Broken Bottle Alley

“Look, little Sissy wet his pants!” Kenny looked around at the rest of his entourage who all mutually laughed near him as Steven, two years younger and small for his age, tried to crab walk away from the group from where he was pushed down.  He hadn’t really wet his pants, but had landed in a mud puddle big enough to wet them for him.  This was the third or fourth time this week, maybe the fifteenth time this month that Kenny had decided to pick on him, and by his calculations, nearly twice as many times as his friend Elliott.  Steven figured it was because he wore glasses and read books and was probably smarter than them.  So far, he hadn’t experienced any broken bones, just bruises to his body and futher degradation of his social status, although, come to think of it, he was already not-popular, so it would be harder to be less not-popular. 

“Don’t forget your books, Nerd!” said the pompous bully as he threw Steven’s backpack into the mud after thoughtfully opening it and shaking the contents out on the ground.

Luckily school was out, so he didn’t have to spend the whole day in his soiled clothes.  His Mom wouldn’t be able to bring him any new ones – she worked Monday through Thursday – and his dad would tell him to stick up for himself and teach that kid a lesson.

The bullies took off to their next hell-raising mission leaving Steven to collect his things and walk home.  Steven always thought of school as a refuge, but lately it had been miserable, a place of fear.  But what would he do? It wasn’t like he was going to gain 40 pounds of muscle and beat Kenny’s ass.  He probably couldn’t even beat Elliott’s ass. 

As he walked home, which took about 40 minutes, he felt fairly sure he wouldn’t get a second beating.  Kenny liked to move on after one, save up for a good one tomorrow.  The walk was about 30 blocks, as most of the kids who lived in the Shady Grove area purposely skirted around the bad part of town, partly because their parents told them to, and partly because they had heard of the bad things that went on there, especially in Broken Bottle Alley.

Broken Bottle Alley was situated between the buildings facing 5th and 6th street.  The brick buildings in downtown were all adjoined, making for very long alleys behind them.  But unlike the coffee shops and bakery and dry cleaners on the main road, 2nd street, as you got further back to 4th and 5th and 6th, they were mostly abandoned.  And the reputation was not just folklore, it was verified – police had found several people murdered in that alley just in the 10 years that Steven had lived here.  Broken Bottle Alley got its name from teenage kids who would drive by and throw empty bottles of pop, or beer, down the alley at the bad guys who lived there – supposedly murderers, and rapers, and other insane criminals.  Besides having broken glass everywhere, the alley was also very narrow – maybe less than 8 feet wide.  Even in the daytime, there wasn’t much light and Steven suspected at night it was completely dark.

Even the big kids didn’t hang near Broken Bottle Alley, other than to chunk their bottles and speed off.  No one did.  So, it was worth the extra 10 minutes or so to avoid the area completely and stay on the tree-lined residential areas surrounding downtown.

---

Kenny was having a good day.  Just having moved to this po-dunk town from Detroit, he had already made a name for himself.  Back in the D, he was the one getting tossed, but here kids were just naturally weaker and he was the alpha dogg. He had a group of kids that wanted to hang around him and listen to his tales of livin’ in the big city.  He figured he even talked tougher than these kids.  He didn’t like that smart-ass Steven one bit.  It’s like he knew shit, not just book shit.  It’s like he could see into Kenny’s soul with those big, black-rimmed glasses.  And he looked like a snitch.  And it was good to outweigh him by 30 pounds and push him around.  Keeping Steven in line was vital to keeping up this new persona.

Kenny’s mom relocated to work at the shoe factory, but since had picked up a second shift at Burger King most days, which left a lot of free time to screw around and not do homework.  He thought about getting that dick Steven to do his homework, even at two grades lower, he could do it, but Kenny preferred to keep his relationship with Steven less professional.

Kenny asked his gang, most of whom he didn’t really respect anyway, “What’s there to do around this dump?”

“Dunno,” said this one dopey looking white kid.  “Sometimes we skate.”  Others nodded around.

“Yeah, I don’t do that.”  Kenny never learned to skate and didn’t own a board. 

