sons of bitches.”
I felt my left hand clench and imagined how it would feel to drive that fist right into Tommy Ballister’s nose: the sharp crack of bone, the squish of blood and mucus, the surprise and pain in his murky eyes. But, instead, I simply glanced over at the flatbed where Freddy and Sadie had now launched into a duet about islands in a stream. What the hell did that even mean, any way?
“I’m thinkin’ about going for the pig.” I said, changing the subject. “I think I could probably take just about anyone who….”
“No, you’re not.”
Tommy had begun chucking the little pebbles in his hand at the flatbed and they pinged off the metal at erratic intervals.
“Oh yeah, asshole? And why’s that?”
He had no clue exactly how close he was to getting the beating of his life. Every frustration, every time I’d ever caved and spat insults at Sarah, every iota of pent up anger would be taken out on his freckled, little face and it would take all of the Emperor’s guards to pull me away.
“Because, “ he said with a smile, “I been talkin’ to Carlos. We’re in, man. We’re fuckin’
I sat up so quickly that a wave of dizziness overtook me and my anger dissipated like fog in the morning sun.
“The Nation? Don’t shit me, man. I swear to God if you’re….”
“I wouldn’t pull your leg, Smitty. Not about somethin’ like this.”
Inside, I felt like turning somersaults all the way to the Thompson’s home, scooping Sarah’s fevered body to mine, and planting a kiss on those dry, chapped lips of hers. I wanted to laugh and dance, to jump up on the stage with Freddy and Sadie and lend my voice to their pathetic song.
“Fuck, man. Fuck….”
Tommy was grinning like a toddler eating rat as a smile devoured the lower half of his face, revealing rows of crooked teeth marred with dark cavities. He tossed his last pebble and it thudded against Freddy’s guitar, distracting the man just long enough to elicit a jangled chord that otherwise would have rang out like the tolling of a bell.
“Yeah, I’m sayin’. Carlos says we just gotta pass initiation and then we’re full fledged members. You and me, my man… The Rotter Nation, all the way!”
“What we gotta do?”
“I dunno. Somethin’ he called
VI. THE ANTICIPATION OF THINGS TO COME
The rest of the day passed in a blur. I hung around the judging table as the Emperor tasted each dish before him, nodding his approval for some and simply shaking his head at others. I watched the sun slowly make its arc across the sky, wishing there was some way I could help it on its way, that I could push it closer and closer to the horizon. I half-watched the wrestling but the cheers of the crowd sounded as if they were miles away and my mind kept turning a single phrase over and over, trying to decipher its hidden meaning.
I couldn’t even begin to fathom what secrets were cloaked in those three words. Would it require strength? Agility? Cunning?
Or maybe it was just some sort of ritual that was completed; I’d heard rumors that Los Muertos required their new initiates to slice their thumbs with a special knife that was kept in a velvet lined box and used exclusively for this particular rite. Supposedly, each member of the gang also did this and then allowed their blood to drip into a cup shaped like a human skull.
When they’d collected enough, the new members would make some sort of solemn pledge and then drink for the crimson stained cup until not even the smallest drop remained.
Was it something like that then? Nothing more than some silly little ceremony and an oath of allegiance? No, that didn’t seem like The Nation’s style. They were the toughest of the tough, the most daring gang to walk the streets of Free Town. I was sure that gaining entrance into their club would require something more extreme. Something that would actually demonstrate the loyalty a new member could otherwise simply mouth.
All I knew for certain was that Tommy and I were supposed to meet Carlos by the dump truck once darkness had fallen. Everyone else would be on the platforms, listening to the Emperor’s speech as the dead below attempted to scramble up the side of the wall. The corpses would be clustered in the trench that had been dug so long ago and, at the appointed time, one of the royal guard would tilt the red, plastic can into the end of the pipe that ran through the wall. A smell unlike any other in Free Town would waft from the end of the pipe as liquid gurgled through its passageway and fumes wavered in the air above its opening. The Thompsons would then bring the ceremonial torch and light it with one of the matches reserved especially for the celebration.
From past experience, I knew there would be a great whoosh and a mushroom of flame would rise from the end of the pipe, bathing the Fire Bringers in a reddish-orange glow. At the same time, the fire would race along the inside of the pipe, burning the sharp smelling liquid that had been poured into it, and emerging from the other side like a river of flames. The fire would quickly engulf the rotters below and the night would be filled with the crackling and hissing of sun-dried flesh as the crowd above let out a deafening cheer.
But, for the first time in my life, I wouldn’t be there to help rain down sticks and wood upon the fiery zombies who still tried to scale our defenses; I wouldn’t breathe in the stench of burning bodies and laugh as what was left of their brains boiled away into a thick sludge that oozed from every orifice in their heads. I wouldn’t see their crispy forms drop, one by one, into the trench, robbed of whatever strange magic had kept the alive even after death.
No, I would be taking the first steps to becoming a member of The Rotter Nation. I would be proving my worth.
I would be skinning the freshy.
And I couldn’t wait.
VII. THE INITIATION
Carlos led Tommy and I through the deserted streets of Free Town at a quick pace and we scrambled to keep up with him. Even though the rest of the population were gathered along the platforms on the outskirts of town and we were cutting through the very center, we still spoke in hushed tones.
“You guys want to have an alibi at the ready.” Carlos instructed. “People’ll want to know why you weren’t at the burning and ya gotta tell ’em something. And ya gotta keep your stories straight, dig?”
“What about you? What’s your cover, Carlos?”
Carlos glanced back over his shoulder and flashed a toothy smile in the moonlight.
“Oh man, I got it made. My aunt and uncle? They were picked to be the Fire Bringers, right? Only with that little bitch bein’ so sick they were worried ’bout leaving her all by herself. Afraid she might do us all a favor and up ’n die while they were away or something.”
Carlos’ voice almost cracked with delight as the words spilled out of his mouth.
“So I says
Tommy giggled like a little girl and slapped his hand against the side of his leg.
“Oh, man… and they bought that shit?”
