Little Crew of Butchers

by Francine Pascal

  Without the jacket to hold up his head he has to stretch his neck back and rest his head uncomfortably on the sand.

  “Oh, God, oh please, God, help me.”

  The water has gone and the immediate danger has passed, but nothing has changed. Luke’s still trapped—only now he knows the true danger of his situation. Somebody has to get him out of there before it rains again. That little storm couldn’t have been longer than five minutes. Not even. It was a shower. And yet, another minute of it and he would have drowned.

  Suddenly he is overcome, not just with fear and the pain but with sadness. To add to the shame, he realizes that he’s urinated. Like peeing in a pool with all that water, but still …

  Tears fill Luke’s eyes and overflow from the corners in a line down to his ears. Soft sobs escape him.

  He’s alone and he’s going to die. Like maybe the guy outside the bar will. Then they’ll both be dead, and it doesn’t matter that neither of them deserved it. Sneaky, two deaths in one week posing as accidents. The LA guy’s bashed skull happened fast, but Luke’s is slow motion. And he has no way to stop it.

  It’s over. Everything. Every chance that had been available to him, every chance that he’d never taken. Every effort he’d never made. Always taking the easiest way, the one you never had to work for, or study for. How could he have wasted all those possibilities? And now, it was over. No more chances. There’d never even be a Daisy. Of all the regrets he could have, he’s surprised how much that one hurts, this woman he’d only known for a couple hours. The pain of that imagined loss surprises him.

  The sobs grow louder. Luke hears himself and part of him winces; the sounds are foolish, sounds no man would make. But the trauma of near death and the utter hopelessness of his situation rob him of the energy to stop.

  Luke cries until he collapses into an exhausted sleep.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Luke opens his eyes, looks up, and smiles though the pain. Saved.

  Okay, it isn’t Daisy; it’s a bunch of kids. But they are wonderful, beautiful kids.

  Hold the tragedy.

  “Hey, am I glad to see you guys.”

  They’re standing above him, so close they look ten feet tall. He can’t tell how many they are but it looks like enough to do the job. They’re boys; that helps.

  “First thing you gotta do is get this stuff off me. It’s heavy, but you can do it. I’ll show you. C’mon, a couple of you guys grab the far end of the beam and the rest stay on this side. Okay?”

  No one moves. They just stand, staring down at Luke.

  “It’s simple,” Luke says, pointing with his free left hand. “Listen, you two go down near my feet and …” He points again. “You guys stay up here. Got it?”

  Still no one moves.

  “C’mon, what are you waiting for?”

  The three boys nearest him turn toward a fourth, half-hidden by the beam. Luke twists his head to see who they’re looking at.

  Shit, it’s that fat kid from the store. The little bastard who was throwing stones last night. When he gets out of this mess, Luke’s going to wring his friggin’ little neck.

  “Look,” he tries to screw his face into a pleasant expression. “It’s okay. I’m willing to forget about last night. Just help me get out of here, and we’ll call it a day. Okay, kids?”

  But Larry, the hefty one, bigger by a foot than the others, just shakes his head, no. No one else moves.

  “Look, kids, this isn’t a game. This is serious business. I’m hurt. You gotta help me.”

  “Homeless people are bums,” Larry says.

  “That’s not nice to say, uh, what’s your name?”

  “His name’s Larry,” says the curly red-haired boy standing next to Luke’s head.

  “Larry. Didn’t your mom teach you to respect your elders?”

  “My ma says a bum’ll steal the eyes out of your head. She says you guys steal from poor boxes.”

  “Well,” says Luke, “you tell your ma I never stole anything in my life.”

  “Yeah, right,” Larry laughs, looking around at his cohorts. “What about at Smilers?”

  On signal from their leader, the other kids laugh and nod their heads. “Yeah, right.”

  “Hey, look, I’m not going to argue with you. Just get me out of here—help me free my arm.”

  They all look at Larry. He shakes his head. “Screw your arm.”

  “Kid, listen. People are going to be looking for me. You’re all going to get in big trouble.”

