FantasticLand

by Mike Bockoven

  This guy, whoever he was, tried to find a way up to me in the dark, and I suddenly heard him yell, and I heard him hit the floor. Then there was a scuffle, and I knew I had to move. I climbed down to the rails of the ride and pulled out my flashlight. When I turned it on, I found Austin beating one of the Pirates with the butt of a handgun. I’ve always heard about pistol whipping, but you don’t really understand it until you see it. It’s pretty damn brutal. You’re never sure what parts of your memory are real or not, but I swear to God I saw a tooth go flying through the beam of the flashlight, and when I did shine a light on the guy, his mouth was all bloody. The Pirate, he was sort of begging for mercy by the time I got the light on them, saying things like, “Stop, please.” It was the “please” that stuck in my memory. So polite. I held up my hands to show Austin I wasn’t going to hurt him and he got it immediately. We weren’t close, but he knew me. I was able to ask Austin what was happening over the moans of the guy he was beating, and Austin said, “The Pirates are cleaning you out.” He must have figured from my stunned silence that I didn’t get it, so he said, “They’re taking all your food and all your water and all your people,” and that did it. I remember asking how many of them there were, and he just sort of shook his head and said, “We need to find a way out of here,” and that’s when he was tackled by two other Pirates, and I remember getting hit in the head with something and feeling simultaneously sick and sort of … a very rough, scratchy sort of pain before I kind of stumbled around and hit the ground.

  Again, you never know if what you remember is real or not, but I remember being dragged out of the ride. I remember it because I was sort of panicked. I knew there were these two huge bolts on either side of the ride’s entrance where the gate shuts when it’s closed, and if I was dragged over those, the back of my head would get torn open, and they would never know. I had this very vivid image of leaving a trail of blood, so I tried to verbalize it, but I couldn’t take in enough air to make a loud noise. I do remember trying to say something but just feeling really sick again. That’s when things get a little clearer, because I remember hearing a bunch of cheers and turning my head. The Pirate leader, Mr. Hockney, he had Austin’s hands tied behind his back and was up in his face yelling. It took me a minute, but he had found a gun on Austin, and he wanted to know where the rest of them were. Austin was talking really fast, saying there were more guns but he would never find them, and if he wanted the stash, they needed to trust each other. I’m still lying on the ground when Mr. Hockney says, “I only trust men who have spilled blood with me or for me. You don’t fit either of those categories,” then he winds up and hits Austin in the side of the head with the pistol. When he did that, the gun went off. Everyone just froze and looked to see where the bullet had gone and there was this long beat. I remember Austin had an odd mix of fear and suspense on his face. I expected someone to start screaming, but one of the Pirates walked up to Mr. Hockney and showed him his shirt. The bullet had grazed it, near as I can figure, because I didn’t see any blood or other damage. The Pirate, I later learned his name was Armand, just showed Mr. Hockney his shirt. That was all. It was the smallest thing, but Mr. Hockney completely lost his temper and turned back to Austin and started beating him with the gun and then with his feet, stomping on him as hard as he could on his chest and then on his head. After about thirty seconds, he motioned for one of the Pirates to pick him up, and Austin was jerking strangely, like his head was on a wire and someone was pulling it hard from one direction. Everyone sort of drew back and he fell to the ground and he started twitching. He was facing me, and I remember looking into his eyes and thinking, “No one’s in there.” It was like a seizure, only worse. It was like a seizure you don’t get up from.

