by Carey Lewis
“You are a Bopper.”
“We just joined. Wouldn’t have if I known they’d do this.”
Lex looked to the side, saw Cyrus being carried on a stretcher into a room, the door closing behind them. He didn’t see Cyrus move.
He looked back up to Mesiah, “he going to make it?”
“You say the Boppers did it. You are a Bopper. Therefore, you are responsible.”
“Just recently. I run a group called the Outcasts.”
“Zax runs the Outcasts.”
“Zax was murdered, why we joined the Boppers. We needed protection.”
“The Boppers are not a group to offer protection.”
“It’s what Cyrus said. Says he’s making moves, moving on up, wants to take us on so he can branch out. That’s why the other one killed him I think.”
“Which one?”
“The one with big hair, look, can you untie me and we’ll talk about this?”
Mesiah lit his cigar sized joint, let out a stream of smoke and said “no. You’re speaking fine from there.”
“Cyrus tells us to join, says he’s got ideas. Starts confiding in me all these plans he’s got to get me to join. I say I’m not sure. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got Zax killed to get us scared and run with him. The one, he comes up and tells me to be careful, says he’s Cyrus’s number two and I should watch myself.”
“Which one was this?”
“Cleo? Cling-on? Something like that. Cyrus tells me not to trust him, says he’s trying to take over the Boppers.”
“Cyrus says this?”
“You can ask him when he wakes up. The other guy must’ve found out Cyrus was grooming me for his number two, must’ve set the guy off.”
“Yet, you just joined his gang.”
“I’m not proud of this.” Lex took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Cyrus and me been meeting for awhile. He’s been trying to get me to go over for months. It was during that time he was grooming me, telling me he wants me to step in for the Boppers when it’s time he moves on. When Zax got murdered, I thought it was the best thing.”
Boon looked up to Mesiah on the throne. Or at least Lex thought he did, it was hard to tell where they looked wearing sunglasses.
“I went behind Zax back. Okay? It’s not something you do and I’m ashamed of it,” Lex lowered his head to get sympathy, he hoped. “I’d like to make sure my people are okay.”
Baptist came out of the room that contained Cyrus. His arms and white apron covered in blood. The cue cards Cyrus had dripped blood on the floor from Baptist’s hand. The three of them, Lex, Mesiah, and Boon, all looked over at him and he shook his head.
“Looks like you have the Boppers,” Mesiah said.
“No. I’m starting the Outcasts again. First order of business, take out the Boppers.” Lex stood up. “Now if you don’t mind?”
Mesiah nodded to Boon who walked behind Lex and cut his ties.
“When I’m done with this, maybe we can talk about me taking over what Cyrus was going to do for you.”
CHAPTER NINE
“The leader is murdered and then they go to a costume party. That make sense to you?” The Boss asked Cowboy when he hung up the phone. The Boss poured a shot of bourbon, brought it over to Cowboy and placed it in front of him.
“This kid, killed in his own bed, it brings Jamal to my door. He thinks it was another kid in the gang and then this gang goes and joins Cyrus. Maybe the new kid, he knows Cyrus is moving up decides to join. That part makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is why Cyrus would take him knowing what he had planned with the Black Knights.”
“Cyrus wants the foot soldiers. Replace your people,” Cowboy said, downing back the shot.
“Take the bottle.”
Cowboy stood up, went across the room and brought back the bottle of Wild Turkey. The Boss said, “that makes sense.”
Cowboy decided to sip his drink this time instead of slamming it down.
The Boss had a thought, “gangs dress stupid where you come from?”
“Don’t matter much where I go, everyone dresses stupid.”
“What if it’s not a costume party but a gang meeting, everyone summoned by the Black Knights—” The Boss was interrupted by his phone ringing. He answered.
“Slow down, who’s been shot?”
“Cyrus,” Bulldog said.
“Is he dead?”
“Not sure.”
“Can you find out?”
“Everyone’s going crazy here. Word’s getting around about hunting down the Boppers, saying they did it. It’s a giant fight.”
“Bulldog?”
“Cops are here, got to go,” and the line went dead.
“Cyrus was shot,” The Boss said.
“Is he dead?”
“You mind making sure? You find any of the Boppers bring them to me,” The Boss thought they might hold the answer.
“What do they look like?”
“Big hair and stupid. Probably ditched the plaid if they had brains to them. Don’t count on it though.”
One murder already brought a cop to his door. Another shooting would just bring more and if this got any more out of hand, The Boss would be circling the drain with the rest of them.
If Cyrus was alive, that was a world of problems. Cops would be on him, trying to get him to turn, offering witness protection and the like. With the mess Cyrus made, he was better to The Boss dead.
Cyrus got shot because he’s stupid, because of his blind ambition. Now, The Boss faced the cops finding out about his partnership and they would shut him down, or the Black Knights would find out, and they’d take over.
The risk had gone on long enough. It was time to put an end to it.
“Actually, Cowboy? See if you can find the Black Knights for me too.”
The problem was, they didn’t know where Sugar Park was. Well, that wasn’t the only problem, but it was the problem that got them here; this desolate area of an abandoned town. The windows on the buildings were boarded up, the cars were stripped for parts. It seemed like the paint even tried to make a break for it, peeling off of everything like it was.
