Boyz 'R' Us

by Scott Monk

  Most of the guys and bomber chicks here served under me for a short time; others not at all, like Husk. They respected my leadership, but Wheeler controlled them now and their loyalty to me was questionable. Some would fight under Wheeler regardless if a fight broke out between us. Some would stay back, wait until a victor claimed the leadership then follow him. That way they saved their reps. One thing was for sure, however. No one would fight for me. Only myself. Loyalty didn’t extend that far.

  ‘All right,’ someone yelled. ‘Blood’s gonna be spilled tonight!’

  ‘Lots of blood!’

  ‘Make sure the squealer can’t get away!’

  The Thunderjets enclosed Wheeler, myself and Elias, sealing the exits. But the gang stayed back. Wheeler must’ve given orders this was a one-on-one fight. He’d deal with me alone. Elias stood behind me. To everyone else he was a casualty of this situation. An outsider. There were no orders regarding his safety.

  I shook my arms and cracked my knuckles.

  This was the fight. The one Wheeler had longed for. And let the truth be known, the one I’d longed for too. Wheeler desperately needed to end the rumours about how he beat me for the leadership. It seemed a few turncoats in Napoleon’s ranks aimed at restoring their old friend’s rep through verbal sabotage. A quick look to Marc confirmed my suspicions. Flash Jack too. Peeper, the coward, slunk in the shadows, not wanting to be seen.

  ‘Looks like it’s time to punish the traitor, guys,’ Wheeler called out to the crowd. The Thunderjets nodded. Dressed in standard bomber clothes, smoking cigarettes and downing six-packs, they prided themselves on being individuals.

  ‘You’ve got your fight, Wheeler,’ I said. ‘Cut the theatrics.’

  ‘He squealed to the cops about us!’

  ‘You, Wheeler. I squealed to the cops about you alone.’

  ‘He admits it! I told you so!’

  ‘You nearly killed a man in cold blood, Wheeler. What was I supposed to do, huh? You set me up so the cops would catch me. Your plans backfired — again.’

  ‘You still squealed. That’s a breaking of our blood oath. Not only that, you quit on us. You dropped your crew for what? This nerd?’

  I flicked a hand behind my back to warn Elias to shut up.

  ‘I got out of the gang because I wanted out. I’ve had enough, Wheeler. I’m through.’

  ‘You’re through because you’ve had enough? Hah! You’re through cause you turned into a coward after being stabbed.’

  ‘The hospital said I nearly died, man. A minute longer lying on the street and I wouldn’t be standing here right now, wasting my time with this fight. You know what that’s like, huh? Having your guts spill onto the pavement? Where were you, man, when I needed you? You shot outta there, didn’t you? You left me to die, Wheeler. Gonna do the same for some poor sucker here — Peeper, Marc, Husk — when their time comes?’

  The truth behind the stabbing and Wheeler worked once. I might as well give it a second shot.

  ‘You’re lying. I didn’t know it was you who was down. I thought it was a Barbarian.’

  ‘Funny,’ I said. ‘I was wearing your jacket that night.’

  Faces turned to each other. Was what I said true?

  ‘So what? What does that prove, huh?’

  ‘That you’re a traitor yourself. You betrayed the Oath by not helping out a fallen brother. How d’you answer to that charge, leader?’

  There were mumblings in the crowd.

  ‘You’re lying, man,’ he said. ‘You’re lying.’

  Leaning forward, Wheeler threw the first punch. I moved back and the fist swung harmlessly in front of me.

  ‘Oooh,’ I sang. ‘I think that means you’re guilty. And a hopeless fighter.’

  ‘I’ll deck you. Don’t you worry bout that.’

  ‘D’you think you’re a big enough man to do it, Napoleon?’ I teased, sizing him up. It drew laughter from the gang.

  ‘At least I don’t need a geeky Lebo wog to hold my hand for me,’ he countered.

  ‘Get lost!’ Elias shouted. ‘Don’t call me a Lebo wog! I’m an Australian!’

  I cringed as the catcalls meowed from the Thunderjets. Elias got the message and shut up. A racist jibe was the least of his worries. Besides, Elias wasn’t alone. There were ten or fifteen guys in the gang from European backgrounds. They’d educate Wheeler on multicultural harmony later.

  ‘Oooh, wog boy seems to be a tough guy, Mitch. You better step aside and let him fight. That’s if you don’t mind letting someone fight your battles for you.’

