4. The Jester

Second Revision

The room was dark. Black lights were screwed into every socket. Anything white shimmered beneath a purple glow. A man sat lazily draped across a loveseat with his legs hanging well over the arm. His hand reflected back at him, as if drifting over water, while he spun the edge of an ace playing card against a glass table. Five others laughed and meandered about. The cackling jackals all crowded around the only female in the room. One young teen raised his time worn and dirty cell phone over his head to get their attention.

Promptly, he hooked it to an auxiliary cable which snaked down from the stereo on the windowsill. Their hideout suddenly pumped with synthesized beats. A pair of shrill voices rapped lyrics describing murder and gore. The man leaned back and closed his eyes; to him it was meditation music, soothing and perfect. When he stood his shadow cast an eerie darkness over the kids. They went quiet.

A chain swung around his neck before falling still under the weight of a charm at the bottom. It depicted a running figure holding a hatchet out in front of him. He looked very much like that charm with a hatchet holstered into the side of a spike studded belt, “Save your energy boys. It's almost midnight.”

He then approached the window so his eyes could sweep back and forth across the ally. Not a soul was in sight.

“What are we doing tonight, Necro?”

Jeremy Hatlan was the youngest of their crew. He'd adopted the nickname 'Flip' after joining this convention of night walkers. At one time he was a frequent target of their malice; entire walls of his father's home were vandalized, his bedroom ransacked, and every feeling of security stripped away. After a while he lost hope in the situation and saw no solution other than begging for Necro's mercy. In essence he had to flip sides in a war for the streets. Still the others treated him with harsh judgment and distrust. Necro, however, took pity on the boy. Jeremy didn't choose to be born in the lap of the enemy. It was his decision to break away. In doing so he earned more respect from their leader than anyone realized.

“Hey, Necro, I've got something important to tell you. I forgot about it earlier,” A voice piped up. The older teen stared Flip down with a crippling glare. He submitted and backed away from them.

“Oh?” Necro asked monotone.

He grabbed a bottle of cheap soda from a mini fridge below the stereo. There wasn't much hierarchy among them but Phreak often fancied himself second in command. Nothing was out of bounds for him. In addition to threatening local officers he was responsible for busting every window down the business strip of Main Street. Any car left unattended was redecorated with spray paint. Phreak found satisfaction simply in the act of creating chaos.

A thick layer of paint coated his face, stopping just below a splay of spider dreads. The area around his mouth was drawn to resemble rows of sharp teeth. He adopted a tall and purposeful posture, “I was down by the highway knocking over ashtrays for more tobacco.”

He gestured over to a bucket full of stray, half-smoked butts near the couch, “On the way back I happened to pass by Michelle's trailer.”

Necro's eyes shot open. He nearly spat a mouthful of carbonated sugar at the mention of her name. His long face softened with interest and his maw of decaying teeth hung open. Phreak pulled a thread of anticipation across the room as he sat down to dig a sandwich bag from his pocket. It was full with papers and dirty shake. He rolled a joint and rested it between his lips, “This guy was over there on the porch. She invited him in.”

“Who was it?” Necro demanded.

“Kurt Rivera.”

They jumped startled when Necro let out a wail of rage. He lobbed the plastic bottle through the room where it smacked against a framed mirror. Both crashed to the floor in a puddle of liquid and shards. One hand yanked the hatchet up from his belt. It swung about him leaving dull slices in the drywall, furniture, and floor. His body shook viciously with fury. Necro then dropped it, pacing manically to and fro and hollering threats at the top of his lungs.

Cryztal, the one female member of their gang, gripped Necros arm. She yanked him away from his weapon before it found its way into one of them. He resisted, fighting all the way to the couch where she shoved him down beside Phreak. Ripping the joint away from him she handed it to Necro. He took a drag to steady his nerves, “Are you sure it was Kurt?”

“He's that ginger little pixie from Santa Rosa, right?”

“Pack up the supplies,” Necro hissed at Cryztal. “We're hunting the b*****d down. I don't care if we have to tear Colville apart to find him! That rat thinks he can sneak around and see her without going through me first. He's got bigger balls than I thought.”

She ran to grab her backpack. Necro slapped one hand down on Phreak's shoulder and gave it a squeeze; when it was all over he'd have to reward this young man's perceptiveness. He flicked the spent roach into their tobacco bucket. Each boy then armed himself. They all had some style of glinting blade. Necro circled them, watching his little army. His posture straighted with pride that they would serve him without question.

