The Sons of Liberty

by James Tow

military for that?” she asked. And I could tell she was a little skeptical on asking.

  “You could blame them, I guess,” I told her. “But I don’t.” But I have a pretty good guess of what did mess him up.

  To our right, the beige bricks of Pine Forest High School came into view. The relatively small, two story building had parking lots wrapping along all sides. There were a few cars and trucks scattered throughout the parking lot. I drove through the entrance and took a left along the walkway in front of the school. I continued along the parking lot to the left of the building—passing the connecting weight room on the left side of the building and through the adjacent basketball courts.

  “This place is small for a high school,” Alyse pointed out.

  “Quality not quantity,” I told her. “But what school had good quality?” I asked rhetorically. “All schools are focused on is preparing their students for standardized tests—like the ones I was ranting about earlier—so their school can get an ‘A’ rating. Political bullshit I guess. I never agreed with it.”

  Connecting to the end of the parking lot was a paved trail that led behind the school. I put the car in first gear and coast through the destructive scene. Behind the school was a series of portables for elective classes. Now it was a pile of rubble—with an exception of a couple standing portables that belonged to the school’s NJROTC program. I looked out to the left, once we passed all the piles of broken portables, and saw a lone figure.

  He was on his knees in front of the tree—looking up into the sky. I followed his gaze to find he was only looking at the dark clouds blocking the sun. Alyse and I got out of the Mustang and walked to the entrance of the fence.

  “What’s this?” Alyse asked. I looked over to see she was looking at a white ribbon tied to the top of the fence. The ribbon’s ends were shredded with small strands blowing fiercely against the light breeze. Its weathered appearance was brought upon by the surrounding environment—orange from the rusted fence, brown and black from the grime and smog in the air.

  “I don’t know,” I responded honestly. I reached up for the ribbon, but something in my gut told me not too. “Let’s go,” I told Alyse, and I walked through the gate into the open field. We took notice of the dead atmosphere as the dead grass crunched under our feet.

  “Is he praying?” Alyse asked.

  “You obviously don’t know Gabriel,” I told her.

  “Does he not believe in God?” she asked.

  “It’s just complicated,” was all I could say.

  We got closer to him, and realized he was talking—but not to us. It was still incomprehensible, but I knew he wasn’t talking to us. I could hear the happiness in his voice with silent chuckles after every few words. I recognized the tree he knelt beside—I remember it full with dark green leaves and beautiful bark, not as the broken tree that stood now. I immediately halted Alyse’s advance with my hand on her shoulder. My expression answered her puzzled look. Give him time. He needs it.

  Suddenly, an ear-splitting roar bellows out through the silence. The ferocity of the sound made Alyse and I jump with surprise. It doesn’t take long to realize the source.

  I quickly walk to his side. Though, he is done screaming when I reach him, I can still feel the anger resonating off him. I kneel at his side and look out into the field, beyond the tree, as he did.

  We stare off for a couple of minutes—letting the cold breeze beat us down. His heavy breathing is making me light-headed. I glance over at him, and his bloody knuckles caught my eye. The blood from his hands was starting to dry.

  “Nice day out,” he said—breaking the silence. I look up at the dark clouds which owned the sky, and I take further notice of the cold air.

  “It’s ok,” I tell him.

  “When did you change clothes?” I asked him—realizing he’s wearing a new pair of black cargo pants and a white thermal shirt. His desert scarf still rested around his neck.

  “Before I left the airport. I was starting to smell bad,” he replied.

  “You always smell bad,” I chuckled. He didn’t laugh.

  He examined his hands and whispered, “Damn.”

  “Wanted to add some more scars to the collection on your arms?” I asked sarcastically.

  “I miss my punching bag,” he said dryly.

  Ah, so you used the tree as its replacement. Good idea.

  “Gabriel…” I started and had no idea where I was going to go next—I’ll just let my mind wander. “You keep your cool at times when you should shit your pants. You’re smart in every move we make. But sometimes you lose control, and I can imagine what goes through your mind when you do,” it’s why we are here, at this location. “I…we cannot afford it when you lose control like this. Just…rise above it.”

