War in The Meadows

My heart thumped against the inside of my ribcage like it wanted out. My shoes slapped the pavement, one after another. My lungs were on fire.

 

Don’t stop, I told myself. Don’t slow down.

 

But I couldn’t leave Adam either. He was only five–six years younger than me. In The Meadows, that made me my brother’s protector. I looked over and saw his brown hair tossing beside me.

 

Then a rock hit the back of my head and I went down hard, scraping both knees. Pain shot up from my legs and down from my skull, meeting in the middle as I looked up into the blinding sun. Adam let out a high-pitch scream.

 

I scurried to my feet but something collided hard with the side of my face, knocking me back to the pavement. Scattered about, were old cars, R.V.s, even a boat. We were in the neighborhood overflow parking lot. Before I had time to process what was happening, my face was struck again and I saw red. I rolled into a ball and covered up, realizing that I was being beaten with a thick branch.

 

Adam’s cries grew distant. I opened my eyes and saw him disappear into the tall grass we had just run out of. His eyes were wide, tears streaming down his face. He was being dragged backward. He called my name. Then he was gone.

 

A sneaker slammed into my nose. Then my stomach. Then my back. I was surrounded. All I could do was wait for it to be over. To try and breathe.

 

Every blow seemed to come with a new kind of pain. Then there was none. I had gone numb, and I found myself trying to remember if I had eaten lunch. At first I didn’t even notice when it had ended. I just looked up and saw four boys – all bigger than me – run into the field wearing dirty t-shirts and holding sticks. There were more in there though. There had to have been at least ten of them.

 

I got to my feet and stared for a long moment before touching my nose and looking at my hand. No blood. My exposed knees, however, were bleeding and dirty. I would have to worry about that later. Without thinking, I took off running out of the lot, into the cul-de-sac and onto East Meadow Boulevard.

 

The Meadows was a new development, named for the field that it was built in. The undeveloped portion was the local hangout for all the neighborhood kids. The grass was taller than any of us, so we built trails and cardboard forts in it. That’s where the war began.

 

I went to Bobby’s house. His mom answered the door in sweats and a tank top with a huge roll of belly fat hanging out the bottom.

 

“What’s up, Captain?” She smelled like beer and cigarettes.

 

“Is Bobby home?”

 

She smiled at me and something about it made me uneasy. “Bobby!” She turned and walked back inside. “Your butt-buddy’s here!”

 

My best friend appeared at the door, eating a chocolate sundae out of a dinner glass. My stomach growled. He looked me up and down. “You scraped your knees.”

 

“I need your help,” I said.

 

“I’m not cleaning your backyard with you again. That dog shits–“

 

“Not that. They got Adam.”

 

He took a bite of his sundae and looked at me funny.

 

“I’m serious. They have him right now. Get your shoes and let’s go.”

 

“Close the damn door!” his mom’s voice came from inside. “You’re letting all the cold air out!”

 

Bobby looked toward her voice, then back at me. “Come on, you gotta come in, man.”

 

I almost did, just out of habit. I knew he didn’t like to make his parents angry when they started drinking this early in the day. But I stopped myself at the last second.

 

“No! Bobby, I need you right now. I’m not joking. James and his gang have my brother. They took him into the meadow.”

 

This got his attention. He stepped out onto the porch and shut the door. Lowering his voice, he said, “Damn. How’d they get him?”

 

“We were in the fort and they just snuck up and attacked us with rocks and sticks. We had to run. We made it out of the field, but then they caught up and jumped me. They took him back in with them. Man, if I don’t get him back, my mom’s gonna kick my ass.”

 

“I know,” he said. “It doesn’t look like they hurt you at least. Nobody else was with you?”

 

“Just us.”

 

“How many of them?”

 

“Maybe ten.”

 

He nodded thoughtfully. “How long have they had him?”

 

“A few minutes? I don’t know.”

 

“Wait here.”

 

He disappeared inside and a couple of minutes later, came back out wearing a big pink jacket. I stared at it as he descended the porch steps. At the bottom, he paused and looked up at me.

 

“My parents aren’t rich like yours. This is the only jacket I have.”

 

“No – that’s not why I was – it’s just hot out. I was wondering why you’re wearing a coat, that’s all.”

 

He reached into one of the pockets and tossed me a small plastic slingshot with black tape on the handle. I caught it.

 

“Let’s go.” He didn’t wait for me, just turned and walked toward the field.

