by Shiloh White
“This is where you guys stay?” I asked, glancing back across the street at the headquarters of endless noise and chaos.
“It was to make a point,” Chug answered, his face lighting up. “In older times around here, people didn't go to clubs and get wasted to lose their minds. A good story could drive you nuts...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Or at least, that's the nonsense Takao spouted. Anyway, we moved around a lot since then, but Mr. Reggie suggested this place again."
I remembered the last time we were here—Takao included—we were escaping from the very club, running down the street as fast as our legs could carry us. Then, at the last moment, Takao bailed out on us all and escaped somewhere else. I guess that meant he ran out on the rest of the Abandoned. What kind of gang leader would pull a coward move like that? I made a mental note that if I ever saw the jerk again, I'd let Chug take a good swing at him.
In the meantime, I wanted to apologize to him. But Chug did that thing where he took all the emotions that sprung out and stuffed them all back in a jar no one could reach, and so I stayed quiet. He walked up a flight of stairs next to the bookstore entrance and we stopped at a door. He knocked on the door twice, and then once.
“You guys have a secret knock?” I asked, grinning a little. (You can judge if you want, but I think that stuff is pretty cool. I mean, do YOU have a secret knock? I didn't think so.)
“Yes, we have a secret knock,” Chug answered, unable to resist my infectious grin. “But it's a secret for a reason. Don't tell anyone—"
CREAK! The door slid open just a crack, revealing a pair of beady eyes and a mop of black curly hair.
“Is that the boss?” the small boy asked.
“It's gonna be a doorknob in your eye if you don't open up,” Chug said. The boy laughed and pushed the door open.
Chug walked through, and I followed him into an empty room with wood flooring. Only, you could barely see it underneath all the scattered rugs and blankets and pillows. There was even a tent. The only actual furniture was an old couch next to a window facing out at the Club Insanis.
Kids were also scattered across the room. One boy sat reading the tattered remains of a book on his pillow over in the corner. A pair of girls—one blond, one brunette—who looked just a little older than Chloe sat on a blanket while the blond one braided the other girl's hair. Over on the couch laid a taller, stocky-built teenage boy complete with chin and armpit hair, just resting with his eyes closed. Couldn't have been older than me. Probably in the same graduating class. Although if that was true, that'd technically make him seven times my age...
The majority of the group were gathered in the middle of the room around a boy no older than Chug, and just as scrawny if not more so. He laid flat on his stomach, his right hand arched out toward a boy laying against him. The boy laying opposite to him looked more like a teenager, wearing a tank top that revealed a pair of well-developed arms. A sly smirk grew onto his face as the young boy stretched out his hand toward him.
“What's going on?” I asked. The two boys gripped each other's hands and the tall one's smirk widened. “Do you guys arm wrestle often?” I turned to Chug for an answer. He shook his head.
“Not usually,” he said. “We do it to settle arguments or come to an agreement.” I looked back at the two boys, clutching the other's hand hard. A girl came up from the circle and demanded a fair fight, with “no poking, rolling over, or cheating of any kind,” then said 'go!'
The fight was over before it began.
The taller boy pushed down, and the younger boy tried all he could to . No matter how much he pushed back, the taller boy's hand came down on him like an unbearable weight. A couple kids cheered, including the girl who started the bout. Some waved black strips of cloth above their head. I realized then that each of the kids, even the ones in their own sections of the room had one of these. Was this their gang's symbol or something?
A couple other kids didn't cheer, including the younger boy just stood or sat in silence at the cold truth that had just happened.
“You lost.” the taller boy said. “Fair and square, so you're taking the next watch shift. No complaining."
“But you're so big,” the younger boy groaned. “I didn't even want to arm wrestle. I wanted rock-paper-scissors. I would have stood a chance in that. This was no fair. No square either."
“Rules are rules,” the taller boy demanded. “We arm wrestle.”
“Chug, are you doing to do something about it?” the small boy next to us whispered.