So now Catharine was on the side of the road, smoking a cigarette, wearing the black tank top and short white skirt she didn’t want to wear, while these goofs were trying to work a map app on their phone. Even Catharine could tell you that you wouldn’t find Sugar Park on a map. It wasn’t actually called Sugar Park, the dummies.
Sugar Park was actually Regal Park and was named that after a sugar plant burned down on the property in the forties or fifties, causing the melted sugar to be permanently scarred into the soil, thank you very much. Rather than just build the factory up again, it was made into a park to hold concerts or any big event. When that area of town went to shit, thanks to a car manufacturing plant going out of business in the nineties, the park was all but abandoned, much like this entire area.
Catharine held onto all this information and decided to not give it to this group of idiots that drank protein shakes and called each other ‘bro.’ They were called the 905’s and were named, get this, Chad, Tad, Brad, Fred, Trent, Brody, and Blake. The gang of douche is what Catharine called them in her head, this wannabe gang that was the fat girl that never got called to the party but dressed up anyway.
“Bro, give me the phone.”
“I’ll find it, fam.”
“Dude, chill, I got it bro.”
Are you serious?
She looked at these idiots gathered around the Nissan and VW Golf their parents bought them, she actually saw two of them mixing a protein drink. Which two, she couldn’t tell you, she only knew Chad, the leader, and Tad, the second in command. Chad and Tad. Yep.
“All my little confused doo-wops out there, your lady Asteria’s got something very special to tell you, like it come down from above. There’s a very special guest tonight, ones we are all dying to see come to light. You will know these special guests, babies, because they’re bopping around thinking everything
be plaid in sight.
“For those special runners, I got here a track you might like. Now go on, get your peepers out while Asteria soothes your ears with Martha Reeves and the Vendellas telling you there’s nowhere to run.”
The drums kicked in from the radio in the Nissan, then the horns, then the voice singing ‘nowhere to run…’
“What’s that bro? What’d she mean?” Fred asked.
“Think someone’s on the run dude,” Tad answered.
“Brody, bro, find the fucking place, we’re missing everything,” and Fred pushed the guy on the phone, causing him to drop it.
“I’m fucking trying fam.”
“Saint Catharine, you hearing this?” Fred asked her. He still couldn’t drop the ‘saint’ from her name. “What’d that bitch say?”
Fred looked over at Catharine, smoking her cigarette, looking down the street. Fred turned to see what she was looking at - the three dirty guys with big hair wearing plaid making their way toward them.
It was the one in the middle that caught her eye, seemed to be half Asian. There was something about the way he was consoling the other one, not that she could hear him, just the body language telling her something. She was attracted to it.
“Yo. Yo, why they looking for you fam?” Fred called out. Catharine was impressed he pulled together Asteria saying plaid on the radio and seeing these guys wearing plaid.
“What?”
“Asteria says on the radio they’re looking for you fam.”
Now all the guys were coming toward the ones in plaid, trying to show how tough they were. Catharine followed with enough distance not to get involved.
“I’m Cochise. Who’s fam?”
“You getting smart on me bro?”
“Yo, Saint Catharine, you know these fools?” Chad asked her.
“I do,” she said, smiling.
Chad put his arms out, waiting for her to say more. She didn’t.
Then she saw the one that said his name was Cochise look at her. He said “hi,” like the words escaped him.
Chad saw it, the look. Catharine wondered if it was that noticeable, but apparently it was because the next thing Chad did was push Cochise, saying “you making a move on my girl bro?”
The other bros took a step forward, all looking to fight. Catharine didn’t think they even knew how, mainly because the two didn’t even put down their protein drinks.
The one that was being consoled, Cleon, he started to laugh. It gave pause to the bros.
“What’s so funny?”
“You remind me of those dummies set up at Old Navy,” and then the other two started laughing. “You supposed to be a gang?”
“We’re the nine oh five bitch.”
And that just made them laugh even harder. Catharine wasn’t the only one that saw it, these guys playing dress up in American Eagle or The Gap, playing make believe. Catharine started laughing too.
Chad took a step forward, about to take a swing when Cleon stood up straight, completely serious and said, “you don’t want to do that.” Had a finger up like he was scolding a child. And then he doubled over laughing again.
It was all Chad could take because he raised his fist into the air to hit Cleon. Instead he got a lead pipe to the face that dropped him. Then Ajax was quickly on top of Tad, hit him with the pipe too.
She watched as Cleon used the distraction to move over to the Golf, the other four bros making a circle around the guy with the pipe. For God sakes, they still had their protein shakes in their hands.
It was during this time Catharine was surprised when Cochise was in front of her, his hand stuck out for her to shake.
“Hi, I’m Cochise.”
Confused, she took his hand, “Catharine,” and he smiled at her. A big genuine one like he was actually happy she took his hand. She couldn’t help but offer the same smile back.
They turned when the Golf’s engine started and Cleon was honking the horn. The bros turned to look as Cleon put the car in ‘drive,’ and let it coast down the street. They chased it and Cleon was on the ground, laughing harder than he had ever laughed before.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Cochise said to her and then waited for her answer. He wouldn’t move until she said something.
