Fallen Angels

by Warren DeBary

  Just then my father focused just slightly past me and his lips pursed. It wasn’t enough that anyone else would have seen, but with all the facial observation techniques we’d worked on over the years, I knew my father’s face like a map. He was lying to me. Not a huge lie, but I knew he was hiding something.

  He must have noticed because he scowled and turned away. The phone started ringing again.

  “Go get ready. But wait for me, I’ll drop you off at school. He tousled my hair. “Make sure you wait,” he said as he picked up the phone receiver and waved me away.

  I was dumbfounded as I walked back to my room. I was going to be staying with an Aunt I didn’t even know I had for the summer? Who was this Aunt and why didn’t my mother get along with her? Why did she pop up all of a sudden and why hadn’t I heard of her before. You would think someone would have told me?

  Dad always had his secrets. It was all being part of some super secret military operation that forced him to go all over the world at a moments notice, but this wasn’t that. This was family, something he should have told me about.

  I grabbed my book bag and my Walkman, loading up the G&R tape and pressing play as I stashed it into the bag’s open side pocket. Firmly putting my headphones on, I headed to the door. I cranked up the sound of Paradise City and grabbed my skateboard from its usual spot still wondering what the hell I was going to do with relatives I knew nothing about. He told me to wait for him, but I wanted some time to think for myself. I dropped my board on the driveway asphalt and took off toward school.

  Chapter 2 – Dominick

  I took the long way, making my way out the back gate. The vibration of the skateboard wheels against the smooth asphalt felt good under my feet as the lyrics to Rocket Queen kept time to the bumps in the pavement. I came up on the gate and the sound of the skateboard must have alerted the Base MP to my presence. I slid one earphone off as the guard waved me through.

  “Last day, Matt?” Officer Ricardo called out.

  “Yes sir,” I said, waving back at the guard as I leaned my board into the turn, picking up speed as I rolled down the slope toward the main road. Cars criss-crossed the highway and I slipped past them, just missing a Mazda GLC that swerved pass me. I had considered the Mazda when thinking about what car to buy but was in love with the Honda Civic myself. I liked the hatchback but thought the four-door would look cool with a surf rack, especially with titanium-tinted windows. But that would just have to wait until I got back. I didn’t even really know what to think about staying with this mystery Aunt. I hope she was cool. It would really suck to stay with someone who was an asshole.

  It was early, so I thought I’d go see Mr. Ching. He ran a Chinese restaurant that I’d been eating at since we first moved here. The breakfast special was greasy but it was only a buck ninety-nine and since I only had two dollars in my bag and a couple of quarters, that was what it was going to be. The quarters I’d save for the Pac-Man game Mr. Ching kept in his lobby. Maybe I’d buy an almond cookie as well.

  Easiest way to get there was down the canal and into the sewer tunnels that would take me right under the freeway. That would save me at least twenty minutes. I headed in that direction and thought about California and where I’d be going. I didn’t know exactly where this Suisun Valley was, but I knew San Francisco. Dad and I went there once for one of his conferences. I remembered the red of the Golden Gate Bridge, the smell of the water and the fog. It was freezing cold the whole time. I remembered that because I’d only brought a windbreaker and the cold, wet fog cut through me like an icicle.

  I popped my skateboard over the curb in an Ollie and landed on the gravel, almost spilling onto the sidewalk but kept my balance with a push against the chain link fence separating the canal from the pavement. I swerved and almost collided with a giant of a man blocking the way.

  The guy looked homeless which wasn’t all that unusual around here, but this guy was noticeable. He was weird, like strange weird, standing what must have been almost seven feet tall. I’d never seen anyone that tall before. He would have stood out in an NBA game he was so big. His clothes were strange too; long purplish trench coat over a light lavender summer suit and a white silk shirt with a gold tie. Tattered dark slacks over scuffed black dress shoes, most of his clothing looking like they’d seen better days.