“They're not going to listen to me,” Chug whispered back. “You know that, Mikey.” Mikey scowled and sat back down on the floor.
“Why wouldn't they listen?” I asked.
“Everyone's adjusting to Takao being gone in their own way,” Chug explained. “Most of them agreed on one or two things, like working for Mr. Reggie and keeping watch over Club Insanis. But the rest is pretty much in flames. They don't accept me as their leader yet."
Just then, the the stocky-built young man got up off the couch. A path in the circle of children opened up for him two arguing children.
“Woodstock,” the taller boy said. “Tell the new kid he lost, so he's gotta go take the next shift.”
All eyes went to the young boy, who looked like a scared mouse trapped in a corner. He looked up at Woodstock like he was trying to find grace. Then he turned to the rest of the kids that had made the circle around him, but they all looked away. Woodstock knelt down next to the young boy and put his large hand on the boy's shoulder.
“Jamie,” Woodstock addressed the boy, “did you agree to this match?"
“I wanted rock-paper-scissors,” Jamie said, pleading his case. Woodstock sighed.
“But did you shake Alfonso's hand?” he asked. Jamie shut his eyes tight, curling his lips in. He looked too scared out of his mind to answer the question. Woodstock repeated the question to the rest of the kids in the circle. They all nodded at him.
Even Mikey, still standing next to us said, “Yeah. I saw him do it. Real shame, too.” Woodstock nodded slowly.
“Sorry, Jamie That means you have to take the next shift.”
“Ha,” Alfonso chortled. “Told ya, new kid.”
It looked like it took everything on Jamie's face not to burst into tears. Small streams of clear liquid were slowly dripping out of the corners of his eyes and nose. He sniffed it back up, trying to act tough, and nodded. He went to a rug near the corner of the room—his spot, and grabbed an aviator jacket, complete with white fleece on the inside.
“That's how it normally works, at least.” Woodstock said. “You can put the jacket back, Jamie.”
Jamie, looking real confused now, took the jacket off and set it back down, awaiting more instructions.
“We're an endangered species right now.” Woodstock paced around the circle, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear now. “You all know what that means?”
The 'fair fight' girl shook her head.
Woodstock pointed to her and said, “It means someone out there wants us all gone, nina. And they're not doing too bad of a job. You remember half of us aren't here, right?” The girl nodded.
“Good...” Woodstock walked across the circle, and before Alfonso knew what was happening, he got scooped up by back of the neck and paraded over to the little girl. “This idiot must not realize that, because he thinks sending out the new kid is a great idea for our next shift on the Zone Holder's base.
“If you ask me,” Chug said, “it's a surefire way to get him kidnapped.”
A couple of the kids agreed, which probably didn't help Jamie's self-esteem. Woodstock craned Alfonso's neck to look at the boy himself.
“It's also a great way to get all of us found out. So if you want a safe place to come back to, get your butt out there and pull your own weight. Or you're out. Comprende?”
Alfonso nodded, eyes wide.
Woodstock dropped him, and he scurried to get his own things prepared. Everyone in the c
enter of the room looked frozen—maybe a little scared—but when Woodstock waved his hand, they all dispersed to their own corners and areas. Woodstock went back to the couch.
“That's Woodstock,” Chug said proudly. “He's one of the longest-standing members of the Abandoned, and he's the best Zone-Hopper we have. Come on."
✽✽✽
Chug dragged me across the room to where the tan and stocky teen was climbing back onto the sofa.
I wanted to tell him I could've walked by myself, but Chug's eagerness moved faster than I did, and then we were standing in front of him. (By the way, he was a little more intimidating up close.)
“Yo, Woodstock,” Chug said.
“Yo, ese,” Woodstock answered, pulling his feet up onto the couch. “I see you didn't die out there. That's good.” Then Woodstock pointed at me, and his face grew serious. “Who's this in the enemy get-up? Why'd you let her walk right in here?”
“Oh, come on,” Chug said. “This is Lucy—half the reason I left in the first place, remember?”
