Nuclear War Club: Seven high school students are in detention when Nuclear War explodes.Game on, they are on their own. (3 page)

It was quiet, and he didn’t see anyone moving, or worse, just hanging around. It was still very dark, no predawn light yet. Since most of the streetlights were shot out, the broken, flickering, red neon light at the Two Spot bar created an ominous strobe effect. It was like the flashing red and blue lights on a police car. The hard rain had eased up to a steady drizzle. The red light reflected off the wet asphalt.

Zeke trembled when he looked at the Two Spot bar parking lot. This is where it happened Friday morning.

“Give it up. I don’t play,” the addict had said. He was sweating and trembling. It looked like he was crashing, hard. The addict’s gun swung towards Monique.

“No!” Zeke screamed, as he knocked Monique to the pavement, away from the addict’s gun barrel.

“There!” Zeke heard someone shout. He looked and saw some gang members smoking joints in the Cadillac Escalade parked in the deserted Two Spot parking lot, dividing up bundles of cash. They grabbed their guns and jumped out when Zeke screamed. Probably one of their lookouts had shouted.

Zeke turned, fearing a drive by shooting from another gang when he saw all the piles of money. There were no cop lights, and Zeke knew the police stayed out of this area without backup. The gang members took cover and lit the area up with the red laser lights on their 9mm handguns.

“Gonna put a cap in your punk……,” a gang member laughed . The robber dropped his gun, frantically trying to outrun the red laser lights.

“That’s the speed of light!” they howled hysterically. The scent of high quality marijuana smoke waffled past Zeke.

“I played football with you, Zeke,” one gang member had shouted to Zeke as they fled.

Zeke tried to focus, forget the robbery, and stop trembling. He looked carefully around. He had made a mistake
of not doing that on Friday, and that mistake-
his mistake
-almost cost Monique her life. He unlocked the door and walked back inside.

He hesitated.

Carrying a gun was a hard time jail felony in California. But some of these robbers killed their victims if they didn’t get enough money to buy more crack, and Zeke didn’t have any money to give them.

Calm down, he thought to himself.

“You know you would
die
for Monique and LeShawn, so you would certainly risk
jail
to save their lives,” Zeke he spoke to himself, to calm down.

After all, it would only be fair and just that a Judge would indignantly sentence him to prison for carrying a gun to protect his family, Zeke thought sarcastically. A Judge who lived in a gated community, with armed guards. A Judge who, herself,
always
carried a gun. A Judge who wouldn’t drive by this neighborhood in a Brinks armored truck.

Zeke steadied himself, then reached behind the refrigerator. He took his Mom’s revolver out of the locked metal gun safe. The gun safe was built into the wall, adapted from an electrical fuse box. The Deacons from the Jerusalem Baptist Church down the street had built one for everyone who had a gun and kids.

He checked to be sure the gun was loaded, then jammed it in his pants, above his back pocket. He would drop the gun off at the house after he walked LeShawn and Monique to their bus stop, before he went to high school.

He checked again to be sure his Mom was fully covered by the blanket, then yelled “Come on, LeShawn and Monique!”

The kids silently walked by their Mom sleeping on the couch, heads down, and waited at the front door. Zeke was troubled by the way they looked away from their Mom.

“Here is your breakfast,” Zeke said, as he gave each one half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on whole wheat bread, and half an egg and cheese sandwich. He had made the
sandwiches every night, ahead of time, in batches, and put them in Ziploc bags. He checked their back packs for their school books, and threw in a banana and an orange he had brought home from football practice. Coach let him have all the extra fruit. He was relieved both had their shoes on, and the laces were tied.

“Good report card,” Zeke said, picking up the kids’ school Kindergarten progress report cards he had left on the counter last night for his Mom. He signed her name, and put them in their backpacks.

He checked to make sure their backpacks were covered by the rain ponchos, then turned out the lights. After they were outside, he double checked to be sure the door was locked. Monique and LeShawn grabbed his hands as they walked down the sidewalk. Empty beer cans in disintegrating small brown paper bags, drug needles, cigarette butts, Kentucky Fried Chicken hot wings boxes, and crumpled McDonald’s paper bags smeared with ketchup littered the sidewalk, and were being washed into the clogged gutters by a swell of rainwater.

