tied up.
• • •
Moses looked around and found that the eyes of all the men (all but the African who was busy ripping the screwdriver out of his eye) were now locked on him. Before the man could yell for them to capture him, Mo bolted for the door through which the boys had originally come, making sure to topple any barrels that remained standing. Once through the door, he bolted down the hallway, turned the corner, and exploded out the door into the fading sunlight. He had already nearly covered the open ground and was just reaching the woods when the gunshots began to sound.
As Moses reached cover and ducked down he could hear bullets flying and ripping through the trees. He then hurried up a tree and waited; panting and listening to the men’s yells.
“I don’t care what you have to do, bring me that kid’s head on a stick!” the African man roared. His scream was followed almost immediately by footsteps clamoring through the woods.
In the tree Mo waited, until he thought he had given Lee enough time to get to the boat. He then began to calculate the fastest and safest way to the water. His mind raced as he gazed off at where the cliff’s slope met the jagged edge and he suddenly grinned.
He leapt down from the tree and with no heed to whoever may see him, he sprinted out into the open, across the plateau and past the warehouse. By the time he heard footsteps they were too late. As Moses neared the edge of the cliff he launched himself into the air and out over the edge.
From the water, Lee stared up at the figure that was careening downwards to where he waited with the Phoenix. He watched as his companion plunged into the water and waited anxiously for him to surface. As he guided the boat over to where he had landed, he saw the head of Moses emerge from the darkening water, hooting and hollering from the adrenaline rush.
As Lee hoisted Moses up into the vessel, he could hear yells from above, howling and screaming obscenities presumably concerning the escape of the boys. As Mo flicked on the massive floodlight mounted on the front of the Phoenix, both he and Lee could scarcely hide their excitement at having foiled the thugs and turning rudder to the island.
“That was sick! Did you see that screwdriver hit that guy’s face?!” Mo gushed, having never had any luck with properly throwing knives. “There was like no skill involved whatsoever, I didn’t even aim!”
“I donno, that jump was pretty insane too,” beamed Lee, “how did your spine not shatter?”
“Dude, I don’t know… So that guy was really the man from Africa huh?” Mo asked, shifting to a more serious tone.
“He was. I don’t know how he ended up here or what brought him here but I would guess that he’ll try to find me. He’s the most sadistic man you’ll ever meet. He’s just a monster. I can’t thank you enough for saving my life. He would have killed me.” Lee said gravely. “He would have beaten me until I died. I might have broken a couple of his bones but he simply wouldn’t have stopped. He might come after you now, too.”
Mo smiled at his brother in the fading Pacific light. “You should know this by now, man. No matter what, you aren’t gonna fight alone, we’re brothers. We fight together.”
- California Paradise -
“Um, excuse me, Miss Johnson?” rang a shrill, unintelligent sounding voice that grabbed the attention of the class and awoke them from their daydreams.
Mrs. Johnson paused at the white board and stared, annoyed, at the door.
“Can I borrow Moses and Lee for a sec?” asked a leathery orange girl standing in the doorway.
By the look of her she was a high schooler; she bore large sunglasses with a tint that faded at the bottom dangling from the neck of her low-cut shirt, her hair was down with unnaturally uniform bangs all stopping just short of her raised eyebrows. The smell of overused lotion wafted from her and she leaned limply and impatiently on one leg.
“I suppose so, yes,” snarled Mrs. Johnson, who had been cut off mid-sentence by the girl.
Moses shot a scared look at Lee and slowly began to rise from his desk. The boys made their way through the array of students out into the hallway where the girl had already started walking sloppily down the hall in the direction of the office.
“What do you want us for?” Lee panted as they caught up with the girl.
“Idk, just follow me…” the girl replied, sounding bored and annoyed.
The boys followed her into the office and past the front desk to a small room that the boys had never even known existed. As they entered the room they were met by the principal and another girl, slightly more intelligent looking than the first but obviously belonging to the same social clique.
“Look, if this is about the toilets in the west bathroom we didn’t-” Mo began but was cut off my a suspicious look from the principal.