“We could go down to the park and skip stones and just hang out,” said this other kid who was wearing a concert t-shirt from like 30 years ago that he probably stole from his dad’s closet.

“Maaaaann…” Kenny was getting frustrated, “that’s BABY shit.”  What do the high school kids do for fun around here?  And don’t tell me homework or volunteer work or some shit we don’t wanna do.”

This fat kid who Kenny knew was called T-bone, which was probably short for something lame-ass like Thomas or Theodore, said, “My older brother and his buddies break bottles at Broken Bottle Alley.”

 “Sounds like more skipping stones. This shit sounds lame.”

The other kids looked at each other.  Kenny noticed, “What?”

T-bone continued, “Broken Bottle Alley is like one of the most dangerous places in the whole U.S.…it’s haunted…and lots of people have died there.”  The other kids shook their heads vigorously.

“Well, I’m not scared.  In DaTroyt, we got hundreds of alleys full of drug dealers and gang bangers.  Can’t be nothin’ like that.  Let’s go check it out.”

None of the kids wanted to tell him no, so they made up excuses about feeding their dogs and sick Moms and fake errands they had to run.  One by one they took off and Kenny was alone.  This alley full of broken bottles sounded a little promising, but it would have to wait.

----

The weekend bell rang and Steven stayed at his desk while the rest of the kids blew out of the classroom and into the hall.  Waiting Kenny out was probably smart.  Or was blending in with the crowd smart?  Too late – go with plan A.

He stayed in class an extra hour, drawing pictures of superheroes.  Steven wished he was a superhero.  First thing he’d do was to kick Kenny’s ass, but then he would clean up the town, including Broken Bottle Alley.  He thought people shouldn’t live in fear and if the police weren’t going to do it, someone should.

After carefully looking into the hall and not seeing anyone, he walked out toward the rear of the school.  Kenny would be expecting him to exit out the front, closest to his house.  He walked across the playground and into the neighborhood behind before turning and heading down the street toward his house.  After five blocks he figured he was home free.  After passing the school on his right, he could see there was no Kenny hanging out front – maybe they had gone on about their business.  He passed the park 12 blocks down and was just about to turn onto 16th toward his house when he heard, “There he is.  Get him.” And a flock of Kenny’s subordinates ran across the street.  Steven didn’t even try to run. 

T-bone grabbed Steven’s backpack and gave it to Kenny.  “Doing some extra homework after school, Stevie?”  Kenny looked through his folder and saw the drawings.  “Superheroes don’t exist, dickhead.  But Supervillians do.”  And he punched Steven in the gut.

Steven fought back tears and held his stomach, which felt like it had ruptured.

He said, “You’re just a bully.  The real Supervillians are in Broken Bottle Alley. Maybe you should go and never come back.”

Kenny thought about that – twice in two days – this place sounded more and more dope.  “I’m gonna do just that… let’s go – all of us.” To T-bone, “Where’d you say this place was?”

“Um, it’s between Fourth and Fifth Street, over by the Burger King but about four blocks past that.”

“Let’s go check it out.  Unless you guys are too scared.” 

Steven spoke up.  “Give me my backpack.”

“’Give me my backpack, give me my backpack.’ The baby wants his backpack.  I think I’ll just take it with us.” And Kenny took off toward the Burger King. 

Steven did not want to go – he could just tell his Mom he lost his backpack.  She would never believe him. Or he could tell her that Kenny took it.  But if Dad found out he’d be mad at Steven for not standing up for himself.  So he just followed the other boys at a distance.  Maybe after Kenny got murdered he’d get his backpack back from the Police.

---

Kenny liked Burger King.  The Whopper here tasted just like the Whopper in Detroit, which was one of the few things that was the same.  And if he showed these kids he wasn’t afraid of their stupid babytown alley, then he’d get even more street cred.

He turned around to wave Steven’s backpack at him.  “Come get it, Sissy.  It’ll be waiting for you in the alley.”  As they crossed over to the deteriorated downtown area from the BK at Fourth and Elm, the shadows were definitely getting longer and most of the shopkeepers had already closed their doors for the night.  There weren’t but a few vagrants hanging around and they looked like they were more like zombies in clothes.