  ‘Good one, Barry,’ someone called out. Peeper, I guessed.

  ‘C’mon!’ a Thunderjet yelled. ‘Get on with it!’

  ‘Yer, stop talking and fight!’

  ‘Take him down now, Wheeler.’

  I smiled, more confident of my fighting ability than the crowd. ‘How bout it, Barry? Ready to lose?’

  ‘One punch, man,’ he answered. ‘That’s all it’ll take. One punch.’

  ‘One punch, hey? This’ll be good.’

  That was the cue to fight. Wheeler hopped around, urging me to swing. I kept my fists close to my chest and Elias behind me. The gang cheered. This was going to be a legendary fight.

  Adrenalin fired through my body. Hot blood pumped from a panicky heart. Muscles tensed and steeled themselves. Feet balanced on edge and fingernails cut skin.

  So this was it. The fight. Wheeler’s revenge. If he wanted it so bad, now was his chance. Do it, Wheeler. C’mon man. Throw the next punch. Throw it!

  Wheeler swung again, this time aiming too high. I ducked, moved in and surprised him with a beauty of an uppercut to the jaw. He fell.

  His body bounced on the ground with a hollow thuck. I danced round him, urging him to get up. I was always the jaguar ready to play with the prey. The cat toying with the mouse. Then the blood song stopped. Something was wrong. Wheeler was still. Unnaturally still. Crimson bled from his temple under the sickly yellow light of the moon. No one moved. No one breathed. No one dared to think the truth.

  Finally, Peeper was the first to speak. His voice was small and jagged as if he was about to cry. ‘You’ve killed him,’ he said. ‘You’ve killed him!’

  His words took time to sink in.

  ‘Barry’s dead?’ one Thunderjet asked in disbelief.

  ‘Yer, look. He’s not moving,’ someone answered.

  ‘He is dead!’

  I stood there stunned. I’d killed him. I’d killed Barry Wheeler!

  ‘What do we do now?’ another Thunderjet asked.

  ‘Do we call the pigs?’

  ‘I’m getting outta here.’

  ‘But what about Barry’s body?’

  ‘I say we get the traitor!’ Husk yelled out. ‘He’s killed our leader!’

  ‘Yer, let’s make him pay!’ another joined in. ‘The Oath says we have to get revenge!’

  Marc and Flash Jack tried to put a stop to the hate. Their leader was dead. The Oath swore them to avenge his murder. My friends tried to convince them otherwise but they couldn’t stand in the way of what was sworn in blood. The Oath was older and more powerful than them.

  The Thunderjets surrounded me. All forty of them. I wasn’t going to survive this fight. Despite the threat, I moved closer to touch the corpse. I needed to feel death to understand what I’d done. Elias shook me frantically, warning to get out of here. I didn’t hear him. Or the sirens.

  ‘Pigs!’ one of the Thunderjets yelled. That single word sent panic through the gang like no other word. They ran.

  ‘Mitch! C’mon, Mitch! The cops are on their way!’ It was Elias. Or Marc. Or Flash Jack. Who cared? I needed to wash my hands in the blood of my mortal sin and admit the guilt was mine. I felt like crying. I wouldn’t see my big brother or little sister again.

  ‘Mitch! Let’s go!’

  I bent down, closer, closer — when a leg shot out and kicked me in the guts. I spun backwards yelling with shock. The corpse was alive! Wheeler was faking it! I trie
d to scramble to my feet.

  Wheeler was on me before I could. He kicked me back down and stood over me, his eyes crazy.

  ‘Wheel —’

  ‘Shut up,’ he warned, clutching the back of his bloody skull. His boot pinned me to the ground. ‘Nice trick, huh? Learnt that one from you.’

  ‘Did you learn to run too when the cops arrive?’

  ‘Forget the pigs. I want you.’

  ‘Look behind you, man.’

  ‘You caused this. You called the cops. You betrayed us, Mitch.’ A flick knife sprang from his hand. ‘That’s not good for morale, Mitch.’

  I swore. He was serious.

  The golf course lit up with the red and blue light of paddy wagons and patrol cars. Stepping out of their vehicles, the pigs grunted for nobody to move. Nobody was listening.

  ‘Don’t do this, Wheeler. Don’t do this.’

