The steady rhythm of a I-IV-V-IV chord progression gripped my shoulders like a coked out groupie. The guitar pick I carried with me everywhere tore open the air with vibrations designed to tickle the ear and shake the ground. This was it. This was where I always wanted to be. Neck deep in the middle of a cacophonous Hellstrom.
A metallic Skreeeeeee slashed across the riff. Suddenly everyone stopped in place. Jimmy's garage grew uncomfortably quiet.
"What the hell was that O'Neal?" Melody stared daggers into the back of my neck, like two ice picks coated with snow. The comment threw me for a loop. What was her problem?
"So what? I went off-key a little. Don't get it twisted."
"I swear I'm gonna twist your neck one of these days."
"Whoa! Whoa Mel. Take it easy," Jimmy said. "It's just a mistake."
"No it's not 'just a mistake'," Melody yelled, "It's throwing me off beat! He's just playing for himself at this point."
"Knock it off Mel," I said. She was always like this. Even when we first met I couldn't catch a break from her. Sometimes I think we only keep her around because of Brady.
"Dude, don't antagonize her even more…"
I snapped, "I said it was just a mistake!" My strap slipped off my shoulder. I left my guitar in its stand. "I'm going to go cool off."
Outside the garage, a hot midday sun burned the asphalt street. It smelled like fresh cut grass and dew. I pulled out a cigarette to smoke. They made me a little anxious. I liked that about them, I think. They smelled awful though. But I needed a distraction.
Like a hundred times before, I walked around to the side of Jimmy's house so no one would notice me. Just as I started ripping into it, Brady appeared around the corner to meet me. Bright blue eyes, like swimming pools, looked me up and down. He was just like his sister sometimes.
"What the hell's wrong with you? Pull your shit together," he said, like a stern teacher.
"What's my problem? What's her goddam problem?" I pointed back inside Jimmy's place. Steam's rolling off my shoulders. I'm heated and I know it. I don't know how he can keep a cool head around that girl. "She's the one who can't chill out." Brady glanced over his shoulder. I assumed he was watching for his sister.
"Look man, some stuff's come up."
I was skeptical. What did he mean by that?
"Like, with Melody?"
"No, no. It's not her. I just gotta know you can stand to be under pressure."
This sounded like he wanted to get me ready for something. Last month he said the same thing to me. The month before, too. Both those times we snuck in somewhere; an old factory the first place and an abandoned hospital the other. He wouldn't tell me why either time, so I just thought it was to get his rocks off, sneaking in some place we had no business being. Melody was like that too. Not Jimmy, but the rest of Brady's boys liked the thrill of it. Especially Kyle.
"Another one? It hasn't even been a full four weeks since the last."
"You're my number two," he said as he placed his fist on my chest. "If anyone's got my back, I know you do. I remember the other night, when you down those too kids for me. You did all you could, and I'm proud of you for that."
"Chasing…kids?"
"Just…scaring 'em a little. If word got out that we were looking to jack the park then we'd be in deeper shit than just scaring away a few runts."
"Look, I didn't even want to--"
"But you did 'cause I asked. That makes you a good friend." He removed his hand and lightly slapped my shoulder with it. Thinking back on the night of the incident, it was more like he yelled at me. It was less of a request. I wasn't going to argue with him about it, though. I get heated too. I understood what he was trying to say.
"Lynn. You're the only one I know who's got my back one hundred percent. I need you bro."
I sighed.
"Alright. What's it this time?"
"Shhh," he hushed playfully. He glanced around again to see if anyone was watching. I half expected some feds in suits and sunglasses to pop out of nowhere. "Not here. Let's head back in."
I hesitated. He noticed my reaction.
"I'll talk to Mel. Get her to calm down. I know how worked up you can get around her."
"E--excuse me? No she's the one getting--"
"Alright, alright, alright. Just let me do the talking, then we can get back to practicing. You're the best damn guitarist I know Lynn O'Neal but if you start slacking off on us…"
"Ugh. Fine," I groaned.
"Great!" He slapped my shoulder a final time before deciding that enough was enough. I was grateful for this conversation to be over and through with.
Melody seemed to have calmed down. She's lightly tapping on the sides of her drums, keeping rhythm with the tune of a scene track I can barely make out. She almost looks cool. Almost.
"Hey asshat. Back from your little tantrum?"
"Yup. Got all my baby rage out. Can we just get back to practicing?"
She shrugged. Sometimes it was hard to know what she was thinking, but I've made the decision to not do any guesswork. She'll let me know what she's thinking when she wants to..
Jimmy, smiling with a huge grin, picked his keyboard back up while Brady slipped his own guitar around his shoulders. In the back Kyle was still holding up his bass. He gave me the stink eye and jumped right back into where we left off.
I was willing to put up with Mel and Kyle for Brady's and Jimmy's sake, but it was too much sometimes. I'm not really sure why I went with Brady and his Easttown High crew that night, but a troubled feeling still ate at me, got me thinking a lot more happened than I originally thought. It was like a drum beat without any chords riding it. Something about that night escaped me.
I think that's why I've been off beat. It's like my body remembered what happened; It was trying to tell me something. But what is it? What am I trying to say to myself?
We finished up with practice around eight. After we said good night to Jimmy we hopped into Brady's truck to head back to his place. I liked Jimmy. He wasn't afraid to tell us when he wasn't interested in doing something. I think it peeved Brady off a little but he always smiled and invited Jimmy anyway, knowing full well that he wouldn't. It was like an anchor for him. It told him what they were doing was "scandalous" in a sense. I was just in it for the ride, I guessed.
