I was pulled down into the fog. The darkness surrounded and threatened to drown me. The more I struggled to get free, the deeper I sank. I heard laughter and knew they were laughing at me. In an instant I was no longer a powerful young man, but a small, helpless child.
The next instant I stood at a distance watching the child struggle. At my side stood my beasts, Rage and Pain. I knew if the child didn’t win the fight he’d be dead. I couldn’t let that happen. The longer I watched, the more the familiar red haze clouded my vision, and I needed to help him.
I closed my eyes and willed myself into his place. Suddenly, it was me who fought the darkness, the moving black-and-white images tinted red with rage. It grabbed at me, wrapping me in greedy arms to pull me down and consume me.
I screamed and fought to free myself, and, when I finally woke, I tore at the tubes in my arms that my unconscious mind mistook as a threat. I screamed my frustration, and then realized Vanessa held me down, and she was the one screaming.
“He’s awake. Someone help me. He’s going to hurt himself.”
I stopped. The fragrance of her perfume brought me around to understand that I was safe. But I was still in the grip of fear.
“Vanessa? Where am I? What happened?”
“Oh Bill, you’re awake. You’ve come back.”
I tried to sit up, but the pain stopped me. I realized I was in a hospital. Still confused, I tried to understand what I was doing there and what had happened. Vanessa was still crying and calling for someone to help, which added to my confusion.
Finally a nurse arrived. I tried sitting up, but my right leg felt as if it had been ripped off and sewn back on.
“Mr. Noguera, you’re in the hospital. You’ve been in a coma for the past few days and you must calm down or you’ll tear the stitches in your leg and possibly open up your artery. You nearly died. You’ve suffered a great trauma and need to heal.”
I was tired, the exhaustion overwhelming. I pushed back the sheets to look at my leg. What I saw nearly made my heart stop. The inside of my upper right thigh looked like it’d been slashed with a piece of glass and sewn back together with a thick cord. The wound was eleven inches long. I gasped at the sight of it.
Then it all came back to me. The club, the kid, the knife, Vanessa crying as I faded away, and Javier’s laughter.
I was still so tired I couldn’t think straight. Exhaustion dragged me back down, and I closed my eyes and slept.
When I woke again, my throat was on fire with thirst. I attempted to sit, but then remembered my wound. Vanessa was asleep in a chair next to the bed. I didn’t want to wake her, so I tried to reach for the pitcher of water and cup. I must have made too much noise because she opened her eyes and smiled at me.
“Vanessa,” I tried to talk. “My throat is dry.” God, I felt like hell. She poured me a cup of water and I drank slowly.
“How long have I been here?” I asked.
“It’s Thursday. You came in Saturday, so five days.”
Just then the doctor came in.
“Mr. Noguera, welcome back. How are you feeling?”
“Sore, but I’ll live. Who used the can opener on me? My leg looks like Dr. Frankenstein worked on it.”
“That would be me. I’m Dr. Benson. You had a lot of damage to your artery. The wound was large and you lost a lot of blood. We lost you a couple of times during the surgery. I’d say you’re very fortunate to be among the living.”
“So what’s next? When can I get out of here?”
“We’ll have to see how your progress comes along. Please understand this is no small matter. It’s going to take months, maybe longer, for you to walk again. A lot of muscles were damaged and cut in the attack. You’ll have to go through therapy and learn to walk again. For now, be grateful you’re alive.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean months? Give me a week or so and I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re not patient, you could do more harm to yourself. Let me be candid. The damage you sustained is substantial. I’ve been told you’re a martial artist and fighter. Quite frankly, being in the shape you’re in is what saved you. It’ll take you a few months to walk again, and even then you’ll have a noticeable limp. Too many muscles have been damaged for you to compete at the level you once did. You also sustained cuts to your right hand, which severed some tendons. I’m sorry, Mr. Noguera. You need to be patient. Although, who knows, you may prove me wrong.”