  A star of light gleamed in his eyes. ‘Is that a dare?’ he grinned.

  ‘Don’t, man. Don’t!’

  I didn’t want to die.

  A cop saw what was going on and raised his gun. ‘Put the knife down! Now!’

  But Wheeler didn’t want to. He drew closer to me, the blade twisting in his fingers.

  ‘This is your last warning! Put the knife down!’

  ‘No!’

  From nowhere, a shadow pounced and took Wheeler down the bank with it. The two forms rolled over and over, fighting for control of the knife. Cops ran from everywhere. The Thunderjets stopped their flight. Everyone just watched with horrified fascination. No one knew who’d saved my life. The hero was anonymous. I just hoped he’d live long enough for me to thank him.

  The struggle ended with a scream. One shadow pulled away from the other and stood back, blood dripping off the blade. For long seconds he looked down at the fallen fighter, reflecting on the result. Then up. It was Wheeler.

  ‘If I can’t get you, Mitch, I’ll take your geeky friend instead.’

  ‘ELIAS! NO!’

  I was up, pounding down the bank. Cops tried to grab me but I slipped out of reach. Wheeler laughed at me then jumped into Cook’s River, leaving Elias’s still body in the darkness. I threw off my jacket and shirt to jump in after him, when a small voice croaked, ‘Mitch?’

  ‘Elias?’

  The kid was alive!

  I crouched down as cops ran past and surveyed the river. Wheeler hadn’t surfaced.

  ‘Hey, kid. How’s it going?’

  ‘Not bad,’ Elias breathed, holding the pain and raising his other hand above his eyes. ‘Not good either. How about you?’

  ‘Don’t worry bout me. Worry bout yourself.’

  ‘Out of the way, kid,’ a cop growled, pushing me. ‘Where are you hurt?’ he asked Elias.

  I pushed back. ‘You ain’t gonna die on me, are you?’

  ‘Is that ambulance on the way?’ the pushy cop asked.

  ‘Yessir, Sarge.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘A minute — tops.’

  ‘Get those kids to the station. Book them with everything you can think of.’

  ‘How about the swimmer?’

  ‘Get a diver in there. We could have a floatie.’

  Elias winced, sucking in the pain. ‘Man, this stings.’

  ‘Hey kid,’ the sergeant said, clicking his fingers to get my buddy’s attention. ‘I didn’t get my coffee tonight so don’t push my temper. For the last time, where are you hurt?’

  Elias lifted his right hand and uncovered the wound to his stomach. Blood soaked his white T-shirt in a large red circle. ‘I’m gonna die, aren’t I?’

  The sergeant pressed down on the wound with a cloth one of his constables handed him. ‘Yer, in about seventy years. But that’s life.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ I asked. ‘Is he okay?’

  ‘Nope, but he’s a survivor. He’ll make it.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Cold iron pressed against my cheeks as I listened to the pigs question yet another bomber. I couldn’t hear much through the walls except the occasional raised voice or shouting match. The kid had an attitude and refused to cooperate. Great. Another “legend” upholding the Oath. We would be celebrating Christmas here because of his loyalty. No one was going home until the cops found out exactly what had happened.

  The twenty-five guys caught were held in four cells. The Thunderjets occupied three with seven in each. Me, Flash Jack, Marc and the kid now being questioned shared space with deros, perverts and wife-bashers in the fourth. Thankfully, the cops quarantined us from the rest of the gang wanting our scalps. It could’ve been ugly if they’d put us all together.

  A square-shouldered constable dragged the bomber back from the main room into our cell. He locked the door and left to grab another kid.

  ‘So, Peeper,’ Marc said, towering over the trembling runt. ‘Did you tell the pigs our truth or your truth?’

  Peeper’s eyes bulged in the big man’s shadow. ‘Guys. Trust me.’

  ‘Why you —!’ Marc began, grabbing Peeper and throttling him.

  ‘Hey!’ the cop called, rushing back to our cell. ‘Let go of him! Let go of him!’

  Flash Jack grabbed one meaty arm and me the other. ‘Let go, Marc. Save it, man.’

  The big guy dropped the traitor and watched him scuttle away into a corner.

  ‘You better keep your temper icy cold, mate,’ the constable warned, ‘or you’ll be spending a couple of years down at a juvie centre. Got it?’

  Marc just turned away.