  Salt and pepper dreadlocks blocked most of his dark face but I could see his eyes, the strangest set of eyes I’d ever seen. Golden, not light brown nor yellow, but golden like the pendant I wore around my neck. His eyes caught the light of the morning sun and sparkled like faceted jewels. I also noticed he was glaring right at me, his mouth moving in words I couldn’t hear.

  I took off my headphones. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I said, boy, do you have no sense at all. Where the hell is your father?” He snarled. His accent so thick I had hard time understanding him. He sounded like one of dad’s men from New Orleans. Louisiana patois I think he called it. This guy must be from there. That would explain his light eyes and dark skin. He must be a creole, part African and Caucasian ancestry.

  “Do you hear me boy, or are you simple minded?”

  “Sorry sir, I’m just trying to get to school.”

  “Boy don't have any sense. Thought you were being trained. You’re father should have brought you to me a long time ago. But he gonna do what he gonna do I guess.”

  At that point, I was totally confused. “You know my father?” He just glared at me.

  “Yeah boy, I know your dad. Didn’t he tell you they coming for you. So you better get going. Only safe place is here but you’re there so no help for that. Just get to me fast and for heaven’s sake keep yourself safe. A lot be riding on you.”

  Just then someone shouted my name. I turned to see my friend, Dominick, running in my direction. He was huffing and puffing like he’d run a long way.

  I glanced back toward the large, black man but he was gone. Just disappeared into thin air.

  “Matt!” Dominick called. He was out of breath, perspiration streaming from his face but I barely noticed that as I was twisting around looking for the missing giant. I glanced into the canal thinking maybe he had slid down the bank.

  Dominick peered at me as he caught his breath, looking over my shoulder and down into the canal as well. “Uh, what you doing there, Matt? You feeling alright?”

  “Did you see that guy?” I asked.

  “What guy?”

  “The guy? He was huge! You didn’t see him, all in purple?” I demanded as I poked my head through the hole in the fence. “He couldn’t have just disappeared.”

  “Guy dressed in purple huh? You been listening to that Prince tape again?”

  “Ummmm, never mind,” I responded. I didn’t know where that guy went but it sure was strange.

  “Yeah, well, I don't know about any purple guy but I did see your Pops. He was pissed. Said he was supposed to take you to school. I knew if you were avoiding your Pops, you’d be heading here.”

  Dominick lived right behind our house, our backyard shared a fence line. When we first moved to Hawaii, Dad had me going through an exceptionally hard training session. He split the side of my cheek with an escrima stick. I cried as he stood there.

  “They won’t stop if you cry, Matthew.” His cold, hard eyes just stared as the blood flowed, dripping down my arms and running along the black stick I held in my hand. I promised myself that I’d never cry again, not in front of him and not in front of anyone ever again.

  When the tears cleared, I saw Dominick looking down at me from his bedroom window. We exchange a glance and then he disappeared.

  That morning, when I was leaving for school he was standing out front, his book bag in hand, obviously waiting for me.

  “It’s not always like that,” I told him.

  “Yeah, it is,” he replied and we didn’t say another word about it. He’d been my friend ever since.

  I picked up my board and was about to duck through the hole
in the fence when Dominick grabbed my arm.

  “Hold on there, Matt.”

  “What? I want to get to Mr. Ching’s for some breakfast before class.”

  “Yeah, George told me he’d meet us there. But, I heard there might be rain. Wouldn’t want to get swept away?” I looked up at the sky and although I didn’t notice it before, there were some angry looking clouds overhead. Just last year, some kids were caught in the sewer tunnels during a rainstorm and swept out to sea. One of them died. It was all over the news.

  “Besides, last one to Mr. Ching’s has to buy breakfast,” he yelled as he took off down the road at full sprint. Dominick wasn’t much better than five feet tall but he was quick. I dropped my board and took off after him.

  We hit Mr. Ching’s with me just edging Dominick out. I knew my skateboard and the final downhill stretch made just enough of a difference to win the race, but it was still close. Dominick ducked under a guardrail that almost clotheslined me, but I avoided it in time to grab the door handle just in time.

