Judas: Indignant Few MC Book 1, page 2
I choked on the nasty taste in my mouth, spitting the egg out in his face. Roars of laughter filled the bus, and everyone started making chicken sounds. Isaac was the worst. I’d never forget the way he was pointing and laughing at me, screaming ‘chicken kisser!’ I grabbed Burt by the collar of his shirt and clenched my fist, holding it inches from his face.
“I’ll fucking show you,” I said, my voice deeper than I’d ever heard it before. “Your mommy and daddy aren’t here to protect you.”
“Yeah, well your mommy and daddy are dead,” he said defiantly. The bus grew silent as he said that. I didn’t know what was worse, being known as chicken kisser, or being known as the boy with the dead parents, but neither one was how I wanted to start off the school year. I was done being anything but the kid that nobody messed with.
I swung back and smashed my fist into his face, hard enough that I heard his tooth crack.
Everything starting moving in slow motion. The bus stopped. Isaac grabbed me and tossed me to the floor. The driver was dragging me up the aisle. Burt was screaming, blood running down his face, clenching his front tooth in his hand.
The driver tossed me in a seat up front. I knew I really had it coming when I got to school, but I didn’t care. This was how it was going to be from now on.
I didn’t know the kid in the seat next to me. He looked like he cut his own hair, buzzed on the sides with a long rat tail that hung down his back. He smelled like my dad used to when Mom would pick him up at the bar after third shift, like dirty old cigarettes. He pulled his headphones off his ears and sneered at me.
“You really fuck chickens?” he asked. I had never heard anything so gross in my life, but it rolled off his tongue so naturally, like this was the kind of stuff people talked about at his dinner table.
I ignored him, stared ahead at the bus seat in front of me, pretending like I couldn’t hear him.
“I asked you a question, boy. You a chicken fucker?”
“Leave me alone,” I said.
“Or what? You gonna knock my teeth out, too?” He smiled wider, showing me his missing two front teeth. “Did that myself. Well, with a string and a door. Needed me some tooth fairy cash so I could go to the movies.”
“You’re crazy,” I stammered, partially in horror, partially in fascination. This was a tough guy.
“You fuck chickens,” he said with a shrug, laughing at my obvious irritation.
“I don’t,” I said. “Quit sayin’ that.”
“I don’t care if you do or don’t. You gotta good punch. We’re gonna be good friends. My name is Quentin,” he said, holding out his hand. He looked to be about my age, but I never seen this kid before. I shook his hand.
“I’m Judas.”
“If you’re gonna be a tough guy, Judas, you gotta learn how to control yourself. You want to punch that asshole, that’s cool, but don’t do it on a school bus. There’s cameras here. You can always talk yourself outta anything as long as there’s no evidence.” I looked at him wide-eyed. Maybe I had taken things too far. I probably needed to go apologize to Burt. I wasn’t tough enough to be a part of Quentin’s gang. “Why do you think I had to come to this shit hole school? I flashed my knife around at recess and the wrong person saw and the principal found it in my backpack later. Never leave evidence laying around.”
“Understood,” I said, looking all around, trying to gauge how far we were from the school. This guy was way out of my league. I didn’t want to be the kid nobody messed with if it meant ripping out my own teeth and carrying a knife around.
“I didn’t like that school much anyway,” Judas said. “The bitches were much cuter there though. You got some real heifers around here, huh?” I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“I’m eight, dude,” I said. “I don’t look at girls like that.”
“So just chickens?” he taunted. “Girl chickens, though, right?” I went back to ignoring him again, holding my backpack tight to my chest, tapping my foot on the ground, knowing my fate at the end of this ride wasn’t a good one. “I’ll stop,” he said. “I’m gonna teach you so much stuff, Judas. We’re gonna be best friends.”
“Okay,” I said, hoping it would shut him up.
“You don’t gotta worry about anything if you hang out with me. Nobody’s gonna pick on you. If you’re my friend, I got your back for life. It’s in my blood. We’re brothers now.”