 

As we approached, I thought about the war. It had started out as just a game. There had always been two groups in The Meadows, but we had never meant each other any harm. None of us were even teenagers yet. But, this summer, it had seemed to grow more serious every time we played – and our group was clearly outnumbered. Rocks and sticks had become a normal thing. Now there would be slingshots?

 

“They better not have found our magazines.” Bobby walked a couple steps ahead of me.

 

Carlos, who was friends with my dad, waved from his driveway where he was arranging tools next to an old car. I waved back.

 

When we made it to the edge of the field I reached down, picked up a smooth rock and loaded the slingshot. I went first and we used one of the trails so they wouldn’t hear us coming. The meadow was like a maze though, and they could have been anywhere. I listened for the sound of my brother’s cries.

 

After a while, Bobby tapped me on the shoulder. I looked back and saw him with his finger over his lips. With his other hand, he pointed to a trail going left. I nodded and took it, moving slowly, carefully until I heard the sound of boys’ giggling. I stopped in my tracks and stretched the rubber band back as far as it would go. We crept even slower toward the group, trying not to even breathe. Soon I could make out their words.

 

“You like those? They’re called chi-chis.”

 

“They’re tits,” another boy said.

 

“Dude, this kid’s cool.”

 

“You know what your brother uses these magazines for?”

 

“Son of a bitch,” Bobby said.

 

“Ssshhh. Ssshhh,” one of my brother’s captors whispered, causing the group to fall silent. “You hear that?”

 

“What?”

 

“I heard someone. Someone’s out there.”

 

Branches snapped and the grass split, then James appeared holding a stick. He was a head taller than me and the unofficial leader of his group. He smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but before any words came out, I aimed the slingshot and let go of the band, sending a rock flying right at his face. I heard a sound like bone snapping and instantly regretted doing it.

 

He fell back, crushing grass under his long body, giving me a view of my brother. Adam sat atop flattened cardboard boxes smiling, surrounded by his kidnappers, looking at one of our dirty magazines. When he saw me, he dropped it and stood up, a guilty look on his face. Then James let out a high-pitched shriek and Adam’s eyes went wide. His face scrunched up and he plopped back down and started crying.

 

I looked at James and saw his mouth filling with blood, his front tooth missing. Then something exploded behind me and his head snapped to the side so fast I thought at first something had startled him. Every boy sitting around my brother jumped to his feet and scattered in different directions. My ears rang as I looked back and saw Bobby clutching a black gun in both hands.

 

“Holy…” I moved to the side, throwing my hands up. “Where did you…?”

 

 

He shot one of them in the back. The kid stumbled forward and landed face first, sprawled out.

 

 

Then another. Adam just sat cross-legged screaming at the top of his lungs, his face contorted in agony, convulsing with the sound of every gunshot. I dove for him and threw my arms around his body, trying to shield him with my own.

 

A blond-haired kid was the only one who hadn’t made it into the field. Bobby’s face tensed as he pointed the gun and squeezed. Blood sprayed out of the kid’s forehead and painted the grass like an airbrush.

 

“I SEE YOU!” Bobby ran into the tall grass. I heard more shots. Then a pause. Then somebody squealed and begged. Then more shots.

 

I pressed my brother’s face into my chest and felt his tears soak my t-shirt. I didn’t know any of this was going to happen. If I had, I wouldn’t have come. I would have just gotten a grown-up. But I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. This was still war and we were winning now.

 

The shots seemed to go on forever before Bobby finally appeared back at the fort, clutching the gun at his side. The slide was racked back. Blood streaked the right side of his face. Adam stopped crying and looked at him wide-eyed. I didn’t get up, I just held my brother and tried to breathe.

 

“It’s empty,” he said.

 

I nodded but didn’t speak.

 

“It’s my stepdad’s. He’d kill me if he knew I took it.” He looked at my brother. “You’re okay now, little guy.”

 

Adam sniffed and his mouth twisted into a frown. He didn’t cry though.

 

The war ended that day. Bobby killed six boys and wounded another. The ones who got away swore I had something to do with it. For a long time, it didn’t even seem like my parents believed me. Adam was only five. He didn’t know what to believe. But they took Bobby away, locked him up until his twenty-first birthday – that’s ten years – and eventually life went back to normal in The Meadows.

 

They built another cul-de-sac where our forts had been. If you drive through today – and I often do – you would never even know a war was ever fought there.