Rule of the Bone

by Russell Banks

  Afterwards we didn’t talk much and finally Russ turned around in Keene and drove back to the squat where to my surprise Bruce and the guys seemed glad to see us, I guess because in our absence they’d gotten scared and had figured out that we’d respond more favorably to kind treatment than to harsh. They were dumb but not totally dumb. I could tell they were nervous about having all that stolen stuff on their hands and two kids around who knew where it came from.

  The very next morning bright and early Russ started up his freight forwarding company. I was on my couch asleep but when he walked past I woke up and with one eye half open watched him scoop a Panasonic VCR off a stack of boxes by my head and put it under his arm and stroll out the apartment door with it like he was taking out the garbage. I didn’t move until he was gone and then I slowly lifted my head and peeked around the corner into the next bedroom where Bruce was crashed face-down and bareass except for his jockstrap on a mattress on the floor snoring like a chain saw. I looked back at the stack of VCRs beside me but even though I’d seen Russ take one away only a few seconds ago the pile seemed the same size as before which relieved me a lot although I was too nervous to go back to sleep afterwards.

  But none of the guys noticed anything missing. The next morning Russ did it again, and the morning after, and even when he took two VCRs one each from different piles and then one day a portable computer it was the same. The livingroom and the rest of the apartment still seemed to be filled with big unopened boxes of electronics. I myself could see the difference of course because I’d watched him take them. But every day around ten or eleven the bikers’d eventually wake up and start prowling around the place looking for food or a morning beer and cigarettes like they usually did and no one noticed anything missing.

  Except Russ, he was missing, which was unusual and noticeable even to bikers so finally one morning Bruce says to me, Where’s your buddy? He got a job or something? The fucker usually stays in his room sleeping all day.

  Beats the shit out of me, I said but I could see Bruce was suspicious although he didn’t say anything, just stood there in his jockstrap by the kitchen door with a half-empty jar of this powdered muscle food he mixes up in a quart of orange juice and drinks every morning. He had his own special glass and everything that nobody else was allowed to use but he never washed it so who would. He poked the door to Russ’s crib open a ways with his foot and looked around inside and then went back to mixing his breakfast.

  He didn’t lock his door like he usually does, he says.

  Must be coming back soon, I said but I’m thinking Russ probably didn’t lock it so they’d think he was inside sleeping instead of up in Plattsburgh or someplace peddling stolen electronics.

  If you see him today find out can he get me a dozen hits of acid by tonight. ’Cause tonight we’re finally gonna deliver all this shit, Bruce says. And I’m gonna party hearty, man.

  No problema, I say. That was an expression I’d picked up from that guy Buster Brown at the mall and I noticed that I used it only when I was wicked scared.

  Yeah, he says laughing and chugging down his orange grunge and wiping it off his chin with the back of his hand. No problema. You are one funny little dude, Chappie, he says taking a few steps toward the livingroom. One funny little piece of shit. But then his expression changes like an unfamiliar and not particularly welcome thought has penetrated his brain and he goes, You been moving any of this stuff around, Chappie?

  Me? No way, man. You told me not to touch any of it. I obey you, man.

  Yeah, he said and then he walked slowly into the livingroom where I was lying on the couch with my blanket wrapped around me up to my chin and he studied the scene carefully. Something’s wrong here, man. Something’s very wrong.

  I decide to say nothing. I’m thinking just be ready to run even though I’ve only got my underpants and a tee shirt on. I’m thinking up my escape route via Russ’s crib which I can lock from inside, then out the window onto the back porch roof and down to the ground and out to the street. . . and then where?

  It looked pretty hopeless. I was almost wishing Russ would walk through the door and see what was happening and confess everything and save me but I knew he’d never do it.

  Bruce says, You and your little buddy, I believe that you have stepped in some very deep shit, Chappie.

  Whaddaya mean?

  All kinds of stuff is missing from here. VCRs it looks like. And some of those portable computers. Which makes sense. Everything else is too big for you two little assholes to swipe without someone noticing. You’ve been lifting stuff from me, Chappie. Amazing!

