by Nancy Isaak
There was a sudden rustling in the bushes and Connor appeared. He had a gun in his hand and he was wearing the first aid backpack.
“What happened?” he gasped, limping forward. “Who’s hurt?”
“Jacob!” Ethan continued to sob. “Brandon hurt Jacob!”
Connor rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside me. I was still trying to maneuver myself up, and I pushed at his chest, trying to get him out of the way.
I didn’t want to lose sight of Brandon.
“He was kicking and punching him,” explained Ian. “I think Brandon was going to kill Jacob!”
“But Kieran stopped him,” added Andrei. “He shot at him and Brandon stopped.”
I looked over at Kieran; he shrugged—nonchalant.
“Mom would have been pissed if I didn’t.”
JOURNAL ENTRY #23
My ribs hurt—a lot.
Porter and Connor both say that they’re not broken. I’m not sure if I believe them. Not that it would really matter anyway—not like you can do anything for a broken rib. Just tape it up and hope that it heals correctly.
I’ve also got cuts on my arms and legs from when I fell into the tree. The worst cut is on my forehead, though. Brandon’s fist gave me that one.
Frankly—it hurt like a son of a bitch.
But that pain was nothing compared to how it felt when Porter stitched me up. The only good thing about it was the look on Rhys’ face when the needle went through my skin. His mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide, and I thought he was actually going to scream.
It made me laugh—which made me move—which tugged on the thread Porter was sewing along my forehead.
And that did make Rhys scream—literally.
Then, he ran out of the kitchen and refused to come back in until it was all over. Wester, meanwhile, kept bending over—closer and closer—trying to see exactly what was happening. Finally, Porter had to order him out of the room, he became so annoying.
* * * *
Just to make it fair, I had us all vote.
“Who died and made you king?” growled Brandon.
We were sitting in the living room, waiting for Porter to return from Ru’s. Meanwhile, Brandon was handcuffed to his chair, while the rest of us wandered around the room, agitated and fidgety—wanting this to be over.
“What’s with the finger necklace?” I asked, moving to stand in front of Brandon.
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been in my bedroom.”
“Necklace—fingers—explain.”
Brandon shrugged. “Sorry, dude. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kieran came over, looking confused. “What finger necklace?”
“It’s in his bedroom,” I said. “It’s made out of the bones of human fingers.”
My brother looked sickened. I immediately felt better—Kieran hadn’t known.
“Why would you have something like that?” he asked, turning toward Brandon.
“It was just a joke,” said Brandon. “I found the necklace in a house and I thought it was funny.”
“Is it real?” Kieran asked.
“I don’t know,” shrugged Brandon. “I didn’t think so. But if big brother is all worked up about it—then maybe it is after all.”
The door opened and Porter came in, stopping the moment he saw us. “This doesn’t look good,” he said, quietly. He moved forward into the room, suddenly noticing that Brandon was in handcuffs.
“I take that back,” Porter grinned. “Apparently, things are starting to look up.”
* * * *
The vote was over in less than a minute. Everyone wanted Brandon gone. The only person who hesitated was Kieran.
“Don’t do it, Kiks,” warned Brandon. “You know it’s wrong.”
Kieran looked over at the younger guys, at Rhys—then back to Brandon.
“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass,” he said, quietly.
BYE-BYE
I walked Brandon down Dume Drive myself the next morning. It was early—the sun barely risen. I was hoping to have Brandon off of the Point and out of our lives before any of the other guys woke up.
It was definitely time to say good-bye for good.
At the corner of Dume Drive and Heathercliff Road, I threw Brandon the keys to the handcuffs. He was wearing his backpack and his hands were cuffed in front of him.
“Undo them and put the key and the cuffs on the ground,” I ordered, holding my gun on him—cocked and ready. “Then, step back.”
Brandon did what he was told. I moved forward and—never taking my eyes off of him—reached down and picked up the cuffs and key.
“Now, we’re going to walk down Heathercliff to Pacific Coast Highway. I don’t care which way you go once we get there. I just want you off of the Point.”
“And if I don’t want to go?” asked Brandon. “You going to shoot me?”
“I’ll shoot you.”
“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “Remember—I’ve seen you play on the field. You can run and you can catch—but you’ve never been able to make a good hit.”
“You need to go, Brandon,” I insisted. “Now.”
He took a step toward me, his posture threatening. I responded by taking a step backward.
“And there it is,” he laughed, pointing. “If you were going to shoot, you would have done it right then and there.”
“For once in your life,” I urged him, “do what’s right, Brandon.”
Grinning, he leaned forward—preparing to charge.
Bang!
The bullet passed inches away from his head.
Except—I hadn’t shot it.
* * * *
Ru walked out from behind a parked van, ten of his guys behind him. Their guns and machetes were in their hands and they arced around behind me—facing Brandon.
