The Awakening

by McBean, Brett

  “Have you tried whiskey before?” Toby asked Warrick.

  He nodded. “A few times. Takes a long time to get used to it, though. Especially drinking it straight. It goes down easier mixed with Coke.”

  Frankie took a mouthful of the amber liquid. He swallowed and his face pinched, tears rolled down his cheeks. “Hell that’s strong,” he gasped. “Like drinking fire.” He coughed. “Do all whiskies taste like this?” Frankie asked, passing the bottle to Toby.

  “I guess so,” Warrick answered. “I mean, I’m no expert. I’m sure there are some differences, but to amateurs like us, they basically taste the same.”

  Toby held the bottle as if it was some ancient artifact—some strange object of power and beauty, but one containing unknown dangers.

  “That Mr. Daniel’s must’ve had a throat of steel,” Frankie said, grabbing the bottle of Dr. Pepper and gulping some down.

  Toby licked his lips, placed the bottle to his mouth. The smell reminded him of a doctor’s room—only slightly sweeter. There was also a hint of vanilla, similar to the vanilla essence his mom used in baking.

  “Drink up,” Warrick said.

  Toby tipped the bottle up, took a small swill of the alcohol. It wasn’t so bad at first—there was only a mild burning sensation in his mouth. Then he swallowed. It felt like a flame was scorching a path down his throat. His eyes began to water as the hotness spread to his chest. He sputtered and tightened his fists.

  Water! Water! ran over in his mind. He wiped the tears from his eyes with a balled-up fist.

  “Really warms you up, doesn’t it?” Warrick said.

  “Like a bonfire,” Toby said coarsely and coughed some more. He grabbed one of the bottles of Coke to try to douse the fire.

  “Hey Frankie, give me that half empty bottle of Coke,” Warrick said.

  “What are you doing?” Toby asked, still drinking from the other bottle of Coke.

  “Now that you gentlemen have tasted whiskey in its purest form, let’s dilute it so we can actually drink the stuff without feeling like we could piss fire.”

  Warrick twisted the cap off the Coke and carefully poured in the whiskey.

  When the bottle of Coke was almost full, Warrick took the whiskey away, placed it down and screwed the lid back on. He did the same with the Coke, then gave the bottle a quick shake. “I think you guys are gonna like this,” he said. He carefully opened the Coke bottle and when the liquid started overflowing, he put the bottle to his mouth and drank.

  After a few generous gulps, Warrick took the bottle from his lips. “Yummy,” he said. He held the bottle up. “To Toby and Gloria.” He drank some more before handing the bottle to Frankie.

  “To Toby and Gloria,” Frankie said, and then swilled the whiskey and Coke mixture. “Hey, that’s actually pretty good. A hell of a lot better than drinking it straight.” He took another sip then passed the bottle to Toby.

  “To me and Gloria,” Toby said and downed a small mouthful of the beverage. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he liked the concoction. There was hardly any burning, and the syrupy sweetness of the Coke went well with the fiery whiskey. “Not bad,” Toby agreed. “Not bad at all. I could learn to like this.”

  He took another, longer drink, then passed the bottle back to Warrick. It wasn’t long before he felt the effects of the whiskey: his head felt funny, dizzy, almost light-headed and his body started tingling. He laughed for no reason.

  “What’s so funny?” Frankie said.

  “Nothing. I just feel... good.”

  “Don’t we all,” Warrick said as he took another mouthful of Jack Daniel’s and Coke.

  “What we need,” Toby said, “is music.”

  “Yeah, like Foo Fighters. Or that new band, Jeremy’s Mom. They’re cool.”

  “And women,” Warrick added. “Don’t forget the women.”

  “If only we had Gloria, Debbie and Sara Hope in here,” Frankie said, “I’d be in heaven.”

  “Don’t forget Miss Wilson,” Warrick said. “Hey, maybe we should call Dwayne and ask him for her number.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” Toby said to Warrick.

  “Shoot.”

  “Why do you hang around with Dwayne and his gang?”

  Warrick swigged from the spiked Coke. “Because it looks good,” he answered. “People leave me alone. It works out well. I mean, I know why he lets me hang around with him—because I’m good for a joke, a doofus who will do anything for a laugh.”

