Chapter One of The Last Patrol 1 Upstate New York, 1983 Jake had told Nate that he would get him after school. And there he was, standing outside the entrance, waiting. But not just Jake. Jake with his crew, Erik, Nick and Keith; the class bullies since forever. From inside, looking down the hallway, Nate could see them through the glass doors. He quivered. They prowled, like predators - like sharks circling a life raft, biding their time, waiting for the survivor inside to die. Fear Panic Hopelessness. No way Nate could make it home. Ten times he had tried calling his mother. He knew she was home but she didnt answer. She rarely did. Nate stood against the wall, fifty feet back from the doors, hoping they couldnt see him. But they saw him. And Nate could see Jake as well, that sinewy large body, his narrow gaunt face, humorless and cruel, those beady penetrating eyes, not so much analytical but calculating, pathological and black. Theyd been laying in wait for over two hours now. It was coming on six oclock and getting dark. Nate had hoped theyd eventually give up and go home, but Jake had nothing better to do. As it grew darker outside, the brighter it seemed in the hallway. Nate could sense this and felt exposed, trapped under bright stage lights. He knew they could now see him clearly. They pressed their faces close to the glass, peered in and threw taunts. I can see youuu! Natie boyyy! Come out, come out and playyy! Chickennn! Bawk! Bawk! Bawk! Get your ass out here you little pussy! They werent tiring. They smelt blood. There was no other choice. Nate had to find another way out, but he knew he couldnt out run them. They were much bigger than him, big for freshmen, while Nate was small, the size of a sixth grader, his body frail, like a childs. Terror surged through Nate as he struggled to think. All he could do was back away slowly. Maybe they wouldnt notice, he thought and so he inched away. But he didnt get far before they found out. Hey! Hes sneaking off! shouted Jake. He pointed and yelled, Nick and Keith, go that way! Eric, youre with me! They ran in opposite directions to cover all exits. Nate turned and raced down the hallway. His lungs heaved for air. Everything was a blur and the walls seemed to fly past. He headed toward the main office then thought, No! No one there this late. He froze. Where?! Where?!. . . The gym! He backtracked toward the gym, got to the doors and yanked. It opened. Thank God! Nate ran in and raced across the hardwood floor to the far side. He stopped at the emergency exit doors and trembled. Lifting shaking hands to the panic bar, he froze. Then, swallowing hard, he cracked open the door and peered out. The coast was clear. He pushed the door open a little further, poked out his head. The other way was clear as well. He burst out and sprinted to the left, toward the main road in front of the school. There were street lights and cars driving by. Maybe hed be safe there. His heart pounded as he ran with everything he had. Almost there, a hundred yards to go. I can make it! he thought, Im gonna make it! So close. . . But from around the corner, out stepped Nick. Nick shouted, Hes over here! Panic, like a white flash, shot through Nate. He turned and ran the other way. He could hear Nick closing in from behind but he didnt dare look back. Then it came to him: the teachers parking lot! Maybe a teacher stayed late. It was his last hope, just around the corner to the right. Almost there, only ten yards more. He rounded the corner. Bamm! He was on his back, looking up. Bright white spots dotted his vision. Jake had been there and hit him, sending Nate flying onto his back, slamming his head on the pavement. Jake stood over him, looked down and laughed, Where do you think youre going ya little puke? He bent down, grabbed Nate by the jacket collar and lifted him to his feet. We gotcha now ya little shit. The others closed in around Nate. Trapped on all sides, Nate pleaded, Why? Why do you have to do this? Why?! laughed Jake. Why not?! Nate sighed. Its over. But it wasnt over. It was only just beginning. ҉ ҉ ҉ It had started a day, like most of his days. Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Nate didnt hear the alarm clock. He wasnt awake. But from muscle memory, he swatted at the doze button in an instinctive fight for more sleep. A few swats and he hit it. Silence returned and he drifted back. Nates sleep was never peaceful. It wasnt even restful. It was more a nothingness, but nothingness was better than the pain he knew every day and so his body fought for a little bit more. Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! Ehhhhhh! It rang again. This time his consciousness crawled out of its slumber. He reached over his arm and hit the doze button. Again, silence, but now he was awake. He stared at the clock. Six AM. He thought, Another day of paradise. Another day of high school. The alarm rang again. This time he switched it off. He pushed away the bed covers and was stung by a jolt of cold air. He got up, patted his arms as he walked to the closet, put on a pair of jeans, threw on socks then opened his bedroom door. He walked down the dark hallway toward his mothers room, stopped, cracked open her door and listened. At first he didnt hear it and his heart raced. He pushed his head into her room and waited, listening, then softly he heard her breathing. A wave of relief fell upon him like a long exhale. Ten years he has done this - every morning since he was four. And every morning there was that tiny moment of terror when he waited to hear. He always feared a silence. Something inside always told him