by Ian Dawson
He watched as James moved around quickly, somewhat in a panic as he searched for Austin who was far better at paintball than he was. James had on sunglasses, a white polo shirt, jeans, and a pair of grey and black Vans. Austin always dressed in black from head to toe. Even the color of his eyes looked like solid pools of darkness.
Austin took aim at the back of James’s head. The kill shot; if it were a real gun, that is. He pulled the trigger and watched with sheer delight as a blue gob of paint splattered all over the back of James’s head, neck, and shirt.
“Damn it, Austin!” James said as he spun around. He dropped his paintball gun to the ground carpeted with dry leaves as he grabbed the back of his head with both hands. “We agreed no head shots.”
“Bull. My field. My rules. And you’re dead.”
“This isn’t fair. You know this field better than I do. I want a rematch.”
James picked up his paintball gun. Austin was on him, his paintball gun aimed directly at James’s face. “I say you’re dead. You gonna be a girl about it, or you gonna deal with it like a man?”
Austin could tell James knew he meant business. Austin had no problem pulling the trigger and teaching James a lesson about winning and losing fairly. James had to learn his place sometimes in their friendship, and that place was wherever Austin wanted him.
“Okay, okay,” James said, holding up his hands and diverting his eyes toward the ground. “You win. I lose.”
“Good. I’m bored. Let’s head back to the house. I wanna show you something.” Austin started walking.
“What is it?”
“A special surprise I picked up for us a few days ago.” Austin smiled to himself as he led James into the garage of his uncle’s isolated, rundown house on a ripped-up asphalt road. It was the only house out there amid a sea of trees, bushes, and rusted barbed-wire fencing. As James flopped down on the nearly shredded brown couch that dominated the center of the garage, Austin opened the door on the white and chrome fridge by the door that led into the house. He pulled out a beer bottle. “Want one?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I’m not your freakin’ maid. Get one yourself.” Austin closed the fridge door, pulled the cap off his beer using his crooked, yellow teeth and spit it onto the oil-stained concrete floor. He leaned against the fridge. James remained seated.
It was cooler in the garage than inside Austin’s uncle’s house, and they preferred sitting with the large metal garage door open. The view from the garage was a line of weathered trees and a chewed-up road that had seen better days.
“What were you gonna show me?” James said, breaking the silence.
“Patience. I’m not sure you’re ready to play with what I have.” Austin took another drink, remembering his adventure three days earlier at Caldwell Park. As much as he wanted to show off his newly acquired prize, he still wasn’t sure he could trust James not to squeal. And that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. Especially after all the hard work he had put into acquiring his new toy.
“I’ve got some firecrackers,” James said as he sat up. “Let’s blow something up.”
Austin smiled at the prospect of playing with firecrackers and nodded in approval toward James. He thought that this might be just the test he was looking for to see if James could handle what he had to show him.
“Check out back,” Austin ordered. James obeyed - as he always did – and headed for the door to the backyard. Austin jumped from the garage floor into the doorway leading into the house, avoiding the two cement steps entirely.
Austin entered the dark hallway that led to his room. He didn’t even need to turn on a light, he knew exactly where his firecrackers and Zippo lighter were. The lighter had been a “gift” from a local smoke shop. It was solid chrome with a red skull on both sides, an image he planned to have tattooed on his arm soon.
It was the school’s fault that he stole the lighter, after all. He reasoned that they were the ones who had expelled him for smoking pot on campus. If it hadn’t been for their zero-tolerance policy, he wouldn’t have been out looking for stuff to do in the first place.
Now with all his free time – like his uncle was going to enforce any rules or make him behave - Austin sat around plotting borderline illegal activities. He liked roping James into his plans, but sometimes he liked to go out on his own and see how far he could get without being caught.
Austin smiled as he left his room with his armload of firecrackers thinking of his most recent solo outing. He had planned out every last detail from the empty leash, the lame story about his dog running away, and even when and where to go to find a victim. He knew he had crossed the line between being tried as a minor and being tried as an adult if he was ever caught. This time, he didn’t care.
Austin returned to the garage with his implements of destruction. James had collected beer bottles, cans, and an old fish tank to use for their little game.
Austin grabbed one of the beer bottles, placed it on the concrete floor of the garage. “In here?” James asked.
“Don’t be a baby,” Austin laughed.
Austin slid the firecracker into the beer bottle and lit its fuse. Out of the corner of his eye he saw James take a step back. What a wuss, he thought.
Sparks, a hissing sound, smoke, and then the beer bottle shattered into hundreds of pieces with a loud pop.
Austin cheered. “Awesome! Give me that wine bottle.”
James complied. Austin lit two firecrackers this time. The same series of events took place, but this time the explosion sounded like a gunshot. The noise echoed inside the garage. Birds in the trees across the street squawked and flew away. The pungent smell of smoke filled Austin’s nostrils. He inhaled deeply, the smell of destruction filling his lungs.
Austin kicked the glass debris out of the way. “We need something better than these stupid bottles.” Austin thought for a moment. “Let’s find a cat!”
“What? Austin, we don’t need to hurt anything.”
