Chapter Twenty-Three

              Meanwhile, Martha walked up 16th Street, pulling the lottery tickets out of her pocket. She concentrated on her numbers. She walked past the Cecil B. Moore Recreation Center. It should have been open but it was closed because the recreation leader was sickand there wasn’t anybody to open the building.

              As Martha walked up the block to Waterloo Street, the doors to the row houses, that surrounded the recreation center, were closed. The street was filled with Saturday traffic; people walked up and down the block, despite the drug dealing going on around them. A drug house had been torn down across from the recreation center. There was still paraphernalia---filthy needles and smoking pipes, on the ground.

          Martha didn’t notice the Deuce-and-a-Quarter coming down the street. When sheheard the rat-a-tat-tat of the rapid-fire automatic weapon, it was too late.First came the sound, and then she fell against the concrete wall as if someone had slammed a Raggedy Ann Doll against that same wall. Her legs buckled and she crumpled into a heap with blood oozing from the wounds.

          The lottery tickets, she clasped in her hands, floated away as the wind blew them across the street. People grabbed the tickets and then ran for cover.