that this was the day his mother would be dead. He didnt know why, and he didnt know why he feared it so. But, though she was never much of a mother, she was all he had, and he needed something, anything. Its all Nate ever knew of her. She had been this way since he was an infant when his father, her husband, died. She never recovered. Nate closed her door, groped his way down the stairs, flipped on the kitchen light, grabbed a bowl and box of cereal and set them on the kitchen table. He went to the refrigerator, pulled out a gallon of milk, opened it and sniffed. Still good. He poured himself a bowl and ate slow, in silence, staring out at nothing. He was only fourteen but already he felt so old, worn out by life. On the table, his mother had left him a note, pick up my depression medicine after school. On his way out, he grabbed his winter coat, opened the front door then stepped out into the cold, dark grey of a pre-dawn December morning in upstate New York. But, he was used to it. He knew it well. It was the same as every day of his life - an endless stream of grey, interspersed with occasional spikes of horrible black. The stiff wind pressed against him and sent a biting chill. He pulled his jacket collar tight and cut across the yard. Frost frozen grass crunched beneath his feet. It was a long walk to school, three miles. Though he had qualified for a free bus pass, Nate preferred to walk. School buses, after all, can be a place for concentrated adolescent cruelty. It was early December but didnt quite seem winter, that dreary time after all the green of summer had died and before the white of snow - that time when everything seemed so dead. As he walked past the bare bony trees, Nate looked up at them. Silhouetted against the purple pre-dawn sky, to Nate they looked more like crooked skeletons. An hour later and the school came into view. As he drew closer, his heart beat fast and hard. He merged into a swarm of bodies that funneled into entrance doors. He stepped inside and felt lost in a sea of giants, swept away in their current as he made his way to his locker. Look out shrimp! Get out of the way turd! Chink! Runt! Someone pushed him from behind and he staggered to stay on his feet. Jap. Loser. Boy, its nippy out there today. He got it every day; the same old stuff. He pulled books from his locker and headed off to first period class. Thats when he saw him, Jake his tormentor, coming at him from down the hall. Nate jumped behind a cluster of kids chatting and slid along the lockers. He crouched low and turned his head away so Jake couldnt see him. Jake was almost past, but then he saw him. Hey, Nate! Get your ass over here boy! Nate ducked into the nearest classroom. A teacher was there alone, must have had first period off. Can I help you? she asked Nate. No. Im. . . I think Im gonna be sick. Nate rushed to the trash can and pretended to dry heave into it. Jake stood outside the door and whispered threats. I told you, a dollar a day. You think youre so smart. You think you can get away. Just you wait Natie boy. After school. Im gonna get you real good this time. Ill make you pay. The teacher heard Jake. She stood and walked to the door. Jake ran off down the hall. She stepped out and watched him scamper away then came back in. Hes gone now. Youd better be on your way. Youre late already. I still feel sick. Just another minute. She shrugged and made a suit yourself expression then sat at her desk. The rest of the day for Nate was a blur. He remembered nothing. All he could think of was the ticking clock. With dread he watched it count down. He thought hed skip out early, but what good would it do. There would always be the next day, and the next. Better to face what was coming now. Then the bell rang; the end of the last period. It was now too late. ҉ ҉ ҉ But it was too late already, for they had him in their grip. Lets take him to the outside bathroom near the gym, said Jake. They dragged him by his jacket. Nate fought to resist. Jake slapped his face. Nate felt a flash of pain. Expecting more, he ducked his head and covered his face with his arms. So thats the way you wanna play, said Jake. He grabbed Nate by the hair and dragged him along. Nate screamed at the pain, tripped and fell and so Jake dragged him on the ground by his hair for a dozen yards. Nate cried out, yelping like a dog being kicked. Shut up! shouted Jake. He pulled Nate to his feet and slapped him. Again Nate felt the stab of pain shoot across the side of his face. They hustled Nate inside the bathroom and kept the lights off so no one would see. Jake pointed and ordered, Everyone piss in that toilet. Eric went first. He pissed then flushed. Dont flush you idiot, said Jake. Keith went next, followed by Nick then Jake. As Jake pissed, he sang, O sole mio. O sole mio. sta nfronte a te! The other three laughed. Thats so stupid, its funny, said Nick. Its not stupid, you idiot, said Jake. My Grandfather used to sing it. It means Its in your face. In a second, its gonna be in Naties face. Get it? They laughed. Jake finished and zipped. They dragged Nate toward the toilet. Nate fought to resist. He angled his legs to increase the drag of his feet on the tile floor and cried out, Please! Please! Please! Please? asked Jake. Okay, if you insist. They flipped Nate upside down then dunked his head into the piss like a plunger. With his head in the toilet, Nate smelled the strong scent of urine and felt the warm fluid on his head, swirling through his hair. Stop! he screamed, Stop! When satisfied, the four pulled Nate out and dropped him to the ground. His head thumped hard on the tile. Nate