Homegrown Menace

Haste and tumbles layered the floors of roller skate discos, long lines in restaurants barely moved, and house parties brought the noise. Friday night had arrived at last, and Hunter, with his clean afro and chocolate skin, was on his way to get a gulp of that good time. His squad of bros from high school waited for him near the ticket booth, hoping to get good seats.

After the explosive film, they played rounds of bowling on the mall’s basement floor. Sad scores broke out countless laughs from the bunch, and strikes made a few go cocky. They hung out at convenience stores past midnight, watched the pros at a skate park, had some mean karaoke sessions till a squad of seven turned into a duo. Five of the friends had retired from the fun and headed home to worried parents.

“What do you say, HT?” Aaron, tall and fair-skinned, asked. “You and me till dawn, bro.”

“Are you serious, man?” Hunter replied. “It’s two in the morning.”

“And when did we let that stop us from having fun?”

“My head and body are the ones that are stopping me from having fun right now, Ron. I’m going home.”

As Hunter started to walk away, Aaron pulled his arm back. “HT, come on. You’re gonna thank me for this.”

“Ron, let go!” Hunter broke free.

Aaron got a hold of his other arm. “The city doesn’t sleep. Why should we?”

“Enough!” Hunter shouted, pulling his arm away. “What the hell? What is wrong you, man? Why can’t you call it a night and go home?!”

“Because!” Aaron breathed in and out. “Because… I think my Dad is trying to kill me.”

All of a sudden, Hunter was wide awake.

* * *

The cook had left after the dessert. The butler had sunk into shuteye. The lights of the mansion ignored every drop of power. Within the indoor darkness, a cigarette’s ring of embers grew, then dimmed. Someone was awake, watching the front door from a comfortable chair. It was as if he or she were waiting for a dearly beloved to come home.

* * *

Looking at Aaron, Hunter closed his bedroom door. “As far as I know, you’re all right here, Ron. Now, can tell me what this is about?”

It wasn’t Aaron’s first time sleeping over. He knew where the sleeping bag was and unfolded it across the carpeted floor. “It all started when my grandma died,” he said. “Inheriting the house and all that fortune from my mom’s family changed my dad—drinking, partying, alcohol, and some people say women. He and Mom got into these fights. Just words and a whole lot of screaming. At one point in time, all became silent, and it wasn’t the good kind.

“Later on, my mom got sick. We brought her to the hospital. Way before she arrived in her room, I could barely talk to her. She was often too weak to... to stay awake. The doctor… he said that she had only one month to live.” Aaron had to take a moment to wipe his tears.

“Damn,” Hunter whispered. “I’m sorry, man. And your dad?”

“He looked pretty devastated, yeah.”

“So, why all the hunting?”

“I’ve had a few guesses about them mentioning divorce. No one told me anything, so I sneaked into their bedroom one day and hacked my dad’s laptop. His email was open. I found a conversation with a divorce lawyer. To keep it short, it wasn’t looking good for my dad. The divorce was bound to leave him pinching pennies. Then I kept digging and wound up in the email’s trash folder. There, I saw confirmed deals and payments between him and some shady doctors.

“One of the written names in the deal burned my eyes. It belonged to my mom’s doctor. I looked up a few of the procedures, the drugs listed. HT, they’re slowing down her heartbeat.”

Hunter’s arms grew numb. He wished to gasp, but he could not take in any air.

“So, your mom is slowly being murdered, and your dad is... out to get you. That’s... so messed up.”

Aaron laughed a bit. “You think?”

Minutes tumbled on in their moment of silence.

* * *

A beer bottle, half-empty, dropped to the floor, joining the empty ones on the plush carpet. The drunk on the king-sized bed had no strength left to finish it. Eyelids had fallen heavy on eyes. On a nearby lamp table, a phone flashed light; messages kept popping up one after the other:

Oh, I do hope you find him.

I haven’t seen him, sorry.