Another week passed before I was discharged from the hospital. I was eighteen, depressed, and extremely vulnerable.
Another shock waited for me when I arrived home. My ’62 ragtop wasn’t there. It had been parked at home the night I was stabbed, and someone tried to steal it. As the thieves backed it out of the driveway, the exhaust system scraped the pavement and the noise woke my sister. She scared them away by yelling at them. To prevent another attempt, my car was stored at a friend’s garage.
Then my sister told me something no one else knew.
“Billy, I didn’t recognize the guys who tried to take your car, but the driver of the car they jumped in to get away looked like Javier.”
That was good enough for me. I knew it was him, and the image of him laughing at me while I lay dying on the sidewalk fueled my recovery. I stayed away from everyone during the weeks I spent gaining strength and attempting to walk. Within three months I was running and training again, and the depression soon lifted. I took my daily dosage of steroids again and it became clear that those who counted me out had made a huge mistake.
Finally I was ready to make an appearance. My confidence returned, along with my strength and anger. More than anything, I wanted to see the look on the faces of those who’d wanted me dead. I guess that’s a big part of who I am. Count me out, bet against me, tell me I can’t possibly succeed, and I promise, I’ll prove you wrong.
During that time Vanessa and I became much closer. I learned she refused to leave me while I was on the sidewalk that night. In the ambulance, she held my hand and talked to me. It was only when I went into the emergency room and to surgery that she was forced to leave me. Even then, she never left the hospital. When I came out from surgery she sat at my side, refusing to leave until I finally opened my eyes.
During my recovery, she opened up like never before. It was then she told me the secret she was most ashamed of and, worst of all, blamed herself for.
I learned that her mother had been sexually abusing her. It started soon after her parents divorced, when she was nine years old. At first it had been during baths, then while she showered. Her mother would touch her in inappropriate ways. As she grew older the abuse escalated to oral sex. Later she was forced to take nude photos with strangers, and to watch her mother have sex with multiple men.
I listened as she told me but didn’t know how to respond. She made me promise never to tell anyone, and I kept that promise, but it tore at me. Each time I saw her, I wondered if she had been abused again. She thought it was her fault and was afraid to share her secret because of what people would think of her. I’m ashamed to admit that her fear was justified. I saw the blemish and scar on her every time I looked at her. I didn’t blame her, but I couldn’t forget it or pretend it didn’t exist.
Since my brush with death, the only thing I concentrated on was recovery. Once I regained my strength, I called Mike to set up a meeting. I was back and ready to open my operation again. I heard all the rumors and knew the void I’d left remained, and that everyone involved suffered for it. I also knew Javier had set up his own operation and it was time to pay him a visit.
I went to Mike’s shop to tell him that nothing had changed and I’d resume business as usual beginning the following week. He gave me a list of cars and told me, “All bullshit aside, you need to be careful. Javier and a few others from the club have been operating a crew since you’ve been out of commission. I’ve heard that Javier has bragged about being the one who tried taking your ride. I know he’s an informant. He’s dangerous, and still running around with Julian and the other club members. It looks bad.”
I knew all of this, but thanked Mike anyway and left. It was time to handle some loose ends. First, I went to Crazy Ben, who had worked on my ’56 the past few months. It was finished and I was anxious to see it. As he lifted the car cover to reveal his work, a huge grin appeared on my face. It was perfect. Black with a white top, and the paint shone like a mirror. Ben was a genius. I paid the balance I owed him and drove to Go-Go’s place in Huntington Beach, where I spent the night. Early the next morning we met with the rest of The Pack to surf. It had been a long time since we’d all surfed together—ever since I nearly died. It was good to be with them, like being home.
“What’s on your mind, Sinbad? You look a thousand miles away and a storm seems to be brewing,” said Sandman.
“A lot’s happened, brah. I’ll be fine. I just need time for my soul to heal.”
“Your soul? I knew a poet lived under all that bravado, but remember this: If ever you need someone to talk to, I’m here. No matter the cause. I’ll always be your brother and help. We’re Pack and we stand together.”