  “Nobody’s looking for you,” Larry says. “Except maybe the police.”

  He laughs at his own joke and the others follow, slapping each other’s shoulders like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.

  “Let me explain this to you, kid … Larry.” Luke speaks in a very calm adult voice, trying to distance himself from the children. “A little while ago it rained. No big deal, right? Just a few drops. Well, I almost drowned. All you need is a quick shower and in two seconds this goddamn sewer is full of water. You get that? I almost drowned. Now stop fooling around and get me out of here.”

  Larry smiles.

  “My pa says we’re in the middle of a drought. It’s not going to rain for a couple weeks.”

  The other boy, Charley, the red-haired one standing near Luke’s head, nods. “That’s what my dad said, too.”

  The two other boys, who are twins who don’t look at all alike, nod vigorously. “Yeah, right.”

  “Okay, maybe your dads are all right, maybe there won’t be any big rain, but all you need is one freak storm and I drown. Understand?”

  “There ain’t gonna be one,” Larry says. “My pa said.”

  “Your pa don’t know beans. What the hell is he, a weatherman? What does he do anyway?”

  “None of your business.”

  “He works for a cesspool company,” Charley says.

  “Shut up, Charley!”

  “I was just saying what he does. I didn’t mean anything,” Charley mumbles apologetically.

  Dennis Duncan leaps in. “It’s none of your business, Charley.” His twin, Benny, nods again, head bobbing idiotically.

  “Oh Christ!” Luke can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Shut up, all of you! I don’t give a shit what his father does. Just get me out of here!”

  “We’ll see,” Larry says.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  A little face ringed with the same curly red hair as Charley pushes through alongside Charley’s legs. It’s a girl, a pretty child, younger than the others. She looks down at Luke and there is something in her large brown eyes that is different from the boys. Confidence, but more than that, a stubborn set to her gaze. Whenever the boys speak they jerk their heads toward Larry. Checking his reaction. But the little girl looks straight at Luke.

  “Everybody knows that when your mommy says, ‘We’ll see,’ she means no.”

  “Mind your own business, Lucy,” Larry says. “Hey, Charley, how come you let your sister talk to bums?”

  “Yeah, Charley!” As always, Dennis is ready to jump on Larry’s side. “Can’t ya tell a homeless when you see one?”

  And Benny follows, adding, “Can’t ya?”

  Lucy gives Benny a disgusted look and disappears behind Charley.

  “First of all,” Luke says, “You’ve got it wrong. I’m not a bum or a homeless person. Look, kids, I wasn’t going to tell you this. I’m really not supposed to …”

  Luke sees that the possibility of a secret has grabbed their attention. He’s on the right track. He’s being Luke. He’s in the bar. Whatever he’s got to say to get out, he’ll say.

  “This has to stay very quiet. What do you say, guys, can I trust you?”

  They all nod, even Larry.

  “Where’s the little girl, uh … Lucy, rig
ht?” Charley grabs his sister and shoves her up front.

  “You too,” Luke says, pointing at Lucy. “You gotta swear.”

  She doesn’t answer. Just stares at him. The stubbornness really shows. But he isn’t going to waste time trying to get her to agree. Even now, Luke isn’t sure what he’s going to say, but it has to be something that will get their respect. Something strong enough to get their obedience.

  Then it comes to him. If he just relaxes, it always does. “You ever hear of the CIA?”

  They snap up, eyes widening, all ears. He has them. Those bars in LA, the bullshit he and his friend, Hank, pulled with the grown men, that was hard stuff. This is like taking candy from a baby.

  “I’m an undercover agent.”

  They actually say, “Wow!” All except Lucy and Larry. But he can see that Larry is buying it. Lucy, he’s not so sure about.

  “I’ve been with the agency for eight years. Normally, I work overseas because I’m fluent in six languages. Haim hors vishon an dis. You know what that is?”

  They all shake their heads.

  “Arabic. My Japanese is very rusty. I haven’t been there in years, but my Russian is perfect. What’s your name, kid?” he says, pointing to the white-haired twin.