I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I agreed with him, even though it felt like I was making a deal with the devil. I was going to need as much help as I could get, a scrawny guy like me who had dead parents and didn’t eat meat. My home life was probably going to get a lot worse once Uncle Pete heard what I did to Burt, too. “Fine,” I said. “We’re brothers now.”
The school bus slammed to a stop, and I got up and stood in the aisle. “You coming?” I asked him.
“You go ahead,” he said. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You understand?” I stood outside the bus, watching the kids get off, shoving past me, pretending like they couldn’t see me. I planned on just turning myself in once I got into the school, no need for the bus driver to make a scene. Burt stepped off the bus, his hand planted firmly over his mouth, and I reached out to him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. He just shook his head and kept walking.
Quentin followed shortly behind him and winked at me as he wandered off. The bus driver closed the door and drove off. I was so confused. I didn’t know if I should go to the principal’s office myself, or pretend like nothing had happened, just like everyone else was.
I had no idea what this Quentin character did, but he was good on his word. Now I’d have to make good on mine.
I spent the day waiting to get called to the principal’s office, nearly jumping out of my chair every time the teacher called on me. Nothing happened. Nobody said nothing to me. I hid out in my room most of the night, knowing that certainly Uncle Pete was gonna take his belt out and give me a good beatdown for ruining Burt’s face. Still, nothing. Nobody at home said a word, not even his sisters. Rumor had it he was telling everyone he fell. So were Sarah and Cindy.
My brother, Isaac, was the only one who had anything to say, when he snuck into my room late that night, pinching my nose shut and covering my mouth so I woke up gasping for air.
Even then, “You’re ruining everything, asshole,” was all he said before sliding out the door, closing it softly behind him.
5
Judas
“You gonna come pump iron with me at the clubhouse?” Quentin asked. It’s what we usually did on Thursdays. Now that we were twelve, we needed to start working on our muscles for the bitches. Quentin’s dad had a gym set up in the garage of the house where his motorcycle gang lived, and he let us use it a few times a week so we could work on our lifting.
“Gotta go straight home today,” I said. “Aunt Millie’s doing the pictures for the family Christmas card.”
“Sounds fucking lame,” he said. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and brought it to his lips. I looked all around nervously. We were standing in front of the school in broad daylight. He didn’t care, though. He never cared. Part of me loved it, and part of me was just afraid of what would happen if I ever dared to cross him.
Turned out running with Quentin was pretty okay. I never had to fight; nobody at school dared pick on us. Maybe we came off as creepy. Bitches didn’t seem to mind. I was a bad boy by proxy, and even at twelve, the old mantra rang true. Bitches loved bad boys.
At school, I was popular. At home, I was the odd man out. My cousins and brother had written me off a long time ago. They didn’t mess with me in public. They knew better. At home, they pretty much ignored me. I kind of liked it.
“You wanna come with?” I offered. One thing I knew about Quentin was that he got pretty lonely if we didn’t hang out after school. He didn’t like being left alone like me.
“Nah. Sarah and Cindy are real woofers,” he said. “If I wanna see floppy titties I’ll just hang around the clubhouse. Maybe see some nice ones by accident, too.”
He was pretty obsessed with titties. I guess I was, too. He was right; my cousins weren’t anything special. Nothing like the ladies who ran around the clubhouse. “Suit yourself,” I said. “Will you ask your mom if I can stay at your place this weekend?” It was pretty normal anymore. Usually, it was just the two of us at his parents’ house while they did club stuff so we just ‘babysat each other’. Sometimes his kid sister, Athena, hung around, but she was a weirdo and still played with baby dolls. As long as nobody needed stitches at the end of the day, we could pretty much do whatever we wanted.
Aunt Millie didn’t know quite what to do with me anymore, so she didn’t seem to mind shipping me off. It was easier this way. I was just biding my time till I was old enough to get a job and move out. Never see any of those jokers again.