After we dropped Mel home Brady drove around with Kyle and me to pick up the rest of his crew. Punk kids from around the lower side of Inner Easton. A few of them wore yellow scarfs. I didn't go to Easttown; I was an Underwood Academy kid. So they always gave me a look when they saw me with Brady. He vouched for me but I still didn't get along with them. Some of them were just kinda off. Including Kyle.
He sat in the back with a few Easties, rubbing his fingers together, glancing back behind them every few minutes. I sat in the front, next to Brady. I think he hated that but hasn't said anything otherwise. Fat chance I'd let that brown-noser sit up here when I was around.
Kyle noticed me glancing back at him.
"How'd your little play date last night go? You never did tell us what happened to the snot-nose kids."
"Easy man. He had a rough day. Mel was on his ass like Mrs. Brocker."
"Hey, I just think he'd feel better if he shared the baggage." He shrugged.
Brady whispered, "You don't have to tell us. It's cool."
I thought about it. What could I say? I chased them around the wharf? We saw something freaky on the shore? Should I tell them I couldn't even remember what exactly I saw? It'd make me look either like a liar or an idiot. I didn't want to look like that in front of them; In front of Brady.
No. I kept my mouth shut. I didn't have to tell them if I didn't want to. So I didn't. Kyle shifted in the back.
Why didn't I remember what I saw? There had to have been some brain damage or psycho-analytical stuff keeping it down. It didn't sit right with me knowing that. I remember the two kids. The girl, I think she went to my school. The boy, I didn't recognize. Cindi and Monty I thought their names were. They seemed interested in the explosions in the sky. After hearing all the fuss going on lately, my interest's been piqued too.
Brady nor Jimmy said anything to suggest they were even aware of what was going on. It's almost like they were in their own little worlds. I walked in on my dad watching the news this morning. He was stunned. His jaw was practically on the floor while watching.
"Goddamn. The world's gone to shit," he said.
Has it though?
We picked up the last of Brady's crew, six of us in total, and drove to the next town over. Easton was a bigger borough. It had towns and villages up all around the east side. Up by Mathers Park and Hobbs Row a ton of old factories sat idly. Brady said we were gonna hop a fence to get into one. I asked him why but he didn't say. He deflected it, which seemed odd.
"This is the place," said one of Brady's crew members. I thought his name was Owen.
"Got the cable cutters?"
Owen nodded and held them up to show the rest of us. Red and rusty.
"Good."
"Brady," I said aloud. "Why are we here really?"
"We're just checking the place out. Scoping it out."
One of his crew signaled for Owen to cut a hole in the fence. He did it smoothly and quickly, and had an almost perfect cut. He's done it before, I realized. Probably a lot of times. These guys were bad news. Just why was Brady so buddy-buddy with them?
Kyle was the first to slip underneath and pop up behind the fence. The others followed, including Brady. I was the last to slip through. A loose bit of wire managed to nick my arm, but otherwise I was fine.
The place obviously hadn't been used in years. A decade old textiles workshop, the factory has since been emptied and abandoned. It was left to the elements, and to vagrants like us.
We snuck around towards the back entrance, finding a number of entry ways that weren't locked off. After slipping through the rear door we brought the cutters with us, breaking a few chains closing off a loading area. Inside the factory itself, a few machines were forgotten and left behind, collecting dust like hidden art-deco installations.
All we could hear inside were the scuffles and squeaks of our sneakers echoing. It sounded like a nest of irate mice snapping at each other. I almost laughed. The other guys were dead serious though, so I thought twice before saying anything aloud. This didn't feel like another factory hack. It was almost like we had a job to do.
The group split with everyone going their separate ways. I went with Brady to the main office to see if we could find anything interesting. I was happy to just have some time to ourselves. I wanted to ask him what he remembered from the other night.
"Hey Brady, quick question."
"Hm?"
"Do you remember anything from last night? Anything odd?"
"What's this about?"
"I don't know. I guess I'm just having a hard time remembering how I got home. It all feels like a blur."
"You aren't trying any of that hard stuff are you?" He laughed.
"No it's not like that. I got a feeling that I'm forgetting something important. You know?" He looked like he was trying to understand. It felt difficult trying to communicate how strange it was.
"All I remember was the kids and the lights in the sky. I don't think much else happened."
"You didn't see anyone else? Really?"
He shook his head. We came to a big metal door. Some glass paneling let us look inward to reveal a large room with some seating and desks. The main office. I grabbed the door handle and pulled. It was locked tight. I jiggled the handle a bit more and turned to Brady.
"Nothing. I guess we should find a way around…" I noticed Brady back up but I failed to register the split second it took for him to throw his shoulder against the door, slamming it open.
"You gotta be a trailblazer Lynn. Make your own way in, you know?"
"Yea … Okay."
Inside the room a few desks topped with some loose papers occupied the most space. Some light seating occupied the front. Benches, chairs with retro style patterns on them. The whole room smelled like old fabric and cotton balls, dried ink too. I looked around the desks. A lot of documents and administrative paperwork had been left behind. Yellow papers with dried ink that reeked of tight deadlines and destitution. No wonder this place got shut down.
Brady stopped in front of a silver filing cabinet. He started to dig through one of the drawers. Fingers picking at their labels. He flipped through them until he stopped at a vanilla folder labeled:
VAN DAMME CONTRACT DOCUMENTATION
I didn't know what to think of it, but Brady seemed happy to have found it. He had a weird look in his eyes. Something I hadn't remembered seeing before.
"I don't think we'll find anything else that interesting here," he said, shoving the file under his arm. I just nodded, a little unnerved. "Let's go."