by Alan Janney
I glared at the discordant sounds through the walls, praying they’d keep going down the sidewalk. My luck ran out; they were coming to this house. Time to go! I could retreat out the back window and they’d never know I was here.
“…too funny, man…thought he’d piss his pants…you got style…only two hundred...easy cash…so many fires, yo… shut the hell up…what do you think, Tee?...”
Absently listening to the chatter, I grabbed the sash of the near window and yanked. Nothing. I pulled harder but it was frozen, painted shut for years. The front door burst open and suddenly the empty house was full of noise. The stomping and the laughter and the cursing sounded obscenely loud after the stillness.
“Dangitdangitdangit,” I whispered and heaved upwards as hard as I could. The wooden finger-holds surrendered and broke off into rotten pieces, but the window hadn’t moved. I stumbled backwards, off balance, and crashed into the desks. Jewelry and phones hit the floor, sounding like a glass chandelier shattering in slow motion.
Instant silence downstairs.
Oh…no…
I lived a year in that moment.
“Check it out,” a dark voice thundered below.
Oh man oh man oh man…My brain started operating at light speed. Do I just announce my presence? Do I tell them I’m only a seventeen year old kid? Do I try jumping through the window and risk cutting myself to ribbons and breaking my neck? Check the other rooms? Hide in the bathroom? Who could be down there?
No good options. I’m dead.
Sweat flushed out all over my body and my throat constricted. Steps on the staircase. Heart pounding. Only one chance. Take them by surprise and escape out the front door. Good enough.
With the decision made, I summoned upon all my courage and instead I found anger. I am the Outlaw! I was mad, furious, practically galvanized with determination. I was soaked in gasoline and someone had dropped the match. My jaw was set in resolution. I was no longer terrified. I was the terror, and I wanted to break things. I even felt bigger. I could swear my shirt was growing tighter.
Someone, a man, had just finished climbing the stairs and he was reaching for the light switch. I walked straight to the top of the landing and kicked him, planting my foot so hard into his chest that he couldn’t even cry out in alarm. He was propelled upwards and backwards, sailing clear over the head of a second figure on the stairs. He hit the far wall like he’d been shot out of a cannon, crushing through the plaster and collapsing into a heap on the floor.
The second dark shape on the stairs was scared frozen but I could see his eyes wide in horror. I jumped out into nothingness, launching myself from the top landing. I slammed into his chest and together we fell. He toppled backwards helplessly as I drove him into the bottom landing. We landed on top of his companion, who was gasping and clutching his ribs. I rose up like an unholy monster and stood on top of them, king of the hill and ready to destroy someone else. The overhead light snapped on and it was then that the extent of my error became apparent.
The room was full! And in the midst of them stood the biggest giant I’d ever seen. I didn’t have time to count the startled faces or scrutinize the giant before the kid closest to me, a little guy in a hoodie, released a piercing shriek. “It’s him! The Outlaw!”
For a fraction of a second, the tension balanced on a knife edge. Maybe this would be okay. Maybe…
“Get’em!” Pandemonium broke out. Guns were drawn. Guns! The door crashed open and a couple kids fled the house. Shouts, angry cries. I was stuck! Too much muscle down here for me to get past. I bolted back up the stairs, and as I did a gun blast rocked the house. Plaster chips sprayed me and my ears rang.
A gunshot? I just wanted to get Erica’s necklace back! I quickly retreated up the stairs.
“No!” a deep, guttural voice commanded. “No guns. Only one of him, six of us. No guns.”
That little guy kept yelling, “Help, it’s the Outlaw!”
I was safely upstairs but I peeked around the bannister. The giant was watching me. He was easily the biggest human being I’d ever seen. I was more stunned by this man than the pistols. His head almost touched the ceiling and his shoulders were so broad I truly didn’t know if he could fit through a doorway without twisting first. He was immaculately dressed in pressed designer jeans and a white oxford shirt. His sleeves had been rolled up to reveal arms thickly corded with muscle. Strangely, he wore white cotton gloves on his gigantic hands. And most alarming of all, he examined me calmly with an insidious grin spreading across his face; no fear or surprise in his eyes.
