Desperate Times

by Nicholas Antinozzi

  Jimmy moved next to Jon and peered down over the rock. Burt followed. From where they stood, they looked directly over the park. Jimmy cringed. The little park, the size of a city block, was full of black leather and gleaming motorcycles. The Devils were there, and there were many more than the group that he’d run into earlier. Jimmy could count close to sixty motorcycles parked there.

  “Son of a bitch,” whispered Burt.

  “There goes that idea,” said Jon. “We’d better get out of here.”

  “Shit,” muttered Jimmy. “I hate those guys. What are they doing down there?”

  “I can’t tell,” said Jon. “They’re having a party or something.”

  “Funny that they’d be all bunched together like that,” said Burt. “You must be right.”

  “What’s that?” said Jimmy. “On their right hanging in that tree?”

  “I can’t make it out,” said Burt. “I can see it, though. What the hell is it?”

  “Oh, shit,” said Jon. “That’s a man; at least I think it is. Look, they’re taking him down.”

  From far below they heard the obnoxious cheering of the Devils. They watched in horror as two of the group hauled the body away to what appeared to be a pile of other dead bodies. And then they heard a bloodcurdling scream. They looked in that direction and saw someone being dragged toward the tree. Whoever it was wasn’t going down without a fight. He clawed at the ground, shouting at his attackers in a man’s angry voice. He swore and kicked, trying desperately to get away. The bikers’ delighted laughter rose over the park and echoed off the rocks. Jimmy began to breathe in short, quick puffs. He couldn’t believe what they were witnessing. It took four of the bikers a full minute to finally get the man into position. A motorcycle engine roared to life. The rider pulled away slowly, and the man was hoisted over the limb of a tall tree by the rope around his neck. The rider stopped the motorcycle after only a few feet and cut the engine. The man hanging from the tree kicked his legs violently. Gradually the kicking slowed. When it mercifully stopped, the crowd went wild. Jimmy ducked back down behind the rock; he’d seen enough. Burt and Jon joined him.

  “Why?” asked Jimmy.

  “Because they can,” said Burt, bitterly. “I want you both to go back to camp. There’s nothing you can do here.”

  “Like hell,” said Jon. “I’m going after those bastards.”

  Jimmy rubbed his eyes. There were so many of them. Yet they wouldn’t be expecting to be attacked. If they could get close enough… “I’m with you guys. Let’s give ‘em hell.”

  Burt studied both of them. He looked deep into their eyes and appeared to be satisfied with what he saw there. “We’ll probably be killed,” he said. “After we shoot the living shit out of them.”

  “We need a plan,” said Jon. “If we do this right, we just might be able to pull it off. We’ve got to hit them from all sides, hard and fast. I didn’t see any of them in the streets. It looks like they’re all in the park. Do you think we can surround them?”

  Burt nodded. “It’ll take some time, but I think we can get ourselves into position. I think I’d better take the direct route. I’ll head down and take cover in one of those houses across from the park. You two will have to take the long way around. Try and get to the opposite ends of the park on the far side. Just remember that I’ll be in one of those houses in the middle of the block. Be careful where you’re shooting. When you’re in position, just spray those assholes with everything you’ve got. When they run my way, I’ll be ready for them. Are you sure you guys can handle that?”

  Jon nodded. Jimmy shrugged. Did he have a choice?

  “Good luck, guys. If we all don’t get out of here, just remember this: We did the right thing. Now, let’s go get those bastards. For Hank.”

  “For Tom and Billy,” said Jimmy.

  “For those poor souls down there,” said Jon and led the way over the rock and down the path.

  A new set of lungs began to scream in a high-pitched howl. Jimmy felt his skin crawl.

  They split up at the bottom of the path where Burt gave a wave and jogged down an alley. If he wasn’t spotted, he’d be in position long before Jimmy and Jon arrived at their posts. Jimmy felt naked running in the daylight. He followed Jon, expecting to hear gunfire at any second. They gave the park a wide berth, skirting it by at least three city blocks. His lungs burned as he ran, the pack slapping at his back. The motorcycle engine started again, rapping just a few short blocks away. Again Jimmy deeply regretted his decision to start smoking. If I live through this, I’m going to quit, he thought to himself as he ran. Jon was nearly half a block ahead of him and stopped at the corner of a garage. Jimmy jogged up to him, totally winded. Jon didn’t even appear to have broken a sweat.