The principal was a burly man by the name of Mr. Davids. The boys had come to know Mr. Davids quite well over the past few years. The majority of their visits had been for being in the wrong place at the wrong time or for talking (or their involvement with other shenanigans) during class. While the boys had a general dislike for being sent to the office they could find no real problem with Mr. Davids, who seemed to be an even-handed and honest man.
“Like eew! Nobody cares about the boys bathrooms!” said the girl who had brought the boys in.
“Jamie…” Mr. Davids warned. “Since this was your idea, I’ll let you do the talking. I’m just here to make sure everything’s according to school policy.”
The girl sitting at the table opposite the boys gave them a warm (obviously practiced) smile and began, “I’m Kris, I’m the Student Body President. You guys might know my sister, Summer. She’s in your class.
“I was at her talent show and heard you play. We were wondering if you’d like to play for the prom!” Kris went on, announcing it as though it was the highest honor the boys could have dreamed of. “What do you guys think?”
“The prom?” Mo asked skeptically. He had never had much interest in prom but was fairly certain that it was something that he wouldn’t particularly enjoy.
“I know it sounds a little intimidating, but our theme is ‘California Paradise’ and we think you guys would be perfect!” Kris added.
“You want us to play for like the dance?” Lee asked in disbelief.
“Yeah!” Kris exclaimed.
“We play rock… You know that right?”
“Of course! You do covers right? We thought we’d give you dance songs and you could cover them for us!” answered Kris.
“Whoa whoa, dance songs? By dance songs you mean…” Mo trailed off.
“Oh you know! All the hits on the radio… like stuff they play at dances!”
Mo glanced over at Lee, who was beaming brilliantly, on the verge of uproarious laughter. Mo smiled distantly as he turned back to Kris.
“How does this sound?” Mo began in a businesslike tone, “We’ll play your prom for you but as musicians we can’t, in good conscience, play covers of all the crap that’s on the radio. For one, because that would simply take too long. The songs would have to be dissected, reconstructed for guitar and drums, and we’d have to practice each song for hours to memorize it (and Lee doesn’t even read music). Also, both Lee and I hate the entire genre and lifestyle that hip-hop embraces with the burning fiery passion of a thousand suns.
“If you want us to, we can play the music that we already know; pop-punk and getting more into alternative and metal. We can get a set list for you to approve and you can make adjustments if you want.” As Mo finished, his gaze was locked with Kris’s in a battle of wills.
After a shocked couple of seconds at the sophistication and thought put into Mo’s argument, Kris replied “Okay, I guess that works for me!”
• • •
“Dude, we’re playing the senior prom!” Lee exclaimed as their bikes screeched to a halt in front of their old house. Mack was outside, cutting something with a chainsaw as the boys walked across the yard, threw their bags down by the tree, and started immediately do
wn the hill toward their “musical laboratory”.
“So Alex should be here any minute, we told him four right?” Mo asked as he ducked his head through the shoulder strap of his guitar.
“Yeah dude, that should give us enough time to get warmed up before he gets here,” Lee answered as he dropped down onto his stool behind his drum set. “What do you think? ABR first? Or are we feeling some Austrian Death Machine?”
When NoCal would practice, they often began with music from the screamo or hardcore genres. While they tended to avoid this type of music for its general lyrical thoughtlessness, attempting to keep up with the incredibly fast paced instrumentals (both on drums and guitar) made their specialty (punk rock) seem much slower and easier. While attempting to keep up with the pace of the chaotic din of Killswitch Engage or As I Lay Dying, the boys would then have no problem playing through any New Found Glory or Blink 182 song.
Suddenly, as Mo happened to glance up from his guitar he beheld Alex, standing not three feet from him, beaming. As the din in the room immediately faded, Mo exclaimed, “Dude! You scared the crap out of me, how long have you been here?”
“Oh I got here l-like 3 minutes ago,” Alex stammered, smiling at having taken them by surprise.
“You shoulda said something or made some noise, we were just killing time until you got here!” Lee said.
“Okay, so like we said before we’re playing the prom, which is in like three weeks and they want us