In a small but chaotic town lived two peculiar boys who began their own youth gang. They called themselves “The Good Samaritans.” They looked harmless on the outside, but their inside operations were anything but. It sparked a new wave of teenager activities throughout the city.
Their warlord went by the name of “Lunk.” His real name was Henry Doyle. A 17-year-old Junior at Wapakoneta High School. There they began creating a name for themselves. His lieutenant was “Oscar”, whose real name was Frederick Ross. These boys grew up in the projects. The streets were practically their home.
On a bright Tuesday afternoon, Lunk caught Malcolm Mahoney outside during gym class. He pulled him to the back of the school where no one could see. He reached into his black jeans hip pocket and pulled out a switchblade. Malcolm looked around, thinking an adult would notice. No one did, they were still alone.
Lunk was trying to impress Malcolm, so he’d want to join them. “I keep this bad boy on me in case of emergencies.” Lunk smiled, he began carving their insignia onto Mr. Dasanta’s car.
Malcolm was wide-eyed. He thought for sure they’d get expelled for this. Even if he wasn’t doing anything, he’d surely be marked as an accomplice. “What are you doing, man? You’re going to get us busted for good, man.” Malcolm now found himself keeping watch.
Lunk grinned. He was calm. “Relax, brother. No one’s gonna know. You like it though? I took it from that drug store on the corner of Derry and Maine. I also grabbed these.” Lunk pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his butt-pocket. He stuck one in his mouth and lit it.
“Meet Oscar and me under the route sixty bridge after school.” Lunk blew a puff of smoke towards Malcolm, and he ran off back to class.
Lunk flicked the cigarette towards a rain puddle in the parking lot and followed Malcolm. Class was about to end.
Oscar sat in the back of English class ignoring everything the teacher was saying. School was a joke, anyone with a brain knew that. It was all about the control of the population. That’s why he and Lunk were going to split off from society. Ever since they were kids, the big clowns in office sought to keep people like them in poverty. The projects never had working air conditioning and the electricity would go out twice a month, and sometimes it’d be out for days.
Bradley Harrison was the class favorite, every girl wanted to fuck him, and every guy wanted to be him. He sat in the front, in the same row as Oscar. Lunk had told Oscar to keep an eye out for new boys to take under the Good Samaritan name. If he knew Lunk well, he knew that Lunk would have already recruited at least three new soldiers in gym class.
He saw Bradley as a challenge. He’d have to do some convincing. Figured Bradley might even try and tell him to buzz off before he’d get a chance to tell him what he wanted.
Bradley was flirting with Hailey Miller. Long blonde silky hair with a smile that would light up a room. She wasn’t showing any interest in Brad, but he was persistent.
The bell rang, a signal to all kids that they were free of the shackles of education for the remainder of the day. Oscar kept his eyes on Bradley as he walked out of the classroom. The halls were flooded with students. He didn’t want to lose Brad; he was hopeful there was something that would separate him from the crowd. Then Oscar noticed it. Something that no one else, but Bradley had. It was a key fob to a Mercedes, and it was dangling off his lanyard.
Lunk and Oscar rode their bikes all the way past route sixty and waited for any signs of their recruits. It was a humid day, and it was getting darker because of a storm coming from the west.
They made their way under the bridge where there was a poorly spray-painted tag of their crew symbol. “We need an artist,” Lunk said, as he was looking at the tag. The color was blood red.
Oscar nodded in agreement. He was looking out at the train yard, hoping that some of the boys they talked to today would show their faces. The yard was empty but a few trains, they were clean as a whistle too. An idea popped into Oscar’s head. “We should tag those trains.” He figured it was easier said than done.
Lunk turned his head from their tag and looked at the trains. They were subway trains, and they were cleaner than anything he’s ever seen. “Good eye, man. We should look for an artist tomorrow. We get our tag on those trains and everyone from here to Freeport will know our name. We’ll go all city overnight.” Lunk was excited, he had a good idea about it, he felt it in his gut.
Before Oscar could respond two boys that Lunk had talked to during school appeared on the hill from the highway. They were both wearing torn up jeans and white tees. One of the boys had an afro, and the other wore a bowel cut. They packed enough to be soldiers. Even if they didn’t Lunk knew a place where they could muscle up.
Lunk met them next to a barrel that was usually used by the local bums for fires. On the ground were empty cans and a few sleeping bags. Lunk scanned them from head to toe. Before he said anything, Malcolm came trotting down the hill. “Thought I wasted my time with you,” Lunk remarked with a grin.
All three of the new blood stood together. Oscar dug through his tote bag and pulled out some casings of beer. Lunk began pacing in front of them with his hands folded under his chest. “We promised Rooney and his friends some liquor in exchange, you three are gonna beat 'em around for a bit. If you want to be a Good Samaritan, you’re going to have to know how to bop. Now, there’s three of them and three of you, so don’t go thinking you could just stand on the sidelines like a pussy. We don’t want that shit. We want warriors. Boppers. Any questions?” Lunk finished by slamming his fist into his palm.
Rooney and the other bums began walking unsteadily towards the group of boys. They seemed to already be under the influence, which made for easier targets in the initiation.
Malcolm was up first. The boys and bums stood back behind the barrel. Malcolm felt bad because the bum could barely stand. “If you want to join new blood, you gotta start boppin.” Malcolm grabbed the bum’s collar and started punching him in the face. Of course, that was a common move, and he knew he had to spice it up. Malcolm kicked his legs and the bum fell on his ass. Malcolm climbed on top of him and began elbowing his jaw. He then began kneeing his groin. The bum began coughing up blood. Lunk stepped in. “Alright, that’s enough!” He yelled while holding his hand in the air to stop. “What’s your name soldier?” He asked.
Malcolm walked up to Lunk and thought for a moment. “Ajax,” he said, with confidence.
Lunk looked over his shoulder at Oscar. “Get this bum his liquor and make sure he gets some rest.” Oscar went over to the bleeding bum and picked him up by his arm, handed him his alcohol, and walked him to one of the sleeping bags.
It took another hour for the other two new bloods to show Lunk what they were packing. He liked what he saw, a fair amount of muscle, and smarts. A good balance.
The rain began and the thunder followed. They were stuck under the bridge until the rain stopped. Neither of them felt like getting drenched. Ajax and Oscar started a fire in the barrel. Then Lunk and Oscar formally welcomed the new bloods to the gang. “These are your colors. Wear them with pride, and commitment,” He handed one to each of them. They were leather vests they stole from a bargain store. Oscar spray painted an open flame on it with their crew name. Their new members: Ajax, Cooper, and Chechen. They were now brothers.