Rule of the Bone (7 page)

He picked up the stereo and a handful of tapes but when he got to the door he stopped for a second and looked down at me like he was saying goodbye forever. I blinked twice for goodbye, once for hello, but he didn't get it. He just shook his head like he felt sorry for me and disgusted at the same time. Then he closed the door and locked it on the outside with Russ's padlock which wasn't too smart since Russ had the key. But I never really thought Bruce was smart anyhow. Just interesting, and maybe not as dumb as the other guys.

Pretty soon I can hear Megadeth thumping through the walls and I can smell dope smoke and pizza and can hear the refrigerator being opened and closed and the top-popping of beer cans. Adirondack Iron is having its breakfast and I know it'll last till tonight when the guy from Albany finally comes for his stuff or Russ makes the mistake of his life and returns home, whichever comes first.

Somewhere around the middle of the afternoon I guess it got really hot in Russ's crib so I squirmed my way out from under the blanket and realized that I could actually move around a little. I managed to stand up and then I hopped over to the window and with my head pushed the curtains back so I could see out. Directly below the window Raoul's beat-up old Chevy pickup was parked in the narrow driveway that ran between the Video Den and the old abandoned state liquor store. I thought maybe if someone looked up they'd see me all taped up and blinking like crazy to come up, come up and save me.

For a long time I stood up there in front of the window like a store dummy advertising boys' underwear but I was waiting to see somebody, anybody, a passerby, a cop, Rudy LaGrande, Russ parking his Camaro behind Raoul's pickup or a Video Den customer, anybody but one of the bikers and just as I felt myself starting to fall asleep I saw Wanda come out of the Video Den and lock the door, closing early I guess. She didn't once look up and was making her way down the driveway toward the street so I banged my head against the windowpane which caused her to stop and look around for a second like maybe the noise was coming from inside the store. I did it again but that just told her it wasn't coming from the store so she went on and disappeared around the corner.

Pretty soon it was dark and I knew no one could see me by the window now even if they happened to look up at it. Hopping backwards over to the floorlamp I managed to turn and tip it toward me with my hands and flipped it on, then dragged it back by the window so it shone on me. The party in the livingroom was still going so no one had heard me.

Finally about an hour later I saw Russ's Camaro pull into the driveway and park behind Raoul's pickup. He shut off his headlights and I couldn't see him anymore but as soon as I heard the car door shut I started banging my head against the window glass. I did it in a steady but varied way so it would sound intentional but after three or four minutes I figured either he heard me or he didn't and it was too late if he didn't, he was already coming up the stairs and walking into the livingroom where the bikers were lying around stoned listening to his tapes and waiting to kill him first and me afterwards.

Suddenly there was a tap on the window next to my head and I jumped. It was Russ standing on the roof of the back porch. He grinned at me and lifted the window open and climbed into the room like he did it every night. The wind blowing through the open window was cool and fresh and I'm thinking freedom, man, freedom.

Russ smiles and looks me over and says, Yo, wussup? I just shook my head and rolled my eyes in the direction of the livingroom. You look like a fucking mummy, he said and proceeded to pull the tape off my hands and ankles. I undid the tape around my mouth myself because it yanked on my hair and earrings and hurt a little.

Don't talk, I whispered to him as soon as the tape was off my mouth. We got to get the fuck outa here, man. They found out about you stealing their stuff. They're gonna kill us.

Russ scoped the room a second and listened to the noise from the livingroom. Where's my padlock? he asked. They use it to lock you in?

Yeah, but hurry up, let's get outa here. And keep it down, man, they're next fucking door!

Chill. They'd hafta break the door down to get to us. Wait a minute, he said, you oughta put some clothes on. It's cold out.

Forget clothes, man, I'm just trying to save the body.

But he went over to a corner where there was a pile of clothes and pulled out some old jeans and a flannel shirt for me which I quickly put on and rolled up because they were too big. He also had some socks and a beat-up pair of sneakers. Then he did something strange. He took off my shearling jacket and gave it to me.

It never fit me right anyhow, he said. Too small. Where's my jean jacket? he asked looking around the room.

In the livingroom, man. Don't even think about it.

He shrugged and smiled and went into the pile of clothes and pulled out an old Islanders hoodie which he put on.

