– I hit it with my battle ax.

– I use my flame sword.

– I find its gay.

Andy starts dropping the geodesic dice back in the little leather bag he keeps them in.

– When do we meet Jeff?

His head stuck out the window so he can smoke, George holds up a couple fingers.

– Two. He’ll drive us over to check out the house.

Paul crowds next to him at the window and takes the smoke from his hand.

– We should just hit it tonight.

– Let’s take a look first. Could be a dog or it could have an alarm or some shit. You know how to do anything with an alarm? Cuz I sure as shit don’t.

– But if it’s cool, we should rob it tonight.

– The guy wants to pay us to do this shit, man. Let’s be cool.

Hector squeezes next to them and takes the smoke.

– Yeah, let’s do it when he says. Two bills for that shit we had. I want more of that.

George gets his cigarette back, takes the last drag and flicks the butt, the cherry trailing over the neighbor’s fence.

– That’s the point, man. If he can do this, tell us what houses have good shit, and he’ll buy it from us? I don’t want to fuck it up. Jeff says the guy says it’ll be empty tomorrow night. We’ll just take a look tonight. Make sure it’s not too sketchy.

Behind them, Andy’s eyes scan the dungeon he designed earlier in the day, mentally crossing off the rooms the guys have already traversed, the hazards survived, the riches plundered. More monsters and fewer traps next time. The guys like fighting more than they like figuring things out.

Hector hears the screams from the side of the house.

He wraps the chain around his hand and punches the plate glass door. It shatters, shards raking his forearm. He reaches down and flips the lock and pulls his arm out. He yanks on the handle and the door jams against the length of 1×2 he’s forgotten about.

He throws rabbit punches at the glass, widening the hole.

The screams stop.

Someone is coming into the livingroom.

– Yo, Hector.

He stops punching the glass, stands there staring at Timo.

– Hector, I ever tell you what a piece of ass your little sister is?

Hector hits the glass again, spattering it with his own blood.

Timo is laughing.

– Keep coming, I want to talk to you about her. You pop her cherry yet? Or your old man beat you to it? Hope not, I’m looking forward to that shit. So far all she gives up is tit, but I’ll be in her pussy in a week.

Hector kicks the glass, the hole is almost big enough to get through now.

Timo points at something.

– Hey, yo, what’s that?

Hector sees the reflection in a hanging shard of glass just before Ramon limps up behind him and cracks him in the back of his head with his crutch.

The pickup starts.

Jeff rolls out of the trailer park and pulls up at the QuickStop gas pumps. The gas is eight cents cheaper in the middle of town, away from the freeway entrance, but the guys here know him and won’t give him shit when he leaves the engine running while the gas pumps. Let it die and it may never start again. He puts five bucks in the tank and heads out, a tallboy in a brown bag between his thighs.

A little breeze blows through the open windows and cools off the cab. Fucking Security Eye and their polyester uniforms. Couldn’t they at least throw down for something made with a blend, something that might breathe a little? He uses his left hand to undo the buttons all the way down his front, exposing his sweat stained T.

He swigs the beer.

Should be at home. Sitting on the porch, finishing the rebuild on that carburetor. Should be getting the Harley back together so he can ride and not have to worry about the pickup starting, not have to worry about if he’s gonna have to take the bus. Instead, gotta pick up the kids.

Damn it, Geezer. Fat slob doesn’t have enough guys around he can get to rob his houses for him, has to get these kids involved?

Oh well, not like he can really do anything about it. Gonna tell Geezer how to do his business? Gonna tell the kids to knock this shit off and tuck in their shirts and go to class? Geezer’s gonna do what he wants. The kids are gonna do what they want. Everybody’s gonna do what they want, just like they always do. Everybody’s gonna do this shit, no reason why he shouldn’t help out here and there and make a few bucks himself.

But shit, gotta be tonight? Really want to get the Harley on its feet.

He pulls the pickup to the curb, finishes the last of the beer and drops the bag and the can out the window and lights a smoke.

Little fuckers best not be late.

– Hey, littering makes the Indian cry. Don’t you watch TV? Ain’t you seen the Indian cry when people litter?

The pickup lurches as Andy and Hector climb into the bed.

George strolls up, bends over and picks up the beer can.

– Crying Indians, man, that’s no joke.

He holds out the can.

Jeff takes it from him.

– You guys high again?

– The word is still.

– Yeah, well you’re still a punkass without a car. So get your ass in and let’s go.

George sees Paul about to pull open the passenger door.

– Shotgun!

Paul flips him off.

– Fuck you, I called it on the way over here.

– You can’t call shotgun until you see the car.

– Since when?

– Forever, man, that’s always been a rule. No early shotguns.

– It’s a gay rule.

George comes around the truck.

– Hector, what’s the shotgun rule?

Hector sits on top of the wheel well.

– Got to see the vehicle in question, man.

George reaches in the back of the truck and pokes his brother.

– Andy?

Andy is on his back, looking at the sky.

– It’s the rule. The only rule standing between us and the savages. It keeps the forces of chaos at bay. Scorn not the rule.

Paul starts to climb in the cab.

– Fuck chaos. I called this shit right after we climbed out the window. You can see the street from your window. You look, you can see your window through the trees. I called shotgun when we could see the truck.

George blocks him.

– You can see it. But did you see it?

– Man, are you splitting hairs with me on calling shotgun?

– Hey, you heard Andy, man. Chaos. You want to risk chaos?

Paul moves George’s arm from his way and gets in the truck.

– Dude, I’ll take my fucking chances.

Jeff looks at both of them.

– You ladies settled? Got that one all worked out? I just want to know so I can keep track of the gas I’m burning here so I know what to charge your asses for the taxi service.

Paul closes the door.

– Shotgun. It’s a complicated issue.

George boosts himself into the bed of the truck and stands behind the cab and slaps the roof.

– We ride!

Jeff drops the empty beer can back in the street and pulls away.

– Fucking kids.

Andy raises his arm, pointing at the stars.

Calling out.

– Daring chaos by breaking the eternal rule of shotgun, they set out on their journey.

On the dark street off North L, Jeff drives the truck past the house, letting the kids get a good look. It’s just another crappy house in another run down neighborhood. A couple lights are on. There’s a streetlamp out front. Second time around the block Jeff dumps all the kids except George at the corner. George lies on his back in the bed of the pickup with the pellet gun Jeff dug out from behind the seats. He pumps it until it won’t pump anymore. Jeff stops below the streetlamp, and George draws a bead the way his dad taught him years ago when they shot his grandpa’s old.22 in the fields beyond the 580. The gun pops and the lamp goes black and Jeff pulls away as glass showers the street. They pick up the guys and go home.