Short Stories

YOU ASKED FOR IT

by Jim Newton 
02/19/21
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     Two in the morning, and I'm chasing a young man down a dark country road hoping to observe the meeting that I am so sure is coming with his drug supplier. That night and at that moment, I was a journalist with only a smartphone for a camera and a hunch.

     My neighbor across the hall, Tiki Baylor, a young black man, was red-eyed most of the time from the pot he smoked. The air in the hallway between our apartments reeked of its pungent aroma, 24-7. Dubious-looking characters knocked on his door at hours of the night that only raccoons and law-breakers frequented.

     I'm an investigative journalist, Rick Mansfield, of little renown. What I desperately needed was a good story, and a drug-ring story would have to suffice for now. I could spice it up to look like the biggest ring since El Chapo. On the contrary, what I was about to become involved in would turn Tiki and me into people we never dreamed we could be. I guess we both asked for it, but never thought it would happen in the manner that it did.

     I kept a good distance between our vehicles. The dirt on the country road, combined with the darkness, was difficult to see through. Several times I lost sight of him. After thirty minutes of this eye-straining driving, I was lucky to see when his brake lights lit up through the dirt. I rolled quietly to a stop. Tiki's vehicle pulled off the road, and I followed suit a safe distance behind.

     The dirt in the air slowly settled down. I was able to see Tiki exit his vehicle and walk onto the bridge that he had parked near. I quietly and cautiously exited my vehicle to follow him at a distance. I had it all figured out by now. Tiki was going to meet his supplier, who was likely parked at the other end,  in the middle of that bridge.

     I worked my way through the shadows to a spot beside his car. Tiki halted midway on the old concrete bridge. I silently snickered. The masterpiece that would become my Pulitzer Prize was about to unfold.

     Tiki knelt down onto his knees near the railing at the midpoint of the bridge. He uplifted his arms with hands clasped together and pointing toward the heavens.

     "Wait a minute! This is strange behavior for a druggie." I shouted in my thoughts. "Rick, where is the supplier - the drugs?"

     Tiki knelt there for a few moments with head tilted back as though praying. Then, to my total dismay, the praying really began and out loud. "Lord, I've made a mockery of everything you've blessed me with. I threw away a wonderful and loving woman. I disowned and failed to support one of the most beautiful baby girls ever. I ravaged my sacred life with drugs and crime. The one thing I ever did well, I threw away for this life of pleasure through drugs - swimming. My friends made fun of me, but it didn't bother me. I was really good at it. It really is kinda funny, my Lord; a black guy in the Olympics - swimming - my dream. That's trash now. Due to the recent rains, the river's fast flowing. Nobody can swim in it and live. The bridge is high enough. Nobody will ever find me, and that is exactly what I deserve. Lord, I really do love you. Would you take care of my wife and daughter? They don't deserve the things I brought into their lives. Lord -"

     At that moment, the sound of squealing tires filled the air. Then a car rounded the sharp corner at the other end of the bridge. It was all happening so fast. The car flew off the road at the other end of the bridge. It seemed like only a second before a nightmarish scream filled the night, "Save my baby! Someone, please, save my baby!"

     I couldn't keep up. I stood there inactive. The middle of the bridge was anything but inactive. I saw the mind-boggling flash of Tiki standing, turning, then flying, almost from standing, over the edge of the bridge on the opposite side. If he was committing suicide, he sure picked an awkward place to start from.

     Tiki was right about the river as fast-moving. The car was already down the river fifty yards by the time Tiki entered. Finally, I began to come to my senses and begin to act. I hopped back in my car and took off in a cloud of dust down the fisherman's road bordering the river. As I drove, I was calling 911. I gave them what I hoped were good directions. I put the dispatcher on speaker while throwing the phone on the passenger seat. I called out info as I was able. The dark made it difficult to keep a constant visual on the lady's car and Tiki. Then the car hit a snag, maybe a tree, and came to a halt. That is when I slid to a halt and jumped out of my car, heading for the river bank.

