BRAT and the Kids of Warriors

by Michael Joseph Lyons

  Sam kept her feelings in check until Mrs. McMasters left, but then she said, “This could be so serious. Should we tell anyone?”

  A look passed between Jack and Charlie. Then Charlie answered for both of them, “No point in telling anyone now. The guy’s probably long gone. But we better keep an eye out for him.”

  Before they left, he had a name, The Watcher, and they committed to look for him wherever they went.

  They made plans to meet at Charlie’s the next day and go to the Saturday movie.

  “Be there at eleven thirty sharp, Jack,” said Sam. “We don’t want to be late.”

  “When we’re late we don’t get good seats,” said Jayla.

  Charlie grimaced. “And we won’t get to sit together. The place packs out every week.”

  “Copy that,” said Jack.

  Later that night, the man in the woods was still bothering Jack. He just knew something wasn’t right about that guy. So when his dad was saying good night, Jack told him they’d seen a German man over by the cliff.

  Lt. Col. McMasters could tell Jack was worried about it, so he made an effort to reassure him. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Jack. Germans love to go for walks in the woods.”

  “But why would a German guy be walking in the woods of a United States Army base? I mean, how’d he even get on the base?”

  “Your imagination’s running wild, Jack. The guy’s probably a German civilian who works for us. He was probably just out for an evening stroll.” Before Jack could say any more, his dad said good night and left his room.

  Jack lay in his bed, thinking that Charlie had been right: There was no point in saying anything to adults about the guy. Without more evidence, no one was going to take a bunch of kids seriously.

  Fear came. . . . Fear kept coming. . . . He kept coming—the man in the dark-green felt hat and short, dark coat. Everywhere Jack went, The Watcher was there. Jack struggled to make him go away.

  Jack forced his eyes open. The room was dark. But his eyelids were so heavy. His covers were twisted as he rolled back over, desperately hoping the nightmare would not return.

  . . . There he was in that green hat, sitting in a room, talking to Hitler. . . . He followed Jack into the PX. He sat behind Jack in the movie theater. He joined the dodgeball circle, faking throws to see Jack jump away. He wove his way through the rows of tanks. Please. Let me sleep. Please, just let me sleep. But The Watcher on the cliff wouldn’t go away. . . .

  13

  Cowboys Against the Indians

  Saturday was allowance day in the McMasters household. This week, getting it was essential. Jack had been singing the blues all week about not having a thin dime to his name. Without allowance, there’d be no Saturday movie. And there’d be no allowance if their Saturday chores weren’t completed to Mrs. McMasters’s satisfaction. Unfortunately, the lady is no pushover. Making matters worse, she never gave her kids a list of the chores before they started. Instead, she just kept coming up with an endless set of things for them to do. Thus, there was no guarantee the McMasters kids would finish in time. But Jack wasn’t the only seriously motivated troop. Queenie and Rabbit had also made plans to go to the Saturday movie with their new friends.

  “Rabbit, you vacuum the living room,” said Mrs. McMasters. “Laura, you and Jack get at those dirty dishes from last night.” Then she headed out the door of their quarters and down the stairwell to the basement to put in a load of laundry.

  “Oh, great!” said Queenie. “This’ll take forever.” They had accidently—on purpose—forgotten to do the Friday-night dishes the instant their parents had gone off to a cocktail party. “You wash, Jack.”

  “Not a chance. But I’ll flip you for it.”

  Desperate to get a move on, she agreed.

  Jack won the toss.

  Queenie got washing; he got rinsing and drying.

  Everything went fine until it came time to wash the coffee pot. The contraption was composed of two big, round parts. The bottom was the pot, where the coffee ends up. The top was a big, stainless-steel bubble where the coffee was brewed. Coming out of that top was a spout shaped like a long cone.

  Queenie, still ticked off at losing the coin toss, filled the bubble with water from her sink and washed it. Normally she’d have swished the coffeepot and dumped the dirty water back into the sink before passing it to Jack to rinse. But instead, she held a finger over the tiny end of the spout, lifted it high, and released her finger. A giant stream of dirty dish water shot out like a water cannon. That would have been fine if she’d aimed into her sink. But she shot the sludge into Jack’s clean rinse water.