  “Frickin’ cheater,” he said, his face red with exertion as I walked through the door, board in one hand, book bag in the other.

  “Yeah, still the winner,” I grinned back at him. A shove sent me sprawling, almost knocking over the nickel gum machine at the front door.

  “Eh, you kids over there, don’t mess around,” Mr. Ching said from behind his cash register, his eyes peering over his rectangular glasses. “Go sit down. I’ll be right over.” He waved toward one of the empty red-upholstered booths by the windows overlooking the street and disappeared into the kitchen. Garish plastic art decorated the walls; carvings of flamingos and dragons, fishes and birds framed in black enamel were hung on every open space. A large fish tank stood between the front entrance and the rest of the restaurant. A huge Arowowana fish was the lone occupant of the tank.

  Then I noticed George playing the Pacman video game Mr. Ching kept in the corner of the restaurant.

  “Hey, George! Let’s eat,” I yelled out. He’d been playing that game every day for a month but I still held the high score. Although it really wasn’t much of an accomplishment, not many people played it and I’m sure 88,187 points would go down quickly if it were at a real arcade. But, it was still a source of pride.

  “Yeah, hold on Matty-Boy! I just gotta beat your score.”

  I ran over to the screen to see if he was actually close. He only had a little over 16,000 points with only one life left.

  “You better practice more, George, “ I said as I pushed the joystick, sending him right into a ghost.

  “You jerk!”

  “Yeah, sometimes,” I laughed, but he knew I owed him for doing the same thing to me playing Street Fighter just the other day.

  George followed Dominick and I into the restaurant, and we made our way to one of the booths by the window. The torn faux leather was uncomfortable and felt a bit greasy but the food was good, cheap and the only thing I could afford which was why I loved coming here.

  Mr. Ching had the TV above the bar on and it was turned to CNN. A reporters, reporting from what looked to be the desert, high-pitched voice filled the room.

  In an unusual display of power, Kuwait, a major OPEC member, produced considerable more oil output than its assigned quota leading to a drop in crude oil prices causing concern for several other OPEC members. Iraqi President, Saddam Hussein, threatens response to what he and the Iraqi regime considers Economic Warfare.

  “So Matt, you think your Dad’s being sent there, Matt?” Dominick asked, nodding toward the television. Dominick’s father was military so he was used to the whole deployment thing and he watched the news too. For a military family, what happened in the news really did have an affect on our life. Especially if it had something to do with the Middle-East these days.

  “Not sure, he just told me he was leaving this morning.”

  “That sucks!” George said.

  “Yeah, it does. But at least I get outta school for a little while.”

  “You know where you heading off to?” He asked.

  “He’s sending me to California until he gets back from deployment.”

  “Aww, I thought we were going to have some epic sessions! I finally got you looking pretty good on that board,” George said.

  “Pretty good, my ass!” I snarled, although it was true. He was the first to teach me how to surf and he did look the part. George was tall, well over six feet but lanky. He had the long arms with the dark suntanned skin of a Hawaiian surfer.

  “But that’s cool! I can borrow your board, then?”

  “You wish! There is no way you’re getting your grubby hands on my board.”

  “You leaving, Matthew?” Mr. Ching asked as he came back with a couple of glasses of water.

  “Yup, Dad’s got me heading to California for a bit, up near San Francisco.”

  “San Francisco, huh? They’re playing the World Series there this weekend.”

  “ And Oakland is gonna kill the Giants,” George said.

  “You think so?” Mr. Ching asked. We knew that Mr. Ching had family in San Francisco and he had a big poster calendar of the San Francisco Giants behind the register.

  “Yup, I mean, c’mon! They got Ricky Henderson and the Bash Brothers! McGwire and Jose Conseco are gonna hammer the ball clear across the Bay.”

  “Eh, if Brett Butler can get on base, maybe they got a chance,” Dominick said.

  “Yeah, fat chance,” George answered.

  “Whatever, George.”