struggled to his feet and felt piss run down the sides of his head and face to soak his jacket. As he was getting up, a little piss splashed onto Keith. Keith yelled, You little prick, as he smashed his fist into Nates face. Nate hadnt seen the blow coming, but felt the strike like an electric shock. He could feel himself falling, as if in a dream, his body tumbling backwards in the darkness. He hit the cold tile floor hard, bewildered. He couldnt think Whats coming next? When will it all stop? Is there any way out? He couldnt think of anything. Blinded by fear and pain, he couldnt think at all. But they could think. What next? Hummm? said Jake, gripping his chin like a philosopher contemplating. I know! Lets make him sing, said Keith. Yeah, lets make him sing Old McDonald, said Nick. Good idea, said Jake. Stand him on the toilet. Get your ass up there, said Eric, waving a fist in Nates face. Nate flipped down the toilet seat and climbed on top, straddling over the piss. Look at him. Hes the toilet king, said Nick. Sing! yelled Jake. Nate pleaded, I dont know it! Shut up you liar! Everyone knows Old McDonald, said Jake. As if his life depended on this, Nate began with trepidation, Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O, And on his farm he had. . . He paused, looked confused. Had what?! demanded Jake. Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O, And on his farm he had. . . A pained, frightened look settled over Nates face. He knew he was done for. Jake punched Nate in the stomach. Uhhhh! exhaled Nate as he doubled over from the pain. He lost his balance and fell to the side but caught himself against the wall of the stall. Youre one sorry piece of crap. You dont even know Old McDonald, said Jake. Okay, just ta show you how generous I am, Ill make it easy for you. Well tell you the animal, and you tell us the sound it makes. All right? If you get em all right, we let you go. What sound does a cow make? Nate hesitated, too afraid of what they would do to him if he got it wrong. M m moo? Oh, very good! You got one. Maybe theres a little hope for you after all. What sound does a pig make? O oink? he said, uncertain. Right again, said Jake. Youre on a hot streak. What about a duck? Quack? Oh my? said Jake, dripping sarcasm. Damn boy, you just might make it. Just lucky, said Nick. Okay, last one. What about a chicken? said Jake. B b b. . . B b b what? mocked Jake. B b bawk? Jake made the sound of a game-show buzzer. Ehhhhhh! Wrong! Cluck. Chickens make clucks. Close but no cigar. All right, get him down. They yanked Nate off the toilet. I was gonna let you go if you got em all, but. . . Jake shook his head, too bad for you. Wedgie! yelled Nick. All right, said Jake. They reached inside Nates pants, grabbed his underwear and yanked hard. Pain tore through Nates testicles as his underwear was ripped up and torn away. He screamed, tears streaming from his eyes. Jake tied the tattered underwear around Nates neck in a knot. He pulled it tight, tight enough for Nate to feel a choke. Nate coughed and yanked at the underwear, writhing his neck for air. Thats your dew-rag, said Jake. Thats your bandana. Now youre a gang banger. Youre a tough guy now. How does it feel? said Eric as he punched Nate in the shoulder. Nate staggered back from the blow. All right, lets go, said Jake. No! One more thing, said Keith. What da ya got in mind, said Jake. Lets pants him, said Keith. All right, go ahead, said Jake. Keith unbuttoned Nates jeans and jerked them down to his knees. Shame fell upon Nate, a new feeling to add to the fear and pain. Holy crap! yelled Keith. The boys got no pubic hair! No way! said Jake. See for yourself, said Keith. Jake leaned in close so he could see in the dim light. Holy cow! Youre right. No pubes! They all laughed. What are ya, demanded Jake. Youre not a man, thats for sure. I doubt youre even a boy. So, what are ya? Nate trembled, lost for what to say. Screw it. Lets take his pants, said Jake. Eric pounded his palm on Nates chest, shoving him down hard. Nate hit the floor on his tail bone and felt a stab of pain. Eric yanked at Nates pants but they got caught on his shoes. Take off his shoes you idiot, said Jake. Eric took them off, went to the toilet and threw them into the piss. In the mean while, Nick pulled off Nates pants. Laughing, they went out the door with the pants. Jake was last to leave. Just before exiting, he stopped and turned, rushed back to Nate who was still on the floor. Jake leaned over and threw a punch into Nates face. Nate barely felt this one. He was numb, almost beyond any feeling. That ones for good luck, said Jake. He turned and left. Left alone, Nate scrambled across the floor, crab-walking backward into a corner. He huddled in a tight ball and shook. Wrapping arms across his chest, he clung to himself. He felt nauseous and vomited. But he didnt cry. Instead, it was more a guttural, animal wail, like a wounded creature, on the edge of death. Pain, shame and torment, like an electric overload, flooded through him, searing his neural wiring, but there was no breaker to trip. There was nothing to shut it all down. So, with tortured eyes, mouth stretched wide, he writhed his head and wailed. This went on for over a half hour. Finally his breathing slowed and he settled enough to think. Freezing outside. Three miles to home. Cant go naked. Then it came to him. Gym shorts. Gym shoes. But how? Grabbing the sink while bracing against the wall, he struggled to his feet. He took off his jacket, tied it around his waist then stepped out into the terrible cold, bare foot.
Posted on: Thu, 28 Nov 2013 17:23:51 +0000