Okay, c'mon, let's book, he said but when I turned to the window I suddenly smelled smoke and saw that the curtains were blackening along the bottom where they lay against the space heater. It was my fault, I'd pushed the curtains against the heater myself.

They were probably made out of some highly combustible man-made fabric and they'd heated up to the burning point and with the breeze and fresh air blowing from the open window they looked like they were ready to burst into flames. And then sure enough just as I moved to pull them away from the heater a flash of blue zipped up one side and crossed over the top and shot down the other and the curtains practically exploded like they had been covered with gasoline or something.

Oh shit, let's go! Russ said. He dove out the window like a circus lion jumping through a ring of fire and I followed him straight into the darkness.

By the time we got to the edge of the roof and turned to shinny down the pole to the ground the flames had completely filled the window and it looked like the whole room was burning. It was a combination of beautiful and scary probably like war. The room went up like one of those smart bombs'd hit it and when me and Russ reached the ground we turned and stood there and looked up amazed at the sight.

We should've gotten into Russ's car and beat it the hell out of there but I guess we wanted to watch the fire. We staggered backwards away from the house across the yard to the garage where the Harleys were and a few minutes later we saw Roundhouse and Joker and Raoul and Packer come running down the stairs from the apartment so we slipped away from in front of the garage into the bushes on the side.

Russ said, C'mon, follow me, and we climbed through a broken old fence and came out behind the abandoned liquor store. He walked up to a rear door and opened it and we went inside this large storage room where we could safely look out the side window and watch the fire. All around us were these empty whiskey and wine cartons and then in the center of the pile I noticed a stack of ten or twelve unopened boxes. VCRs and laptop computers. I touched Russ's shoulder and when he turned I just pointed to the boxes.

He goes, Oh, yeah, I know. I had a little trouble unloading them locally. I thought maybe I'd make my own deal with the Albany guy. You know what I'm saying?

Yeah, I said and turned back to the fire. Already there were two fire engines blocking the driveway. Lights were flashing and sirens and cop cars were pulling up and firemen were running hoses down the alley and driveway and rushing up the stairs with their axes.

The bikers still stood in the shadows at the front of the garage looking up at the apartment. Bruce wasn't with them I noticed. They were only a few feet from us and I could see they were scared shitless, even Joker who was telling them they had to book. Forget the electronics.

So where the fuck's Bruce! Roundhouse said in a loud voice, very upset.

Packer said, I think he went back for the kid.

Fuck the kid! Joker said. Fuck Bruce. Fuck the stuff. We gotta get outa here, man. There's cops everywhere.

Moving fast Roundhouse and Packer rolled their bikes out of the garage and got the engines started. Joker climbed on behind Roundhouse and Raoul got on behind Packer and the two huge Harleys and four bikers went roaring down the driveway past the pickup and Russ's Camaro bumping over hoses and dodging firemen and at the street they turned right and disappeared.

You hear that? I said to Russ.

What?

Bruce is still up there, man. He thinks I'm locked inside your crib. He's trying to save me!

Yeah. And I've got the key, Russ said in a strangely calm voice.

I gotta tell him I'm okay!

But when I turned to leave Russ grabbed my arm and said, You can't get up there, man. It's too late now.

I looked back at the fire and he was right. The whole apartment was in flames and the attic above and the empty storefronts and even the Video Den were burning now. A couple of firemen who had gone up the stairs to the apartment came stumbling back out the door and got safely down to the ground just as the whole staircase and porch fell in a huge shower of sparks and flame.

The noise of the fire was incredible, like a jet plane taking off with sirens and firehorns and firemen giving orders over loudspeakers. They had hoses snaked all over the place and were shooting hard heavy streams of water into the fire but it was like the fire was alive and the water was its food that only made it grow larger and hungry for more. I spotted Wanda and Rudy LaGrande out on the street with a crowd of people but then the cops pushed everyone back out of sight and a third fire truck pulled into place. On the far side of the street I thought I saw a bunch of people I knew, including my mom and my stepdad but I think it was an optical illusion due to fear and excitement.

Pretty soon the firemen must've realized there was no way they could save the house so they started spraying water on the buildings on either side of it including the one me and Russ were in to try and keep them from going up too. I could hear the water pounding on the roof and a bunch of firemen ran past the window toward the back. The storage room was filling with smoke and we were coughing from it and our eyes stung and sparks were starting to float down from the darkness near the ceiling like fireflies.