  Benny looks at Larry for permission, but Larry just shrugs his shoulders.

  So he tells him, “Benny.”

  “Do you know how to say ‘My name is Benny’ in Russian?”

  Benny shakes his head, no.

  “Goshondi vaco Benja.” Luke gives them two more made-up phrases in no discernible language. They’re all impressed except Lucy, who keeps the impassive look on her face. For some reason, Luke worries that she might know he’s full of shit, but it’s impossible; she’s just a little kid. He goes on.

  “You’ve got some laboratories out here in Shorelane that even the people who live here aren’t aware of. Any place where there’s secret work going on, you have to be very careful. There are spies all around. You know those people who own the bookstore in town?” Yesterday, Luke had passed a bookstore on the way to Smilers.

  “The Ruddermans?” Charley says, genuinely surprised.

  “Yeah, that’s them. That’s why I’m here.”

  “But they’re old,” Benny says, “and they were here when my parents were little kids. They even had the same store.”

  “That’s right. They’ve been eluding us for years. And doing terrible damage. We gotta stop them.”

  “Are you going to kill them?” Charley asks.

  “You can’t ask me that,” Luke says. “In fact, don’t ask me any more questions. I’ve already said too much.”

  “How do we know you’re not the spy?” Larry asks.

  “I just told you.” It’s hard to keep an even tone with Larry; Luke wants to get up and slap him in the face. He’s like every bully Luke has ever known. He remembers Bebrey, whose house he had to pass every day on the way to school when he was little. Bebrey was a mean kid who only hung around with little kids so he could bully them. A lot like Larry.

  “I think you’re the enemy spy,” Larry says. The others begin to nod their heads. “Yeah, maybe he’s even in with the Ruddermans. My pa don’t like them anyway. They’re Jews, ya know.”

  Lucy looks up at her brother. Charley swallows hard and looks away.

  “Hey, Chucko,” Larry says, “I know you’re Jewish, but they’re foreign Jews. That’s different, right?”

  Charley shrugs his shoulders. “I guess …”

  “Jesus, Charley,” Luke says. “You gonna let him say that?”

  “Shut up, spy.” Larry pokes Luke with a branch he’s found on the ground.

  “You better be careful, Larry, you don’t want to mess with the CIA.” Luke pretends not to notice the poke.

  “There’s probably a reward for this guy. Maybe a hundred thousand dollars,” Larry says, poking him again. Harder.

  “Cut it out,” Luke says.

  “Make me, spy,” Larry says, shoving the stick into Luke’s bare foot. He hands the stick to Benny. “Go on, poke his leg.”

  Without hesitation, Benny takes the stick and does as he’s told, sticking it into Luke’s shin hard enough to draw blood. Now Dennis grabs the stick and is about to poke Luke’s leg when Luke shouts, “Stop this! What the hell are you doing?”

  Dennis looks over at Larry who nods his head. And Dennis pokes Luke’s thigh, two, three, four times, cutting thin lines that turn red with blood. Then he hands the stick to Charley.

  Luke looks up at the curly-haired boy and shakes his head, “Don’t do it. You know it’s not right.”

  “You gonna listen to an enemy spy over me?” There’s a threat in Larry’s voice, and even that small edge is enough to convince Charley to do what he’s told. He takes the stick and tentatively touches it to Luke’s arm.

  “What are you doing, tickling him? Give him a good shove. Even if this guy’s not a spy, he’s a bum.” Larry is angry now. “Remember what he did to us in the store?”

  “Don’t do it!” Luke puts as much threat as he can in his voice, but he can’t match the bully’s control. Charley shoves him hard.

  “You little bastard!” Luke grabs Charley’s ankle with his free left hand and holds on tight as Charley screams in terror. Cursing, Larry grabs the stick and begins to beat Luke’s arm while the other boys kick and punch at the trapped man. Lucy has her brother’s arm, struggling to pull him out of Luke’s grasp.