  Now he’d have to drain his sink and completely refill it. Time for payback. Laughing, he reached into his sink and flung water right on her.

  Shirt all wet, she screamed, “Oh! Now you’re gonna get it.” But she was shrieking and laughing at the same time.

  That’s when The Great Dishwashing War erupted. She quickly dipped the coffee bubble back in her dirty wash water. But this time, when she took her finger off the small end of the spout, it was aimed right at Jack. Brown water gushed toward his chest.

  Jack tried to evade the stream, but Queenie chased him around the kitchen, spraying him and just about everything else.

  The coffee bubble ran out.

  Jack doubled back to the sink and grabbed a glass. He scooped up rinse water and threw it at Queenie.

  Half the water hit her, and the other half flew all over the cupboards and counter. Jack was about to launch another glassful when in walked Mrs. McMasters.

  “Mom! He started it!”

  She took one look at the mess and said, “Hmm, the Saturday movie is looking more and more doubtful. Now you two can not only finish the dishes but also scrub the cabinets, counters, and floor. Then report to me for your next assignment.”

  She left the kitchen. Before either of them could even react, they heard her from the next room.

  “Rabbit, start all over again with the vacuuming. This time do it right.”

  Mrs. McMasters wasn’t taking any prisoners today.

  “Your fault, Jack.”

  “No, yours.”

  “You threw water on me first.”

  “You sabotaged my rinse water.”

  But they both knew it was time to call a truce and get back to work. If they wanted to make the movie, they needed to get it in gear.

  “You deal with the cupboards and counters; I’ll get the floor,” Queenie said. And they were off to the races.

  Mrs. McMasters kept them working on one chore after another for the next three and a half hours. And without a single break. Dishes, bathrooms, bedrooms, blah, blah, blah. The closer it got to eleven thirty, the faster they moved.

  Finally, at 11:25, she called it quits.

  “You can go,” she said, “but make sure you three stick together at the movies.”

  Three greedy hands shot out to collect allowance.

  The minute Jack walked into Charlie’s place, Sam said, “Okay, let’s get outta here.”

  “Jack,” Charlie said, shaking his head, “you forget the old Army saying, ‘If you’re on time, you’re late.’ Always better to be a little early, especially for the Saturday movie.”

  It wasn’t hard for him to read their impatience. They had probably been questioning whether he was even going to show.

  Great way to make new friends, Jack, he tortured himself. Oh, yeah. Be the one who’s late and keeps everyone waiting. At this rate they’ll probably dump me by next Saturday. Then, making matters worse, he was forced to explain they couldn’t actually leave without his sisters.

  Fortunately, when they came out of the building, Queenie and two of her new girlfriends were already waiting on them. Queenie introduced Jack’s crew to her new friends, Camila and Liz.

  But Rabbit? No Rabbit!
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  Just at the point Jack was ready to ditch her, she and two other little kids ambled around the corner as if they had all the time in the world.

  Queenie assumed her totally superior, oldest-child, “I’m in charge” persona. She growled, “Move it, Rabbit, or we’re leaving without you and your l-i-t-t-l-e friends.” Like Jack, she was feeling embarrassed for making her new friends wait.

  Double timing it all the way down the main road that cut through the base, they actually got there just before the show started. Late or not, Jack, Charlie, and the others naturally had to load up on candy and popcorn first. Charlie didn’t say it, but Jack was certain they were too late to find seats together.

  Fortunately, the GI in charge of things that day must have forgotten his watch, because he opened the main doors to the theater a little behind schedule. So, pushing and shoving their way through the enormous crowd of kids, they managed to be some of the first inside. Charlie and Jack had already decided the objective was to sit in the front row. But they obviously weren’t the only ones with that idea. By the time they got there, the whole first row was full. Still, they managed to get seats together in the third row.