He occupied so much of the room that I couldn’t get past him. So now what? He started walking towards me.
“The Outlaw!” the cry continued. “Help!”
“Someone shut Beans up,” the giant ordered. He stepped over the two bodies on the staircase, put his freakishly large hands onto the railing and peered up. He had the face of a devil. And he smiled at me again. I smiled back behind my mask. He was a handsome mixed man, probably mostly Latino. I weighed about 180, give or take, and I guessed him close to 300 pounds. He started taking slow deliberate steps towards me.
Behind him the craze continued. “Help us! The Outlaw is here! Help us!” That kid Beans had lost his mind. Why was Beans afraid of me and not the huge giant?
“So,” the enormous man chuckled, and I felt his voice more than heard it. “You the Outlaw?”
“And you’re Goliath, I assume?” I asked. He stopped on the third step. I hadn’t recoiled at his approach, which seemed to surprise him.
“You’re a big guy,” he observed darkly.
“I used to think so.”
“What do you want here?” he asked.
“I’m lost. Is this not Disney Land?”
“You’re either brave or stupid,” he said. “Before I break your knees, why don’t you tell me what you’re really doing in this house.”
“I came to get something that doesn’t belong to you,” I said.
“Help is coming, help is coming!” Beans cried from below.
At those words the giant stopped. His expression shifted slightly from amusement to annoyance. He turned to inspect his gang, which I could no longer see. They were downstairs and I was upstairs. His dark eyes stared at something.
“Beans is on the phone,” he said. “Get Beans off the phone.”
I had been momentarily forgotten during this ludicrous pause in the action. I debated attacking him while his attention was diverted, but even if I could knock him over I would still have to deal with the guns. And besides, I’m a seventeen year old kid; I don’t attack people or deal with guns. I should be in bed.
“Hey, yo, Tee,” someone shouted below. “He called the cops, Tee!”
Tee, the enormous dinosaur that I called Goliath, didn’t move.
“He called the police?” Tee asked.
“Yeah man. Yeah he did.”
“Beans,” Tee rumbled. “You call 911?”
“It’s the Outlaw,” Beans said below. I couldn’t see him but I could imagine him shrinking under the piercing stares. Beans had kept calling Help, it’s the Outlaw! Had he been yelling that into the phone? To the police?
“911?”
“The Outlaw’s here,” Beans said miserably. “So I called the police.”
“Beans. There is no such thing as the Outlaw. He’s an idiot in a ski mask.”
No one moved for a long moment. Maybe they’d forget I was here if I didn’t breathe. I could hear the faucet dripping. It might have been my imagination, but I could also hear sirens.
“Beans, I’m going to break your fingers,” Tee said and the calm malice in his voice was frightening. He turned to face me again. “I’m going to find you, Outlaw.”
“Leaving so soon?” I asked as he turned back down the steps. “Past your bed time?” I jumped after him. Tee strode through the living room and into the kitchen.
“Scatter,” he commanded. “No one gets caught.” He walked out of my line of sigh
t.
Most of the original gang had already left, disappearing into the night. Tee was leaving. I could see Beans staring at me dumbly, his phone forgotten in his left fist. Three goons were remained. They didn’t look like they were leaving. And two of them had guns.
The only reason I lived through the night is that, with a blast of clarity, time slowed down. Or else my mind sped up. I remembered feeling the same way on the football field during our last game. Their motions turned leisurely, sluggish, giving me a chance to think, to process, to act.
Before they could raise their weapons I had already moved. The closest gunner was the larger of the two, and I struck his hand to dislodge the weapon. I threw the heel of my hand into the nose of the unarmed assailant. Hot blood spurted. I brought my fists down and crushed the arms of the second gunner.