Woodz and Blayde switched their prized music from the stereo to a mobile speaker embedded into the side of Cryztal's backpack. Not a beat of the angry symphony was missed. Flip passed by with a butterfly knife bouncing about his hand when Necro caught him by the elbow, “Grab my war paint. I want Kurt to see me and know that his life is over.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Todd paced around a picnic table before sitting. He looked at the trees and sky. The moon overhead was covered by thick clouds which blocked its rays from view. Figures shifted through the blackness. He tried closing his eyes but still he could see them. Voices called out here and there but in the past hour they'd fallen silent. Todd wondered why he ever bothered to listen. Usually, he was good at blocking them out. It was rare that he even took notice of, let alone followed, voices generated in his own head. This time they brought him halfway across town whispering sweet nothings and promising reward.

Now here he was at the park huddled beneath a tree cold and confused. He exhaled his irritation; it was time to go home. This wasn't a safe place to be at night. Josh told him all about 'spiders', aka drug ravaged insomniacs who crowded the park at night for illegal trade. Todd picked up his pace and pushed onward toward the street.

'Where are you off to, little one? Your valor is coming. A house cannot be built before its foundation, and you cannot win a war before it begins.'

Todd shook his head. The voice was strong though he tried to ignore it. He ran through darkness, feeling icy wind whip his face in snaps. Both feet crunched over snow. Todd pushed faster and further until light was visible through his closed eyelids. A honk tore him back to reality. Todd halted so suddenly that he slipped on a sheet of ice and slammed against the asphalt. His head bounced off it with a rattling crack. Vision blurred and waved. A figure loomed overhead.

It felt like a hallucination formed in his breath and pain. Todd dragged himself up. He shielded his eyes against scolding brightness before recognizing the headlights of a car. A hand extended down through the shadows. Todd allowed this stranger to pull him to his feet.

“You know there's a curfew. I know you know because I keep telling you there is. It's already well after midnight.”

The hands brushed snow from Todd's jacket. He vaguely recognized this voice. His eyes wandered up to the man in front of him clad in black. A silver badge was fastened to the front of his button-down shirt. Todd tried to reply but dared not reveal the truth. Knowlan always reminded him how strange and backwards this affliction of hearing voices sounded to others. He was told that if he mentioned anything relating to visions or things of that ilk he'd be locked up. The thought of that frightened him to his core.

“Good morning, officer Hatlan.”

“Did you hear what I said? We've been over this four times. I don't want to go talk to your mother again, but I'll have to if you keep ignoring me.”

Todd stepped around the side of Hatlan's cruiser. He'd left his door open and the dome light lit. A girl was inside with both hands cuffed behind her back. The entirety of her frame rocked with heavy sobs. After a few seconds she felt the weight of a stare, glancing up at Todd. She then scooted across the seats closer to the window. Her blond, half shaved hair was a mess and tears traced her bony cheeks. Pale, mutilated skin was picked all down her face leaving a barrage of scabs and weeping sores. She spoke, but Todd couldn't understand the muffled whisper behind thick glass. Lifting a hand he pressed it sympathetically against the window.

“Get away from there!”

Hatlan shoved his face into Todd's, startling the boy. Tired bags hung beneath his eyes. Below that was a stretch of unkempt stubble like moss growing on a stone. His clothes were wrinkled and over worn. A white undershirt was visible beneath his disheveled uniform. The girl sank miserably back down into her seat.

“It's hard enough to do my job as it is. Why do you kids have to run around causing trouble and vandalizing everything? I almost hit you with my car! That's okay though, right? I'd be the one to get in-”

Hatlan snapped upright. Bushes rustled on the other side of the road. He swallowed hard, looking behind Todd to track it the sound as it moved all around them. Footsteps crunched. Faint whispering drifted on the wind. A whooping call suddenly cut through the darkness. It came up once, then again, and soon multiplied. Huffing short, quick breaths Hatlan swept his head from side to side. His eyes darted about. Beads of sweat collected on his forehead despite the cold. They slid from his temples to the point of his narrow chin as the calls stopped all at once.

Hatlan dove into his cruiser. He peeled out so fast the rear end fishtailed. A silhouette burst out from behind a tree just as his wheels gained traction. It chased after the officer until unable to keep pace. The man then lifted something over his head and cried out a call of victory into the night. It was a hatchet. Todd's blood ran cold. He tried to slip off just as Hatlan had but his presence was already accounted for.