  The lights dimmed partway, and the whole theater went quiet. A picture of the American flag came on the screen, and they all stood, placed their right hands over their hearts, and sang the “Star-Spangled Banner.” The lights went out completely and the preview of next week’s movie began, looking so promising that Jack decided to declare a truce with Queenie during all of next Saturday’s chores. Then there was the cartoon. And, to no one’s great joy, Bugs Bunny was followed by the newsreel. Jack and Charlie ignored most of the news from around the world . . . except the piece about a big military parade in Russia. They definitely paid attention to that part because it showed tanks rolling down a wide street.

  Charlie leaned over to Jack and whispered, “Now those could do some major damage. I’ve never seen any like ’em. Have you?”

  “Nope. Sure different from our dads’ tanks.”

  Jack thought, confused, The officers on the Upshur said Russia was our friend during World War II. This newsreel guy says the Russians are our enemy.

  Jack forced his mind off that puzzle and onto the serial, an outer-space adventure about a guy named Flash Gordon. Jack loved the title, “Flaming Torture,” but since this one was the sixth installment, Charlie had to fill him in on the story as it went along. Flash had been taken prisoner on Mars. Today’s episode abruptly ended with Flash in the Static Room strapped to a Sparking Machine about to burn Flash to death. By the time the screen said, “See ‘Shattering Doom,’ Chapter 7, of the Flash Gordon Serial to be shown at this theater next week,” every kid in the theater couldn’t wait for next Saturday.

  And last but not least—the real movie. It was about cowboys and Indians. Jack loved cowboy movies. Sounded like they all did.

  The Glass House kids piled out of the theater’s side doors: Queenie with Camila and Liz, Rabbit with her friends, Jack with his crew. Everyone was talking about the movie as they headed home, and nobody was paying much attention to what was going on around them. A block from the theater, Ryan Kerrigan and a few of his gang were standing on a street corner. Kerrigan was facing away from them, giving some kind of instructions to a guy named Tony Keach, whom Kerrigan treated like a sidekick. But as if Kerrigan had eyes in the back of his head, he glanced around, focusing on them.

  Jack felt his face go hot and his stomach tense. There was going to be trouble. There was no time to avoid it.

  Some of the others had also spotted Kerrigan. It was as if someone had just pulled a pin on a grenade.

  Kerrigan said, “Boys, it looks like we need to hold up on that mission for a moment.”

  “But . . .” said Tony.

  “Relax, this won’t take long. I just need a quick time-out to kick McMasters’s ass.” To Jack, he shouted, “Yeah, Jack, I’m talkin’ about you. Time to find out who the real candy-ass is!”

  Even though it was cold outside, Jack started to sweat. Everything closed in on him. His brain started firing questions. Why can’t Ryan Kerrigan just fall off the cliff by the airfield? Why can’t this guy’s dad just get transferred somewhere else, preferably on the other side of the world?

  Jack hated this! He knew he needed to clear his head and focus. But the questions were coming at him so fast he couldn’t. Why am I such a target? Why does Ryan want to obliterate me? Why did he hate me from the start?

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured, McMasters,” Kerrigan sneered. “You’re a complete panty waist!”

  “Hey, tough guy, you want Jack, you get all of us!” The voice came from behind Jack.

  Queenie. Even without turning, Jack knew she had her “kill look” on.

  “Yeah, you, tough guy. You want to take on all of us?” Jack knew she was staring Kerrigan down and that everyone knew Jack’s friends outnumbered Kerrigan’s gang two to one.

  It was Kerrigan who finally blinked.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Queenie’s eyes never left Kerrigan. “Come on, guys. Let’s go.”

  And to Jack’s amazement, Kerrigan didn’t do anything about it.

  Once past them, he did hear Kerrigan taunt, “Don’t worry, Jack. Your ass whuppin’ is still coming. You just wait. One of these days your sister and her girlfriends won’t be around to protect you.”

  But everyone knew that Ryan Kerrigan had just backed down. No one said anything until they finally turned the corner at the main gate and headed up the long hill to The Glass House.