  “Give me five minutes,” Jon whispered, pointing at a house two blocks away. You might as well head over there. The park is right across the street. Find some cover and get your ammo ready. You’re going to need it. Remember Burt is going to be across the street, somewhere in the middle of the block. Be careful. If you can’t shoot safely, start blasting their Harleys. Are you ready, man?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” admitted Jimmy.

  “Okay, let’s do it. Open up when you hear me shoot and let ‘em have it. We’ve got to take out as many as we can before they can react. No mercy, Jimmy. Remember that. No mercy.”

  Jimmy nodded. He didn’t plan on giving any. Jon smiled and patted Jimmy on the arm. He then turned and sprinted down the alley.

  Jimmy took a deep breath and checked his rifle. The gun was set to fully automatic, and he was as ready as he was ever going to be. He said a quick prayer and began to make his way to the house that Jon had pointed to. He moved slowly, cautiously choosing his steps around an empty garage. He then ran across a narrow lawn and ducked down next to the back of a house. He took a few seconds to catch his breath. He was going to have to cross one more street before getting to where he needed to be. His heart pounded inside his chest, and his forehead was dripping with sweat.

  A fresh scream broke the silence, followed by the roaring laughter of the bikers. Jimmy gritted his teeth and ran straight for the house across the street. He’d felt something snap inside of him, and suddenly nothing mattered except getting into position and killing as many of them as he possibly could. Whatever fear he’d been feeling had left his body. He ran to the back door of the house which was hanging open like all of the others in town. Jimmy made his way into the small, neatly furnished house. He was surprised to see that little had been touched inside. This appeared to be a grandmother’s house, and the walls were adorned with rows of photographs and framed needlepoint art. He ducked down and crawled into the living room on his hands and knees, dragging his rifle behind him. He shook himself out of the heavy pack and placed the magazines down on top of a flowered sofa. He picked up his rifle and scooted over toward the open front door.

  Jimmy peeked around the corner of the sofa, outside into the bright sunshine. The group was less than a hundred feet away. Three of the thugs were struggling with a middle-aged woman, who even with her hands tied behind her back, was giving them all they could handle. Jimmy scanned the crowd, recognizing the short biker who had stuck a gun up Bill’s nose. He was laughing hysterically. He won’t be laughing long, thought Jimmy.

  Jimmy wondered how much time had passed since he and Jon had split up. He hoped Jon was in position. The men were very close to getting the struggling woman to the hanging rope. He could now see where the other hostages were being held. There appeared to be at least twenty more sitting in a grim circle flanked by men with guns. Jimmy hoped that Jon could take them out. The hostages would be in Jimmy’s line of fire, and he couldn’t risk hitting them.

  “Come on, Jon,” Jimmy whispered.

  The woman screamed as the rope was tightened around her neck. One of the bikers, a fat balding one, walked casually toward the Harley that the rope was tied to. He gave the screaming woman a short little wave and hopped on th
e motorcycle.

  “Come on, Jon!” hissed Jimmy. “Now!”

  There was a gunshot; the man and the motorcycle tipped over together. Three more shots rang out before Jimmy even had time to react. The men holding the hostages were thrown back like rag dolls. Jimmy gritted his teeth and aimed carefully. He remembered what Jon had taught him, and he took a deep breath, held it, and slowly squeezed the trigger. He sprayed the bikers with a hail of gunfire, watching dozens of men fall violently backwards in an explosion of blood and gore. He emptied the magazine, quickly removed it and sent another home. He carefully took aim and sent another volley into the retreating bikers. He emptied that magazine and again reloaded. Something inside of him really had snapped. That “something” was allowing him to remain calm while he shot. The remaining bikers had scattered and were now running directly toward Burt. Jimmy gasped. From out of the shadows, Burt Sharpen walked out to face the bikers. He let loose with a deadly barrage of chattering fire, dropping at least ten men in the process. He took his time reloading, walking toward the park at a casual pace. He calmly switched to semiauto and began to pick off his targets. Jimmy watched in amazement. Burt never seemed to miss. The gun cracked, steadied, and cracked again. He repeated the process over and over.

