It's back with a vengeance! That's right kids, Gangs of New Mexico is back. I posted this some time ago, under the penname K. Axl Rose, but then I had a terrible case of writer's block, so I deleted it until I was able to get back to it.
Viper deMarco Captain Jack Sparrow
Blake Barbossa
Jacob Waters Will Turner
Rachel Lark Elizabeth Swann
ON WITH THE FIC ALREADY!
13-year-old Rachel Lark sat in a private room in the back of the RV. She was on her way to a city called El Chico in New Mexico. It'd been a long trip from New York, so she was relieved when she finally saw a billboard out the window that read, "Welcome to New Mexico!" She opened her diary and began to write.
"Dear Diary,
We finally made it to New Mexico this morning. I think we might be at our new house by nightfall. Bryan's going to stay with us this weekend until Uncle Bobby comes to pick him up. Bryan says Bobby has a business meeting and that's why it'll take so long, but I know it's because New Mexico is 'swarming with gangs,' and Bryan's afraid I'll get kidnaped. Sometimes he can be so overprotective! I guess I'll learn to live with it. I hope I fit in at my new school. Usually if you're the mayor's kid, you're either completely feared or completely ignored. I know Mom hasn't run for mayor yet, but she will, and she'll win. She always does. It's getting old fast, and everything's been so monotonous lately. So I'm actually starting to hope that I will get kidnapped by some gang this summer. At least it would be a change."
Rachel slammed her diary shut when her older cousin Bryan walked into the room. As soon as he opened his mouth to say something, the RV hit a rock on the road and lurched. Bryan steadied himself and shouted toward the front of the vehicle, "See, that's why we should've stayed on the interstate!" He shook his head, turned back to Rachel, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I got something for you," he said, sitting down next to her. He handed her a small black book about the size of an address book.
"Cool. What is it?" Rachel asked, taking the book from her cousin's hand.
Bryan laughed. "Well, why don't you open it up and find out?" Rachel smiled and pulled back the cover. On the pages that followed were the names of gangs in alphabetical order with their symbol, the name of the leader, and the gang's usual haunts. One symbol in particular caught her eye. It was a black widow spider with the letters "B" and "W" in the hourglass shape on its abdomen.
"Wow! How'd you find this?" Rachel asked, flipping through the pages.
Bryan shrugged. "I know a guy."
Rachel lowered the book and raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "How many guys can one person know?"
"Twelve," Bryan replied with a grin.
Rachel laughed and stood, placing the book in her back pocket. She almost lost her footing as the RV took a dive into yet another pothole. "Be right back," she growled, and made her angry way to the driver's seat. "I thought you arrested people for dangerous driving, Sheriff Jones! Don't you think this is a little hypocritical?" Rachel asked her mother's friend, who was the cause of the bumpy ride.
"Honey, please stop complaining," Mrs. Lark plead of her daughter. "We're almost there. Just go talk with Chris or something. You two haven't said a word to each other the entire trip."
Rachel looked behind her and saw Chris Jones, the Sheriff's son, using his reflection in the window to fix his already perfect hair. "Well, I wouldn't want to interrupt him while he's worshiping his mirror," Rachel argued. Then she stomped away and, realizing she was still bored, decided talking to Chris could probably be more interesting than talking to a wall. Maybe.
"I'm so sorry for her behavior, Tim. I think she gets that mouth from her father," Mrs. Lark apologized.
"And her father's pretty dag'um proud of her!" Mr. Lark called as he stepped out of the bathroom.
Rachel turned around and her father winked proudly. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who had a problem with Sheriff Jones.
"Frank, don't encourage her!" Mrs. Lark scolded.
"What on earth . . . " Sheriff Jones muttered.
"What's wrong?" Mrs. Lark asked. The Sheriff didn't reply. He looked forward and slowed his driving. Ahead was a boy about thirteen years of age stumbling along the side of the road. The boy looked up and held out his thumb. Sheriff Jones was totally against picking up hitchhikers, but he could tell the kid was hurt. He stopped the RV beside him. Rachel's mother opened the door and offered him a ride.