We better book, man, I said.

He goes, What about my stuff? I can't leave my stuff

It's not your stuff. Never was.

Bruce and the other guys, they're the ones who
stole
it!

Yeah, and you stole it from them. Now Bruce's dead and the other guys're gone.

Like it's the first time he's thought it Russ says, The cops'll think I stole it too.

Fucking duh, man. Let it burn. It's our best chance.

What about my car? I need my car.

Forget it. We're criminals, man. You'll have another chance. Maybe we'll get lucky and people'll see your car and think we died in the fire too, I said and ran for the door thinking that was the way it should be, me and Russ and Bruce burned up in the fire together, our bodies turned into three piles of char surrounded by burned-up tons of stolen electronics.

I didn't know how Russ's mom would take it but mine would be sad at first and then she'd get over it and my stepdad would be secretly happy especially since he could carry on like he'd lost something important to him.

Nobody else would think much about it though. Except Black Bart maybe since he'd lost a lot of freight forwarding business with the bikers plus a homeless kid who used to sell him his daily blunt. But nobody else'd care.

Russ was a step behind me and when I pushed open the door I freaked a pair of firemen who had their axes all ready to chop their way in.

Jesus! What the hell are you doing in there! the lead guy hollered. Get the hell outa there! he said and I said, We're gone, man! and we were.

We booked like mad through a bunch of backyards and cut down to the river where there's this narrow brick walkway from the olden days when the mill was running that snakes under the Main Street Bridge. You can stand down there next to the water which in spring comes right up to your feet and smoke a J if you want or just hang out and talk without being seen or heard which is why kids have been going there for generations I think.

Due to the fire and everybody in town wanting to watch it, us getting out of Au Sable without being seen was easier than it probably should've been but of course nobody was actually looking for me and Russ yet. They didn't know yet that we were missing and presumed dead.

It was my idea not to let anyone see us. Russ said, Maybe they'll be so busy putting the fire out and keeping it from spreading and all that they won't notice my stuff and we can go back later for it. Plus he was worried about his car. Russ is a very material guy.

I said, No way, man. Firemen are really smart and they hate unanswered questions. They're not like cops, I told him, who would've just grabbed up all of Russ's stolen VCRs and computers for themselves like it was Christmas and then busted us for some other crime than stealing. Like arson, even though it was only accidental. And once they found Bruce's body up there in the apartment which unless he was burned to a crisp they could identify easy because of all his Gulf War tattoos they'd try and nail us for murder although a lot of people'd want to give us a good citizenship medal for getting rid of the bikers regardless of how we'd done it.

Either way I didn't want to be connected to what had happened to Bruce. I didn't even want to think about it. He was my friend and he'd tried to save me. It was just bad luck that I'd already been saved by Russ.

What we got to do now, man, I told him, is disappear off the face of the earth. If anybody sees us they'll have more questions than we've got answers for.

Boy, is my mom going to be pissed, he said.

Forget that, man. Your mom is like my mom, I said. They'll both think we died in the fire with Bruce and will be real sad or else as usual they won't know where we are and won't really give a shit. Russ's mom wasn't married with a regular job like mine, she was sort of a hooker who worked in a bar near the air force base and lied about her age and told the guys she brought home that Russ was her nephew which is why he left home when he was fifteen in the first place. She was a babe but I actually preferred my mom to his although he was better off than I was having no stepdad like mine to deal with.

We stayed there under the bridge in the dark for about an hour listening to the cars and trucks rumbling overhead and the steady roar of the river which was only a few inches below the walkway and the occasional siren as fire trucks from the towns around came in to help. A fire is one of the few things that gets people together nowadays. The bridge was a big stone arch and when we looked out from under it we could see a piece of the sky which was all lit up like there was a night baseball game over where we used to live with the bikers and it did make me want to go and join the crowd so I tried not to look.

What I really wanted was to get high but neither of us had any weed so Russ and I talked for a while about Bruce and what a cool dude he was and what bastards the other bikers were to leave him like that. He had soul, man, Russ said. White soul. You know what I'm saying?