More figures stepped in from the fringes. They corralled Todd into a circle, trapping him next to the one person every cop in Colville feared. White paint decorated his cold expression, visible even in darkness. Ebony lines traced his lips like stitches and his brows fell in compliment of a twisted grin. Todd sucked a horrified breath and considered his options. There were five others all equally nightmarish. Each licked their chops like hungry demons.

“Good morning, Brian,” Todd whispered softly.

“It's Necro to you, mutt!”

Knuckles connected with the back of his pounding head. Todd cried out, stumbling backward. Necro just twirled his hatchet and looked away. Brian. What a bland and plebeian name. Only Michelle was allowed to call him that. It was her special privilege to call him whatever she wanted. Also she wouldn't to refer to him as someone who molested corpses, regardless of how edgy it sounded.

“Your son is looking for you...”

“Trust me, I know.”

Necro's cronies looked to one another; they hadn't realized he was a father. They were always arguing and trying one-up each other to take the slot as Necro's favorite and, perhaps, something of a son to him. This came as discouraging news. Sliding his hatchet back into his belt Necro spoke to alleviate rising tension, “Knowlan isn't ready to be one of us. He's still mamma's little wuss. I've been watching him though. Some guy up north taught him to cook shards, and I'll tell you my kid makes dynamo s**t.”

The pride in his voice made Todd ill. It was comical to imagine his brother chasing cops around with blades. Knowlan was terrified of cops. None the less he'd climb into the sky and retrieve the moon just to catch a glimpse of his father's face. Phreak and Woodz each snatched up one of Todd's to yank him up against the nearest tree.

“Enough with the pleasantries,” Necro growled. “I know who you are.”

Todd blinked a few times. Necro came by their trailer weekly. He'd slip in at night for passionate tangles with Michelle before running off like a stray cat. Of course he knew who Todd was. He fell back against the tree and huffed breaths of irritation. Todd wasn't a match for their combined strength. Straightening his long neck Necro used height for intimidation.

“Don't you know we're at war here, Todd? Of course you do. That's why you're mingling with the cops. I have a hard time believing you're stupid enough to think we'd just let you walk away. He didn't stay to protect you. Only amateurs look to those cowards for help.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Kurt sent you. That little b***h couldn't even face me... how pathetic.”

His companions erupted into laughter. Todd heard that name tossed around the trailer a few times here and there over the years but it meant nothing to him.

“He knows what I'm capable of; I almost cut off his head for f**k sake! Maybe Kurt needs a lesson in mercy, and how I have none left for him.”

Phreak pulled a long, thin handle handle from his pocket and pop the spring loaded blade. Todd looked away from his primal, unblinking stare. Necro yanked a bottle of acid green soda from Cryztal's lips just as she'd lifted it for another chug. Then he too dug around in his pocket. Instead of a knife he produced a permanent marker, “Keep your enthusiasm on ice, Phreak. We're going to hit Kurt where it hurts. I'm taking this rat to his doorstep before I play with it.”

Ripping the cap off between his discolored teeth, Necro approached. He drew an X on each of Todd's outstretched wrists. His gang cackled wildly in anticipation. The bottle was suddenly overturned above Todd's head. He yelped startled as soda washed over his face, down into his jacket, and onto the snow at his feet. A glare was his only response. The boy shivered miserably as another gust turned the wetness cold. Necro laughed with satisfaction before gripping the back of Todd's neck, yanking him forward.

Phreak and Woodz lead the way while everyone else hung back. Their most valuable member was protected at the center. Necro's eyes glinted like the edge of his hatchet. He surrounded himself with teenagers because his immature mind could relate to their struggles. They revitalized feelings of youth. As a result he saw only heroism in what he was doing. Todd finally realized the gravity of the situation and his chest heart thrummed with beats of fear. He wasn't Necro's equal.

For all intents and purposes Necro was his stepfather. At the rate their relationship was going it was only a matter of time before he and Michelle got hitched. Even if he had it in him to fight Todd still would have given up. He was conditioned to submit. Because of this he allowed himself to be dragged through the frozen streets home. Flip and Blayde, however, were not safe from his clumsy, determined kicks. 

Author's Note

Please comment on whatever you like. I always appreciate grammar suggestions and caught typos where I missed them. Also, I like to hear which characters you like/ dislike. If you catch plot holes, unrealistic scenarios, or things that pulled you out of the flow please tell me.