As Go-Go and I drove back to La Puente, I told him about the talk with Mike and that we’d be getting back to business. But first, we were going to pay a visit to Julian. He continued to run with Javier and formed a new crew. And much worse, my word was not being respected, and that pissed me off.
As I turned into the street where Julian lived I saw cars in his driveway. Marco, Ruben, and Luis were all there, and a red ’57 convertible Ghia I’d never seen before. I knew it was Javier’s. I drove by and kept going.
“Where are you going? I thought you wanted to jam these motherfuckers.”
“I do, but I’m going to do it right.”
I drove to Renee and Francis’s house and told them Julian was still doing business with Javier, Marco, Ruben, and Luis. I told them I was going over there to settle it. Then I told them Javier was involved in the attempt on my car the night I was stabbed. They asked how I knew and I told them my sister had seen him. I wanted them there as witnesses only.
We all drove to Julian’s house together. Adrian pulled up. We shook hands and all he said was, “I’ve tried talking to Julian, but he won’t listen.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle this. Stay out of it.”
I walked into the garage where they were all talking and acting as if they hadn’t heard us pull up. As I entered, flanked by Go-Go, Renee, and Francis, I saw the fear in Julian’s eyes.
“What’s up, Julian? What’s this rat doing here? I thought I told you I didn’t want to see him anywhere near us.” I looked at Javier. “You’re a rat and it’s time we see if you can back up that mouth you can’t keep shut.”
Renee spoke next. “Hey Julian, what the fuck? You’re all doing jobs with him when we know he’s no good?”
“Why isn’t he any good? Because Bill said so?”
“Yeah, I said so. His actions speak for themselves. He knows I torched his car. If he wasn’t a rat he would’ve confronted me. Wouldn’t you? Tell me, Julian, if I called you a rat and burned your car, would you let it go? That’s what I thought. But check this out. You are who you run with. Javier’s a rat, so that makes you a rat, too. Fuck you, Julian. I know you and Javier were behind trying to take my ride. None of you are worth two shakes of a dick, and I’m here to collect on the debt this bitch owes me.”
I walked up to Javier and shoved him into the wall.
“Come on, tough guy. Here I am. Let’s see you back up all the talk. You thought it was funny when I got stabbed. Yeah, I saw you. Fuckin’ rat.”
I slapped him and allowed rage to pour through me. He grabbed a wrench and took a swing at me. I didn’t hesitate to punch him in the face and slam him to the floor. I turned and saw Go-Go and Julian engaged in a fight, but it was over before it had a chance to get started. Go-Go smashed his fist into Julian’s jaw, and he crumbled to the ground. I looked at Ruben, Marco, and Luis.
“I can’t believe you’d side with a rat. I’m done. I won’t associate with motherfuckers like you. If I ever see any of you again, I’ll do to you what I did to this rat.”
I walked away that day, no longer the Sergeant of Arms of the club, and no longer a member. They were on their own as far as I was concerned.
In the weeks that followed, I got back into the swing of my operation as if I was never away. Members of the club came by to talk, assuring me they weren’t involved, nor would they ever have any dealings with Javier and his crew. I told them all I was out for good. The Darque Knights were tainted. Some members dropped out the night I confronted Julian and his inner crew, including Adrian, who continued to work with me. But I really didn’t care. When I said I was done, I meant it.
Since telling me about the sexual abuse her mother inflicted on her, Vanessa found the strength to stop the attacks. It didn’t sit well with Loretta, and she figured, correctly, that I somehow gave Vanessa the courage to take a stand against her. I kept my mouth shut and didn’t break my word by confronting Loretta. However, because life with Loretta was so stressful for Vanessa, I arranged for Vanessa to move in with a friend of mine. She enrolled in the nearby school, but after a month Loretta convinced her to return home. Loretta also wanted me out of the picture in order to regain control over Vanessa and resume her abuse.