I said, Yeah, but actually I didn't want to talk about him anymore because of how my feelings were all mixed up. Then one time I peeked out and noticed that the sky was getting dark again so I figured we should book while people were still somewhat distracted by the fire and thinking maybe we had burned up in it. Russ had about ten bucks and an almost full pack of cigarettes and I had nothing but the clothes on my back but Russ said he knew these excellent guys in Plattsburgh who lived in a bus where we could crash as long as we wanted and no one would know because there were always different kids who stayed there between squats, nobody permanent except the dudes who owned the bus.

We couldn't get out of Au Sable though and hitch over to Plattsburgh without being spotted and we didn't have Russ's Camaro anymore so we decided to sneak up by Stewart's which is like this late-night convenience store where people drive in for last-minute items like cigarettes or beer and sometimes leave their car running outside. By keeping to the alleys and backyards we got to Stewart's without anyone noticing us and then hid behind a dumpster next to the store and waited. It was pretty cold but I had my shearling jacket and Russ had his Islanders hoodie so we were okay.

Quite a few cars and pickups came in and a lot of them were people we actually knew but they were locals and knew not to leave the motor running. After a while the out-of-town fire engines and some of the volunteer firemen with their blue bubble lights on the dashboards started passing by and two or three of them stopped for gas or went in for supplies and the such but even though they were from away they shut off the motor and took their keys with them.

Then this one pickup, a red practically new Ford Ranger pulled in. It was a volunteer fireguy probably heading home to Keene or some other small town where nothing was open this late. After a few minutes he came out with a bag of groceries and got into his truck and started to back out but then he suddenly stopped and jumped down from the cab and with the motor still running walked slowly back inside the store like he'd forgotten something he was supposed to bring home for the wife and was pissed.

Russ ran around to the front of the store, took a quick look through the window and came back to the dumpster and said it was cool, the guy had his head in the ice cream freezer. We scooted across the lot and Russ jumped in on the driver's side and I climbed in beside him and we were outa there.

At first I thought Russ was going the wrong way but it was only a deceptive maneuver to make the guy or anyone who saw his truck leaving the lot think we were headed west in the direction of Lake Placid instead of east to Plattsburgh. As soon as we'd gone a few blocks he cut left and zipped back on River Street which turns into River Road and then crosses the river on this old wooden bridge outside of town a ways where it connects a few miles further on to the main road to Plattsburgh.

A few minutes later we were doing eighty headed east on Route 9N smoking the fireguy's cigarettes from the carton of Camel Lights I'd found in his grocery bag and laughing like crazy. There was other good stuff in there too—a twelve-pack of Bud kings, Fritos, some chips, and some Kotexes probably for the guy's wife which naturally caused Russ to make a couple of his cruder jokes but I didn't mind because for the moment at least we were like free, free to just be ourselves, driving fast with the windows down and the heater blasting, smoking cigarettes and eating junk food and drinking beer and crankin' with Nirvana's Serve the Servants on WIZN screaming from the speakers. It was definitely cool. We even switched on the blue bubble light so if anyone saw us they'd think we were heading for a fire.

Russ said, Yesss! and pumped his fist and I said, Yesss! and did the same although it felt a little stupid because of everything that'd happened. But life is short I guess and you have to celebrate it when you can so that's basically what we did.

We stayed off the Northway and shut off the bubble light because there was likely to be staties cruising and took the back roads into Plattsburgh and parked the pickup in a used-car lot out on Mechanic Street where there were fifty or sixty used trucks for sale. It was around midnight by then and not much traffic and only a few local cops who were probably drinking coffee over at Dunkin' Donuts so there was very little danger of us getting caught.

After Russ took the number plates off the truck with this screwdriver he found in the glove compartment the fireguy's Ranger looked like all the other pickups on the lot. Russ figured it wouldn't be discovered there until somebody tried to buy it or else they did an inventory and when they did no way it could be tied to us. Russ was good at criminal activities and even when he was doing something for the first time it seemed like he'd already done it twice last week.

The number plates he put in the bag with the beer and stuff because he figured maybe we could sell them if we met somebody who was into stealing cars and then we booked on foot for the dudes who lived in the bus, which wasn't very far, Russ said.

It was out past these old warehouses and junkyards where there weren't any regular homes or stores and you had to go through a break in a chain-link fence and cross a huge field where people had dumped old tires and refrigerators and such. It was kind of spooky out there in the dark lugging the grocery bag over the rough crumbly ground with the wind blowing and everything smelling wet and rusty like it was a hazardous waste site or something. Russ said he'd only been out here once when he took home this girl he'd picked up at the mall and it turned out she was crashing at the bus with these crackheads from Glens Falls who were going to Montreal for a Grateful Dead concert but never made it.