“I see that you’ve finally decided to take out the trash,” Ru commented, grinning.
“You see correctly,” I responded. “Thanks for coming.”
“Can we kill it for you?” he asked, raising his machete and angling it toward Brandon.
“That’s okay,” I said. “He’s just leaving.”
There was a look of pure hatred on Brandon’s face.
“This isn’t over, Jacob,” he hissed. “Count on that.”
Then, he stalked off, eventually turning right onto the Pacific Coast Highway. Moments later, he disappeared from our sight.
Brandon was finally gone.
MAY
JOURNAL ENTRY #24
When I came down to supper this evening, Kieran wasn’t at the table. The last time I had seen him was when I got back from kicking Brandon off of the Point. Kieran had been in the living room—waiting for me.
“Is he gone?” he asked, solemnly.
I nodded. “Some of Ru’s guys are following him—making sure he’s heading away from the Point.”
“Do you know where he’s going?”
“Last word Ru got was up Kanan-Dume.”
Kieran had nodded then and walked out of the room.
* * * *
I was worried that Kieran might try and follow Brandon.
When I sat down at the dinner table tonight and saw his empty seat, my stomach just fell. I immediately turned to look out the back window, peering through the darkness—toward the guest house.
“He’s next door,” Porter offered. “We saw him go over a little while ago.”
“I think he was going to the gym,” added Connor, from his seat at the end of the table.
There was the clatter of footsteps on the stairs, and Wester and Ethan entered from the dining room, collapsing onto their chairs. With the exception of Kieran, everyone was now present.
* * * *
A large bowl of fish stew sat in the center of the table over a lit can of Sterno, its briny smell making me salivate. Crackers and buns were arranged on a plate next to the stew and—for dessert—Ian had come across some strawberries that he’d soak
ed in sugar water.
Nobody made a move toward the food, however.
We all just sat there—waiting for Kieran.
Finally, I pushed my chair back. “Go ahead and eat it while it’s hot. You don’t have to wait.”
* * * *
I found Kieran sitting on a weight bench—staring out into space. “You coming to dinner?”
He shook his head. “Not hungry.”
“Have you eaten anything today? Anything at all?”
“Not hungry,” he repeated.
We were both quiet for a moment—Kieran looking at the ground—me, looking at him.
“I didn’t know he was like that,” he finally said, his voice so low it was barely audible. “I mean, I knew Brandon was crazy…but I always thought it was just fun-stuff, you know. Not sick-stuff, like peeping at naked kids.” He looked up at me, then—full of self-loathing. “I swear, Jacob…I didn’t know Brandon was a pervert.”
“I know…we all know. Nobody blames you, Kieran.”
“But they probably hate me,” he said, looking down again. “They should hate me.”
“Because you were Brandon’s friend? I’m sorry, bro—but that’s just stupid.”
Kieran drew a hand across his eyes, wiping away the tears that were gathering there. “What’s stupid is that I thought he was my friend!”
“Come on, Kieran—”
“But friends don’t do that,” he continued. “They don’t go after your little brother. And they don’t sneak around and watch kids being naked and jack off to them.”
“No, they don’t,” I agreed.
My brother looked up at me—eyes moist, yet filled with a fierce anger. “I wish Brandon was dead,” he whispered.
“He’s gone,” I assured him. “Off the Point. Best we can do right now.”
“But, you know, don’t you…that he’ll come back?”
“Ru’s guys are watching him.”
“They are now,” said Kieran. “But sooner or later, they’ll stop and then Brandon will come back.”
“Kieran, he’s probably heading up to Agoura Hills. I doubt he’ll turn around and come all the way back. What reason would he have to do that?”
My brother reached into his back pocket. Pulling out the ‘finger necklace’, he handed it to me. “Because Brandon is crazy.”
* * * *
At the door to the dining room, Kieran hesitated.
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “They’re probably all finished and gone back to their rooms anyway.”
But—when we entered the dining room—the guys were all still there. Sitting…waiting.
“Finally,” whined Ethan. “Can we start now?”
I immediately went to my place.
Kieran hesitated a moment, then sat down at his.
The stew pot was quietly bubbling in the middle of the table. I noticed that everybody’s plates were still empty; even the crackers and buns hadn’t been touched.
Rhys reached over and grabbed the ladle. He held it out, directly to Kieran. “You can go first, dumbass.” Kieran put out his hand for the ladle, but Rhys quickly pulled it back. “If you promise to get rid of that eyeliner,” he teased, “because, dude—it looks stupid.”
Lightning fast—Kieran’s hand shot out and yanked the ladle out of Rhys’ hand. “You look stupid,” Kieran retorted, dipping the ladle into the stew. “And I can always take off the liner. You’re simply stuck with your face.”
There was much laughter around the table.
Our old Kieran was on his way back.
It was a start.
