Name: Tahrique Rhodes - aka DJ Silent
Ethnicity: African American
Occupation: DJ, Art Instructor at a community center for inner city children, Blogger and part time Photojournalist
Possessions: 1 set of high end headphones ( Large Ear Muff Type), Ipod nano, cellphone w/camera, $13.04, Flashlight - Baton style - police issue, long metal pipe (bloody)
Family in Atlanta: Mother (48) - Wanda Rhodes, Brother Marquel Henderson (15) "Lil Man"
Friends - Local: Big G, VeeVee, KK, Sharice, Carl, Monsta
Girlfriend: Tara Goodyea (24) - Works as PCA at a local hospotal, working to become a Nurse.
The thump of the bass rippled across the room. Sweat, colognes, perfumes, smoke and pot mixed into a musky, sticky sweet smell that clung to the throng of dancers undulating like lovers under satin sheets.
Rhianna's voice angelic, backed by JeeZee spitting lyrical greatness. This is hard right here! He swayed and bobbed lost in the music.
A commotion, the rhythm of the dance broken. Some still moving in time with the beat. Others standing looking about. Others pushing, scambling.
Another fight? "Ahhh what the....." He flipped up the mic and turned down the jam.
"Yo! Stop that shit!," Tahrqiue commanded, "Someone get over there and stop those stupid mother fuhhh..."
The words fell from his mouth, and died in the air. He stood slack jawed. Blood, then the screams could be heard. Were those people biting each other? Shots rang out! More shots louder and slower. A bullet screamed by him.
People unloading clips?!?! This shit's bananas!
He ducked and started to crawl for the exit to the left. More shots barked and popped. Cursing and cries rose above the commotion. He heard the stampede of movement, felt it with his hands as the floor vibrated violently. He crawled faster.
Darting down the stairs, he just wanted to fly. He could hear more shots fading fast as he descended.
"Hey, what dah ell es goin on mon?" The Rastafarian, leaning against his mop looked as serene and calm as a buddah. He rubbed the short scraggly beard on his deep onyx face.
His heart beating fast, chest slighting heaving, Tahrique pointed upstairs,"Shits bananas! Some people broke in and started shooting up the place."
"Now dat not be good mon. I reckon I be callin dah police den."
"Listen, you do what you have to. I'm getting the hell out of here. I'm not gettiing my ass shot up!"
"Dats good tinkin, Mon. Dah door be ova der. Good luck."
The city looked like the set of some crazy action movie. People running and screaming, chased by gangs. A few fires were raging. Some folks were looting stores. Cars driving beserk and running over anything in their way -- street, sidewalk, people it didn't matter. Ambulances and Police cars screaming everywhere. Gun shots in the distance. It was crazy.
Things that went down before he got to the warehouse-
Received a mess of voice messages from Tara - she talked about fights breaking out at the Hospital, things were crazy
Tried to call Tara back a bunch of times - only got voice mail.
Received a few texts from friends - asking if he was ok, someone mentioned terrorist attack
Left a message for his mother.
Was running by a construction site - grabbed a pipe
Attacked by a duo of zombies - beat them off with the pipe
Found a police officer's corpse with a flashlight- took it - Gun was missing, car not to be seen.
Mad dash for the warehouse.