  I of course denied everything which was half the truth since I myself had not stolen anything off of Bruce and half a lie since I said Russ hadn’t either. Not that I knew of. I added that. I guess to cut down on the lying part a little. But the second I said it I felt lonely because I was separating myself from Russ and then I felt guilty, real guilty because I knew how Bruce would hear it. The more power you’ve got the more you’re able to do the right thing which is whatever you can get away with and at that point in my life I had no power whatsoever, I couldn’t get away with anything so I had to do the wrong thing and tell the truth. I was the ultimate little dog and it was all I could do to keep from pissing down my own leg.

  Not that you know of, he said. Yeah, right. Thanks very much. I was gonna do the both of you just to be sure I got the guilty party but now I’ll only have to whack the one. I always liked you better than him anyhow. Whacking Russ’ll be easy, the little bastard.

  Joker was standing next to Bruce now and I guess he’d heard the whole conversation. If you whack one, he said, you got to whack the other, man.

  Yeah, you’re probably right, Bruce said sighing. Unless you help us out, he said to me.

  Sure. Whaddaya want me to do?

  Where’s Russ at right now?

  Joker stood leaning against the doorjamb fondling his little blue .38, his pussy-pistol. I could hear the other guys getting up in the back bedrooms. Roundhouse stumbled into the room rubbing his eyes with one huge fist and scratching crumbs and other items out of his pelt with the other. Wussup? Chappie goin’ out for food?

  The little assholes’ve been stealing our TVs and shit, man, Joker said.

  Wow. Jeez, that’s pretty fucking stupid.

  Bruce asked me again where Russ was and I said I didn’t know which was the truth and I think he believed me. Then I told him I was asleep when he went out which was a lie but he knew not to believe it. So me and him were at least still communicating. Bruce said for Roundhouse to get some duct tape from his toolbox which Roundhouse did and then he taped my hands together behind my back and my feet at the ankles and lifted me up and slung me over his shoulder like I was a lamb ready for slaughter and carried me into Russ’s crib off the kitchen and put me down gently on Russ’s mattress.

  I don’t know yet what I’m gonna do with you, he said. We’ll just have to wait and see what Russ says for himself when he gets back. But for now this’ll keep you out of trouble.

  Joker stood behind him watching. When Bruce stepped away he brought the barrel of his gun down close to my head and smiled and said, Bang. Then he laughed and went back into the livingroom with the others.

  From the door Bruce said to me, If you keep your mouth shut I won’t tape it. Not one fucking peep, you understand?

  I nodded yes and he went out and closed the door but I could hear them talking in the livingroom trying to figure out what to do next. Joker was clear on what he wanted to do which was blow me away and then Russ but the other guys were undecided and a little scared, I think. Even Bruce who was maybe into a lot of things but not murder. He was secretly gay or S and M or something weird like that because he liked to hassle gay guys when he saw them in public and make fairies in parks or the Greyhound station bathroom give him blowjobs and then he would beat the shit out of them and brag about it, and despite his body building and health foods he was a drug addict, plus he was a serious
thief. But unless you’re a true psycho like Joker everyone draws the line somewhere and I think Bruce drew the line at cold-blooded murder of teenaged boys. I did not take a whole lot of comfort from this however.

  For a while I lay there looking up at Russ’s Anthrax and Metallica posters. Russ’d decorated his crib to make it home-like, lots of nice domestic touches like the yellow and brown plaid curtains he’d found in somebody’s trash and hung over the one window and the iron floor lamp and busted easychair. Pretty soon though I was getting cold because of only having my underwear on and no blanket so I hollered for Bruce to c’mere a minute which must have sounded like I was going to tell him where Russ was.

  He came right in but looked disappointed when he found out all I wanted was for him to turn on Russ’s electric heater and give me my blanket. Also it pointed out to Joker and the other guys that I could holler for help if I wanted to risk it so they told Bruce to tape the little fucker’s mouth shut, meaning me which Bruce did, being careful not to block my nose so I could breathe okay. Then he got my blanket from the livingroom and tossed it over me. He unplugged Russ’s box by the window and plugged in the space heater and flipped it on high.