He thought it was amazing that no matter how much it rained, the sidewalk always smelled strongly of urine. The gutter and drain were clogged, flooding the sidewalk. He watched the water back up closer to a fat man snoring in a cardboard box covered with plastic shipping wrap. A mangy dog lying near the cardboard box looked at them, but didn’t bother to bark or growl. Both LeShawn and Monique grabbed his hand tighter when they saw the dog. LeShawn and Monique laughed and enjoyed the rain.

“LeShawn, stop splashing puddles on Monique,” Zeke said, as they hurried to their school bus stop.

They squealed with delight as he finally picked both of them up, one under each arm, and started running to the bus with 5 minutes left. They held out their arms like Superman flying.

They were late, but he saw Essie, the bus driver, had waited as they ran up to the bus stop.

5.

Essie always drove the school bus on this route, and she had noticed Zeke walking his brother and sister every day. In her mind, Zeke was just about perfect. A fine young man, clean cut, strong, handsome, he actually used a belt to hold up his pants. But most importantly, she loved the way he guarded these beautiful children. She hoped her grandsons were that responsible.

When Essie heard about his Mother at the hair salon, she told Zeke the next day, “Don’t worry son, I will stop if I see you on the road. But try not to be late. I am not supposed to do this, I could get fired. I need the check.”

Essie had reached the age where she would adopt, or claim credit, for kids she liked, at least in her imagination. There were so many gang members, too many teenage funerals. She liked to think on the positive, true, and noble, like the Preacher said yesterday.

“Preach it,” she said out loud. Zeke was something positive, just like the Preacher said. Essie bragged about Zeke to her husband almost every night.

“Zeke Brown is an All-State running back. Boosters brought him to Barley Union High School to win the division. He is already being recruited by major Colleges,” her husband explained to her at dinner.

Essie didn’t understand football, but she did know that for some reason a school bus to the wealthy school detoured twelve miles just to pick up Zeke. Other school bus drivers had complained about the trip.

“You go, son!” she said. Her comment was ignored by the other kids on the bus. It was nothing unusual, Essie would periodically talk to herself, sometimes sing.

Zeke watched LeShawn and Monique walk up the steps of the bus, then jump into the front seat Essie saved for them. Zeke nodded at her, she smiled back.

“Thank you Mrs. Essie,” Zeke said.

“Can’t leave my babies,” she replied, smiling.

She looked in her rear mirror, the kids were laughing, splattering their wet hands against the window, and waving goodbye to Zeke.

LeShawn and Monique’s school bus disappeared into the rain.

6.

Ashley Kensington heard the maid knock softly, then hang something on her door knob. The maid’s shoes made a clicking sound on the marble floors as she turned, and walked back to the kitchen.

“Hurry up woman,” Ashley Kensington said, listening, impatiently waiting for the maid to disappear. She jerked her bedroom door open, ripped off the plastic dry-clean wrap, and inspected her new cheerleader uniform.

“Yes!” she said, as she looked in the full length mirror alcove. She pressed the time delay button on her laptop, taking several photos of herself in different positions. She examined each photo carefully. The concealed, integrated padded bra supported, lifted, and supplemented her breasts. The tapered waist with slight, dyed, color differentiation that created an optical illusion to make her look even thinner, was to die for.

“Girl, you look
fine!”
she said. And just in time for school yearbook photos today. The tailor was very expensive, but worth every dollar her parents would unknowingly pay. And no one would know her uniform was tailored with heavy duty, reinforced elastic, so she would look good during the cheerleading routines.

Ashley quickly dressed and grabbed all her expensive electronic devices, trying to remember which ones were the most prestigious. She rushed down the hall to the sun room, which opened to the beach, hoping her parents were still home. Maybe she could beg for the car.

“Your Mother said to be sure you have an extra charged battery stick for your phone today,” Ms. Sonya, the maid, said handing Ashley the battery. “And the charger.”

“Thank you Ms. Sonya,” Ashley replied. Ashley was on car restriction from her Father for not calling
the maid “Ms.”, and for some other whiny offenses she could not remember. She had been furious at having to ride the school bus. At least they could have ordered Ms. Sonya drive her to school.

“No, Ashley needs to ride the bus until she learns respect and gratitude. I rode the school bus every day,” Father had said.

