Killer of Giants

by Oliver Lockhart

tightened as I moved away from the school building. Ahead, three sophomores talked and snuck glances back at me, and as I neared the edge of the schoolyard, a pair of hands slammed my back and threw me against the gate.

  Allie’s shoulders heaved, and a tear ran down her cheek behind her glasses. Her eyes flitted over me. “I’ve been looking for you! What the hell are you doing?” She shoved my chest, throwing me hard against the gate again. Strands of hair blew around her face. “Are you stupid?”

  It wasn’t that I’d wanted to avoid her, I just wanted to not have this conversation, and avoiding her was the best way. Now that she was here I didn’t know what to say. “It’s just… I have to–”

  She gripped my jacket with both hands. “No! I was wrong. The website was a bad idea. You have to leave Detroit or they’re going to kill you.” She let go and gazed down at her hands. “And I don’t want to be responsible.”

  A large crowd gathered on the other side of the gate, staring at us through the bars. I held her forearms in my hands. “If I leave now, nothing changes. Someone else gets hurt, and someone else after that.” Her eyes closed in despair. “And what if something bad happens in Chicago? Do I go someplace else? And somewhere after that?” I shook my head. “I’m not leaving, I’m not taking the easy way out.”

  Breathless, she fell against the gate. “I’m so worried.” She squeezed my hands in hers, and her voice turned raspy. “Please don’t do this.” Her big, wet eyes looked up at me, pleading, the silence hanging between us.

  A lump formed in my throat. “I have to go.” I pulled away and stepped through the gate.

  The crowd broke into cheering and shouting, and dozens of hands gripped the iron bars and shook the fence.

  At the parking lot, Allie ran up behind me and placed her hand in mine, wiping a tear from her eye. Together, we started toward West Thirteenth.  

  26. In My Darkest Hour

  Allie and I stepped off the sidewalk at West Thirteenth and followed a dirt track to the park. Overhead, storm clouds drifted and distant thunder rumbled.

  The park was the size of half a football field with a row of trees on one side and exercise benches on the other. When I was a kid, lawn covered every inch of it, but when the council shut off the water it all went to dust. Usually, the park was a deserted wasteland, but now more than three hundred Cannondale students were crowded under the trees. My heartbeat kicked up a notch.

  We continued along the path as a biting wind picked up and changed direction, sweeping through our clothes. Dust blew in my face, stinging my eyes, and left a bitter taste on my tongue.

  A voice shouted from the crowd. “He’s here!” A sea of faces turned, and a huge roar of cheering erupted. My stomach tried to escape through my throat.

  Allie hesitated, pulling back on my hand. “These people are sick.”

  I slipped my hand from hers and brushed her hair from her face. “Please, you have to leave now. I don’t want you to see this.”

  “Chris…” she breathed, barely above a whisper.

  I started toward the crowd, feeling like a visitor in my own body. Running footsteps came from behind, and Allie’s warm fingers curled back into mine. Ahead, the crowd chanted rhythmically as we approached. I couldn’t make out the words, but they were excited to see me.

  Nearing the edge of the crowd, a forest of hands grabbed my jacket and dragged me in. Hundreds of frenzied Cannondale students pushed between us, forcing Allie’s hand from mine.

  “Chris!” she cried, disappearing as the crowd swallowed her.

  I waded through the arms and faces with a deep loneliness creeping over me, like a Roman slave might feel being pushed into the Colosseum for a death match.

  A group of senior football jocks pushed back the crowd, forming a wide circle around me. One of them tapped my shoulder and stepped back, swinging his fist at the air to show me how to uppercut.

  All eyes were on me, like they’d come to see a freak show. I couldn’t blame them; anyone willing to take on Kyle and Bundy needed a boost in their meds. I searched the hundreds of wide-eyed faces. Almost half of West Side had turned up, except Gordie and Raj. I’d never needed them more than now, but I was glad they were out of this place.

  All at once, the roar of the crowd fell away, leaving the sound of wind stirring the trees. Like the wave at Yankee stadium, heads turned to a nearby backstreet. I drew a deep breath. A skater in the front row gave me two thumbs up and nodded. The people in front of me separated to form a narrow gap all the way to the street. Starting at the outer edge, a ripple moved through the crowd toward me as a tall, brawny figure marched between divided onlookers like the thug ancestor of Moses. Kyle moved into the circle and stood toe to toe with me.