  I remember, very clearly, Mr. Hockney panting, red-faced. He said, “I didn’t mean to break him like that. But no one takes a shot at us, right?” The Pirates sort of half cheered and someone yelled, “He’s in misery, sir,” and Brock heard that and said, “We can’t have misery around here, now can we?” Then he walked over and shot Austin at least six times. I lost track after the fourth shot, they all blended together. Austin wasn’t facing me after they shot him, and I didn’t have time to look at his body as the Pirates pulled me up and we started walking. It was obvious we were headed back to the Dead Man’s Cove, where I was pretty sure they were going to kill me or hurt me. I remember hearing some of the girls from our group making that sound when you try not to cry but you can’t help it, that sort of sorrowful sob through hands pressed against the mouth. I said earlier that dealing with line jumpers and family men with tempers was the entirety of my hardship up until this point. The thing that surprised me was, as they dragged me away toward the Pirate part of the park, I was oddly calm. Detached, I think I would call it. Part of my brain was screaming, “They’re going to kill you, they’re going to torture you,” and that was very much on my mind, but panic wasn’t part of the equation. Maybe that had to do with not being able to fight back if I wanted to.

  I must have passed out at some point, because I remember having this really vivid dream about water. I don’t remember all of it, but I was in an inner tube floating down this creek like I did in the summers with my grandparents, and things kept reaching up to try to grab me. Hands kept touching my feet whenever they broke the surface of the water, and right before I woke up I remember one of the hands grabbing onto me. When I woke up from that I was inside the Cannon Splash, which is one of two rides they have in that section of the park. The Cannon, it’s a water ride, but before the big drop, there’s this section where your little pirate ship sails through a village and through a secret pirate cave with jewels and alcoves and jails. It’s pretty easy to recognize because the other ride in the park is set on a pirate ship and doesn’t have nearly the ambience of the Cannon, which is one of the most popular rides in the park. I knew immediately that’s where I was because I was surprisingly lucid when I woke up. I remembered what had happened and where I likely was, and when I saw that I was in a jail cell I was able to put it together fairly quickly. Plus there were three girls in there with me, only one of whom I knew. It was Charlotte, but I could barely tell. She had bruises all over her face and one of her eyes was almost swollen shut. I sat up and when I didn’t feel as sick as before, I asked her what happened to her face. She said, “I won,” and then whistled really loudly and yelled, “He’s awake!” One of the girls had a phone and she took a photo of me, half groggy. I remember it showing up somewhere online after we got out of the park.

  A couple of Pirates immediately showed up and unlocked the door. It was a real working cell, which makes no damn sense if you ask me. Why would you create a real cell in a theme park? I’ve heard it was some sort of nod to authenticity or something, but whoever built it was out of their mind. I felt ridiculous being held in a real jail in a fake pirate ride, but before I could dwell on it too much I was dragged out of the cell and down a long hall with water sloshing on my right side. I remember looking at the other cells as they dragged me down the hall, and I saw most of the “prisoners” had been worked over. One had a big black eye, another had a bandage over her cheek and was bruised all over her face. After about thirty-five steps I started to hear a lot of chatter, and then we went into the main room of the ride, which was lit with artificial light. Somehow, this ride had limited power. The light was still soft, but it was the first time I’d seen electric light in a couple of weeks. The main room had a big pool on one side but otherwise was in a bowl shape. Most of the Pirates were about twelve feet above me along the edge of the bowl. The floor was dirty and covered with dust, which was fake, because the floor was concrete, not stone. I remember thinking how stupid it was that this real thing was happening on this fake floor.

  Mr. Hockney stepped forward, and everyone immediately quieted. He stared right at me and said, “I have heard you don’t like fighting. Right now you have no choice,” and everyone started yelling. They brought one of the girls from the Fairy Prairie
over; I didn’t remember her name then. She looked very scared, but there was a guy and a girl on either side of her, rubbing her shoulders and encouraging her like a trainer would encourage a boxer. Mr. Hockney held up his hand and said, “Membership to the Pirates is something you earn. You get what you want by taking it. The only thing keeping you from our brotherhood is the person in front of you.” Then he just let that hang in the air. I wasn’t even aware he wanted us to fight, but I figured it out when the girl charged me and threw her shoulder into my stomach and knocked the wind out of me completely.