     I located Tiki and yelled, "Tiki, I called 911. They are sending help. Hang on, kid!" He doesn't have time to think about how I know his name - I'm hoping.

     Tiki reached the car to find the lady hanging out the window with her baby in hand. The lady let out a heartrending cry as she spotted Tiki swimming toward her.

     Unbelievably, in the excitement, I thought I was all alone. I had not noticed seven sheriff's cars and two ambulances drive up. Also, I guess, I had not noticed a crowd of locals gathering on both sides of the river. Everyone yelled encouragement. Some people were on their knees praying - like Tiki, only moments before. They turned their vehicle headlights on the car to aid Tiki.

     We couldn't hear Tiki's conversation with the woman in the car above the river's roar, but the Sheriff's Deputies thought Tiki was giving instructions to her. He took the baby from the lady as he helped her on top of the car. People were making comments about only God was keeping the car from sinking. Then the excitement really began. Tiki took his belt off and strapped the baby to his stomach. Next, he grabbed one of the mother's hands and seemed to be comforting her.

     Tiki pushed away from the car doing the backstroke with the baby secured on his stomach. The crowd immediately began to shout, "Come on, kid. You can do it. Look at that kid swim. Have you ever seen a better swimmer? That current is the worst I've ever seen. Go, kid. God's with you, son."

     For some reason, I walked down the line yelling, "His name is Tiki." Whatever opinion I had of him before had been changed in the blink of an eye, and I suspect his personal opinion of himself was rapidly changing. He seemed to be feeding off the crowd's energy.  One of the firemen, who had just arrived, held out a long pole for Tiki to grab as he neared the bank. The baby was unbelted and taken to the ambulance. The crowd went wild as Tiki immediately dove back into the river doing a world-record breaststroke. People began to shout, "Tiki can out-swim Michael Phelps. This kid must be in training. Nobody swims like that unless they are in top shape. Go, Tiki, go!" The Sheriff's Deputies were cheering as loud as anyone. They commented to one another about getting this kid on the force.

     Tiki arrived at the car that had only a small piece of the top remaining above water. Tiki wasted no time. He helped the lady off and onto his stomach as he started for the bank doing a backstroke that looked as though it may be another record-breaking pace. A man made his way to my side saying, "We've got to get this crowd yelling louder. Tiki's pace is going to exhaust him. I'm the swimming coach at the high school and know him. He is a world-class swimmer, but he is being asked to perform impossible feats tonight." We scrambled around the crowd giving them orders.

     The crowd sounded like a college football crowd. These people were giving it all they had for a kid that was giving all he had. Strange how the Lord works. less than two hours ago, Tiki was the town drug dealer. Now, he has become in their eyes the greatest swimmer ever. Indeed, he truly is. Tiki asked God to make him His disciple once again. Now, God has raised him above his past and created glory for Him and for Tiki. And I am going to honor them both by writing a beautiful story of God's redemption of Tiki Baylor, the greatest, not just black swimmer, but greatest swimmer period. We need to remember that the most important races aren't always swum in a pool.

     Tiki never struggled. He was filled with the power of the Lord. He swam with that lady to the bank like he was on the home leg of an Olympic gold medal. Blankets were being wrapped around him as the crowd surrounded him and cheered. Walking back to my car, I saw a group of kids telling one another, "Let's get his autograph."

     It is crazy how this night started out as opposed to how it ended. But I'm sure God is saying, "You two asked for it."

     I didn't end up winning a Pulitzer Prize, but I had a great story that has led to a great friendship with Tiki Baylor. He went on to receive a scholarship from a local college for swimming. He is doing really well there. Who knows, maybe he will get that Olympic shot someday. As for my original intent that night, I never told Tiki nor anyone else about it. If God can forget all my sins, then surely, I must forget a wonderful person like Tiki's sins. Besides, Tiki is the person responsible for this old sinner's return to his Christian roots. I'm glad we asked for it.