Beans, who had begun screaming again, tried to run for it but I was there first. I tripped him and rammed him into the wall. The larger gunman went to reclaim his lost pistol but I got there first again. I kicked it out of his reach and threw a hard right hook into his stomach.
My opponents moved as though they were underwater. The smaller gunman abandoned his pistol and staggered away through the kitchen, and even though I could easily catch him I let him go.
The man with the broken nose tried to rise but I shoved him back down, earning a fresh set of groans. I was playing a game of human Whack-A-Mole. The remaining gunman, gasping for breath, made a clumsy move towards the door but I tripped him too and pushed him into a chair.
I finally stopped moving and surveyed the damage. The fight was over. I turned to the boy on the floor. “Beans,” I said conversationally. “Let’s chat.” He eyed me hysterically and began a fresh set of shrieks. I picked him up by his collar and held him close to my face.
“Now talk. Who was that guy?” I demanded.
“What guy?” the kid stammered.
“The big one.”
“Who, Tee?”
“Yeah, Tee. What’s his real name?”
“Freeze!”
I froze. The first squad car had arrived. The policeman standing in the front door had his gun drawn, but the barrel was slowly lowering. His eyes were trained on me and they were growing wider by the second. “Holy crap,” he said. “It’s you!”
Behind him I could see his cruiser parked halfway on the small front lawn, his emergency lights painting the buildings in blue and red. I could hear more sirens in the distance. He looked around the room and saw the two groaning men on the stairs, the man on the floor holding his nose, the semi-conscious guy on the chair and the kid I was holding in my fists. Then his eyes returned to me.
“You’re the Outlaw,” he said.
“And I was just leaving,” I said.
“No, wait,” he said, and his resolve hardened. His gun barrel came back up. “Stay right where you are.”
“You’ve got plenty here to keep you busy,” I said. “Upstairs you’ll find a treasure of stolen items. Have a good night.” I bolted out of the living room and was through the kitchen and into the backyard in the blink of an eye.
“Stop! You’re under arrest!” he called uselessly.
I went over the fence and down the alley in a flash, quickly outpacing the pursuing policeman. I had to give him credit, though. He was trying. I slid into an alley and realized I’d been here before, the last time I’d been trying to outrun a dog. A dead end, nothing but a ten foot high brick wall ahead.
“Stop right there,” he panted doggedly as he turned the corner.
“Why are you following me? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Lay down on the ground,” he commanded, holding the gun in a two-handed grip and keeping it trained at my feet. “You’re a person-of-interest connected with a domestic disturbance emergency call, and you’re resisting arrest.”
“I’m not guilty of anything,” I said. “There was an entire gang of thieves in there, and I’m not one of them. And that house is a dumping ground for stolen goods.”
“On the ground, now,” he ordered. “We’ll sort out guilt and innocence later.”
With no other options I charged the wall like last time, only now I braced a foot on the wall and kicked my body upwards. I planted my hand on top of the brick barrier, vaulted over, and landed on the rooftop beyond. It couldn’t have been easier. The cop stared at me in disbelief. I even impressed myself.
“If you hurry, you can catch the guilty parties before they’ve all fled the premises,” I said, and then saluted him. “Thank you for your service to our fine city.”
I dashed off across the rooftops and left him dumbfounded.
On the way home my energy diminished, the euphoric high crashed, and my stomach soured. I pulled into the emergency lane and vomited on the road. And again. I couldn’t stop. I emptied my stomach until I was sweating and shaking.
I wiped my face and my mouth with the bandana, and waited for the tremors to subside. I screwed up. Big time. That gunshot almost hit me. And Tee…I didn’t want to consider what would have happened if the police hadn’t been serendipitously called. He would have broken me in half.