“Which way now?”  Kenny called out.

“Um, it’s about three blocks ahead.”  They were walking down Fourth Street, where even this close to Elm, the buildings were abandoned.  Many of the store owners had moved to the new strip malls just on the outskirts of town.  There was talk of just tearing down the “historic district” and replacing it with a park or a mall, but no one wanted to actually pay for it. 

Steven lagged a block behind the bully gang, keeping sight of his backpack and already feeling dread.  His Mom didn’t want him anywhere near this part of town.  Not even to go to Burger King unless it was with an adult. 

The boys with Kenny also were trying to be brave, but they were in unfamiliar territory.  Never a reason to go into this area, just Kenny being macho and each one of them trying not to be the next Steven.

As the seven boys crossed Fillmore and then Green they could see they were the only ones in the area.  They could still see cars passing by on the main streets a few blocks away, but there were no people, not even bums.  At the corner of Fourth and Hemingway, the pack stopped.  Steven hung back a half block on Fourth with his backpack still in sight. 

“So where’s this scary alley at?” Kenny wisecracked to the crew. 

“Over there,” pointed the concert t-shirt kid.

And Kenny could see what they were talking about – it didn’t look like no alley he ever saw - more like a crawlspace between two buildings.  Kenny didn’t know that anything but rats could really be in an alley such as this, certainly no one would be hanging out in there – so not really anything to fear.  He walked across the street and down to the alley while the other kids hung back on the opposite corner half expecting something to jump out of the alley and eat Kenny.  But nothing did.  Kenny stopped at the edge of the alley and peered down the long narrow corridor.  He had trouble seeing much due to the heavy shadows, except he could see light at the far end which looked like the length of a football field away. 

The alley was a little wider than what he thought from across the street.  Maybe seven or eight feet across, so murderers could be down there… but nothing was moving, so probably not.  Kenny could see some broken bottles - actually, a shit-ton of them, more than he ever saw before.   To the rest of the gang he shouted, “What’s the big deal? I’m gonna throw this dufus’s bag in the middle for the rats to get.”  Seeing Steven cross Hemingway, but still across Fourth he shouted, ”Hey, Dufus. Your bag’s goin’ into the Alley.”

---

As he saw Kenny cross over to the Alley, Steven’s first impulse was to just go home.  He could get another bag, and books – they had to have more books at the school, just in case, right?

But then he thought maybe this was time to break the cycle.  Stand up to Kenny, get his backpack back.  But that alley… those murders…

However, he also reasoned he could go further than the scaredy-cat gang who stopped at the corner, so he crossed Hemingway, avoiding those kids, and was now on the same side as Kenny.  Just Kenny and him.

Kenny was acting like he was going to throw the bag into the Alley.  He swung it with exaggerated movements, like it was really going to go far, but he never let go.  Steven didn’t even know he was moving, but he had already crossed Fourth and was headed up the sidewalk toward Kenny.

When he was only about 20 feet away, Kenny finally let go and Steven’s backpack sailed into the abyss.

Kenny showed his hands were now empty and shrugged, “What?  Guess you’re gonna have to go get it.” He pointed to the alley with both fingers.  “Unless you’re scared.”

At this point, Steven was more scared of getting murdered in the alley by Kenny than of anything already in there.  Or beaten within an inch of his life and left to be murdered by someone else.

But what Steven said shocked even himself – “You threw my backpack in there so YOU wouldn’t have to go in – YOU’RE the one who is too scared.” The boys across the street murmured, “Uh, oh,” and, “Oh, snap…”

“Yeah? You stupid shit.  I’ll go in there right now and I’m gonna piss on your backpack right in the middle of the alley and let the rats eat your stupid books and your stupid drawings.” And Kenny ran into the alley. 

“Oh, Stevie…I got your boo-ooks…Come an’ get ‘em…” he taunted, all echoey, and Steven peered around the corner to see Kenny with his backpack only about 15 feet away.  Then Kenny ran down the alley.  But after about seven or eight steps, Kenny tripped on something and went down and screamed like a little girl. 