  In the past four hours or so I had been pelted with bolts, knocked unconscious, dragged, and jailed, and I don’t know what it was, but when that girl tried to barrel me over, that was the last straw. I felt awful but I didn’t go down, and when I got my chance to fight back, I was angry and ready. I grabbed her by the waist and tossed her has hard as I could to the right. She landed just short of the water, and I was over to her before I knew what I was doing and gave her a kick as hard as I could into her chest and shoulder. She didn’t roll like I thought she would, but she did let out a scream, and at that point it registered with me that everyone was cheering. They were wild and abandoned. I remember focusing on one of the Pirates, just for a moment, and seeing a long line of spit dangle from his mouth as he screamed. Right next to him was a girl who was yelling so loud her face had gone beet red and strands of hair had fallen into her mouth. My opponent was on her feet now, and I picked up a handful of fake dust and threw it at her face. It hit the mark, and her hands went to her face and I hit her, full strength underneath her right cheek. I didn’t even know why I was fighting. I didn’t want to be a Pirate. I’ve talked to my therapist about it, and she suggested I was so happy to have power over anything that I took full advantage of the situation. That’s a small consolation after you’ve felt your fist break a poor girl’s cheekbone.

  She fell back, holding her face, but didn’t go down, and it was at this point the anger really started to overtake me. I charged her, and she turned and ran. I caught her and threw her into the water and dove in after her. The water was fetid and gross but I didn’t notice. I was in a rage, and the girl was too scared to fight back. I punched and I punched and by the time I was done, she was unconscious. At that point, I came to my senses a bit and threw her body back onto the land and stood, dripping. My shirt was torn, and I realized my cheek was bleeding. She had scratched me at some point. Mr. Hockney was already down on the main level with me and was walking toward me. He had a knife in his hand, but I didn’t feel threatened. I remember what he said, exactly. I’ll never be able to forget. He was a man of few words but the words tended to stick with you. He said, “She went into this knowing the stakes. She was afraid and didn’t want to be afraid anymore. She said she would fight, and maybe she would die, and that was OK.” He put his hand on my shoulder and handed me the knife and told me, “Put her at peace, brother.”

  At that point, and I swear this is true, the gathering of Pirates started singing. It started as a low chant and grew and grew. It was a song I would grow to know well. They sang:

  A pirate gets what he wants

  and what he wants he gets

  He’ll spill blood for his brothers

  A pirate never quits

  Over and over they sang, a little louder each time. I was shaking now. I remember tears, but I don’t remember the sensation of crying, but I do remember the violent shaking of my hands. I looked at Mr. Hockney, and I stammered, “I don’t know where to stab,” and he put his hands over mine and helped me guide the knife. He put it over her heart and he whispered to me, “Together, my friend,” and I closed my eyes and together we pushed down. I pushed until I felt the cloth of her shirt and then some of the warm blood, and I remember her thrashing around a bit and … the worst was when I heard her death rattle, the wet choke that comes when you can no longer swallow, and I heard her lose control of her body and fill her pants. I could smell that and the metallic tinge of blood, but her eyes never opened. I’m thankful for that every day. Through it all, Mr. Hockney held my hands, and when we finally stood up after it was done, he hugged me, and I hugged him back as hard as I could. I grabbed on to him like he was the giver of life itself and when we broke the embrace, he held up my hand and said, “Chase Pounder is a Pirate!” and everyone called back, “A Pirate never quits!”

  I took a while to recover, emotionally and physically, and the Pirates gave me the time I needed. I had food and a room, I had brotherhood and entertainment. I saw Pirates treat people cruelly, but I never had to do anything like that first night. It was like I was baptized in blood. That’s what my friend Kyle called it. I was immediately accepted and I have never felt so accepted anywhere in my life. And I did … other things later. Things I wish I hadn’t. I helped Mr. Hockney set up the cannon. I cheered as people beat each other to death. I saw other people in the exact same situation I was in. I saw beggars and criers, and I was part of the group that charged the ShopGirls near the end. I screamed for blood until drool ran out of my mouth. I took an arrow. I have a scar. But those don’t stay with me. The two things that stay with me are my inability to bring the group in the Fairy Prairie together and one long look I took at the girl I killed before they took me away. I remember thinking I would trade places with her if I could. I still think that. Right now, I wish it had been me that died on that floor. I wish I didn’t have to live with my failure and her face and the things that I did. Every day I want to die. Every day.