THE CRAZIES
Two days later, Rhys, Kieran, and I walked into Ru’s camp. There were armed guards at the entrances and all along the wall. Nobody stopped or questioned us, even though the three of us were armed with guns and knives.
Rhys had recently taken to carrying a machete and had it tucked into a sheath and attached to his belt. It kept hitting him in the legs as he walked. Kieran had suggested that a shoulder sheath might be a better idea. But Rhys wouldn’t have it, though—he felt more dangerous having the big knife at his waist.
Personally, I thought Rhys looked dumb.
But then—we all probably did.
Boys playing at being soldiers.
* * * *
“You want me to put this one in the cage?” asked Ru, nodding toward Kieran.
Rhys immediately took offense and his hand went to his machete. I reached out and placed my hand over his, stopping him.
“It was a joke, bro.”
Kieran held his hand out to Ru. “I think I owe you an apology, man. I did some crappy things on your side of the Point. Sorry about that.”
Ru shook his hand, grinning. “Welcome back to the light.”
* * * *
Kieran and Rhys had never been inside of Ru’s camp before. They walked with their eyes wide, heads snapping this way and that—taking everything in.
“There are so many guys,” whispered Rhys. “Look at them, Kieran.”
“We’re up to sixty-eight now,” said Ru, proudly. “Five houses full and counting.”
“Jacob!” Spinning around, I found Nate and Xavier, standing behind us. I hadn’t seen either of them since our little adventure with the block and tackle.
Xavier looked much the same, except his clothes were a little dirtier and there was a leanness to his face that hadn’t been there before.
Nate, however, was a completely new guy.
There was a healthy glow to him and his green eyes were clear and focused. He was wearing jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt, exposing his tanned and muscled arms.
“Dude!” I exclaimed, shaking his hand. “You look great!”
“Thanks to you,” said Nate. “I hear I would’ve been dead if you hadn’t got me into that water.”
“You would’ve been dead if it wasn’t for Porter,” I said, in all honesty. “That’s your hero, right there.”
“Well, I’ve already thanked Porter,” said Nate. “Now, I want to thank you.”
“My pleasure, bro.”
* * * *
Rhys disappeared with Nate and Xavier soon after that. They walked away, engrossed in a discussion about Legos and Minecraft. Ru, Kieran, and I continued on into the main courtyard—passing by the cage.
It was empty.
I noticed that there were small items set against the base of the bars—flowers, brightly colored rocks, small toy cars, a penknife.
“What’s up with all of that?” I asked.
“We lost another two guys who hit eighteen,” explained Ru. “One of them was Samuel. He was there at Pavilions, the first day I met you.”
“I remember Samuel,” I said. “Ru—I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Clocks are running on all of us.”
* * * *
“Jacob, that’s a Delahaye!”
“I thought you might get a kick out of seeing these,” I said to Kieran.
Ru had unlocked the door to the barn and led us in a moment ago. Now, he was standing to one side, watching, as Kieran rushed toward the teardrop-shaped automobile.
“Dude, this is cherry! Look at these bitchin lines on this thing!”
“There’s another barn on the other side—full of Domestics.”
Kieran ran to the next car over. “A fricking Bugatti…are you kidding me?!”
I turned to Ru, grinning. “This might take a while,” I warned him.
“Good,” he said, his face turning serious. “Because there’s something I need to talk to you about.
* * * *
We sat cross-legged on the ground outside of the barn.
From inside—every few minutes—we could hear Kieran exclaiming over one car or another. There were other guys around, including Ru’s armed guards—but they all kept their distance as we talked.
“The kid’s name was Denny Passelmore,” Ru told me. “He said he was from Agoura Hills.”
“I know Denny,” I said. “We’re on the f
ootball team together. He’s one of the biggest linebackers we have.”
“Not anymore,” said Ru. “Sorry, dude.”
“And your guys found him where?”
“About a mile up Encinal. Lying at the side of the road. There was another guy with him, but he was already dead. It looks like they were both tossed aside when they became sick. Just thrown away.”
I was disgusted—horrified. “And Denny couldn’t tell you who they were?”
“He just referred to them as the ‘Crazies’,” said Ru. “Your boy was pretty out of it by the time my guys found him. They only got bits and pieces from him.”
“And these Crazies took him from Agoura Hill?”
“He said they got him and some guy named Frank.”
“It must be Frank Gornman,” I said. “He’s a running back. Always pals around with Denny and Brandon. Did he say if Frank was still alive?”
“It was Frank who tossed him to the side of the road. Denny said that the Crazies made him do it. Otherwise they were going to kill them both. Had them—and some other guys—chained up together. They’re apparently using them all as slaves.”
“Oh my god.” I was having trouble fathoming this. “Do you know where?”
“Not really,” he said. “But my guys found some PVC pipe laid across Encinal a little farther up. Under the circumstances, they didn’t follow it too far, but it looks like one end might lead up to the reservoir.”