Was she a crackhead too? I asked him. I didn't think I'd ever met one. I knew lots of kids who'd done crack a few times but they were just normal like me.

She was into rock, yeah. She said she was sixteen but I think she was real young. Fourteen or something. Maybe thirteen.

Wow. Thirteen. That's young. For crack, I mean. You didn't screw her or anything, did ya?

Jesus, no, Chappie. Whaddaya think I am, a goddam pervert? All she wanted was money for rock anyhow and I was broke. There were these other guys there though that she gave blowjobs to for only two bucks apiece and then she got her kibbles and bits and got high. I couldn't relate, you know what I'm saying?

Yeah, sure, I said and we kept walking for a while without talking. These guys who own the bus, I said, are they crackheads?

I don't know. I guess so, maybe. But they're cool, he said. They're college guys or something.

I didn't see the bus until we were practically in front of it. It was this old dented beat-to-shit regulation schoolbus like from before Vietnam with broken headlights and the windows which were mostly busted were covered over inside with cardboard and no tires or wheels even. It was lying on the ground at a slight angle and looked like it had been dragged there and dropped in the middle of the field with the rest of the junk. It was still yellow but faded and people had painted peace signs and hippie flowers and a few deadhead slogans on the sides and it stank pretty bad when we got close to it like people had been shitting and pissing a lot in the immediate vicinity.

There was the one door at the front and Russ knocked on it and said, Yo, man, anybody home?

Somebody lifted a corner of the cardboard on the window next to the door, checked us out and dropped it again. There was some rummaging-around noise from inside and then this guy's voice says, We don't want any we don't got any it's fucking late go away.

Russ goes, Hey, c'mon, man, it's me, Russ. Me and my buddy, we got some beer.

The wind was blowing pretty hard and it was definitely cold out there and weird so I was getting anxious to get invited inside even though maybe it wasn't such a good idea. The vibes off this wrecked schoolbus were way negative. We waited a few minutes and I was going to suggest to Russ that we should forget it although I didn't know any other place we could go. Maybe we could break into a furniture warehouse or something, I thought. I once heard about some kids who did that and lived there for a whole winter, when suddenly the door opened and this tall skinny dude with a scrawny rat's-ass beard and pimples and hair down over his shoulders stepped outside and the first thing about him I noticed is that he smelled really ripe like he hadn't taken a bath in a year.

Yo, man, Russ says, wussup. Remember me? I came here once, man. I brought the chick who was with the two dudes from Glens Falls.

The guy only looks at Russ with a stoned smile and then at me the same. Who's he? the guy says pointing a long bony finger so Russ told him my name and the guy said his. Richard, man. Richard. He leaned down then and poked his face into my grocery bag and all of a sudden it's like he's in a completely different head and he says, Well well well what have we here a little beer a little bit o' chips a little o' this and a little o' that. And number plates!
Stolen
number plates I bet! Yummm! We even got us some
sanitary
napkins, he says pulling out the Kotexes. We don't need
those,
do we? and he tosses them into the darkness and goes back into the bag and pulls out a beer and says, It's like Halloween only the trickers come atreatin' and the treaters come a-trickin'. He goes on talking like that, real fast and spindly, sort of to himself but not really, like he basically can't think of anything to say so he lets his mouth do it all for him.

He didn't seem to remember Russ from before or not to remember him either—it was like he was empty inside and stuff you said to him bounced around in his head like BBs or pinballs for a few seconds and then rolled to the bottom. After a few minutes of Russ trying to have a regular conversation with the guy he suddenly turned around and walked back inside the bus leaving the door open so we followed him in.

It was dark but they had a couple of candles burning so you could see things okay and I could tell right away that there was this one other guy there who looked just like Richard, tall and real thin, same long hair and ratty brown beard and pimples, same filthy tee shirt and raggedy jeans. He was sitting in the busdriver's seat with his bare feet up on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead like he was driving someplace and steering with his feet.

Russ goes, What's happening, man.

You got to pay your fare, the guy says and Russ handed him one of our beers and the guy popped it and instantly started chugging like he was starving.