  “Don’t you care that he uses you like that?” Toby asked.

  “Nah. I’m protected, that’s all I care about. They use me, I use them. Doesn’t mean I like them. Tell you the truth, I can’t stand those idiots. Especially Dwayne.” He stared hard at Toby and Frankie. “You won’t tell anyone what I’m saying, will you?”

  Toby and Frankie shook their heads.

  “Good. I mean, Dwayne actually thinks I like him. Idolizes him for Christ’s sake. But let me tell you, he is one mean son-of-a-bitch. Hates everybody but himself. Even hates Debbie, only keeps her around ‘cos he likes to fuck her. That’s what he told me. I mean, here we are, three guys who would do anything to have somebody like Debbie Mayfour as their girlfriend, and that arrogant prick has her but treats her like shit. World works in funny ways. I tell ya, I would love to meet the guys who water bombed Dwayne’s car. I would shake their fucking hands and kiss their feet.”

  A warm rush of pride ran through Toby. He turned to Frankie, who was staring at him with a wide, expectant gaze. Toby could see how much he wanted to tell Warrick, but the fear of upsetting Toby again was holding him back. But Toby didn’t mind Warrick knowing this bit of information. He nodded, turned back to Warrick. “We’ll take the hand shaking, but not you kissing our feet. That’s just disgusting.”

  At first Warrick just smiled. He must’ve thought Toby was kidding around. But then his eyes grew wide and a look of astonishment almost completely overtook his bony face. “No way! You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

  Toby shook his head. “It was us.”

  “Sure was,” Frankie said. “What do ya think about that?”

  Warrick’s mouth hung open—for once it seemed he was lost for words.

  “We were at Frankie’s shooting some hoops. We heard Dwayne’s car, we already had some water bombs made up, so Frankie got some and hurled them at his Chevy.”

  “Bulls-eye both times,” Frankie said. “Bozos never knew what hit them.”

  “Wow,” Warrick said, having regained the power of speech. “Holy Jesus, guys. I’m fucking amazed.”

  “But you can’t tell anybody,” Toby said. “Not a word. Dwayne would have our balls if he ever found out.”

  “Of course not,” Warrick said. “I ain’t that stupid.” He shook his head. “Man, out of all the people I thought may have done it, I never even suspected you two. You should’ve seen how angry those guys were. Talking about how, when they found out who had done it, they were going to pound them into the ground.”

  “That makes me feel a whole lot better,” Frankie said.

  “Don’t worry, Frankie,” Warrick said. “They won’t find out. Apart from us three, nobody else knows. So as long as none of us blab, they won’t ever know who did it.”

  Toby nodded, feeling good about the whole situation. He grabbed the spiked bottle of Coke and took a drink.

  “Say, you guys wanna know who did all that stuff to Mr. Joseph’s house?”

  “We already know,” Toby said.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, Toby saw it from his bedroom window.”

  “No shit? The whole thing?”

  “Yep,” Toby said.

  “It was great, huh?” Warrick said. “Showed that nigger a thing or two. Taught that freak a lesson. And killing that chicken was pure genius. Don’t suppose you know what Mr. Joseph did with it?”

  “He took the head and body inside.”

  “Wait a minute. You told me that he threw the chicken into
the trash,” Frankie said. “You never said anything about taking it inside with him.”

  Toby shrugged. “I dunno why I told you that, Frankie. Probably so you wouldn’t spread stupid stories about what he had done with the chicken.”

  “Well gee, thanks for lying to me.”

  “It makes you wonder, though,” Warrick said, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Why did he take it inside with him?”

  “Maybe to use in some sacrificial ritual,” Frankie said.

  “Or maybe to have for breakfast,” Warrick said.

  Frankie nodded. “Yeah. Maybe he drank its blood, or even had sex with the corpse.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Toby said.

  Warrick laughed. “Good one, Wilmont. Probably stuck his nigger cock up its neck. Got his rocks off ‘cos he can’t get a woman.”

  “Or maybe he knew that bum was coming, so he wanted to prepare a feast for him—raw chicken head for the main course, chicken entrails for dessert.”

  Warrick laughed. Toby didn’t find it so funny.

