Chapter 2: Spread the Word Around
12:08 AM
May 14, 1980
"Okay boppers," said the DJ on the radio in our hangout, "Here's the latest score in the city. The A.C.'s let two get by when some new recruits lost a fight with the 'Boys in Blue' down at the train yards. Lucky for the Moonrunners it wasn't a double play. Down in Soho, the Eliminators hit up a real slugfest with the Coney Island Warriors. I'm getting word that the Crew from Coney really has some style on the dance floor, but not with boppin'. Sorry babies, but nobody likes a bully. And finally, the Colt 45s have renewed their truce with the Stonebreakers. Sounds like the goths are cookin' up a curveball. Stay tuned to the streets cause them boys are back in town. But do be careful boppers. And stay solid... Adios."
The radio then began to play Thin Lizzy's The Boys are Back in Town.
"What the fuck was that about man?" Cochise asked angrily, "No bopping talent? And who's she callin' bullies?"
"I take it you had to wreck them saps last night," Vermin suggested, "Am I right?"
"Those dudes were askin' for it," I told him.
"Besides man," Snow said, "They won't be messin' with us no more."
We started to engage in a conversation about what happened last night. Cochise was excited to announce how well he busted moves as well as heads. I was still a little soar, mostly in my fists and wrists. The rest of the guys had about the same damage luckily enough. Cody got a mean blood blister on his leg and Cochise's eye looked a little swollen, but nothing more.
"Hey what's up with those Colts anyway?" Cowboy asked changing topics.
"Man, I don't really mind them," Snow said, "It's those Stonebreakers that freak me out. I hear they're all sadists! They meet in Central Park and drink blood or something."
The Stonebreakers did not seem like a very well built set, however, they might make a bopper back down to a fight. They paint their faces black and white in the form of fangs, flames and horns. Their arms are tattooed with massive demonic art. Worse yet, they construct their own weapons out of scrap metal (they must have guy in the steel industry). Lately I had seen them with maces, pickaxes and even some short swords. Their leader, Mato, is the creepiest of all. He always hides his face beneath the pelt of a bear with its mouth over his head. He also fashioned some strange horns atop the pelt. Then from the bear head to his chest, he has a tattoo of blood dripping down his front side.
"I heard they burned a guy alive when they caught him," Lenney told us.
"Well actually guys," Vermin said, "I wanted to talk about them."
We all looked at him. Just talking about them made my spine tingle, like hearing a high-pitched squeak of nails on a chalkboard.
"That whole thing about the truce could mean big money. I've seen a lot of sets come together for heists and crap like that. We should scout their turf tonight."
"Bullshit man," I interjected, "You're sending us on a suicide mission."
"I know, I know," Vermin explained, "Which is why I'm going too. Cowboy and Snow, your in as well. Turk and Rex, get movin'. Now let's see... who else?"
Once again the back door to the hangout opened as Rembrandt walked in late. If he was trying to be discrete he blew it. He looked quite embarrassed when we all watched him walk in.
"Well if it isn't Romeo," Cowboy said as Rembrandt walked by him, "She ain't getting pregnant is she? Can't have our artist being a daddy."
We laughed like the night before as Rembrandt tried to hush us and explain himself.
"As long as you're here little man," Vermin told him, "You can be the sixth recruit going up to Central Park with us."
"Oh shit," Rembrandt said, "Colt 45s' turf."
"And the Stonebreakers," Snow informed him, "They back together, and we gotta' check it out."
"And guess what?" Vermin asked in an obnoxious sort of way, "You just elected yourself Warlord tonight little man!"
We all cheered and laughed as Rembrandt looked off in disbelief. By now he was a veteran Warrior, but he still was not the best man for the task.
"Alright," he finally accepted with some confidence, "Let's go then."
Rembrandt had been our artist for over a year now. He was a skinny white boy with puffy black hair and a red ascot on his neck. He was not the brightest bulb in the gang, nor was he the bravest, but he was smart enough to keep himself out of obvious danger. He was also a very experienced artist (hence the name). He has bombed with the best and even got our name all-city when he tagged some huge Warriors burners on some fresh trains. Now nobody can travel the city without seeing our names. But none of us actually knew why he kept showing up late. We all naturally kept our heads in the gutter, but I considered whether or not it might have been a serious matter. Or maybe he did not want us to know about it out of fear.
We caught the two o' clock subway up to central park. As usual the platforms were empty when we got on.
I looked to Rex as we rode to our destination. He, like me, was a little shaken by last night. Him and me go all the way back to junior high school when we first met. By high school we both ran away from home and lived off some money we got doing chores for people in our apartment complex. Just a few months ago, we joined up with the Warriors. Our initiation took place in Riverside where we had to steal two bats from the Baseball Furies. They were a rough, silent, gang that wore baseball uniforms and carried bats. Each of them also had a creepy painted face. Our challenge was to steal the bats and duct tape them to the heads of two Furies. With the tape in hand we had set out to complete the initiation.