“You know you’re always allowed. You’re my brother,” he said. It was something he said a lot. That’s what all the men in his dad’s club called each other. It felt more real when he said it than when I talked about my actual brother. We were brothers because we wanted to be. Loyal till the day we died.
I probably would’ve hugged him, even though it was the pussy thing to do, if I had any idea what was going to happen in the next twenty-four hours.
6
Judas
Family photos were stupid, but Aunt Millie took them extra serious. Her annual Christmas card was her pride and joy, and this year she dressed us all up in these nerdy white turtlenecks with girly little red felt vests. We looked ridiculous. She looked so happy though, so I played along. I didn’t have nothing against Aunt Millie. She was just doing the best she could every day, but now that all us kids were getting older and more expensive, and Uncle Pete got laid off from his job, they didn’t have the cash flow they used to and it was stressing her out. I could tell by the way she wasn’t eating much anymore, making sure all us had enough on our plates.
Nobody was ribbing me about not eating meat anymore, mostly cuz the rations were getting slimmer for everybody as a whole. Quentin did talk me into drinking milk and eating eggs sometimes, only because he read in a muscle magazine that protein made your muscles bigger. I figured I was doing the cows a favor anyway when I milked them. Quentin also told me bitches loved having their titties squeezed. I made sure I talked real sweet to them while I did it. Practiced my game for when the time came I’d get to milk a real girl.
We took our family pictures. We ate an awkward dinner. Uncle Pete started with the beer, the girls busied themselves with their sewing, and I went up to my room and got to work on my math assignment before I had to do my evening chores.
I took up most of the animal feeding and shit shoveling, but I didn’t much mind. I liked being around the horses and pigs and cows and chickens much more than I liked being around the woofers that were my girl cousins and the pussies that were my brother and Burt.
I thought about changing out of my stupid family photo outfit before going out to the barns, but figured if I ruined this shit, I’d never have to wear it again. I knew exactly what Quentin would say if he caught me in this outfit. My teacher said we weren’t supposed to call people homos because it’s hurtful, and I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone’s feelings ever, but I didn’t see any straight men running around in red felt vests with tassels.
I laced up my shit-kickers, shouted into the kitchen that I was going to go do my rounds, and walked out the back door. It was getting late, the sun starting to set in the September sky, turning everything a weird shade of purple. “What ya doing up there, Mom?” I asked, thinking maybe her and Daddy were trying to get my attention. I liked to think they were having an alright time, hanging out with Jesus and my grandparents I never met. I liked to think they watched over me, but only when I was being good, and never in a creepy way. My mom and dad didn’t need to know what I did in the shower.
I was snapped out of my moment of talking to the clouds by the strangest sound I’d ever heard in my life. I could tell it was one of the mother hogs by the loud pitched squeals and grunts, but this wasn’t her normal chatter. She was in distress. My heart sank, thinking maybe something bad happened to one of her babies. Maybe it got kicked or stepped on by one of the bigger animals. Her cries were chilling, and I sprinted down to the barn as fast as I possibly could, hoping it wasn’t too late.
I could hear my brother and Burt’s laughter from outside the door. It was even more chilling than the sow’s wails. It was a cruel kind of laugh, the kind only a maniac would have. I threw the barn door open, and it took everything in me not to throw up when I saw the scene unfolding in front of me.
Sally the sow was chained up to the metal fence, a piece of chain around her neck like a noose pulling tighter and tighter as she thrashed and fought, gnashing her teeth and digging her hooves into the dirt floor, choking herself as she tried to break free, pure hatred in her eyes. My brother had one of her baby piglets, barely the size of a house cat, by the leg, as Burt took the branding rod my father used on the cows and seared it into the flesh of the tiny pig’s stomach. It was kicking so hard, its leg had to be broken, the smell of burning flesh searing my nostrils.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I shouted, running towards my brother, grabbing for his wrist. The poor piglet was squealing like a crying baby, and mama sow hadn’t calmed down at all. Its flesh was marked all over in those brands, like this torture had been going on for quite some time.