  Honest enough for you?

  INTERVIEW 13: SAL MCVEY

  Parade Dance Troup/Guest Relations, Pirate.

  Dude, I’ve been to concerts, I’ve been to Tijuana and seen a donkey show, I once partied after-hours in a pot dispensary with an entire women’s volleyball team from Texas, so I can tell you, definitively, I have never been to a party half as fun as the one Brock Hockney threw. That. Was. A. Fucking. Party. At least, until that whole cannon thing. But even then, man, it was never boring. Not for a second. I just wish we had our phones there to put it online. It would have been epic.

  I cannot tell you how many people have come up to me and asked, “How could you be part of a group that killed people and raped people and stabbed people,” and all that bullshit. That’s why I wanted to talk. I’m not going to jail, I’ve struck my deals with prosecutors, what’s done is done. I’ve got talk shows falling all over themselves to have me on. Why not tell the truth and why not get a little cheddar out of this whole thing, right? But you? I’m talking to you to set the record straight because there’s a lot of bullshit out there. A lot of people think we were monsters. Not true. Not even close.

  First thing I want to clear up is that nobody raped anybody, and if they did it didn’t come from Brock or anyone else in charge. If rape happened, it was one person who decided that was a good idea. I heard of stuff like that happening here and there, but it didn’t happen in the Cannon Splash and it didn’t happen with other Pirates cheering on. I, like, totally understand how something like that would get out there. We did raid the Pixies and take all their members, and most of them were girls, but I’m being dead honest with you, man, rape wasn’t part of this thing. We had a lot of girls in our ranks, too. It wasn’t a big deal. You can believe me or not, but no one was looking to rape anybody. Brock said it wasn’t how things were going to work. I remember this one dude we called Jackpot because he wore this stupid Las Vegas shirt almost every day, he was all, “Pirates raped during the 1700s,” or whatever, and Brock said, “We’ve got other things to worry about without having to deal with STDs and pregnancies,” so everyone backed off that idea. People listened when Brock spoke. That’s true. Now hookups, that’s a different story. You ever heard the idea that women are attracted to power? That’s totally true. The stronger you were in the group, the more girls would just hang on you. Trust me. I know.

  This one girl named Lilly, she wouldn’t leave me alone after a while, and I had to get a little rough with her until she
got the message to leave me alone, but I never forced myself on her. Hell, she was begging for it, and a couple times I was bored, so I would hit that, then I would have to push her off me. It’s like, just because we screwed once doesn’t mean I want you around me every second, right? So then I get interested in this other girl, whose name was December. Seriously, her parents named her December. Who does that? I don’t know, but she was really hot, and she and I go to the bottom floor of the Cannons where the cells are, and we’re going at it and Lilly shows up and takes a swing at me with a big piece of wood she found somewhere. Then she starts hitting December, and they get into this fight, and one girl is naked, and before long there are a dozen guys watching this fight. It was a blast, but afterward Brock took me aside and said, “You need to respect your women. Next time it won’t turn out so well.” And I took the hint. That sort of shit doesn’t stand, so I dropped them both, and they both found other guys, and I found another girl, and things were fine. I wasn’t the only one who had that sort of thing happen, and I wasn’t the only one Brock talked to, but he never had to talk to someone about something more than once, and Brock said, “Respect women.” So we did. The thing that’s crazy, now that I think about it, was how much drama there was and no one was even beefing on Facebook or anything. It was all old-fashioned “I heard it through the grapevine” type stuff.