  I stepped back, moving out of arm’s reach.

  Behind the crowd under the trees, Bundy’s shaved head bobbed above the sea of faces as he plowed a path through the students. A wave of lurching and stumbling followed as he approached, pushing through the tightly packed inner crowd, and lumbered into the circle. He lined up next to Kyle, twisting his mouth and breathing loudly through his crooked nose. I never doubted he’d show, but seeing him still made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

  Kyle leaned into Bundy’s ear and whispered. Bundy nodded, his eyes fixed on mine. Whispering seemed unnecessary, but I wasn’t in a position to tell them how to do this. Kyle scanned the crowd. “Interesting.” He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew smoke through his nose. “To be fair, I wasn’t sure you’d have the brass in your balls to show up.”

  At the back of the crowd, a tall figure with a hoodie over its head emerged from the shadow of nearby trees, bent over and hobbling. Moving steadily through the crowd, he pulled back his hoodie to reveal a red mohawk. Wobbling slightly, Fink stepped into the circle next to Kyle and Bundy, tilting his head to the side and eyeing me from head to toe like a child about to pull the wings off a fly.

  Returning his stare, I slowed my breathing, trying to appear calmer than I felt. The wind dropped, and a prickly heat spread over me.

  Kyle dragged on his cigarette and nodded in Fink’s direction. “He’s been in hospital awhile, so we brought him here for pain therapy.” A hint of a smile curled the edges of his lips. “He’ll feel better seeing you in pain.”

  Beside him, Fink flickered his snake tongue and licked his lips. “I’m going to hurt you so bad, Maddox.” He leaned closer. “But I’m not a monster, I brought you something for your pain.” A twisted grin spread across his face as he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a Tylenol bottle. He licked his snake tongue over his lips as he twisted the lid off and poured two pills onto his palm.

  I looked down at the pills and then back at him.

  The corners of his mouth pulled down in an unnatural way, like he was about to have a seizure. He launched his hand up and slapped his palm against his mouth, and wiped his fingers over his chin. Using his snake tongue, he positioned the pills between his front teeth and bit down, crushing them into a white paste. He licked the paste over his teeth and gums, smacking his lips together, his mouth webbed with strings of spit. Breaking into wheezing laughter, he tossed the Tylenol bottle at my chest.

  Bundy stepped toward me, and Kyle gripped his shoulder. The crowd moved in around us. Fink wiped his mouth, his expression hardening. He grabbed the hems of his jacket and shirt and lifted them high. A thick, partly yellowed bandage covered his lower stomach. “You’re going to die for this, Maddox. You and your buddies.”

  Nodding slightly, Kyle sucked on his cigarette and let the smoke billow around his nostrils. “Fink’s not wrong. It’s gonna happen, and nobody’s gonna care. The cops know you put a hit out on me, and there ain’t no law against self defense.” With a flick of his finger, his cigarette butt flew out at me and struck my jacket in a flash of embers, and fell to the dirt, the dim orange glow fading to darkness. He pulled his hoodie up over his head and rotated his rings one by one, lining up the skulls. With the sk
ulls on his outer knuckles, he drew his fist back.

  “Wait!” I raised my hands.

  Kyle lowered his fist. I tried to swallow but my throat was too dry. Allie pushed through to the front of the crowd and put her hand to her mouth. I would have given anything to hold her, but I’d settle for her not seeing this.

  Gathering my thoughts, I gazed at the hundreds of faces surrounding me. It’s sometimes said that the great thing about rock bottom is that the only way is up. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that all bets were off. Nothing I did could make this worse because if I did nothing, the worst would happen. With a deep breath, I shouted, “Every single one of you, at some point, has been pushed, shoved, punched, kicked… spat on by these psychos.” A rush of emotion hit me and I fought the urge to break down.

  Kyle’s eyes narrowed. Behind him, Allie lowered her hands and gave me a confused look.

  My eyes met with several members of the Cannondale Wolverines watching from the front row, and then I locked eyes with Kyle and said, “You know, life’s a bitch already without having to deal with your whiny attention-whoring bullshit.” The edge of his lip curled up slightly. I breathed deep and turned around. “Yesterday, each of you received an invitation, a call to stand with me.” Whispers spread through the crowd. Hundreds of faces stared wide-eyed, waiting for me to