That’s terrible. Don’t you worry. He’ll come home.

* * *

Hunter yawned, shying a bit from the nine-o’clock-sun. He looked past the edge of his bed to check on his friend. Behaved in his lying position, Aaron already had his eyes open, which were inked with dark circles. Hunter asked him if he was able to sleep. Aaron shook his head.

“Tsk, come on, let’s have breakfast,” Hunter said.

Bowls of colorful, sugary cereals drenched in milk was the no-brainer on the menu. While they were crunching away in the dining area, Hunter kept reading aloud the facts found behind the cereal box. He later wondered why the chewing of his friend had come to a stop. Aaron had fallen asleep on the table, snoring a tad bit.

“Oh, not fun enough for you?” Hunter asked, smiled, then squeezed in a flat cushion underneath Aaron’s head.

* * *

The shiny one among cars traveled with care. None of the street eyes would dare slap it with a violation. Out of its seven seats, only one was occupied. There were no errands on the driver’s list, only one mission, and the sunshine of high noon was the perfect searchlight. 

* * *

Hunter and Aaron played video games on the living room couch, their controllers clicking.

Dressed well for a business meeting, Hunter’s mom walked here and there. Her thin dreadlocks stayed tied in a bun. “Honey, have you seen my pepper spray?” she asked her husband. “I’m late for work!”

“Nah, babe!” her husband replied from the distance. “Why don’t you run to the store and buy one?”

“Because I d—”

The doorbell rang twice.

“Ugh! Who could that be?” she ranted, walking toward the door.

Invested in the game, Aaron didn’t hear the doorbell. But the very air choked him when Hunter’s mom shouted the last few words he wanted to hear: “Aaron, your dad’s here!” The controller fell from his hands.

Hunter heard it too, and his fingers stiffened into twigs. Slow like starved prisoners, they both got up, abandoned the game, and walked to the foyer. A muscly, bearded man was smiling right outside the front door, his eyes angelic.

The man made his first few steps into the house. “Oh, damn, it’s nice to see you, son,” he mumbled as he hugged Aaron. “You had me worried sick.”

Aaron’s arms could not reply.

“What happened to you?” his dad asked.

“Oh, oh... um... I lost track of time,” Aaron said. “It got so late, and Hunter was kind enough to offer me a spot in his room. I fell fast asleep and forgot to send you a message.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gatlin,” Hunter’s mom said, who was still by the door. “I only knew this morning.”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine. Just as long as my son’s safe. I’m grateful, to be honest.” He turned to Aaron. “Well, ready to go home, buddy?”

Aaron’s face had stopped working. He looked behind him, deep into the foyer, where his friend stood. Hunter nodded at him. Aaron groped his right-hand pocket, feeling a small bottle behind the denim. He turned back to his father and nodded.

Walking to their car, Aaron went through what Hunter had said to him before going to bed.

“Hey, I’ve been reading some Daredevil comics lately... you know, Matt Murdock, a lawyer.”

“That’s very helpful, HT,” Aaron had said, sarcasm in his voice.

“Hear me out,” Hunter had replied. “I got a plan.”

Car doors slammed one after the other. For Aaron, being alone with his father felt like sitting inside a storm cloud. He couldn’t even lay his eyes on him, preferring to stare out the nearby window while they drove home.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, Aaron,” his dad said, “but somehow, I think you did this on purpose.”

“Do I need to start from the beginning to answer why?” Aaron said. “I’ll give you a hint: the last supper we had, just the two of us.”

“I’m not following.”

Aaron snapped his head toward his father. “Really? You don’t remember the first spoonful I took? How I immediately fell ill after that? How my head spun like crazy? You don’t remember chasing me as I rushed to my room? How you kept banging on my door till I regained a bit more strength? You must be proud of me. Though I was weak, I was able to escape through the window and even go to school the next day with the clothes on my back!”