  “Wine country, eh Matthew? Maybe you go get me a deal on some wine.” Mr. Ching asked, obviously trying to change the subject. Although I did agree with George that the Athletics were monsters it wasn’t a good idea to rub it in the face of a Giants fan, especially one that was making our food.

  “Mr. Ching, Matt is like fifteen,” George interrupted.

  “Soon to be sixteen” I chimed in which was true. My birthday was coming up in a couple of days.

  “Yeah, sixteen. He’s not going to be able to buy wine.”

  “He not going to have to buy anything. Just call me if get good clearance and I call dem. See, easy,” he said. I’d been coming in to this restaurant since the very first day I’d moved here. Sometimes, Mr. Ching would let me slide if I was a little short on cash, or when I was completely out he’d let me pay him back later. He was a good guy, always trying to help those who needed him so I felt obligated to try to help him back.

  “I’ll see what I can do Mr. Ching,” I answered.

  “Good, you know the number,” he said and he was right. I must have ordered more take-out from his restaurant than anywhere else.

  “You guys want the breakfast Special?”

  “Yes sir, Dominick is paying,” I answered.

  “Jerk!”

  “Loser!” Mr. Ching disappeared back into the kitchen just as Dominick kicked me under the table.

  “Yeah, so that sucks bro,” George said. “I had plans, man! Maybe even hook you up with a girl? You know you got no game so I gotta help you out. What ever happened to that one girl from the base?” George asked.

  “Her family was transferred. I heard she lives in Korea now.”

  “Like you had a shot, Matt,” Dominick chortled.

  “Look who’s talking?” Dominick was two years younger and only a sophomore and hadn’t had a girlfriend yet. Problem is, I didn’t either. Things just never seemed to line up for me.

  “You gotta get yourself some game, brother,” George said. “Or Dominick is gonna find a girl before you.”

  “Screw you, George. I can handle myself,” I said just as Mr. Ching put down three breakfast specials in front of us.

  Mr. Ching smirked as the steam from our plates fogged up his glasses.

  “I got game,” I snarled, hearing the portly restaurant owner snicker as he disappeared back into the kitchen. I shoved a spoon full of Mr. Ching’s House Made fried rice into my mouth. It was wonderful, with pieces of char siu and bacon bits m
ixing with just the right amount of grease and shoyu with oyster sauce. “Just haven’t found the right girl is all,” I continued with my mouth full.

  “Smooth, Matty-Boy. Real smooth. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to eat with your mouth full? Maybe that’s the problem. You got no style. But don’t you worry, by the time you get back I’ll have the girls all warmed up.”

  I was about to kick him under the table when a pack of boys blustered into the restaurant led by a six-six behemoth. One of them stole candy from the donation box on the front counter.

  My first thought was “oh crap” followed quickly by “time to go.” But they just stood at the threshold of the dining room. The leader was a giant, built like an over sized pit-bull. He had muscles on top of muscles and his arms were covered in tattoos. One that I noticed very clearly was an upside down triangle with arms that twirled around a V. It was drawn in very dark ink across the side of his neck.

  He sneered across the restaurant directly at me, his gaze menacing. I’d had run-ins with him before. His name was Tuli and he was the undisputed bully of the area.

  George slid out from the booth, his six foot four inch frame was impressive but he had nowhere near the bulk of the giant.

  “Eh, thought I saw you punks running down the street!” Tuli said. “Tricky, tricky.”

  “What are you doing, Tuli?” George’s face was grim but he looked more like a lanky puppy compared to the junkyard dog he faced.

  “You know you not supposed to be in here,” Dominick joined in.

  The large Hawaiian ignored Dominick and George and glared directly at me. “Ha’ole, I been just itching to run into you.” Tuli said

  Ha’ole was what the locals called those not born on the island. George explained that Ha was the life giving breath of the people, while ole meant none. Tuli was saying that I had no life, no connection to the land. He was saying I was dead inside and didn't deserve any respect from him.

  I bristled at the word and started to slide out of the booth but George put a hand on my shoulder, and shook his head, standing between them and I.