  Jon was also shooting in single-shot bursts. Jimmy couldn’t see him, but could see the damage he was inflicting on the bikers. Many were now running directly toward Jimmy. Some had their guns drawn and were firing blindly in front of them. Jimmy aimed and once again squeezed the trigger. The M-16 jumped in his hands, and he raked the bikers with more automatic fire. They all went down, some in pieces.

  Their attack had lasted only seconds, but it had devastated the Devils. Those remaining stood frozen in their tracks, their hands held high above their heads. Jimmy estimated that about half of the Devils were down. The hostages slowly began to rise to their feet, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. Some merely stayed on the ground and wept. Burt approached the remaining Devils and ordered them down on the ground, he then instructed them to lie flat on their stomachs with their arms spread wide.

  Jimmy walked out of the house, his ears still ringing. He stood on the front porch and lit up a cigarette. He could see Jon; he was already across the street, talking to the hostages. Jimmy smoked, wondering what he could possibly be saying to them. What could they do to restore any sort of faith in humanity for these people after what they had just experienced? They’d been moments away from certain death. Some, if not most, had witnessed the death of a friend or a loved one as they waited for their own trip to the gallows. And why? What possible reason did the Devils have for doing such a thing? Jimmy couldn’t understand it. He knew that he never would.

  He watched Jon lead some of the motley group to where Burt held the remaining Devils at gunpoint. Even through the ringing in his ears, he could hear some of them pleading for their lives. The sound sickened Jimmy. He watched one of the former hostages, a man who looked to be in his seventies, kick one of the bikers in the head. Jimmy laughed at the sight of it. He then watched in amazement as Burt offered his service revolver to a middle-aged man in a soiled T-shirt and a pair of bloody jeans. He walked slowly around the group of bikers, examining each one. He finally stopped over one of them, put the barrel of the gun at the back of the biker’s head and pulled the trigger. The biker’s head slammed into the ground, and the man with the gun was suddenly covered in blood.

  Jimmy winced. He’d seen enough. He went back inside the house and sat down on the couch. Jon had said that they’d get no mercy, and it was clear that he and Burt were letting the former hostages take their revenge. Jimmy put his cigarette out in a candy dish and quickly lit another. There were more shots, and the shooting continued for what seemed like a very long time.

  Jimmy found the bathroom and was sick in the toilet.

  Twenty -Seven

  Don't ask, don't tell (DADT) is the common term for the policy restricting the United States military from efforts to discover or reveal closeted gay, lesbian, and bisexual service members or applicants, while barring those who are openly gay, lesbian, or bisexual from military service.

  Jimmy sat on the couch, leafing through an old photo album and reliving someone else’s past. There were wedding photos, graduation pictures, and shots of strangers on vacations in the Black Hills and the Badlands. Jimmy looked at them all, feeling almost as if he knew the people on those pages. The photos reminded him of a time, not all that long ago, when things like vacations and graduations were still possible. He wondered if they would ever be again. He heard footsteps.

  “Hey, there you are,” said Jon, from the open doorway. “What are you doing?”

  “Just looking at this old book,” answered Jimmy. He closed it and put it back on the coffee table.

  “Well, come on out. We’ve got to go get the truck. Burt’s going to wait for us in the park.”

  “Okay,” said Jimmy. He picked up his rifle, ejected the empty magazine and slapped in a fresh one. He then gathered the spent magazines and put them in his backpack and hung it over his shoulders. He stuffed the remaining full magazine down the front of his pants. “Let’s take the back door,” he said, flatly.

  “Sure,” said Jon, acting if it were perfectly natural to take that way. “Hey, this place reminds me of my aunt’s. Old people sure don’t have much flair, do they?”