Kenny had put his hands out to brace his fall and sliced them open on numerous broken bottles in the alley.  He hands were bleeding profusely, and had jagged shards in them, as well as in his knees and forearms. 

Steven couldn’t see all of that, but did see his backpack fall free of Kenny and thought maybe he could get around the howling Kenny and grab it and escape. He ran towards Kenny and just as he was almost by him, Kenny tripped Steven who went down and got his own dose of broken glass and screamed bloody murder as his hands and knees were lacerated.

The gang across the street heard both boys’ cries start and abruptly end shortly after entering the Alley and they didn’t wait around to find out what it was.  Obviously, they had both been attacked and probably fatally.  They hightailed it down Fourth and ran home as fast as they could, saying things like, “What the hell was that?” and “I don’t know. Keep running.”

 

---

Kenny and Steven were both nursing their wounds.  Kenny spoke first. “Thanks a lot you fuck, now I’m bleeding all over myself.”

Steven, always analytical, said, “Dude.  You started it.  I didn’t make you steal my backpack. Or run into this alley so we could both get cut up. I got at least 10 of these glass pieces in me.” 

“That all? Shit man, I got 20, and I can’t even see ‘em all in here.  It’s dark as shit.”

After a minute, Steven pronounced, “Hey.  At least there’s no monsters in here.  Maybe we should tell those guys back there, there were, when we come out of here all bloody.”

Kenny thought about it.  This kid was braver than those guys that were hanging with him, fo-sho.  “Yeah, I guess we’re the monsters now…” and he showed his bloody hands with glints of shards still in the fingers and palm. We can tell those dicks back there that we fought off some attackers and this ain’t nothin’ compared to what them other guys got.”

Steven wasn’t sure what to say next.  So he tried, “You gonna stop beating me up every day?” 

“I dunno – I’ll think about it, but I guess you’re a’ight…  And don’t tell anyone or I’ll beat your face in… Your drawings were pretty sick.  I used to draw superheroes in sixth, too.  

“Let’s bounce.  I really don’t like this place and I can’t even see this glass.”

---

Kenny and Steven, with backpack devoid of piss, walked back the way they came, stepping around the glass, best they could, toward the street ahead.  Dusk had turned into darkness and there was very little illumination from the street, however, at 30 yards from the entry, a figure appeared at the end of the alley.  Tall as full-grown man, or taller, with what looked like a top hat and overcoat? Or was it a cape?

Both Kenny and Steven saw the man at the same time and stopped. 

The man stepped into the alley and started marching toward the kids.  Arms outstretched, he touched both sides of the alley wall and picked up his pace. Dragging his fingertips of what? Metal? He made sparks as he strode toward the boys.  The boys, who were starting to slowly back away, turned and ran toward the other end of the alley which looked unfathomably far away.  Neither wanted to trip and fall, but in the darkness of the alley it was hard to see.  But they could hear the scraping of the fingertips of the half-man, half-monster tracking them through the alley.  Just past the halfway point, a second figure appeared, looking much like the other and blocking their escape.  He propelled himself toward the two boys with more speed than the first, not touching the alley floor, using only the walls.

The boys became transfixed, not knowing how to escape or which monster would devour them first.  Their hearts were beating out of their chest as the two demons got closer and closer.  They dropped to their knees in fear and shielded themselves with their hands. In the almost complete darkness, two shadows approached, one bearing gifts of light and the other illusions of speed, and in an instant, the second being overtook and passed the boys, smelling of smoke, and launching itself at the original supervillain.   The boys, feeling the whoosh overhead and ensuing collision, unconsciously took flight toward Jackson St., not looking back, high stepping through the bottles previously thrown by eastbound teenagers as they circled the block.   At the mouth of the alley, one boy took off right toward 1st and the other left toward 8th. They circled the whole area and met back on opposite sides of Fourth and the Burger King.

They said nothing to each other and took their own respective paths home as fast as they could run.

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