As we had searched the baseball park they frequented, we found a few wooden bats and stole two of them. With half the challenge behind, we had discovered a trio of furies near the bleachers smoking. They must have thought we were a few punks looking for a fight and they would not back down to a challenge. Even though there had been three Furies against two of us, we had made short work of them with only a handful of blows. Finally, we had removed their caps, taped up the bats, and as an added bonus, taped all three of them to the bleachers. When Vermin saw our work, he laughed and congratulated us. The next night, we were wearing the colors of a Warrior. It was the red leather vest with "WARRIORS" embroidered on the top of the back and a winged skull beneath the letters. It was simple, yet provoking. But maybe I am a little bias.
"Alright fellas' gather round," Vermin announced to us as the subway neared our stop, "Try not to be seen tonight. This is strictly spying; so don't be looking for trouble, especially with them goths. Pay attention to detail, 'cause we might be making some bread from this info."
Central Park was an expansive area. I had trouble believing we would find the Colts and the Stonebreakers nearby. We searched around for soldiers, voices or burners.
Suddenly I spotted a Stonebreaker tag on the back of a sign for private property. The tag resembled a stone diamond shape with an eyeball cracked open and bleeding silver blood. In the upper left-hand corner it read "STONE" in big bold letters; in the bottom right, "BREAKERS" in the same font. Rembrandt wasted no time in spray painting a red "W" over the center of the graffiti.
Then Cowboy said he heard a guitar strumming to his right. We continued on and sure enough, we located a fire where the two gangs had a meeting. Rembrandt instructed us to get under a large evergreen tree for cover. We negotiated our way under the branches as silently as we could. The pine needles pricked my knees as we watched the meeting through the semitransparent branches.
"I know our turf is in an awkward location," said on of the Colts wearing a long sleeved denim jacket, "But that's why we have to stick together. Cyrus was right about us pitting each other against one another. Both of our cliques have built the rep we need to make it. All we have to do is build up the trust of some other big outfits and we'll be good to go."
The Stonebreaker leader, Mato, stood to talk. "Then it is settled..." he paused as one of his gang members played a few heavy strums from an electric guitar, "I understand there is a representative here to voice his concern..." again there were heavy strums from the gang member, "You say you are from the 'Hi-Hearts'?"
"It's the Hi-Hats," yelled the same mime character we had seen on Eliminator turf last night, "My leader, Crackerjack wanted you to support us on our next invasion. After heavy deliberation, he has decided what needs to be done. The first part of the plan is to hit a hardware store, the biggest one in New York."
"I told ya' we could make some bread off this," Vermin whispered to us.
"I need our soldiers to get heated for the next step. We must recruit as many gangs to fight on our side as we can. That's why we need your support. We need all of you to spread the word about our army."
"And what's in it for us?" asked a Colt 45.
The Hi-Hat turned to him; "We are prepared to offer a great deal of cash if you help. We will give you five thousand tonight, and five thousand when it's all over. You have my word."
"Is there a third step in this brother," asked Mato followed by a short guitar riff.
"Step three will be to let them know we want a fight. I know where their turf is and I can walk it alone if I need to. In the mean time, we will prepare the soldiers for battle. I fear the plan will spread quickly to them, but no matter. If they want to build an army of their own I will not stop them. The final step is to rally the troops and attack."
A Stonebreaker laughed and asked why they need so many men to take out one gang.
"I'm only telling you guys what I was told to say," said the Hi-Hat, "But Crackerjack does not want this to be a small conflict. He wants an all out war. If you think about it, what gang doesn't want to fight in a war? At least my gang is ready to fight. So do you accept the offer?"
Mato stepped forward, "Ya' know, your pretty brave being a bearer with nobody to back you up. And with five grand? We could just jump you right now. But you guys seem pretty determined to take down this clique. So you have the Stonebreakers at your disposal." Mato turned to the Colt 45 leader, "What about you?"
"We're with you guys if you want this truce," said the member in the jean jacket, "Just sounds like a lot of work."
"It's also a lot of money," said the Hi-Hat.
"I don't know if I followed that," Cowboy whispered, "What gangs do the Hi-Hats want wasted?"
"Us, maybe," Snow said softly.
"They had their chance to waste us last year and they blew it," Rembrandt whispered, "They don't have any reason to hit us again."
"Well who would the Hi-Hats army through?" Cowboy asked in a loud voice than he had previously.
"I know the Furies did some damage to them before," Snow pointed out, "But they bopped past them. Crackerjack can command those clowns as well as Chatterbox did."
We kept talking about the Hi-Hats and the meeting. So much so that two of the Colts turned around and walked to the tree we hid under. I saw them get closer and wondered if we should stay still or make a break for it. They got closer and closer as I tried to hush the rest as quietly as I could. Then Vermin panicked and stood up as he yelled for us to run.
Without a chance to think clearly, I scrambled out of the tree with a pain in my knees from the pine needles. We heard the Colts yell about an intruder. This was followed by screams and war chants. All I could do was sprint as we tried to remember how to get back to the subway. We ran up hills, along sidewalks and through trees following Rembrandt.
"Guys..." he yelled at us winded, "Split up... and meet... at the station..."