  “Speaking of that old bum, Billy Pierce’s dad saw him walking out of town this evening—or at least, he thought it was him. Billy’s dad was driving into town, and he saw someone who looked like the bum hobbling along the side of the road. If it was him, I say good riddance.”

  “Yeah, good riddance,” Frankie said. “Still, I wonder why he came to town. I mean, it’s not like Belford’s a major city. Maybe he fell asleep on the bus from Chicago. He meant to travel only to Indianapolis, but ended up here, instead.”

  “He was probably so drunk he didn’t know where he was. Maybe he stopped here to sober up.”

  “Well then why didn’t he just take the bus to wherever he wanted to go? Why walk? I mean, there’s nothing around here except farmland and more small towns.”

  “Maybe he didn’t leave town; maybe he’s still here,” Warrick said. “Maybe he’s on the run from the law and hiding out in Mr. Joseph’s house. He murdered some kids back in Chicago, butchered them with a carving knife, and now he has to hide out in some small town in the middle of nowhere. And you know how niggers stick together—yeah, I bet that freak Mr. Joseph is hiding him. Or maybe they’re lovers.”

  “You know, you can see Mr. Joseph’s house from up here,” Frankie said. “Maybe we can see something through a window or something.”

  “I’ll go you one better; let’s pay the freak a visit.” Warrick’s face gleamed with mischief. “If he is hiding the bum, we won’t be able to see him from up here.”

  “No way,” Toby said. “I’m happy to stay right here.”

  “Come on,” Warrick said. “It’ll be a blast. We might find out what happened to the chicken, too. Frankie, you’ll come, won’t you?”

  “Count me in.” Frankie pushed himself up off the floor, wobbling as he got to his feet.

  “Come on, Fairchild,” Warrick said, standing up. “We’re going with or without you. But it’ll be pretty damn boring staying here by yourself.” He reached down and snatched the large flashlight from off the floor.

  “What the hell are you going to do if you do see the stranger in there?” Toby said.

  Warrick shrugged. “Who knows? But at least it’ll liven up this little party.”

  Toby had to admit, the thought of sneaking over to the old man’s house did send a shiver of excitement through his slightly inebriated body.

  “Okay,” Toby said, sighing heavily for effect. “I’ll come. But first I need another drink.” He grabbed the bottle of Coke and took a drink. Then he reached over, picked up the second, smaller flashlight and struggled to his feet.

  With Warrick leading the way, the three boys climbed down the ladder.

  “Let’s be quick about this,” Toby whispered once they were all on solid ground. He glanced nervously towards the back door—even though his parents had promised not to disturb them, there was always the chance his mom would pop out to check up on them, using some pretense like seeing if they needed any extra blankets or pillows.

  “Relax,” Warrick said. “This is going to be fun.”

  “Sure, fun,” Toby mused, the sudden need to go to the toilet coinciding with their decision to sneak over to Mr. Joseph’s house. “Wait here,” he told Warrick and Frankie. “I gotta take a leak.”

  Frankie said, “I gotta go, too.”

  Toby sighed and with the flashlight leading the way, the two of them trudged down to a dark patch near some bushes. Toby stopped, clicked off the flashlight, unzipped and eased the pressure from his bladder. He heard Frankie splashing onto the grass nearby. “Hey Frankie, you sure you want to do this?” he whispered.

  “Yeah,” Frankie replied. “Why, you scared?”

  “Course not,” Toby said. “I’m just asking, that’s all.”

  “It’s exciting. I mean, what if we uncover something really cool. Really disgusting.”

  “Like what?” Toby said. “Dead bodies?”

  “Yeah, or evidence of cannibalism or devil worship. Or maybe that bum really is a murderer and hiding out in there.”

  “Jesus, Frankie. Mr. Joseph’s just some weird old man. He’s not a cannibal, and he’s not hiding any murderers.” As Toby’s urination petered out to the occasional spurt, Warrick whispered harshly from behind, “What are you guys doing? Sucking each other’s peckers?”

  Toby zipped his pants.

  When Frankie finished, he sighed, “That’s better.”

  Switching the flashlight back on, Toby and Frankie walked back to where Warrick was waiting, sly grin on his face. “All better, girls? We ready?”