“I won’t.”
And then Cochise ran over to the Nissan, opened the door, “we taking this one?”
“No, make it go the other way,” Cleon said, laughing even harder which Catharine didn’t think possible.
Cochise started the car, spun it around and let it glide down the street in the opposite direction. He ran up to Catharine, said “thanks for waiting.”
Oh shit, she thought.
Lex got thrown into the mud, not something he cared for, before they took off the mask and he found out he was back at the park. When he looked up he saw two of the Black Knights, Baptist, the one that was looking in on Cyrus, and another one he thought was called Noah, carrying Cyrus out from the van on a stretcher. He didn’t even know Cyrus was in there with him.
“Isn’t he dead?” Lex asked.
The two didn’t look at him, just carried Cyrus up to the rock pile and placed him down gently. He thought of waiting until they left, go up there and make sure the job was finished, but then he heard the sirens. He wouldn’t have time, other things to do.
So he went back to the park where the giant brawl took place, most of the gangs gone now, but some of them still fighting. He wondered where the fires came from. In the middle of a giant fight, someone took the time to light fires.
He saw Max and Rex, standing there. Literally just standing there over a pile of bodies writhing around in pain.
“Why you guys still here?”
“Waiting on you,” Rex said.
So Lex took them out of the park, hearing the sirens close in, try to figure out what happened.
“They got away,” Max said.
They were trudging through the bush now, the same direction they said the Boppers went. It was slow going with Max’s giant feet getting sucked down in the mud with every couple steps.
“Just leave the fucking shoe.”
“This was eighty-nine ninety-five on sale.”
So they waited every time Max got his foot stuck. Waited for him to pry his foot free, then bend over and dig for his shoe in the mud, then waited for him to balance himself putting it back on.
“Just carry the fucking things.”
“Then I’m barefoot.”
So it was a slow journey, battling the mud and thorns in the dark. They were exhausted when they got to the hill, climbed up and found themselves on train tracks.
“Which way? Lex asked them.
They both shrugged, “We said they went this way. We didn’t follow them, we waited for you,” Rex said.
“You get my gun?” Lex asked.
“Didn’t know you had a gun.”
“Who do you think shot Cyrus?”
They shrugged again.
“You shot Cyrus?” Rex asked, finally getting it.
“Why do you think I told you to grab them before Cyrus got shot? What do you think that meant?”
Again, they shrugged.
“You didn’t think about that?”
“It was so we could take over Cyrus’s gang, stupid,” Rex said to Max. Then to Lex, “he dead?”
“Thought he was but they brought him back, put him down where I shot him.”
“Want us to go back?” Max asked, holding his shoe.
“We have to find Dax, take care of him. You see where he went?”
They looked at each other and shrugged.
“Lady on the radio says Mesiah wants the Boppers brought in,” Rex said, “why we think they did it.”
“That’s what we want everyone to keep thinking, why we got to find Dax. He saw me plug Cyrus.”
“The Bopper who didn’t say much? He’s dead. We saw him.”
“We’re going to my old man’s place, get strapped, then we find Dax.”
Lex started walking down the tracks followed by Rex.
“I got to put my shoe on,” Max called after them. He sat down on the train tracks and started scooping the mud out of his shoe.
“You’re actually whiter than the white I thought you’d be,” Ritchie said to Jamal, shaking his hand.
“I didn’t believe you when you described it to me,” Jamal said, looking around. They were in the middle of Regal Park, Ritchie telling him the gangs and kids called it Sugar Park, then told him about the sugar factory that burned down.
Jamal looked at the few remaining people that were here in costume, Ritchie telling him they were gang members, pointing them out as they walked to the stone structure. Pointing at the Henley Hard Hitters, the Cyber Punks, Band of the Hand, the Dalhousie Delinquents. These people looked like idiots, still trying to fight with the cops here taking them back to the squad cars.
Jamal saw some of them escaping into the darkness, into the bush, running off into the night.
“We just let them go, the ones aren’t doing much,” Ritchie said. “This one over here, smoking pot?” Ritchie pointed at what looked like a Native war-chief. “His name’s Navajo. We ask him what he’s doing, he looks at us, smoking his pipe like we don’t know it’s full of weed. We ask him again, say ‘chief, what the fuck you doing here?’ He says some shit about the eyes of an eagle, the earth of a snake, cunning of a fox. You know what they call themselves, that gang?”
Jamal shook his head.
“Gravy Train. You believe that? They all dress like cowboys and Indians, give themselves names like Cherokee, Cheyenne, Chippewa, then go and call themselves Gravy Train. Like they couldn’t decide which tribe to be called, decided to give themselves the name of whatever they wanted for the gang.”
“You taking him in?”
“Him? Nah, he’s just standing like an asshole, not doing much. You’d think their rival would be a gang called the Lincoln Regulators, the gang they made the Young Guns movie out of? But no, they seem to get along pretty well.”
They started climbing the rocks, coming to the top to see Cyrus laying on his back.
“This is why I called you.”
“He alive?” Jamal asked, crouching down to look at him.