  He picked up the stereo and a handful of tapes but when he got to the door he stopped for a second and looked down at me like he was saying goodbye forever. I blinked twice for goodbye, once for hello, but he didn’t get it. He just shook his head like he felt sorry for me and disgusted at the same time. Then he closed the door and locked it on the outside with Russ’s padlock which wasn’t too smart since Russ had the key. But I never really thought Bruce was smart anyhow. Just interesting, and maybe not as dumb as the other guys.

  Pretty soon I can hear Megadeth thumping through the walls and I can smell dope smoke and pizza and can hear the refrigerator being opened and closed and the top-popping of beer cans. Adirondack Iron is having its breakfast and I know it’ll last till tonight when the guy from Albany finally comes for his stuff or Russ makes the mistake of his life and returns home, whichever comes first.

  Somewhere around the middle of the afternoon I guess it got really hot in Russ’s crib so I squirmed my way out from under the blanket and realized that I could actually move around a little. I managed to stand up and then I hopped over to the window and with my head pushed the curtains back so I could see out. Directly below the window Raoul’s beat-up old Chevy pickup was parked in the narrow driveway that ran between the Video Den and the old abandoned state liquor store. I thought maybe if someone looked up they’d see me all taped up and blinking like crazy to come up, come up and save me.

  For a long time I stood up there in front of the window like a store dummy advertising boys’ underwear but I was waiting to see somebody, anybody, a passerby, a cop, Rudy LaGrande, Russ parking his Camaro behind Raoul’s pickup or a Video Den customer, anybody but one of the bikers and just as I felt myself starting to fall asleep I saw Wanda come out of the Video Den and lock the door, closing early I guess. She didn’t once look up and was making her way down the driveway toward the street so I banged my head against the windowpane which caused her to stop and look around for a second like maybe the noise was coming from inside the store. I did it again but that just told her it wasn’t coming from the store so she went on and disappeared around the corner.

  Pretty soon it was dark and I knew no one could see me by the window now even if they happened to look up at it. Hopping backwards over to the floorlamp I managed to turn and tip it toward me with my hands and flipped it on, then dragged it back by the window so it shone on me. The party in the livingroom was still going so no one had heard me.

  Finally about an hour later I saw Russ’s Camaro pull into the driveway and park behind Raoul’s pickup. He shut off his headlights and I couldn’t see him anymore but as soon as I heard the car door shut I started banging my head against the window glass. I did it in a steady but varied way so it would sound intentional but after three or four minutes I figured either he heard me or he didn’t and it was too late if he didn’t, he was already coming up the stairs and walking into the livingroom where the bikers were lying around stoned listening to his tapes and waiting to kill him first and me afterwards.

  Suddenly there was a tap on the window next to my head and I jumped. It was Russ standing on the roof of the back porch. He grinned at me and lifted the window open and climbed into the room like he did it every night. The wind blowing through the open window was cool and fresh and I’m thinking freedom, man, freedom.

  Russ smiles and looks me over and says, Yo, wussup? I just shook my head and rolled my eyes in the direction of the livingroom. You look like a fucking mummy, he said and proceeded to pull the tape off my hands and ankles. I undid the tape around my mouth myself because it yanked on my hair and earrings and hurt a little.

  Don’t talk, I whispered to him as soon as the tape was off my mouth. We got to get the fuck outa here, man. They found out about you stealing their stuff. They’re gonna kill us.

  Russ scoped the room a second and listened to the noise from the livingroom. Where’s my padlock? he asked. They use it to lock you in?

  Yeah, but hurry up, let’s get outa here. And keep it down, man, they’re next fucking door!

  Chill. They’d hafta break the door down to get to us. Wait a minute, he said, you oughta put some clothes on. It’s cold out.

  Forget clothes, man, I’m just trying to save the body.