  Toby started forward, but Warrick grabbed him by the shirt. “Hey,” Toby said. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Turn off the flashlight. It’s what, only around nine-thirty? People might still be around. I don’t want to be seen going up to the old man’s house carrying flashlights.” Warrick let go of Toby’s shirt. “We’ll turn them on when we need them.” Warrick started off towards the street.

  Toby glanced at Frankie. Frankie shrugged and together they followed Warrick alongside Toby’s house.

  When they reached the sidewalk, they stopped. Toby looked around the moonlit street. It was empty.

  “Come on,” Warrick whispered, and the three boys crossed Pineview, their footsteps quick. When they reached the other side, they halted again, gave the area another sweep, and satisfied they weren’t being watched, continued towards Mr. Joseph’s.

  They had only taken a few steps when Warrick ducked left, into the front yard of Mr. and Mrs. Openshaw.

  Toby and Frankie stopped. “Warrick?” Toby said. “What are you doing?”

  They watched as Warrick crept alongside the hedge that separated the Openshaws’ property from the Kleins’. Soon he was out of sight. Toby sighed. “Idiot,” he said, and together with Frankie, followed Warrick.

  They trekked down the side of the house, found Warrick in the backyard, crouched by the hedge. Toby and Frankie joined Warrick in the relative darkness, the Openshaw’s two-story stucco looming over them. “This isn’t Mr. Joseph’s,” Toby whispered. “What the hell are we hiding here for?”

  Warrick huffed. “You don’t just walk into the belly of the beast, you moron. You attack it strategically. What, you think we’re just gonna walk up to the old freak’s house, stroll up to the first window we see and look in? Hell, he could be sitting out on his front porch, a shotgun in his lap, just waiting for us. No, we can’t go the front way, we have to go the back.”

  Toby shook his head. “So we’re going to sneak through the Klein’s backyard, into Mr. Joseph’s?”

  “You got it in one.”

  “What if he’s waiting for us in the backyard with a shotgun?” Frankie said.

  Warrick didn’t answer straightaway. “That’s a chance we’re gonna have to take, Wilmont. Hopefully the old fart is out on one of his late-night walks, but we can’t take that chance. So you guys ready?”

  “No,” Toby answered.

  �
��I guess,” Frankie said. “Wait, don’t the Kleins have a dog?”

  “Yeah, a little terrier,” Toby said, getting the feeling that this whole expedition was a bad idea.

  “Last one over is Mr. Joseph’s bitch,” Warrick said and then he leaped over the four-foot high hedge. Once over, he said, “See, easy. Just be careful of sharp twigs.”

  Frankie was next. But instead of bounding over the hedge like Warrick, he opted to step over. In the dim light, Toby could see him fumbling, struggling to get over the hedge. He got his left leg over, stumbled, then his right. Finally, he was on the other side.

  “Come on, Fairchild. Get your ass over here.”

  Toby drew in a shaky breath. He didn’t want to jump over and risk breaking a leg, so he wussed out and like Frankie, stepped over the hedge.

  How the hell did we wind up following Warrick? Toby wondered. First alcohol, then cigarettes, and now a stealth mission through the backyards of my neighbors.

  When Toby planted his feet on the Klein property, Warrick said, “About time.”

  “Yeah, well, you might do this sort of thing all the time, but I’m new to it. So fuck you.” Toby looked around. Aside from a single light glowing through a second-story window, the rest of the Klein house was in darkness.

  As they started across the moon-streaked lawn, nerves tingled up Toby’s spine like there were a thousand tiny spiders scurrying across his back. They were half-way to the fence separating the Klein property from Mr. Joseph’s, when there came a yapping from inside the house. A back porch light flashed on, and then the back door opened. The yapping grew louder.

  “Shit,” Warrick breathed, and the three boys darted forward, over to the far side of the house. Hidden by the wall, surrounded by darkness, they huddled, waiting, not daring to climb the fence for fear of being seen or heard.

  “That’s a good girl,” they heard Mrs. Klein say. “Good girl, Sheeba.”

  Soon the white terrier trotted around to the side of the house where the boys were hiding. The dog stopped and stared at them.

  “Fuck off fur-ball or else we’ll feed you to Mr. Joseph,” Warrick muttered.

  Toby wanted to thump Warrick for talking, but he was too afraid to move.