“God. Grow some balls! Help me find a cat. We’ll stick it in a box and throw firecrackers at it. It’ll be great.”
“We can probably find a stray out in the field,” James suggested.
Austin looked at him, snorted a laugh. “No. I don’t want this to be just any cat. I want it to be someone’s pet. And I want you to find it and torture it.”
“Why just me? Why not you?”
“Because I need to see if you’re willing to help me with what I have waiting for us in the tunnel.” On that note, Austin exited the garage.
The summer was off to a wonderfully gruesome start, and Austin knew it was only going to get better.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Daniel loved his ten-speed mountain bike just as much as he knew Kyle loved his. Daniel’s was black and yellow (Batman’s colors), and Kyle’s was red and blue (Superman’s colors). Daniel thought it was awesome that they each received them at Christmas the same year when they were twelve – along with helmets that matched their bikes - and had used them every chance they got.
Along with Kyle, Daniel would ride his bike to school, on the Sacramento River Trail, to the Mount Shasta Mall, and to run errands for his parents just to get out of the house.
But with summer here the field was calling Daniel once again. It was in the field that his bike proved its strength and durability since the rough terrain would jostle the tires, chain, and frame day after day. And both his bike and Kyle’s had held up thanks to the time and energy that each had spent maintaining them.
To Daniel’s dismay, the construction site offered no new magazines this year. Only a dozen concrete pipes and a single tractor remained. Daniel checked for their stash under the bridge and surprisingly it was still there. The only problem was that the weather and subsequent dampness had turned the collection into a pulpy mess. It was hardly worth the trouble.
As Danie
l stuffed the pulpy wad back beneath the bridge, he noticed Kyle looking past the construction site down an old gravel and dirt road. He and Kyle had ridden down it several times in the past as a shortcut to get from the field to Rancho Road and back.
“What is it?” Daniel called out.
“That old couch is still down there,” Kyle called back.
Daniel climbed out of the trench and met up with Kyle. Sure enough, there it was: the ugliest couch he had ever seen and a year outside hadn’t made it any prettier. Even from a distance the yellow and green couch looked soiled and unwelcoming. At least to Daniel it did.
“I wonder if it’s a hide-a-bed,” Kyle said.
“I don’t care if it flies,” Daniel said. “I’m not touching it.”
“Oh, come on,” Kyle said. “Wouldn’t it be awesome to have a couch at the hideout this summer instead of those lawn chairs?”
“Yeah,” Daniel agreed. “I just think we could maybe find something that doesn’t look like it was left for dead.”
“Well,” Kyle said. “Maybe it isn’t hideout material.”
“Someone definitely didn’t think it was living room material,” Daniel said as he patted Kyle on the back. “Come on.” Daniel walked back toward the bridge where they had left their bikes.
“Maybe tomorrow we can come back for the couch,” Kyle said as he walked behind Daniel.
“How are we gonna move it?” Daniel asked as he picked up his bike.
“Um,” Kyle said as he walked past Daniel and hopped on his bike. “To the hideout.”
Daniel and Kyle headed off toward the dry creek bed.
At the edge of the creek bed, Daniel skidded to a stop as Kyle skidded up beside him. Both took off their helmets and strapped them to their backpacks. The field was no place for a helmet; it just got in the way, especially when Kyle’s slid forward and he couldn’t get the hair out of his eyes.
“Now, I’ve got one more thing I need to do,” Kyle said as he looked at Daniel.
“What?”
Kyle let out a loud fart. “Man, what was in those hot dogs?” Kyle grabbed his stomach and farted again.
“I don’t know,” Daniel said as he lifted one leg in the air and ripped one. Both of them laughed themselves silly as they each continued to fart until both their gas and laughter dissipated.
Daniel wiped his eyes. “I’m not sure if my eyes are watering from all our laughing or from the smell!”
“Either way, we need to get away from here. I think those plants were alive before we showed up.” The duo laughed once more as Kyle pointed his front tire down the steep pathway that led into the creek bed, stepped on one of the pedals, and coasted down. Daniel prepared to make his way next but paused for a moment.
“What are you waiting for?” Kyle called out.
“Want to make sure the air is clear before I head down after you!” Daniel laughed, and then shot down the incline into the creek bed.
The creek bed was covered in large smooth rocks of all shapes and sizes. Patches of dried and cracked earth appeared in gaps between the stones. Large plumes of weeds grew on the sides of the creek bed along with scraggily old trees with moss covering them along with their crusty bark.
It was next to impossible for Daniel to ride his bike across such unstable terrain. Instead, he and Kyle walked their bikes down the center of the creek bed until they came across their second destination: a smaller incline up the other side.
Daniel pushed his bike up first, followed by Kyle. When they got to the top, they looked across and could still see the tops of fences and houses, street lamps and backyard trees. A little farther and they would be back in their free zone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Past a large gnarled tree and through a path lined with sprigs of dry grass, then up a small hillside, Daniel arrived at his favorite place to hang out in the field. He and Kyle had no name for it, but he knew that it gave him a sense of independence and freedom, and he knew Kyle agreed.