  Then Larry starts to whack at Luke’s face with the stick, long high slashes that sing through the air. The stick bites into Luke’s skin, slicing his forehead, cutting his cheeks, narrowly missing his eyes.

  Instantly, Luke lets go of Charley’s ankle, but Larry doesn’t stop pounding on him, now his chest, now his arms. The other children stare in horrified fascination, stunned, listening to Luke’s screams as Larry, grunting with every swing, loses himself in the beating.

  That’s when Lucy, the only child who hasn’t scrambled back against the wall, tugs hard at Larry’s shirt. It breaks his trance and the bully stops, looking down at the little girl. He twists his arms and holds the stick poised in the air over her head. She stands frozen in terror; quickly, Charley reaches out and grabs her arm, pulling her back away from Larry.

  “Jesus Christ!” Luke’s voice quivers with pain and fright. “What are you doing? You want to kill me?” And then unashamedly pleading: “What’s the matter with you kids? What did I ever do to you? For Christ’s sake …”

  “Told you he was dangerous,” Larry says, struggling to catch his breath and bring control to his shaking body. “If I hadn’t hit him, he would’ve broken Charley’s ankle. He’s a killer.”

  “What are you talking about? I never hurt anyone in my life.”

  Benny is safely away from Luke and can be bold. “Yeah, well, you said you were CIA. They kill, right, Larry?”

  All the boys, including Larry, nod. Lucy just watches.

  “Everybody knows the CIA kills anybody who gets in their way. They probably kill millions of people every day,” Larry sneers.

  Luke makes a last desperate attempt. “I work in the office. I don’t know anything about killing people.”

  But Larry has an answer for that, too. “You tell them who to kill.”

  “I never did.” Realizing he’s facing an argumentative dead end, Luke takes a deep breath and speaks in his most reasonable voice. “Okay. Maybe I wasn’t really in the CIA …”

  “You lied?” Larry sounds shocked.

  “Yeah, I lied. It was just a story I thought you kids would like. I’m a regular guy. I’m only passing though Shorelane on my way to the Hamptons.”

  “See, I told you,” Larry says. “He’s a bum.”

  “I’m not a bum. And anyway, that’s not important now,” Luke says. “What’s important is to get me out. I’m sorry if
I scared you …”

  “I wasn’t scared,” Charley says, “I was just surprised, right, Larry?”

  “Whatever,” Luke says, smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry for taking you by surprise, Charley, but this has been very terrible for me. Can you find something to put under my head? My neck is killing me. It was that cement stuff on the ceiling there. It must have come loose when the train went by. See up there?” He points with his left hand to what was left of the shoring. “See?”

  Luke turns his head to look at the kids. But they’re gone.

  He calls, “Larry! Charley! Kids! Come back! I gotta get out of here. I need water. For Christ’s sake, help!”

  Outside of his echo, there’s no response. The children have disappeared. Surely they’re going for help. Even little shits wouldn’t just let someone die.

  Would they?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The children aren’t far, just outside the sewer entrance, but to the side where Luke can’t see them. They hear him calling, but Larry shakes his head; don’t answer.

  “What are we gonna do?” Charley whispers.

  “We’re gonna do what I say, that’s what.”

  “So what do you say, huh, Lar?” Benny asks.

  “Yeah, what are we gonna do with him?” Dennis is always right behind his twin.

  “So what’d I say?”

  The other kids shrug uncomfortably.

  “Right, assholes, I didn’t say nothing. When I do, you’ll know it.” Larry always seems so smart and controlled, like he knows everything. At least that’s what it looks like to the twins. Charley is just afraid of him.

  “Hey,” Larry calls in a loud whisper to Lucy.

  Charley turns to see his sister dragging a gallon jug of water toward the sewer entrance.

  “Come here.” Angry, Larry motions toward himself.

  She stops, but she doesn’t come toward him. “He said he needed water,” she says.

  “Get that water,” Larry tells Charley. Charley immediately grabs the jug out of Lucy’s hand. She doesn’t fight him. She doesn’t say anything, just lets go.