Burt pointed the bright red-tipped rod at me. “What’s wrong, chicken kisser? You like pigs now, too?”
I kicked him in the shin and he wobbled backwards. “You guys are being cruel. This is what you do for fun? Torture baby animals?”
“Aw, come on, Judas,” Isaac said. “They’re just dumb pigs. They don’t matter.”
I punched him in the stomach over and over. He let go of the piglet and fell to the ground, crying so hard he puked. I would’ve punched him some more, my heart filled with rage, but I needed to take care of Burt first. Take care of Burt and get Sally free before she strangled herself.
“Knock it off, Judas,” Burt said, snickering as he flicked at the blow torch and held the tip of the branding rod over it. “Don’t think I won’t use this on you if you even try to come near me.”
“You’re a fucking pussy, Burt,” I said. “You know better than to fuck with me.” It was true. Him and my brother were scrawny and weak. They weren’t real men. They had to pick on little animals because they knew they’d get their asses beat if they tried that shit on anybody else. I scooped up the little piglet off the floor of the barn, and carried it over to Sally, who immediately began to weep like I’d never heard an animal weep before. I patted her on the head, rubbed my hand through her dirty fur, whispered to her that everything was going to be okay, doing my best to sooth the anxious mother while her baby suffered at her feet. “Put the damn rod down. You proved your point.”
He lunged past me and jammed it right in between Sally’s eyes, as she reeled backwards in pain, snorting and howling. He was laughing that maniacal laugh. Everything around me turned red, and I made a promise to myself that it’d be the last time he ever laughed again.
I caught him off guard as I knocked the rod out of his hand and it hit the floor with a loud clank. He stood there, paralyzed with fear. I picked it up off the ground and he put his hands in the air, walking backwards towards the barn door.
“Come on, Judas,” he said, his voice much higher than it was a few minutes ago. “We were just screwing around. My dad brands the animals all the time. You know that.”
“Your dad brands ’em because he has to. That ain’t what you were doing here, you bitch.” I inched towards him slowly, holding the rod out in front of me. He reached for the door, but I was faster, slamming it shut with my boot and walking him towards the wall. “I oughta kill you, Burt. I oughta take this rod and chop you up into a million pieces and feed you to Sally.”
He cowered in fear, dropping to the ground in resignation, his hands covering his face.
I should’ve just let it drop.
Why couldn’t I just let it drop?
He learned his lesson. He knew better than to do this shit ever again, I was certain by the way he’d just pissed his pants. I couldn’t let it drop, though. The rage flowed through me as I drove the rod into the flesh of his stomach, pushing hard as it sizzled against his skin and he screamed like a little girl.
I couldn’t let it drop as I took the rod and began beating him repeatedly as he rolled over onto his stomach and tried to crawl away from me. “You wanna know what it feels like to be afraid for your life, Burt?” I shouted. “You want me to get your momma in here so she can watch you get tortured?”
I was crying by now, every lash of the rod, every kick with my boot breaking me more and more. I lost all control, of that I was certain, and I didn’t know if I hated him or myself more right now. I was so lost in my rage, so gone, I hadn’t realized my brother had ran for help.
I didn’t even notice my Uncle Pete tackling me to the ground, pulling me off Burt. My aunt wrapping his twitching body in a blanket, screaming for the girls to go get the car. My brother crying in the corner. So much chaos. I sat down in the straw next to Sally and petted her body, watching the chaos unfold around me, in complete shock of the nightmare I’d just created.
I sat in the barn with Sally and the dying baby piglet until the red and blue lights flashed in the driveway. When the cops came and handcuffed me, the only thing going through my mind was that I wished I wasn’t wearing this vest as they toted me off to the station.
That was my final day on the farm. That was the last time I ever saw Sally. All my years in juvenile detention I liked to think maybe she broke free that night, took her babies with her. I couldn’t bring myself to think she ended up on Burt’s breakfast plate.
