The Full California Experience

TW: gun violence

They were headed home when the street lamps cut out. Daniel’s hands stilled. He squeezed the baseball he’d been tossing between them, his head thrown back, eyes on the light above him. It didn’t flicker or anything; just stayed dark and silent. There was a soft flutter as a swarm of moths departed, their source of fascination vanquished. 

Lowering his gaze, he squinted in the dark. “Ham?” he called. 

A curse flew out of the nearby bushes, and Daniel stepped back as his cousin shoved his way free of the snares. His skateboard was tucked under a scratched arm, and the hole in the left knee of his pants had grown. Abraham fumbled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the flashlight. “You good?” 

Daniel nodded. “What’s up with the street lamps?” 

Ham tugged a twig out of his hair and brushed off the front of his jeans. “Wildfire season. They do this all the time.” He waved an annoyed hand at the dark lamps. 

Daniel turned to look at the bridge they’d just crossed. Their side was dark, but the way they’d just come from was still lit. The hardware store’s sign was bright, and the golden arches of McDonald’s beckoned to those speeding by on the highway. Daniel faced his cousin, who was busy examining a scrape on his left knee.

Ham fingered the worn edges of the hole and shook his head. “Ma will kill me.” 

“Should we go back?” Daniel asked. His voice cracked on the last word, and he coughed into his fist before repeating himself. “Should we go back?” The hand in which he held the baseball had gone numb, he was squeezing it so hard. “I mean, it’s pitch black out here. Not much else we can do in these conditions.” 

And he was tired. He’d never admit it but all their running around to this hotspot and that tourist trap had left him drained. It had only been a week, but already he knew he’d need a month of sleeping in and watching Wheel of Fortune reruns to feel normal again. Ham, like his fellow Californians, seemed to have an endless supply of energy. Even now his hands were twitching, eager to grab the next great adventure by the horns and hold on until it beat him off. 

Ham set the skateboard on the ground and planted a foot atop it. He wheeled it forward and back, forward and back. He tapped his phone against his leg, pointed it at his cousin. “You’re going back to the Land of Gators tomorrow,” he finally said. “You cannot go back there without living out the full California experience.” 

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut and counted to five before opening them again. “It’s what—” He tugged his own phone out and checked the screen. “It’s after ten. What else is there to do?” 

Abraham checked his own phone, as if he didn’t believe his cousin’s time-telling abilities. Daniel saw Ham’s chest rise in what he hoped was a defeated sigh, but his cousin held up a finger and his face split into a grin. He said the four words Daniel had come to hate: “I have an idea.”

***

When they burst through the front door of Ham’s house, his father snapped awake and reached for the shotgun beside his recliner. Daniel threw his hands in the air, but Ham kept strolling right through the living room and down the hallway to his bedroom. Daniel’s uncle blew out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, the gun resting snug in his lap. A TV table sat in front of him, and a Panda Express bag full of empty beer cans was on top. The television was black, but Daniel knew that it had been tuned to a hockey game. The living room TV was always tuned to a hockey game. Before coming out west, he hadn’t even realized there were that many games to watch. 

“You know the security system goes down with the power, right?” asked his uncle. “You boys need to knock before you just barge in here.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Daniel, his hands lowered but trembling at his sides. He went into the kitchen to check if they had any candles. Finding none, he called, “You guys have any candles or lanterns or something?” 

His uncle held up a finger and opened his mouth wide. “Michelle!”

From somewhere in the back came the response. “What, Michael?” 

“Where’re the candles?”

Daniel’s aunt wandered out from her hiding place, half her head done up in plastic rollers. She pointed at her husband with the one in her hand. “You know damn well not to interrupt when I’m—” 

“Danny’s asking.” 

“Oh.” She turned and saw him standing there, half the cupboards open. The tension in her shoulders eased, and she walked over to the sink and tugged open the cabinet below it. “Door’s sticking again,” she called to her husband, who grunted in acknowledgment. 

Daniel took the candles she offered and laid them on the kitchen counter. Then he and his aunt took the set of matches and lit seven or eight. Daniel took on the task of dispersing them around the house. By the time the living room was flickering in and out of view, Ham had returned. He had changed out of his jeans and into a pair of camouflage pants; a matching bandana was tied around his head. 

His mother frowned. “You better not be going where I think you’re going. If I get another call from that house, I will have your hide, young man.” 

“We’re going across town,” said Daniel’s cousin, his hands wound into fists. “There’s power that way.” 

“And trouble, too,” returned his mother. “I swear on these stupid lights, I will have your ass, Abraham Franklin.”

“Ma,” Ham hissed. “Can we go?” 

“They’re boys, Chelle,” his father put in, his eyes glued to the TV as if he could somehow will it back to life. “Let them have their fun.” 

Daniel’s aunt twisted her lips. She leveled the roller in her hand at her son, then her nephew. “On these lights,” she repeated, then she waved her dismissal and turned back down the dark hallway. 

“Take the car,” said Daniel’s uncle, and his cousin caught the keys in one hand. 

At the door, Ham shoved the keys into one of his father’s coats and grabbed a flashlight. He flashed a wicked grin over his shoulder at Daniel. Then he pulled open the door, and they were gone. 

***

They crossed the bridge separating those without power from those with, and made a beeline for the gas station on the hill, some franchise they didn’t have in Florida. Daniel followed his cousin down the aisles, allowing his arms to be filled with random junk, like party balloons and Kool-Aid powder. Ham lugged a six pack of water bottles to the cashier and snatched two Slim Jims off a rack. He paid with cash. 

