Beyond the Grim Woods and Across the Prairie

I was still sure of my resolve to never let my friends down the next day. At school everything was business as usual. But at home, at 44 Dearborn Street, I had trouble even sitting still. After dinner I went straight to my room. Math homework took me forever, and when my little brother called from the kitchen, “Hey, where are you, Julian? Practice starts in exactly ten minutes!” I tore open my door and yelled at him, “Yes, and in one minute, it will start in nine minutes. Stop being such a pest! I’m not a kid anymore! I know how to get to the stadium.”

Josh looked at our mother, irritated. She just shrugged. Then he looked at me again. “Is that so? In that case, how about you just get lost!”

With that, he grabbed his backpack, and stormed out the kitchen door and into our backyard where he grabbed his bike and furiously rode off. I went back to my room and pretended to look busy, just in case someone came in to check on me – someone like my mom, for instance. But basically all I did was sit there listening and counting to 100. Then I ran out of my room as fast as I could so my mother wouldn’t notice that I wasn’t wearing my soccer cleats and didn’t take my backpack. Don’t worry, I’ll explain.

I ran and ran, taking streets and alleys where I wouldn’t meet any of my friends. I didn’t stop until I reached the ruins of the old house. I was totally out of breath, and with a racing heart I walked as calmly as I could through the gate and continued slowly. I didn’t stop until I reached the other end of the Grim Woods.

The barren wasteland of the Prairie lay in front of me. The Graffiti Towers on the other side were so tall they seemed to touch the sky. I was hiding in the high weeds. No one had seen me; I could have turned around. But somehow that wasn’t an option any more.

I had to find him. It’s not every kid who gets to play in a soccer stadium called the Devil’s Pit, especially a stadium with lights!

I had to tell him. Just like Kevin, Danny, Fabio, and Alex had surely told their fathers, I had to tell mine. That much I knew I had to do. I realized it the day before at Camelot while Tyler was painting the Wild Guy on my wrist. I was thinking about my dad. That’s what brought tears to my eyes. I imagined how happy my father would be when I told him all about it, and when I invited him to a Division 8 championship game.

I took a deep breath. This was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Then I marched on. Yesterday the weeds seemed to part for Mickey and his Unbeatables. Not for me. The tall brush hit my face, arms, and legs. I didn’t care; I marched on until I finally reached the Prairie.

I looked around. Everything seemed desolate. Grass and thistles grew all around me on the dusty ground; and although it was broad daylight, a rat scurried past my feet.

I must have jumped a mile. I stopped. I prayed for a reason to turn around. But there was none. I had no doubt that my father was in there, somewhere. He had to be. It was a place on Earth like no other. Even my mom knew very little about it even though she knew more about every other place in the whole world than anyone. The news and the newscasters talked about remote places like Tasmania or Pago Pago. But they never mentioned anything about the Graffiti Towers behind the Grim Woods across the Prairie. Not ever.

So I marched on and crossed the Prairie and tried to ignore the rustling noises all around my feet. It couldn’t be that hard to find him. All I had to do was find a nameplate that read Michael Phillips. I knew that once I found my father, he’d protect me.

I was sure of that and when I reached the parking lot near the Graffiti Towers, I was less afraid.

The wind howled and the grey concrete rose up like the pyramids of Egypt. The towers moaned and creaked like monsters about to awaken. The graffiti on the wall told stories of what would happen if they did. I stared at the new tattoo on my wrist to help me summon up enough courage to get through this, but compared to the images on the walls here, the Wild Guy looked like a sticker of a flower or an apple they give you in the dentists’ office.

I was scared! But I warned you at the beginning of this story, didn’t I? Better look for a safe place to hide, is what I said; best to stand with your back to the wall and always carry a flashlight. Well, I might have downplayed the risks. If so, I’m really sorry, but now it’s too late.

Then again, maybe not. I was alone, after all. No Mickey or any other Unbeatable was in sight. I sucked in another breath and walked towards the first apartment building, fists clenched, ready for anything. The glass entrance door was cracked and looked like a spider web, and I prayed that the spider wasn’t home. Then I started reading the nameplates.

“Phillips, Phillips, Phillips,” I whispered, “Come on Phillips!” But the more I searched, the more my courage faded. No thank you, I wouldn’t want to deliver the mail here. Most of the nameplates were rusty; some had been torn off. Some had dozens of different tags glued on top of each other. It was as if the people who lived here didn’t really have names.

But I didn’t give up. Mickey the bulldozer and his Unbeatables were nowhere in sight, so maybe this was my lucky day. And maybe there was a tenant by the name of Phillips in one of the other apartment buildings.

Slowly I walked through the parking lot toward the second tower. It seemed as if shadows were lurking all around me. But I just ignored them, like the rats on the Prairie. When I arrived, the door leading to the second apartment building slammed in my face. I stood there, motionless. I heard snickering, but I couldn’t see anyone. I convinced myself that I had imagined it, and marched up the steps to the second apartment building.

Everything was different. The entrance door wasn’t broken and the nameplates were all clean and easy to read.

“Phillips, Phillips, Phillips,” I began to read, and “Phillips, Phillips, Phillips,” echoed in my head.

That’s when I smelled the stench, like a thick cloud enveloping me. “Yuck!” I thought and tried to catch a breath of fresh air. But my breath stammered and I rattled like an elephant seal coming up for air. Then I got it. The snickering. The echo. Neither of them were in my head!

The realization made me sweat. I prayed silently, “Please God, don’t let it be true.”

I turned around slowly and … I was staring straight into the beady eyes of Mickey the Bulldozer.

“Hello, loser!” he snarled. “Mickey the bulldozer from Mars. And I don’t come in peace.”

I looked at him as if he was speaking another language: Martian, maybe. Then I turned around quickly and tried to run. But the door behind me opened and Octopus, the Grim Reaper, and Kong blocked my way. I was trapped. Even though I couldn’t see the other jerks, I knew they were out there somewhere in the parking lot, just waiting for me to try to escape.

There was no way out. I had to face the monster of all monsters and not a single Wild Bunch friend was around to help me. I couldn’t use the trick with Sox either, you know, like Diego did? Because never in his life would Sox be stupid enough to walk through the Grim Woods and across the Prairie to the Graffiti Towers. What was I thinking?!

With nothing left to lose, I slowly turned back to Mickey. He grinned like the bellhop at a zombie hotel.

I only had time for one thought: “Is this as friendly as he gets?”

That was it. I have no idea what happened after that.