  “They don’t need it,” Jimmy answered, leading the way out the back door. “They don’t have to impress anybody. They decorate their homes to remind them of the life that they once had. If we ever get out of this and I get back home, I’m going to do the same thing.”

  “I guess I never thought of it that way. You know what, Jimmy? When I get back home, I’m going to do that, too. I’ll have you over sometime and we’ll go out for some beers.”

  Jimmy smiled at that. He wanted to put what had just happened behind him, and Jon was making that happen. Jimmy played along, walking down the uneven concrete slabs of the alley. “Where would you take me?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Jon. “Have you ever been to a gay bar?”

  “You’re kidding, right? What do you think?”

  “Right. I forgot I’m talking to the guy who has the prettiest girls in camp fighting over him. Yeah, you’ve never been to a gay bar.”

  “Funny. Listen, I don’t want to talk about that right now. Can we keep that topic off limits for a while? Let’s talk about you. What’s your story, man?”

  Jon laughed. “Okay, give me a second, here. I’ve got to decide where to start. Are you sure you want to hear it all?”

  “You can skip the graphic details,” said Jimmy. “But yeah, I do want to hear it. How in the hell did you end up here?”

  “Okay,” said Jon. “Just a minute… You asked for it.”

  They found a side street which was three blocks from any view of the park and turned north toward the highway. Jon began to speak. “When I was a kid, I used to like to play dress-up with my three cousins and my sister. I’m talking about when I was four or five. No big deal, right? My aunt had picked up all of these old prom and bridesmaids’ dresses at a thrift store and altered them to fit her girls. I was the only boy, and I didn’t want to be left out. We had a blast. I loved doing that. They had a roomful of stuff like that—old dresses, fancy hats, high-heeled shoes. We’d put them on and then give each other a little fashion show.”

  “So that’s what happened to you?” asked Jimmy. “Dressing up like a girl made you turn gay?”

  “Of course not,” said Jon. “I just remember looking in the mirror and wishing that I were a woman, even back then. Well, as we got older the girls put away their old dresses, and I grew up like any other kid. My old man was in the army and we traveled a lot. Mom was pretty cool. She let me do pretty much whatever I wanted, but she always kept a close eye on me. Dad lost a leg in an accident and was honorably discharged. We moved to a little town called Barnum. Ever hear of it? It’s really not much of a town, just a
four-way stop with a bar, gas station, a couple of churches, and a bank. Not much else, really. I started high school there, and that’s when I really knew that I was different. I dated some girls. Went to prom, stuff like that, but I was only doing it because they’d asked me out. So I went along, mostly to hang out with the other guys and their dates. Our school was small. I graduated in a class of forty-six.”

  “That is small,” said Jimmy, turning onto the highway, the cool breeze feeling good on his face.

  “Well, I had my own computer, and I soon discovered that there were other people out there just like me. I went to chat rooms, gay websites, and then I talked my mom into getting me a web cam; that sealed the deal. I knew who I was and that I wasn’t alone. I was a senior and it was February. I had a little over three months of school to go before graduation. Well, it didn’t take long before everyone in the school found out. I didn’t know how they’d react. I didn’t care. Most of my guy friends quit talking to me; they just stopped. I had some girl friends who hung with me, and we still talk every now and then. Still, that was a long three months. My folks found out, of course. You know how dirty laundry hangs in a small town. Out in the open for everyone to see? My old man went bonkers. He cooled down after a while and tried not to show it. He died three weeks before I graduated. He was working under my Mom’s car and the jack slipped. I found him there when I got off the bus. That was pretty bad.”

  Jimmy nodded. He knew all too well what Jon had been through.

  “We buried him down at Fort Snelling. They gave him a full military service. I remember sitting there, watching these guys and thinking that I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to get out of Barnum, to get out of Minnesota and see the world. And I wanted to honor the memory of my dad. He was strict and wasn’t the most open-minded person, but he had loved me. Well, I got back to school and that very first day, I nearly ran into an Army Recruiter who was visiting the school. I signed up the next day.”