“Looks pretty much the same,” Daniel said as he walked around and surveyed the area. He looked around at the small grouping of trees that were ideal for climbing and sitting in. The previous summer he’d had the idea to dig a large hole that Kyle filled with beach chairs and other items. Daniel had covered it with a piece of thick plywood, and then a pile of dead leaves and branches. The leaves were all either rotted down to a dry pulp or blown away by now.
Kyle lifted the damp piece of plywood. The moisture caused by the rain over the past few months had created a small ecosystem. The hole had become a nesting ground for slugs, beetles, and other insects.
“I guess even if we had put the magazines here they still would have been ruined,” Kyle said.
Daniel put his arm over his friend’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. We have plenty to explore and we may find more. You never know.”
“Let’s hope. Crap!” Kyle blurted out.
“What is it?”
“It’s happening again. At least we’re not at school.” The front of Kyle’s shorts had started to rise. Daniel removed his arm from around his friend’s shoulder and looked away. “Whatever. Come on, let’s unload and get set up.”
Daniel unzipped his backpack. “At least it’s not like at the end of last summer,” Daniel said, a smirk on his face.
“Hey. You promised we would never talk about that.” Kyle unzipped his backpack, then paused. “That was pretty funny, though.”
“Classic Kyle,” Daniel said.
It was a week before school started up again. Daniel and Kyle were beating the heat and humidity by relaxing in their trees out in the field. Kyle had a 2-liter bottle of 7-Up with him and had just polished it off. “Man, I’m gonna have to piss like crazy soon,” he said as he belched so loud, a group of startled black birds flew away from the nearby trees.
Kyle hopped down from his tree and looked at the 2-liter bottle. A curious and mischievous look came across his face.
“Kyle? What are you thinking of doing?” Daniel knew that look and it usually meant Kyle was about to do something he would regret sooner or later.
“I was just thinking...” Kyle began. He unzipped his shorts, turned away from Daniel, and did something with the 2-liter bottle Daniel couldn’t see. “It fits!” Kyle exclaimed.
He turned around and hanging from Kyle’s penis was the empty 2-liter bottle of 7-Up. He stood in front of Daniel proudly with his hands on his hips.
“Wow, that’s great. And really, really weird.” Daniel had witnessed bizarre stunts from Kyle before, but this one was nearing the top of his list. “You can put that back in your pants now.”
Kyle laughed, and went to take the 2-liter bottle off. But for some reason it wouldn’t move. “Oh, shit.” Kyle grabbed the bottle with both hands and tried to yank it off. Nothing.
“Kyle, quit fooling around.”
“I’m not fooling around. It’s stuck.”
“How can it be stuck?”
“Did you see the same video I did? It’s called an erection, and I have one, and it’s stuck inside this bottle!”
Daniel took a moment to process what was going on. He started to smile. “Not the brightest thing you’ve ever done, is it?”
“Just shut up and help me!”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you can pull one way and I can pull the other way –“
“And when I rip your penis off you’ll be so happy you won’t be pissed. Right?”
Kyle considered. “Okay, new plan.” He started to pace back and forth as he thought, the 2-liter bottle bobbing up and down, the plastic scraping against his zipper.
“What if you just stop thinking about it?” Daniel suggested. “If you take your mind off of it, maybe it will relax and the bottle with fall off.”
“You’re a genius. Oh, no. I have to pee.”
&nb
sp; “Well, you can just go in the bottle. Maybe the weight will help pop it off.”
“I’m not gonna piss inside the bottle. What if it fills up and gets on me?”
“Kyle if you pee enough to fill a 2-liter bottle, I will personally call that world records place when we get back.”
“Fine. Okay.” Kyle sat down in his designated lawn chair with the Superman logo on the back. The 2-liter bottle between his legs. “I’m just gonna relax, breathe, and let it fall off on its own.” He closed his eyes. “Just have to think about things that don’t excite me.” There was a brief silence as Kyle breathed in, then exhaled as if he were meditating.
Daniel knew he shouldn’t do it, but he couldn’t resist. He grabbed one of the magazines they had borrowed from the construction site, expanded the centerfold, and turned toward Kyle. “This help any?” he said with a laugh.
Kyle’s eyes bugged out as he looked at the nude woman on display before him, a look of pain on his face. “You asshole! Now it’s even tighter! I’m gonna lose it before I even get to use it!” Both boys looked at each other, their sudden squeals of laughter spooked the birds in the neighboring trees.
After a few minutes, the bottle popped off. Kyle swung around, his back to Daniel as he examined the situation. “I think it’s gonna be okay,” he said with a sigh of relief. “And I’ll be even more okay after this.” He relieved himself on the tree beside his Superman chair. “This is the best piss I’ve ever taken!”
As Daniel helped Kyle sort through the contents of their secret hiding place, the sun started its descent toward late afternoon. Of all the items they had stored away, only the chairs – Daniel’s Batman chair and Kyle’s Superman chair – were salvageable.
“I guess I should have figured that bag of Doritos wouldn’t last,” Kyle said as he held up a dirty bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos by one corner. Slugs were stuck to the bag, and its contents – no longer chips but a gooey orange paste – were leaking from an opening in the bottom. Kyle tossed it back into the hole.