Ms. Sonya has probably been told to report her if she didn’t call her “Ms.”, Ashley thought.

“Ms. Sonya, have Mother and Father left?” Ashley asked.

“Yes, they left before seven. Remember, they both have Hospital rounds today. Would you like some of your parent’s omelets?” she asked.

“No thank you, Ms. Sonya. Half grapefruit, a small yogurt, and a thermos of coffee, please,” Ashley replied. She needed to be sure she didn’t gain any weight, it was cheerleading season and she was now the captain in her senior year.

“Your Father said they sent you an e-mail, please watch it,” Ms. Sonya continued, pealing her pink grapefruit.

Ashley checked her laptop for the video e-mail, and watched her Mom say: “Your Father and I may not be back before ten tonight. Please be sure to e-mail us about your Calculus exam results. You
must
be sure you have completed the online driving school for your speeding ticket, or the insurance will kill us for your driver’s license points.”

Then her Mother stopped and her Father finished, “You are off of car restriction, Ms. Sonya has the keys. Don’t forget your SAT tutor at four thirty.”

Ashley saw her Mother and Father wave goodbye as a beeper went off.

“Ms. Sonya, did they leave you the keys?” Ashley asked.

“Yes,” Ms. Sonya replied. “Which car?” Ashley asked.

“Your Father’s Porsche,” Ms. Sonya replied. “They drove your Mother’s SUV together.”

“That’s better,” Ashley thought to herself, silently. She had thought the best she could hope for would be the Camry they used for Ms. Sonya to run household errands.

The new cheerleader uniform, driving the new bright red Porsche to school.

Life is as it should be, Ashley thought.

7.

“Man up,” David Phelps told himself, biting his lip, “real football players don’t cry like a whiny baby because it’s late in the fourth quarter and they haven’t played.”

His uniform was humiliatingly clean. He knew it probably stood out from the other jerseys, broadcasting that he had not played the entire game. “Game dirty” jerseys were earned by players on the field, not benchwarmers. And worst of all, he was a Senior at Barley Union High School.

“Keep your head in the game, Phelps!” he coached himself.

“Be prepared, focus on what you will do when, not if, your number is called,” his Dad always said.

But that was hard to do. The unusually scheduled, midweek night game was almost over. The Barley Union High School band was already leaving, walking in single file to the bus. Excalibur Academy was pummeling Barley High 25-9.

David tried to focus, like his Dad said.

“Why were they losing the game?” he asked himself.

Zeke Brown, Barley’s All-State receiver, could outrun any Excalibur defender. Our quarterback was under throwing him, squandering Zeke’s speed, David thought. Worse, Zeke was so good at receiving he hid the quarterback’s errors. David began to mentally clock Zeke’s runs 10 and 15 yard out, using the kid’s ABC alphabet song for timing.

“….Phelps was starting quarterback in Alabama before his Dad transferred to the Air Force Base,” when David over heard the Assistant Coach say his name, he immediately moved closer to hear.

“I have been watching him at practice,” the Barley Assistant Coach continued. The Head Coach’s eyes were riveted on the field, he showed no sign of listening.

“I am telling you, put Phelps in,” the Assistant Coach pressed.

“What have we got to lose?” the Assistant Barley Coach urged, raising his voice, pointing disgustedly at the Coca-Cola scoreboard.

“Do it,” the Head Coach said quietly, never taking his eyes off the field.

“Phelps!” the Assistant Coach yelled, and pointed to the field. Then he motioned for Matt Dimon, Barley High’s star Quarterback, to come off the field. Dimon protested, holding his hands out, looking outraged, which infuriated the Head Coach.

“If Dimon ever pitches a fit like that again on a substitution, he won’t play, period,” the Head Coach barked, then turned to the student assistant, “write down Dimon runs 5 laps Monday after practice, full pads.”

David bolted onto the field before Coach changed his mind. The Excalibur band was blaring, the home team crowd was already celebrating another victory, holding up one finger. He immediately felt the same rush, the same surge of adrenaline he experienced in Alabama, even as the Barley High fans began to trickle out of the stands.

“David Phelps, number 15, substituting for Matt Dimon as Quarterback,” the public address announcement echoed.