"Thanks a lot," the boy whispered. Rachel helped him over to a chair. He put his head down on the table and fell unconscious.
"So! Where d'you think he came from?" Bryan asked. They looked ahead out the windows and saw a streak of smoke rising over the hill. Driving a little farther, they discovered what was supplying the smoke. There were the vague remains of a vehicle on the road ahead, engulfed in flames. So, that answered that. But the question of how the vehicle had caught fire soon arose. "That's simple," Bryan said with a shrug. "This place is swarming with gangs. I heard they put a bomb in the trunk of your car while you –"
"Fascinating," Mrs. Lark cut him off, taking a cautious glance at her daughter. "It was probably an accident."
"Sure, Mom," Rachel said, rolling her eyes. "They ran into a flaming deer."
"Rachel's right, Hun," Mr. Lark convinced his wife. "This don't look like an accident. And I think Bryan might have something there, with that 'gang' thing."
Rachel and Bryan high-fived each other. Mr. Lark smiled, but his wife and Sheriff Jones were not amused.
Mr. Lark turned to the adults and said, "We should probably check this out. I mean, if there is a gang around here, we should take precautions."
"Good idea," Mrs. Lark said. "You kids stay here. Rachel, tend to the boy. Bryan, check on Tarah." She, Mr. Lark, and Sheriff Jones left the RV, shutting the door behind them.
Chris finally turned from his reflection and watched the stranger with jealous eyes as Rachel went to the closet and pulled out a blanket. She draped it over the shoulders of the boy who sat at the table unconscious. He heavily raised his head and looked at her. Just the sight of Rachel's soft smile was enough to tell him he was in good hands.
"I know this is a stupid question, but are you alright?" Rachel asked, placing a glass of water in front of him.
He put something down on the table, reached for the glass, and took a long drink. "I'm a lot better now, thanks," he said, his voice scratched with smoke.
Rachel sat down next to him and introduced herself. "I'm Rachel Lark."
"Jacob Waters," the boy said.
Bryan was sitting on the edge of the foldout bed that Tarah, Rachel's ill nine-year-old sister, was lying on, and took her temperature. When he heard Jacob tell Rachel his name, his head jerked around, as he recognized it. Probably just a coincidence, he thought, shaking the notion from his mind.
Jacob crossed his arms on the table, pulling the thick blanket tight around him. He rested his head on the table and closed his eyes, exhausted. Rachel stood and started back for the private room in the back of the RV. She stopped at the threshold and turned back around. Curiosity had gotten the best of her. She went back to the table and saw what Jacob had put there. She reached out in front of him to pick it up, being careful not to wake him. What she held was a gold medallion hanging from a chain. She examined the coin and the skull that was molten into each side, then took it with her to the back of the RV and closed the door. After flipping though the first few pages of the book Bryan had given her, she found what she was looking for. She saw the exact same skull symbol next to the gang leader's name "Dometri," but there was no name for the gang. She quickly put the chain around her neck, keeping the medallion hidden under her shirt. She knew that if anyone found out he was in a gang he would be sent straight to juvenile hall.
Rachel sat down next to the window and opened her diary to start writing again, when a heavy rain began pouring down. She heard the door of the RV rip open as the adults came back in for shelter. She rolled her eyes at the sound of her mother's fussing about her "ruined hair" and her "dry-clean only blouse." Rachel looked out her window. The sky had darkened and thunder rumbled in the distance. Something caught the corner of her eye. There at the top of the hill was a group of motorcycles and their riders. Among them was a black "government" van with a red hourglass shape on its hood. Inside the shape were two letters: "B" and "W." And in front of them all, there stood a dark figure leaning against a silver motorcycle. He gave her a glare that made her blood run cold.