  I could feel him take this in for a second before he replied. “I have tried. But it’s embedded in me,” he sighed. “When you give a hundred and ten percent of yourself to something then suddenly—and painfully—it’s taken away…what’s left of you?”

  “Whatever else it is that drives you,” I said shrugging my shoulders.

  We sat in silence, again, for a couple of minutes.

  “Anger,” he replied.

  14. Welcoming Party

  “Um, guys?” Alyse called out from behind us. I forgot she was there. “Guys?!” she called out louder, and Gabriel and I turned to see what she was worried about. A wall, of what looked like kids, marched in our direction—automatic weapons in their possession. A man with a megaphone was leading them. Alyse started walking backward until she bumped into me. I put my hands on her shoulders and pulled her behind me.

  The man put the megaphone to his mouth and spoke, “You’re surrounded. You have nowhere to go; we have snipers on the roof.” I look beyond them to the roof of the high school and saw several people aiming high caliber rifles in our direction. Instinctively, I put my hands in the air and Alyse followed—Gabriel put his hands in his pockets and slouched in his stance.

  “Slowly, get on your knees and lay face down and we may spare your lives,” the man called out.

  The crunching of the brown grass told me Alyse followed orders. I fell to one knee, and Gabriel started laughing. “You do everything you’re told?” he chuckled.

  “If a man is pointing a gun at me, I’ll give the bastard a hand-job if he tells me to,” I replied.

  “Faggot,” he whispered.

  “Do what I say! Or they will shoot!” the man called out.

  “Coach Bergstrom!” Gabriel yelled and waved half-heartedly.

  The old man stopped his advance and held his hand up to tell his ‘troops’ to halt. He took a few baby steps our way—with his neck outstretched in front of him and his eyes squinting—trying to get a better look at who just called his name. He was no more than thirty yards away when he started smiling. He took longer strides in his step and said, “Get the hell out. It can’t be you.”

  “Why can’t it be me?” Gabriel asked sarcastically with his arms held open, and started walking toward the old man.

  “Christ, is it good to see you,” the old man said and they shook hands.

  “Good to see your head hasn’t gotten any bigger,” Gabriel joked.

  Alyse and I slowly crept to them. It finally hit me. The old man was George Bergstrom—Gabriel’s defensive line coach. ‘He’s one of the coolest coaches you’ll ever meet,’ Gabriel always told me. Bergstrom was wearing a thick tan jacket with khaki shorts that lay two inches short of his knees. He had white tennis shoes and a large straw safari hat. It’s hard to think of Gabriel as a jock. He kept to himself all the time. I think people were just scared to talk to him because he looked pissed-off all the time. ‘I just have a mean default face,’ I remember him telling me. Nobody took notice of him until he started dating the most beautiful girl in school. And nobody new she was as beautiful as she was until she started dating him—she’s much like him in how she keeps to herself. Awkward how it all works when you think about it…


  “…and this must be Paul,” Bergstrom said when we finally made it to where they stood. He stuck his hand out for me to shake. When his hand clasped mine it was like he was trying to break my fingers, so I squeezed back. Finally, a firm handshake. It’s annoying to shake limp hands. In a way, it tells you what kind of person they are. We need more firm handshakes—especially in this day and age.

  “This is Alyse,” I threw in there before they continued. He and Alyse exchanged strained waves, and he turned back to Gabriel. “We’ve been hearing more and more about you two lately,” he said smiling. “Causing trouble in Manchester?” he asked rhetorically.

  All three of us were taken aback. He was off a few hundred miles, but still.

  “It was Wales actually—but how did you know that?” Gabriel asked.

  “Liberty NOW Radio,” he said and started to explain. “Many people have started means of communication. Since everyone lives sheltered lives now, we have no way of knowing what goes on around the world. It seems radio is the most popular way to get news to us, and you two are a popular subject among several stations.”

  I couldn’t help but stand a little taller. I felt a sense of pride surge through my veins, and then Gabriel scoffed. The bastard ruined it for me.

  “There are the less efficient ways too,” he continued, “Like newspapers and Morse Code. Morse Code might be useful, but none of us around here knows that shit. But yeah, you two are everybody’s heroes. People send letters and