Five months after I was nearly killed, I appeared to be completely healed, but I knew I wasn’t the same. The damage I suffered, physically and psychologically, handicapped me. My leg still hurt and was weakened by all the muscle and tissue damage. I often woke up with migraines so intense I couldn’t see, believing I still lay bleeding to death on that sidewalk. I was damaged and took it hard. For so long I’d seen myself as invincible, but that was gone. Uncertainty and doubt dogged me. It drove me to push even harder. I needed to be whole again. If I couldn’t, I was sure I’d end up on that sidewalk again, dead.
Sometimes life smiles on us. God, in His ultimate grace, allows goodness to touch our lives, and it’s in these times we feel in His presence an overwhelming sense of love.
That October, as I was driving Vanessa home from school, she suddenly asked, “Bill, do you like kids?”
Of course she knew the answer to the question. I often told her how much I loved kids, and that when I became a father I’d make sure my child never had to go through what we had. I’d always protect and love my child more than anything, more than life itself.
She’d seen me play with children, and how, for a brief moment, I’d allow myself to be a child again too.
She smiled, but tears welled in her eyes.
“Bill, I think you’re going to be a father.”
I pulled over. “Are you sure? I mean, how long have you known?”
“I’m not sure, but I think I am. Are you happy?”
I kissed her. “Of course I am. I’m going to be a father.”
I placed my hand on her stomach. “It’s a boy. In my family, it’s always a boy first.”
I smiled again. For the first time in my life I felt whole, and not just a false sensation achieved through fighting competitions or stealing cars. It was pure and good. In fact, I had become a father the very moment our child was conceived, marking a climactic moment in my life.
We confirmed we were pregnant, and, although we were happy, we kept it to ourselves until the time was right. The first to know was my family. I invited them to dinner to make the announcement. Everyone was happy. My grandparents, Victor and Flor, told me how proud and happy they were, saying I needed to first think about my new family and always protect and honor them. I hugged and kissed them and swore I wouldn’t fail.
Next, I told the entire Pack and asked them all to be my child’s godfathers, which they readily accepted.
“Have you named our godson yet?” asked Brody.
I smiled. “William Achilles Noguera. He’s going to be a great man some day and inspire many people.”
Vanessa started showing by her twelfth week, and it marked a time to change and ensure my son would have everything he needed. I got a job as an apprentice with a friend’s company, California Plumbing. I wanted to change, but it wouldn’t be easy. I continued operating my business, thinking I could gradually turn it over to Go-Go and Adrian. In truth, a part of me wanted to change, but another part of me knew I wouldn’t. My operation and fighting were part of who I was. Life without it would be like life without my skin.
Nevertheless, I worked hard at the plumbing job and held onto it. In my spare time I built and carved a cradle for my son. When he arrived, he’d sleep in a bed made by his father’s hands. I took great pride in it. I already loved my son more than words could explain, often having complete conversations with him while Vanessa looked on.
“You know he doesn’t understand what you’re saying, right?”
“He doesn’t have to. He hears my voice and knows it’s his father, and that’s good enough for me.”
Soon, Loretta learned about our child and didn’t take it well. She placed more restrictions on Vanessa, hoping it would make things between us a living hell and break us apart. Her behavior made no sense to me at all.
At the beginning, Loretta had encouraged our relationship to grow by never placing any restrictions on us whatsoever. But as she felt herself losing hold of Vanessa, she changed her approach. In Loretta’s mind the answer was simple. Get rid of me and she’d regain control.
Her opportunity came four and a half months into my son’s life. If I had understood the danger, I’d never have left. But how could I have known? Preparing for a fight was a major undertaking that required me to give my full attention or risk major damage or death. But maybe I’m still making excuses for failing to protect my family.
My fight was in Mexico, and before leaving I took Vanessa out to lunch.
“Bill, do you have to go? I mean, I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be back in a few days. I’m going early to prepare, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She nodded. “Please be careful. I love you.”
