-out, such as himself could predict the outcome for him and Jason. But he swore on everything he loved that he would drop a few more pigs before he died. And he meant it with a passion. He raised up and let bullets fly like birds flying south. The volley temporarily pushed the police down for better cover. Though the police