  “Who was that jerk?” Queenie asked. “Why does he hate you, Jack?”

  Before Jack had a chance to answer, Charlie said, “He’s in our class. He’s the guy who pushes everyone around. Jack was just today’s target. Next time it’ll probably be me.”

  “Well, piss on him!” said Queenie, breaking into a big smile. “Were we great or what!”

  They all started laughing about how Kerrigan and his gang had backed down. Jack knew he should be feeling like crap, but for some strange reason he suddenly felt great. Queenie could be a real pain-in-the-butt; however, right now she was okay in his book. For some unexplainable reason, this band of Glass House kids had come together. It was one of those deciding moments. Jack knew that they’d be together from then on.

  As they neared The Glass House, Rabbit and her friends cut and ran . . . to who knows where. Queenie eased over to Jack and said in a low voice, “I know you don’t want to, Jack, but one of these days you’re gonna have to deal with Kerrigan.”

  “I know,” Jack said, reluctantly.

  But before their discussion got much further, Camila interrupted, “So what are we gonna do?”

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I think we’re gonna play Cowboys and Indians,” said Charlie. “Remember in the movie how they circled the wagons and the Indians attacked? Let’s do that.”

  “So, who’s gonna to be the Indians and who’s gonna be the cowboys?” asked Queenie.

  “If you want, we’ll be the Indians,” said Jack.

  Camila nodded.

  “I got it,” said Charlie. “Since we don’t have any wagons, you cowboys set up in the Nazi pillbox and make that your fort. We’ll go hide out in the woods and attack.”

  “Perfect. Laura, we’ll show you where,” said Camila.

  “As for weapons, what do you guys have?” asked Charlie. “I have two six-guns the cowboys can use.”

  “We have a rifle I can get,” said Jayla.

  Camila called over her shoulder, “I think my little brother has a bow and arrows. I’ll get ’em.”

  “Everybody back in fifteen,” Charlie yelled after them.

  Jack looked at him. “And let me guess: If you’re on time, you’re late.”

  “You’re catching on,” his new friend said with a grin.

  They scattere
d to get weapons, but were soon back together, dividing them up. Charlie and his Indians got the rifle and the bow with three rubber-tipped arrows. Queenie and the cowboys, actually cowgirls, got the two six-guns. They hiked to the Nazi pillbox. The cowgirls started setting up their fort. Charlie and the Indians headed deeper into the woods to prepare.

  Once out of sight, all the Indians started talking at the same time about the best way to attack. Jayla whipped out a tube of red lipstick.

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “What’s that for?”

  “War paint.”

  Opening the lipstick tube, she put a bright-red slash across his forehead. Everyone grinned. Then she applied red lightning bolts down each of his cheeks, declaring, “These are the war symbols of our tribe.”

  Everyone nodded.

  She applied the same slashes of red to Sam and Charlie. Sam then drew the marks on Jayla.

  By then most of the tube was gone. Almost to herself, Jayla said, “Oh well. I don’t suppose my mom is gonna be too happy about this, but on with the battle plan.”

  “Okay. What do we have for intel?” asked Jack, as if he were a major general commanding a huge army. They went over the location of the pillbox and how the cowgirls would probably position themselves. Finally, they went over the routes they could take.

  “Good. Very solid intel.” Jack was morphing into full commander role. “But how are we gonna handle the security and surprise?”

  Jayla cracked up. “Security and surprise?” Her giggles grew louder as she looked from warrior to warrior wearing winter coat, snow pants, hat, gloves, boots, and . . . lipstick.

  Sam and Charlie started cracking up, too.

  But Jack wouldn’t shift out of commander mode. “Yes, security and surprise. Security is how we’re going to sneak up on them without getting busted. Surprise is how we’re going to catch them unawares so we can shock the snot out of ’em. That’s how we get them: before they get us.”

  He sounded cool, but their laughter, even more than Kerrigan’s taunts, shook his confidence. Was he making a fool of himself? Would any of them follow him?