  But he went over to a corner where there was a pile of clothes and pulled out some old jeans and a flannel shirt for me which I quickly put on and rolled up because they were too big. He also had some socks and a beat-up pair of sneakers. Then he did something strange. He took off my shearling jacket and gave it to me.

  It never fit me right anyhow, he said. Too small. Where’s my jean jacket? he asked looking around the room.

  In the livingroom, man. Don’t even think about it.

  He shrugged and smiled and went into the pile of clothes and pulled out an old Islanders hoodie which he put on.

  Okay, c’mon, let’s book, he said but when I turned to the window I suddenly smelled smoke and saw that the curtains were blackening along the bottom where they lay against the space heater. It was my fault, I’d pushed the curtains against the heater myself.

  They were probably made out of some highly combustible man-made fabric and they’d heated up to the burning point and with the breeze and fresh air blowing from the open window they looked like they were ready to burst into flames. And then sure enough just as I moved to pull them away from the heater a flash of blue zipped up one side and crossed over the top and shot down the other and the curtains practically exploded like they had been covered with gasoline or something.

  Oh shit, let’s go! Russ said. He dove out the window like a circus lion jumping through a ring of fire and I followed him straight into the darkness.

  By the time we got to the edge of the roof and turned to shinny down the pole to the ground the flames had completely filled the window and it looked like the whole room was burning. It was a combination of beautiful and scary probably like war. The room went up like one of those smart bombs’d hit it and when me and Russ reached the ground we turned and stood there and looked up amazed at the sight.

  We should’ve gotten into Russ’s car and beat it the hell out of there but I guess we wanted to watch the fire. We staggered backwards away from the house across the yard to the garage where the Harleys were and a few minutes later we saw Roundhouse and Joker and Raoul and Packer come running down the stairs from the apartment so we slipped away from in front of the garage into the bushes on the side.

  Russ said, C’mon, follow me, and we climbed through a broken old fence and came out behind the abandoned liquor store. He walked up to a rear door and opened it and we went inside this large storage room where we could safely look out the side window and watch the fire. All around us were these empty whiskey and wine cartons and then in the center of the pile I noticed a stack of ten or twelve unopene
d boxes. VCRs and laptop computers. I touched Russ’s shoulder and when he turned I just pointed to the boxes.

  He goes, Oh, yeah, I know. I had a little trouble unloading them locally. I thought maybe I’d make my own deal with the Albany guy. You know what I’m saying?

  Yeah, I said and turned back to the fire. Already there were two fire engines blocking the driveway. Lights were flashing and sirens and cop cars were pulling up and firemen were running hoses down the alley and driveway and rushing up the stairs with their axes.

  The bikers still stood in the shadows at the front of the garage looking up at the apartment. Bruce wasn’t with them I noticed. They were only a few feet from us and I could see they were scared shitless, even Joker who was telling them they had to book. Forget the electronics.

  So where the fuck’s Bruce! Roundhouse said in a loud voice, very upset.

  Packer said, I think he went back for the kid.

  Fuck the kid! Joker said. Fuck Bruce. Fuck the stuff. We gotta get outa here, man. There’s cops everywhere.

  Moving fast Roundhouse and Packer rolled their bikes out of the garage and got the engines started. Joker climbed on behind Roundhouse and Raoul got on behind Packer and the two huge Harleys and four bikers went roaring down the driveway past the pickup and Russ’s Camaro bumping over hoses and dodging firemen and at the street they turned right and disappeared.

  You hear that? I said to Russ.

  What?

  Bruce is still up there, man. He thinks I’m locked inside your crib. He’s trying to save me!

  Yeah. And I’ve got the key, Russ said in a strangely calm voice.

  I gotta tell him I’m okay!

  But when I turned to leave Russ grabbed my arm and said, You can’t get up there, man. It’s too late now.

  I looked back at the fire and he was right. The whole apartment was in flames and the attic above and the empty storefronts and even the Video Den were burning now. A couple of firemen who had gone up the stairs to the apartment came stumbling back out the door and got safely down to the ground just as the whole staircase and porch fell in a huge shower of sparks and flame.