The walk across the bridge had been nothing compared to the walk Abraham led him on next. To make the distance worse, they were loaded down with pointless crap, and no matter how often or how desperately Daniel asked where they were going, Ham refused to give even an ounce of information. He did, however, offer his cousin a chance on his skateboard. Daniel wanted to grab that skateboard and smack ham over the head with it. 

They kept walking. On and on and on. Daniel’s arms began to shake from carrying the water. He traded with his cousin for a while, traded back. Ham kept the flashlight aimed at the sidewalk in front of them. He was humming that Queen song, “We Will Rock You”. Daniel was starting to think that maybe his cousin had been rocked too much as a child; maybe that was why he thought endless walking was fun. 

“Almost there,” Ham called back, almost like he’d read his cousin’s mind. “Hang in there.” 

At long last, they began to slow. When they stopped by a line of bushes at the entrance to a cul-de-sac, Daniel dropped the water and shook out his arms. Ham grabbed his shoulder and pushed him into a squat behind the shrubs. “Give me a water,” he said, and Daniel was too tired to question Ham’s sudden promotion to Grand General. 

Abraham stuck the butt of the flashlight between his teeth and opened the bottle. He grabbed one of the Kool-Aid packs and dumped half the contents inside. Then he passed the bottle to his cousin. “Shake.” 

Daniel did as he was told, his mind wandering as his cousin prepared the other five bottles. They mixed the drinks in silence. When that was done, Abraham tore into the pack of party balloons with his teeth. While his cousin pinched a balloon open, Ham poured the red Kool-Aid inside. Daniel tied the finished products. 

When it was finally time to stand, their knees popped like rice crispies. Ham loaded the balloons into Daniel’s arms, and the two set off again, into the cul-de-sac. They stopped in front of the circle’s only ranch style home. Abraham’s jaw set, and his eyes flashed in the house’s front porch light. 

“Hold on,” said Daniel, as Ham took one of the balloons from his arms. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Deadly serious,” said his cousin, and he drew his arm back and lobbed the balloon at the garage door. It burst on impact, spraying red juice everywhere. Lines of juice slid down the door like snakes. Ham dusted his hands off and smirked. “Give me another.” 

“I don’t think this is a good idea—” 

Ham snatched a balloon out of his arms and chucked it. This time it hit the other garage door. Daniel stepped back from his cousin’s reaching hands. 

“This isn’t a good idea,” he repeated. 

But Abraham was done listening. He picked his skateboard up and swung it at Daniel’s legs, making him jump back and lose half the balloons in the process. Ham swept the undamaged ones into his arms and started flinging them in rapid fire succession. The balloons popped on the roses planted just outside the front door, splatted on the home’s welcome mat, doused the front door. Abraham’s chest heaved as he stared at his handiwork. He smiled. 

And then he yanked his cousin behind the tree taking up most of the yard as the front door opened. They stood shoulder to shoulder, breath held, as someone stepped out of the house and onto the porch. Curses flew as the person took in the mess. 

“I have had it this time,” a man yelled. 

“Daddy, it’s not a big deal,” said a girl. 

“This boy is a terrorist,” yelled the man. “A terrorist.” 

“I’ll clean it up in the morning.” 

“The cops can clean it up in the morning. Right after they arrest that boy.” 

“Daddy,” the girl cried, and then the footsteps retreated and the door slammed. 

Ham stuck his head out from behind the tree and grinned. Daniel was too busy throwing prayers into the universe to feel his cousin poking him. “Let’s go,” said Ham. “Dude, let’s go.”

And they set back the way they’d come, stumbling in the dark. Ham had turned off the flashlight, not wanting to be followed. He rode on his skateboard ahead of his cousin, his laughter filling the night. The old wheels rattled over the sidewalk. Daniel pumped his arms and urged his feet to go faster, faster, faster. They slowed only when they had crossed over the bridge and back into darkness. 

Ham stepped off his skateboard and smacked his cousin’s chest with it. “How awesome was that? How awesome?” 

Daniel put his hands on his knees and bent over. He could taste blood in the back of his throat, the coppery tinge coating his mouth and tongue. Ham circled him, slapping his back and hooting in celebration. He was so happy, he lifted his skateboard over his head and brought it down on the concrete. The old board snapped in half, and Ham held the pieces overhead triumphantly. 

“Who,” Daniel said, still huffing and puffing. “Who was that?” 

But his cousin offered no answer. Just shook the pieces of the broken skateboard at the sky and opened his mouth wide to release a victory howl. He slapped Daniel’s back again, and after a few more minutes of lone celebration, he started back toward home. Daniel trudged after him, thinking about the phone call the man had promised to make and wondering if it would arrive before or after they had dropped him at the airport. 

The house was as dark as they had left it and quiet. Daniel followed Ham to the door, watching as his cousin stuck the broken skateboard behind a pot of mums that had died long ago. He dug around in the flower pot and removed a key. “How was that for your last night in California?” he asked, as he wiggled the key in the lock. “Pretty badass, right?” 

“Pretty stupid, I think,” Daniel muttered, and Ham turned and kicked the door open. 

“I’m gonna pretend you agreed because that was the most badass thing I’ve ever done. It was sure as hell the most badass thing you’ve ever done.” Abraham flashed a grin over his shoulder as he stepped into the house. 

A strangled yelp met him, and Daniel’s uncle hopped to his feet. His eyes were wild as he took in the two boys in the doorway, as he cried out and leveled the barrel of the rifle at them. 

Ham was still smiling at his cousin when the bullet pierced the back of his skull.