Woodstock cracked the smallest of smiles. Then it just as quickly disappeared.
“I figured,” Woodstock said. “I mean, if there was any real danger, I wouldn't be laying around."
“Well, that's where you're wrong. We need your help. Tell 'im, Luce."
“Me?” I asked, caught off-guard. Chug nodded. Woodstock looked at me expectantly. With a bit of stammering and tripping over my words, I managed to explain to Woodstock the reason we needed him; the Zone-Hopping, my field trip—the whole nine yards. I also mentioned Bartholomew Stark, but when Chug gave me a sharp look, I spared the parts about how badly he beat us. Honestly, I didn't really want to tell him about how that guy slapped aside my Handle like it was nothing. That thought still sent me reeling.
After I finished, Woodstock swung his feet off the couch, and folded his arms. “That's quite the cause,” he sighed. “When do we need to leave?”
“An hour ago,” Chug quipped. “Who's on shift right now?"
“Rodrigo is.” Woodstock answered, and then turned to scrawny Mikey, who placed himself at the window next to the couch with a pair of binoculars. “Mikey, when's Rodrigo's shift over?"
Mikey turned away from the window to face us, the binoculars still on his face. Then he removed them and flashed him a cheesy grin.
“He should be coming out right aboooout...now!” Mikey shouted, turning back to the window. We all turned and looked with him. As I put my face to the window and it leeched the heat from my face, I watched a young figure in black clothing leave the Club Insanis, slowly walking down the sidewalk with his head on a swivel.
“Told you guys!” Mikey cheered, his voice muffled from being pressed against the window. “Right on time.”
So that boy down there was Rodrigo. He must have been trying to avoid attention rather than walk directly across the street, since he continued down the sidewalk past the Abandoned bookstore.
While Rodrigo walked down the street, I turned back to see Club Insanis and had an aha! moment. Two and two came together all on their own to make four, right then and there. (I love when that happens, don't you?)
“He chose this building for you guys so you could keep a close eye on Damian,” I blurted out, my voice half-muffled like Mikey's.
All three of the boys looked at me in confusion.
“What?” Mikey asked. I pulled back from the window, ready to repeat it. Chug must have recalled our conversation, because he slowly nodded like I’d helped him crack a code. Then we turned back to the window, looking down at Rodrigo.
“It's true,” Chug said, “we're his eyes and ears up here. If anything were to—” He froze mid-sentence. The rest of us just froze.
Turns out, we didn’t need binoculars to see the young boy Rodrigo get snatched off the sidewalk and into an alley.
15. They’re Way Better At Smuggling
The next sound to come from one of us at the window was a voice yelling, “Wait!” followed by a pair of footsteps bolting out of the hideout.
The voice came from Woodstock. The footsteps were Chug's, and he was gone in seconds despite the warning.
Woodstock shook his head and muttered something about 'that kid,' and then grabbed Mikey's shoulders.
“Don't send anyone else out for recon,” he instructed. “Tell everyone to lie low—even Alfonso.” Mikey nodded receptively. Woodstock started for the hideout door, but stopped when he noticed I was frozen at the window. My mind kept replaying the scene of that boy disappearing.
“We can't let Chug get captured too!” he shouted, pulling me out of my head. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah,” I said, “Let's go."
I ran across the room and followed him out the door.
We ran down the steps of the bookstore and Woodstock paused to look for Chug. I scanned the area too, searching for any black outline that was moving around in the darkness of night.
“There!” I pointed, near a streetlight that was right next to the alley Rodrigo disappeared down. Chug was nothing but a speeding shadow, barely visible for a moment underneath the streetlight before he vanished around the corner. Woodstock ran across the street, also at a fast speed. I had to book it just to keep up. (And no, that was not a pun. No connection to the bookstore we came out of. I suck at puns and it's just not the time, okay?)