Back at home, I ate all the deli meat in the house, plus three bananas, an apple, and I drank almost half a gallon of orange juice. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so hungry. Upstairs, as I started to get undressed, I made a surprising discovery; the seams in my shoes had all busted and most of the laces were broken. For no apparent reason, my sneakers had nearly split in half.
Chapter Twelve
Tuesday, September 18. 2017
“Thanks for your service to our fine city?” I whispered to myself, remembering my patriotic salute to the cop. I can’t believe I’d said something so corny. “What’s wrong with me?”
“What?” Lee asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Shhhhh!” Mr. Ford hissed at us. He sat at his desk, glaring at the class while we worked on the problems he had displayed on the screen. Our classmates were either hard at work or asleep. Our teacher really didn’t care which.
“You look tired, bro,” Lee whispered.
“I bet,” I muttered.
“Hannah Walker been keeping you up at night? Am I right?” he prodded, his cheeks about to crack from an irreverent smile.
“No,” I sighed. “I have no idea what’s going on with her.”
“What do you mean? I figured you’d be all over that, dude.”
“I don’t know. Everyone assumes we’re together. But we’ve hardly even talked. And we hugged once. That’s it.”
“Really?” he asked. “That’s it?”
“Yup.”
“That sucks, bro.”
“And whenever we’re together, she wants to talk about studying and how to keep our grades up. Maybe I just don’t know how to talk to girls.”
“Definitely,” he nodded. “You totally suck at that. Man, I heard she and Andy used to make out in the back of his SUV every night. He always kept the back row of seats dropped so they had plenty of room, you know? After a victory, Andy would tell everyone you could hear the shocks squeaking two blocks away.”
“Thank you…for those uplifting facts.”
“So what are you going to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Ask her out on a date?”
“What!” he yelped, and Mr. Ford shot him a death stare. “What?” he whispered. “You haven’t even asked her out on a date yet?”
“No. I should have by now, huh?”
“Dude. You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah,” I grunted. “I tell myself that a lot.”
“But you’re going to Homecoming with her, right?”
“I don’t know if I’m even going to Homecoming.”
He stared at me blankly before finally saying, “You need help.”
Near the end of class Lee left to go help other struggling students with their Trig problems. I verified that no one was watching and I took out Natalie North’s phone.
I had no n
ew messages from her. I pretended I wasn’t disappointed.
I got the locket, I texted Erica. I think it’s yours. If you want it back, bring the reward to Maple Park tonight. The locket will be in the bushes under the ramp. Take the locket, leave the cash.
In Spanish, Katie’s friends inundated her with questions about Sammy. Stupid Sammy. Stupid short Sammy. She split her chocolate bar with me though.
At lunch, I stopped myself right before sitting down beside Lee and Cory. Katie was sitting with Sammy. Across the raucous lunch room I could see Hannah and her pack of cheerleaders at their own table. I took a deep breath and went over. As I approached, the table grew quieter and quieter, and eventually all of them were staring at me. They looked like cats admiring a mouse before devouring it.
“Hi girls,” I said, and cleared my throat. They said ‘Hi!’ and Hannah waved her fingers at me, generating a thousand kilowatts with her smile. “What…ah…what’re you talking about?”
“We’re trying to talk Erica out of meeting a creepy stalker tonight,” Hannah said.
“Creepy stalker?” I asked. Uh oh.
“Some creep is claiming he has her locket,” Hannah clarified. “And he wants to meet tonight. At ten. In a park.”
“That does sound…creepy,” I admitted. Shoot. I didn’t think that through.
One of the carbon-copy blonde girls said, “Whoever it is probably stole the locket in the first place.”
“You girls don’t understand,” Erica wailed. “I love that locket!”
“Chase,” Hannah said. “You agree, don’t you? She absolutely cannot go.”
“Well…” I stammered.
“Why can’t this person simply bring the locket to your house?” Hannah demanded. “It’s too suspicious.”
“But I want it back,” Erica pouted, tears pooling in her eyes.
“What if,” I said, “What if…I went with you?”