Doing just that, we split into three duos. It was Vermin and Rembrandt, Cowboy and Snow, and Rex and I. We ran halfway across a bridge and jumped off it to the shore below as we ran blindly through darkness. I felt old spider webs press against my face when we ran under the bridge. I turned my head back to see about six Colt 45s running after us.
"In that tree," Rex instructed as he pointed to an old oak tree with a branch about five feet from the ground.
We climbed as fast as we could to escape our pursuers, but they would not give up so easily. With this in mind, I began stomping on the branch we first grabbed. Rex helped me crush the limb and we managed to break it before the Colts arrived. As it fell we climbed higher and watched the helpless gang members taunt us.
"Who are those fuckers?" one asked another.
"I dunno," he responded, "But as soon as we catch them, I'm gonna' rip their arms off and beat 'em in the face with 'em!"
"I got an idea," said the first, "You guys wait here."
He ran off in the direction we came in from. In the mean time we stared down the other Colt 45s. We stayed silent knowing that both our gangs could not do anything about the other. I wondered if the other Warriors made it back safely or not. Would they have waited for us? It may be safer for them if they took a separate subway home. In any case, we were surrounded and had nowhere to go. I also wondered where that other Colt went.
When he returned, he was with three Stonebreakers wielding what looked like battle-axes. Not surprisingly, they began hacking away at the tree trunk to finally catch us. I figured we had about five minutes before they finished the job, so I told Rex my plan to get out.
"When I say so," I instructed, "Drop down on a guy cuttin' the tree and make a run for it. Neither of us has time to turn back if one of us doesn't make it so try to stick close. You dig?"
Rex nodded, "I dig man."
The sound of the axes chopping the trunk was maddening. Couple that with the altitude we were at and it was enough to make your stomach churn. It was too bad we had to flee so soon. The park was actually quite a site to behold at night. The yellow lamps painted a trail along the sidewalks and shimmered in the calm waters around the area. But I was not truly concerned with this.
I looked to Rex who looked back to me. I counted off with my hand from one to three. On three we dropped down to the Stonebreakers. In the darkness, it can be very unsettling when you fall such a distance, especially onto a target so hard to see.
We crashed onto the axe men with a loud thump. Rex landed on two of them while I fell directly on the head of the third Stonebreaker. He fell to the ground breaking my fall as I ran wildly toward the station. I ran without considering the dangers at that point. The Colt 45s had bought enough time to bar the exits, but I did not care. I would fight if it meant surviving. That was what I was brought up by the streets to believe.
I finally saw the sign for the subway station. Out of breath and sweating madly, it was just what I needed to see. I sprinted down the stairs and jumped six of them to the floor. Then I saw Snow and Cowboy at the platform waiting for a ride. I waved as I ran to meet them.
"It's about time you made it," Cowboy said to me.
"Did Vermin... and Rembrandt... make it?" I asked out of breath.
"We saw 'em leave without us," Snow said, "But I can't blame 'em. These streets are heavy. Hey where's Rex?"
I knew something had been nagging me when I ran to the station. I had left Rex behind. I tried to tell myself that it needed to be done. He had known the risks as well as I did. It could have just as well been me left behind.
"I... don't know," I admitted, "He was with me before, but we got split up. I didn't have a choice."
"Man, you can't be goin' solo," Snow scolded me, "That's why you're in this gang."
"He's right young blood," Cowboy said, "But it's too late to get him now. Let's just hope he made it out in time."
When our subway arrived, I stepped in and turned around to see if Rex made it. Unfortunately, all I saw was an empty station. Then I heard screams and yelling from above us. Suddenly, what looked like a hundred Colt 45s and Stonebreakers flew down the stairs to the subway.
"Oh shit!" I yelled as I worked to shut the doors manually. I was able to close it early and it locked shut for departure. Some of the Colts kicked the train and others threw things. Then I saw a Stonebreaker with a bloody axe. Our eyes met as he smiled evilly and lifted the severed head of Rex. I yelped a little when I saw it. The Stonebreaker then held up Rex's vest and had it chopped in half by a fellow member. I felt cold and scared as the subway accelerated back to Coney Island.
"Oh my God," I said in disbelief, "I can't believe they wrecked him."
"You gotta' move on partner," Cowboy told me as he sat down next to me.
"We've known each other for almost ten years," I said sadly, "He was like a brother to me."
"Hey, Turk I've lost friends to the street before," Snow said as he sat down, "Everybody has by now. The streets are mean, dig? But that's why we gotta' stick close together. You never know who's gonna' wreck ya' when ya' let your guard down. Anyway, at least one of you didn't get wasted. No need for you to go down with him."
"Yeah, I guess your right man," I replied.
"Anyway," Cowboy changed topics, "What was up with that whole truce thing. The Hi-Hats are buying off the two gangs."
"Sounds like it," Snow said, "But who are they after? Man, what if they after the Riffs. That would be intense."
I just listened to the two of them talk about what the Hi-Hats were doing. I just sat and looked out the window every so often. I thought about revenge on the Stonebreakers. Would it be possible? I remembered what the guy looked like when he smiled at me. His distinct face paint and his yellow grin. Maybe some day he will be the one wasted. At this point, I did not care if it was by my hands or somebody else's. I just wanted him to pay for Rex.