The alley snaked right for a short stretch, and then straight forward again. It created a corner to hide behind. Chug was already leaning at the very edge of it. As we drew close, he waved his hand at us: signaling for us to be quiet. He must have been talking about body language since no one was talking. I didn't have much experience regulating my breathing, but I tried my best not to pant for air so we wouldn't be noticed. Then we joined him at the corner of the wall.
“The kidnapper's right over on the other side,” he whispered, “and I swear I recognize his voice...” Woodstock raised an eyebrow. Chug shook his head and continued. “Anyway, he's not alone. I hear a second voice over there too."
Just then, we heard the second voice speak:
“We could've done this at my facility, you know. Much better security. Much less...filth.” A woman. She spoke with a bit of dignified poise, like a black-and-white actress, mixed with a strange accent. Sorta like the evil lady from that Dalmatian movie, if she was Hispanic.
“We're gonna spend plenty of time at your school,” the first kidnapper said, “assuming this last one finally covers my entry fee to your little game.”
This last one, he'd said. They were talking about Rodrigo. I clenched my fists. How could anyone do something like that? “Last one” meant he must be the one who took the other Abandoned. Chug rumbled with anger next to me. I knew I could keep myself from turning the corner, but I wondered about him.
The woman scoffed. “Thirteen is a small price to pay for the conditions you asked for. Even smaller, considering you'll be on the winning side of the coming war."
“Coming war?” I whispered. “What the heck is she—"
“Shh!” Chug whispered as loud as he could, shoving a hand at my mouth. “That guy's voice,” he said slowly, “It sounds like...Takao."
“That's crazy, ese,” Woodstock whispered to Chug. “You're hearing things. Now, silencio."
“Do I need to remind you,” the guy continued, “that without me, your war wouldn't exist? My info is invaluable, and all I want in exchange is ensured safety. My last gig didn't have that. Regardless of the thirteen, the rest of what I have to tell you should more than cover that cost—"
“It is Takao,” Chug interrupted, “and we did stay safe. He's the one who ran out on us."
“Takao or not, be quiet, ese,” Woodstock ordered. “We can't get any info if you don't control your voice.” Chug scowled, but said nothing more.
“The only reason I've even accepted your knowledge is I know your source, and he won't give me the information himself.” the woman said. “But, if you're as reliable as he says, then safety shouldn't be a problem.
You'll be taken care of. I'll put you in charge of all the units. Even the promising Depression Force Officer.”
I felt like the woman had gut-punched my lungs and snatched all the air right out. I exchanged a look with the boys. “Did she just say—” they both nodded quickly, reminding me to stay quiet. I bit my tongue to keep from saying his name. Or lashing out. Who knows?
“I'm not sure how promising they'll be,” Takao answered, “since a good portion of them came from my old ranks."
“Oh, that's it,” Chug said, his voice rancid with anger. “I'm gonna go give him a piece of my mind.” He tried to run out from behind the corner, but Woodstock pulled him back. He then proceeded to call Chug an idiot, among other obscenities in Spanish. Or at least, that's what I figured they were. The 'idiot' one was the only one I recognized.
After the initial shock of Chug possibly blowing our cover wore off, I realized Woodstock's shouting had done the same thing. I tried to shush Woodstock, but it was too late.
“There's someone over there,” Takao says. I reached down and cupped each of my hands over the boys' mouths.
“I knew I shouldn't have agreed to this filthy location,” the woman snapped. “Let's go. We can finish this on Academy grounds.”
“NO!” Chug yelled.
There was a whoosh of sound from around the corner, and Chug squirmed free from Woodstock and me. He ran out into the open alleyway, leaving us to dash after him for backup.
“You traitor! You better run!” Chug screamed. I passed the corner just in time to see Rodrigo being dragged through a ripple of gray, like someone opened a zipper in the fabric of the universe. (Dust-iverse?) I gazed down at his open eyes the second before he disappeared. His vacant stare chilled me to the bone as he was pulled out of view, leaving the boys and I standing alone in a dark and musty dead-end alleyway.
16. We Go Looking For Homeless People
None of us said anything until the moment the hideout door slammed behind us.