“I love you too. Don’t worry so much. I can’t be beat.”
I touched her stomach. “I love you, son. Don’t forget to practice your kicks and punches.”
I laughed and Vanessa smiled, shaking her head. “Easy for you to say, since he’s not punching and kicking inside of you.”
After we ate, I took Vanessa and my son to her house and drove off. I never thought it would be the last time I would see my son alive. The last time I would touch her stomach and feel him kick and move. The last time I would be the same.
My grandparents had tasked me with protecting my new family, and I failed. I was so focused on my fight, so confident and ego-driven, that I failed to sense Loretta’s plan to murder my son, then murder me. I was only gone four days, but it was plenty of time to carry out the first execution.
I returned to a quiet house. Nothing seemed out of place.
“Hola, mom. Cómo estás?”
“Oh, mijo. I didn’t hear you come in. Cómo te fue?” my mom said as she looked up and saw me. “Oh mijo. What happened? Dios, your face.”
I kissed my mom’s cheek.
“No es nada, mom. A lucky hit. But I won. The swelling will be gone in a few days.”
“Let me put some ice on it. Can you see?”
“I’m fine. Has Vanessa called?”
“No, not yet.”
That was strange. Usually when I was gone she called my house every day to see if I had called or returned. I went to the living room phone and dialed her number. It rang seven times. I hung up and dialed again. No answer. I looked at the phone. A sense of dread crept up on me. Something was wrong.
Instinct took over. I ran to my car and sped to Vanessa’s house. I drove in a state of panic. Something was terribly wrong. The house was dark as I pulled into the driveway and I relaxed for a moment, thinking I was wrong. She’d just gone out. I got back in my car, but something stopped me. Looking at the house again, I got out of my car and knocked on the front door. No one answered. By this time I was tied in knots, gripped by fear.
At the side of the house I jumped the wall, landing in the backyard, where I was met by the dogs.
“How you doing, girls? Where’s Vanessa?”
I walked to the back of the house and looked through the sliding glass door. The house seemed empty, but I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut. I circled to the side of the house to Vanessa’s bedroom window. Reaching up, I tried the window and it slid open. I grabbed onto the window frame and jumped up to look inside. The room was dark but I could see Vanessa curled up on her mattress. I lifted myself through the window and knelt next to her, kissing her head.
“Vanessa, I’m back. I was worried. Is everything okay?” As I said this I reached for her stomach. Her hand caught mine and pushed it away. She sobbed and trembled as she fell forward into my arms.
“Oh, Bill. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I was trapped. I was scared. She pushed and pushed and I didn’t know what to do. I needed you, but you were gone. God, why did you have to leave?” she cried.
“I’m here. I won’t leave again. It’s okay.”
“No, no, no. It’s not okay. It’ll never be okay. Our baby’s gone.”
I froze, pulling back to look at her. “What do you mean, our baby’s gone? What happened?”
My voice started to rise as anger crept to the surface.
“Vanessa, what happened?” I repeated.
“Please forgive me,” she cried. I could tell she was in physical pain, but her emotional distress was manic.
I lowered my voice. “Vanessa, it’s not your fault. Just tell me what happened.” Unable to stop, I cried, “What happened to my son?”
“It is my fault. I let her kill our son. She had it all set up with the doctor.”
“Wait, what doctor?”
“Oh God, Bill. The doctor. He aborted our son. My mom told me she made a doctor’s appointment for a check-up. When we got there they examined me, then said something was wrong and that a small procedure had to be done to help protect me. I was scared and alone, but my mom told me not to worry, everything was going to be okay. I felt pressured. When I woke, I found out she lied. Nothing was wrong. She planned it all and set it up to take away our baby. Please forgive me, it’s my fault I let our baby be killed.”
She held me as I cried from the deepest part of my soul. And from that place I looked up to heaven and screamed my grief, my rage, my pain. A part of me died that day, along with my son. He was murdered for no reason. And I blamed myself.
