“Zy, how that money looking out in-” Carter started to speak, but Zyir interrupted him.
“She’s alive, fam! Breeze is alive, man!” Zyir stated, getting choked up. After months of her death haunting him, his faith was restored. Breeze had been the only chick who had been able to steal Zyir’s focus away from his hustle. He had nightmares about her death every night. He felt responsible for what had happened to her, but now he was sure that she was out there somewhere, and out of all the people she could have called, she chose him.
His statement took Carter by surprise. “Zyir, fam, Breeze is…”
“Carter, she called me! She called my fucking phone! She’s alive! I’m on my way to you!” he screamed urgently.
“I’m not at home. I’m leaving my barber now. We don’t need to meet at the house. Feds are crawling all over the place. Meet me at Mecca’s money house. I’ll give him a call,” Carter answered.
Zyir’s stomach was hollow as he raced toward Liberty City where Mecca stashed the drugs and money that he distributed and collected from the Lib City hustlers. He beat both Mecca and Carter there. He scoped the entire block, removed the money he was transporting, and with the duffel bag in one hand and his pistol in the other, he entered the home. He quickly opened the safe and stuffed the money inside. Carter’s rule was to count the cash before putting it away, but Zyir’s head was all over the place. He didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone but Breeze.
He paced the living room floor, trying to play back the pieces of conversation he had heard on the phone. “Where is she?” he mumbled to himself. “Think. What did you hear?” he said over and over.
Zyir was driving himself crazy. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t even hear Carter come in. Mecca walked in directly behind Carter and they watched as Zyir talked to himself. Carter noticed the worried look on Zyir’s face. He had seen Zyir sell crack to his own mother and not bat an eye. He knew his lil’ nigga through and through. The look of concern that Zyir held was the same one that Carter felt inside for Miamor. It was then that he knew Zyir’s love for Breeze ran deeper than anyone knew.
“Zyir,” Carter called out, startling him.
“Fuck is up with you, fam?” Mecca asked.
“Breeze… she’s still alive,” Zyir stated.
A look of anger flickered in Mecca’s eyes, and he pointed his finger sternly toward Zyir. “Don’t speak her name, nigga. You didn’t even know her like that. After eight months, you talking about she’s alive!” Mecca said, becoming emotional over his baby sister.
“Fuck you! Bitch-ass nigga!” Zyir yelled back. He didn’t give a fuck. He knew Mecca was a killer, but Zyir had been taught to only fear a nigga who didn’t bleed. “I just told you your sister is alive! Whether you want to believe it or not, she’s out there, and I’m gon’ find her!”
Mecca’s hands automatically rested on his waistline for easy access to his burner, but he had to remember that Zyir was family now. That fact alone kept Zyir breathing after disrespecting Mecca, but he was skeptical, and his doubt showed on his face. “She’s been gone eight months,” Mecca stated sadly.
“She called me!” Zyir yelled.
“She called you?” Mecca answered. “How the fuck you know it ain’t one of these lurking-ass mu’fuckas trying to throw you off and set you up? Huh? Why the fuck would she call you?”
Carter watched the exchange back and forth as he attempted to figure out where Zyir’s logic was coming from. Zyir had never given him a reason to doubt him before, and he was slowly beginning to recall all the time that Zyir and Breeze had spent together.
“It wasn’t nobody else. I know her voice, mu’fucka. She called me. She was crying and she said my name. I’m her man, and she needs me! I have to find her, and I’ll murk any nigga who tries to stop me!” Zyir said through clenched teeth as he looked Mecca directly in the eyes. Zyir was an emotional wreck. Breeze was still alive, he would put his life on it, and he was willing to go against a thousand armies to get her back. She had been out there alone and vulnerable for eight months, while The Cartel had buried her and moved on.
Seeing Zyir’s conviction brought tears to Mecca’s eyes, which he quickly brushed away as he felt his anger rise. He wanted to shoot Zyir’s ass in the foot for fucking around with his little sister in the first place, but he was glad that she had chose a nigga who was built right, one who was willing to go to the ends of the earth because of a phone call. Breeze had chosen a lil’ nigga who Mecca thought their father would have approved of. Mecca nodded his head and looked at Carter, who sat there calmly, grinding his jaw, a clear indication that he was angry.
“We buried her. We counted her out, and she’s been out there all this time,” Zyir said.
“What did you hear?” Carter asked.
“It was muffled, but it sounded like she was talking to a doctor,” Zyir replied.
“Check the hospitals… every hospital in the state if you have to,” Carter instructed to Zyir. “Mecca, you too, but stay out of Florida. Estes is still on your ass. He’s lying low, but that don’t mean he’s gone. You check hospitals in Georgia and Alabama, and even go as far as Mississippi if nothing shakes. If she’s out there, we won’t stop until we bring her home. If anyone hears anything, let me be the first to know.”
Mecca left in search of his baby sister. It had been a long time since he’d prayed, but for this, he closed his eyes and asked God for help. When he was gone Carter turned to Zyir.
“Why did she call you?” Carter asked. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to see if Zyir would keep it one hundred with him.
Zyir rubbed the top of his head, his eyebrows raised in distress. “I was fucking with her, fam,” Zyir admitted.
Carter stood sternly. “And the day she was taken?” Carter asked.
“She was with me,” Zyir admitted. Carter nodded his head.
Zyir could see the fire blazing in his demeanor, but out of respect, he held his tongue.
Carter began to walk out of the house and stopped at the doorway. “Find her,” he said simply, then left Zyir to his thoughts.
Zyir searched high and low, visiting hospitals, spending every minute of his day looking for Breeze. He doubted that she was still in the city. He couldn’t imagine her being so close for this long without word getting back to The Cartel. He started in the surrounding cities. From Palm Beach to Tampa to Orlando and Ft. Lauderdale, he drove for hours, fighting fatigue on a desperate mission to find her. He had a list of over 100 hospitals in Florida. He called some to see if they had any patients who fit Breeze’s description. If there was even a possibility that a patient could be her, then Zyir hit the highway.
After ten hours of disappointments, he had exhausted every hospital on the list, except for the local Miami institutions. He decided to visit Baptist Hospital first.
A tight knot filled his stomach as he whipped his Lexus through the city streets. He was tired, but he couldn’t call it a night. He didn’t have time to sleep. The thought of Breeze suffering somewhere would not allow him to stop his hunt. He had heard the fear in her voice. Wherever she was, she was in danger and she was defenseless. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined the terror she may be going through.
Little did he know, he could not fathom what she was being forced to endure. Her fate was worse than death. Her torture was unimaginable.
Zyir pulled into the emergency room parking lot and jumped out. He walked into the hospital. Doubt and apprehension ate away at him as he approached the nurse’s station.
“Can I help you, sir?” a young black girl asked without looking up from the paperwork in front of her.
“I’m looking for a girl who may have been treated here. Her name is Breeze Diamond,” Zyir stated.