  ‘I told the fuzz the truth,’ Peeper protested, knowing he was a goner once he left the station. ‘I said Barry started everything and stabbed the Batrouney kid.’

  ‘If you’re lying —’

  ‘I’m not, man. Give me a break.’

  ‘Did they say anything bout Wheeler?’ I asked.

  ‘Nope. Nothing. They told me as much as they did you three.’

  ‘I wonder if he drowned?’ Flash Jack said. ‘The pigs said something about a floatie, didn’t they?’

  ‘Nobody can hold their breath that long,’ Marc said.

  A minute’s silence passed.

  ‘Why do you think he did it?’ Peeper asked.

  ‘To die a hero,’ Flash Jack said.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I think Wheeler wanted to prove himself. All he cared about was leading the Thunderjets. When I beat him, that all finished.’

  ‘But he wasn’t finished. He was only playing possum.’

  ‘Yer, but not a lot of people saw that. The cops scattered them. His little act to prove to the Jets he was immortal backfired.’

  ‘Who do you think the new leader’ll be?’ Marc asked.

  ‘Mitch, who else,’ Peeper piped up. ‘He beat Wheeler. He’s the leader again.’

  Marc seemed to agree. ‘Yer, go on, Mitch. Be the leader again. You should’ve seen yourself tonight. It was just like old times.’

  I shook my head. ‘I said I’m out. That means for good. I don’t want to be your leader any more.’

  ‘C’mon, Mitch,’ Flash Jack urged. ‘This is your chance to make good. Nobody’s gonna challenge you. You can come back without any questions.’

  ‘And do what, Jack? Fight? Smoke? Deal? Nearly get killed for a third time? No way, man. I can’t handle it any more. I want my life back. And I want to live it way into the future.’

  ‘So no matter what we say you won’t come back?’ Marc said.

  ‘Yes, I’m finished.’

  ‘But what about us?’ Flash Jack asked, meaning our friendship.

  ‘It’s not gonna change.’

  ‘How do we know that?’

  ‘It’s a risk you’re gonna have to take.’

  ‘Right — you,’ the female constable pointed. ‘You’re out of here.’

  ‘How bout my buddies?’ I asked.

  ‘They’re staying here overnight. We’re not finished questioning them.’

  ‘When will you be finished?’

  ‘That’s none of your business. You
’re free to go.’

  Following the cop, I turned and shrugged at the guys.

  ‘Call my brother, Mitch,’ Marc called out. ‘See what he can do.’

  ‘Will do,’ I answered.

  Marc’s brother was a legal clerk. He had a lot of solicitor friends. But he would have to wait. I had my own immediate concerns.

  ‘Sean? — Yer, I’m safe. Don’t worry. One guess where I’m at the moment!’ The phone burned with my brother’s swearing. I knew it’d only take one guess. ‘Wheeler,’ I gulped. ‘He started the fight — We don’t know. The cops think he drowned in Cook’s River — Look, I’ll tell you when you get here. I want to go home — Okay, bye.’

  After finishing talking to Sean, I signed about a dozen forms before the cops let me go. I stood outside the station, chain chewing and beating back the cold air. Elias was all right. I asked the sergeant. He was undergoing surgery at the moment and was expected to be out of hospital in two or three days. If Wheeler forgot about me none of this would’ve happened. And Elias would be home, not in hospital with a million tubes sticking out of him.

  Wheeler. He was dead now. The cops hadn’t found the body yet, believing it may have been washed downriver. How many people had to be killed or injured before kids realised gangs were more than just status and image? The truth was people got hurt. Seriously hurt. Fatally hurt. They didn’t get back up like actors in the movies.

  Gangs, man. They promised nothing but suffering. Everyone thought it was guts and glory stuff when they first joined a crew. But eventually they discovered the truth. There was no guts and glory. There was no immortality. There was no protection. Most of these guys looked after themselves — only.

  Everything I stood for once in a gang was no longer part of me. I met friends without the help of a gang. I could make money outside of a gang. I had fun outside of a gang. I thought for myself outside of a gang. The Thunderjets and me had parted ways for good.

  Walking out onto the pathway, I watched a red Porsche roar down the road. It was pushing 140 in a 60 zone! That baby raced. I thought it was going to flash by me, when it skidded and lost control. The driver countered too late and clipped a Toyota parked across the street. Burning rubber, metal and glass exploded everywhere.