“I always warned you ever since you were young that every action has its consequence. Going through my laptop? Really, son? You should’ve been more careful. I mean, I am. All the while, you never saw the camera staring right at you back there.”

Aaron’s throat tightened after his last breath. He hid his right hand behind his thigh and clenched it into a fist. “Now you lecture me? Your killing Mom, and for what? All the moolah in the world!”

“I never wanted to fight you on this,” his dad said, teary-eyed. “I was more than happy to share what I have with you. But you... became too smart for your own good. I was drowning, Aaron, and you decided to pour a few more waves on me.”

The tires of their neighbors screeched to a stop.

“Dad, red light!” Aaron shouted.

Mr. Gatlin hit the brakes. Heads sprang forward. And the whole car froze at the intersection.

“Is it now?” he asked without a care in the world.

A car from the side, dangerous with speed, came rushing toward the passenger’s seat. It was about to hit the boy riding shotgun.

Adrenaline scattered like a plague inside Aaron. He undid his seatbelt, reached into his right-hand pocket, splashed his father’s eyes with pepper spray, and hopped into the backseat through the middle gap. His father kept screaming, crying out his eyes. As Aaron curled himself on the safe side, the crash slapped his world into a different orbit.

Swinging open the untouched door, Aaron crawled out of the dented car, ears ringing from the impact. He limped away, then started running in pain.

Along the way, he picked up his phone. “Halfway, please! I repeat, halfway!” It was like a birdcall, and he said nothing else.

From the far intersection, he heard his dad’s car strike a troubled U-turn. Though his tires hiccupped, speed favored the driver. Aaron’s blood ran laps inside him. His will to live gave him the extra push across the streets.

Stumbling into an abandoned playground tucked in between overgrown greenery, Aaron took a knee to the ground and panted nonstop. To him, the place was more than familiar. He crawled into one of the cement rings beside the rusty swing set.

Upon catching a slice of daylight from the other end, he took out his phone.

“Hi. I’m Aaron Gatling,” he said while the camera kept recording. “This… this is my dying declaration. My dad, Hector Gatling, is currently out to kill me. Weeks ago, he brought my mom, Amelia Gatling, to her sickbed at St. Mercer Hospital by design. His hidden emails confirm that he is working with wicked doctors to end my mom for good. Their names—Dr. Ralph Kerrin and Dr. Andrew Wallas. If you find this, you have to—“

“Knock, knock!” Mr. Gatling had peeked into the cement hole.

Frightened, Aaron crawled away, then ran with exhausted strides. As he pocketed his phone, he stumbled. Crawling on his back, he watched his father walk closer with little to no effort. “Half of what I am is because of you!” Aaron shouted. “I learned how to fight for those who need me! Now… you keep crossing lines to get what you want.”

Mr. Gatling’s eyes grew tame for a moment, close to tears. But then the Devil’s gaze returned. He kicked Aaron in the gut. “NO! I’ve come so far already!” Pulling up Aaron by the collar, he held his head and said, “Let me break your neck and say you fell down the stairs, son.”

“Mr. Gatling!” a low voice shouted from the distance. It was Hunter’s dad, who was watching the horrifying scene along with his son. Hunter, using his phone, kept recording it while blinking lights of red and blue grew behind them.

Stunned and speechless, Mr. Gatling let go of his son. Aaron, who was now lying on the ground and shaking, smiled at his friend. Hunter did the same.

* * *

Floating out of sleep, she blinked away the frost across her eyesight. The immaculate room grew clearer; so did the beeping of a nearby machine. Right outside the open door, nurses rushed to and fro, giving her eyes something to chase.

“Mom?” Aaron smiled, rising from the visitor’s chair. “Hey,” he added.

“Hi, baby,” she replied, beaming. “You’re a sight for headaches. How long was I…”

“Almost three weeks,” he said, tears hanging from his eyes. “You fought hard.”

She looked straight at him and said, “I learned from the best.”