Terror Road: Chapter One
The neighborhood was wealthy and friendly, and that’s just about the time all hell would break loose.
This story is actually Part III of a three-part series comprising Chapter 1 of my book, Terror Road, which is my own life story with most of the names changed to protect the innocent (and the guilty). Links to those first two parts are just below, at the bottom of this story.
They were gathered at the kitchen table. Matthew’s feet swung back and forth as he looked first at his father and then across the table at his older brother. Eating their slices of pepperoni pizza, they both looked like lost souls to Matthew. He had tried to sleep with his dad last night, but that did not work. He had stood watching him sleeping, snoring, and willed him to wake up. He had wanted to slip in beside him without his dad’s consent, but he knew last time he had tried that, it ended in the tragedy of his father yelling at him for walking him up and then shuffling him back to his own bed.
Matthew hated sleeping alone because he worried too much. He had dreams of God and Jesus and blood-filled oceans. He believed his mom when she had said the world was ending at midnight on any given night. He feared seeing God upon waking as he would not know what to say or do. Last night, his dad simply slept and Matthew lost his courage. He tip-toed out of his bedroom, almost thinking he saw their mother lying there in bed with his father, and then had crawled beneath the covers of his own bed, praying to Mother Mary for mercy should God decide He had enough already with man and the world was through.
Putting his slice down onto his paper plate, Matthew said, “Beat the Clock is on in five minutes. I’m going downstairs to get the TV warmed up!”
“Finish your pizza!” their dad demanded.
But Matthew had enough already, and he acted like he didn’t hear. He climbed off his chair, threw his uneaten slice and paper plate into the garbage, and marched out of the kitchen and towards the stairway leading downstairs into the den.
With summer having passed and autumn’s cool breezes arriving once again, the weekends were some of Matthew’s worst days. School was proving to be the only source of relief from his home life.
On a Saturday morning, when their father was busy at his place of business, Matthew sat at the kitchen table having buttered toast, while his brother, Lance, went about his morning business. Neither brother paid the other much attention except that Matthew shrunk down into his chair as much as he could while Lance went to grab a drink from the fridge. Knowing Lance as he did, this could be the start of a cruel prank.
It was 1974, the year Matthew would turn nine and his brother twelve. Matthew watched as Lance’s fingers brushed the milk carton, and just at that moment, the phone on the kitchen wall rang.
Lance, being closer to the phone, went to pick it up. Matthew paid it no attention; it was likely their father, or perhaps a scam caller of some kind. Lance would customarily be the one who answered the phone when no adults were around, and he would usually prevent Matthew from doing so: something about Matthew being ‘unmanly.’ Matthew shoved the thought aside and continued to focus on his toast until his brother picked-up the phone and Matthew heard a familiar voice coming through the earpiece. It was soft, sweet, like a gentle song in the morning air. “Hi, sweetie!”
Just at the instant the voice left the receiver and settled into Lance’s ears; he slammed the phone down into its cradle on the wall and returned to the fridge. It felt like a stake going through Matthew’s heart.
A moment later the phone rang again, and this time, Matthew was on his feet the split second the phone’s ring reached his ears. Running across the kitchen floor to get to the phone, as soon as his fingers touched the plastic, Lance’s hand came down on top, preventing Matthew’s hand from taking the phone from its cradle. Matthew let out a furious cry, “Let it go! It’s ma!” He wailed against his brother, and Lance merely smirked, unaffected by his brother’s blows.
“Yeah, what of it?” Lance returned.
“She needs to speak with me!” With his free hand, Matthew tried to pry Lance’s fingers from their grasp of his other hand, and for once, he managed to uncurl Lance’s fingers a fair amount. With the phone still ringing, Lance frowned, and as Matthew redoubled his efforts, Lance used most of his strength and shoved Matthew to the ground. Once again, as he did almost daily just for sport, Lance pinned Matthew to the floor, grinding his knees into Matthew’s shoulders. As the phone continued ringing, Lance slapped Matthew across the face several times.
Tears streamed down Matthew’s cheeks as he felt compelled to stare up at the cruel smirk upon his brother’s face. Matthew gripped and clawed at his brother’s knee, but Lance was too strong, and too heartless to allow any weakness. At that moment, Matthew wished his brother dead.
IT would turn out to be a funny thing that Matthew had been blessed with the ability to acutely discern right from wrong. Along with it, he had been granted the power to focus God’s wrath on those committing wrongdoing, whilst being able to shower blessings upon those who would spread goodness throughout the world. He just did not know he owned this gift as of yet, or that he had a special purpose for the world. Part of his destiny was that he would first go through hell on earth before getting there and coming into his inheritance.
The phone rang until at last, it ceased to shake. Matthew glared daggers at his brother — at the one who took great joy at making his life a living hell. He knew Lance would stay posted, listening for the phone to ring again so that he could dole out further torment. Soon, his brother got up and went to the fridge, leaving Matthew alone on the floor.
With ice growing in his heart, Matthew rose to his feet and made his way out the front door. He threw the door shut with more force than he intended, rattling and shaking its frame as he walked a few steps down the sidewalk and sat down on the designer bricks separating the sidewalk from the well-manicured flowers and shrubs along the front of the house. He looked across the street at Stevie’s house, his best friend in this soulless neighborhood.
He realized he hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see Stevie lately, and even less since Stevie’s life had grown so busy with Boy Scouts, church, family events, and afterschool clubs. The last time Matthew had even seen Stevie had been over the summer when they were playing with their Hot Wheels cars in Stevie’s backyard. Matthew thought of his own church, and that the last time he had been to it was with his mom just before she had left. They had both sat to pray under the crucifix, and as the memory came back to Matthew, he couldn’t help but wonder why?
Why, God, have you done this to me? Forced me to live with this worthless and hateful brother, a father who always works and is unhappy and angry when he is home, a mother who I loved so much but who no longer lives with us, and now, I can no longer even see my only true friend?
Matthew’s gaze rose to the sky, and he clasped his hands in a prayer the way they had taught him during his religious classes. The nun had told him that God was always listening and that He helped those who had faith. That God had saved the Jewish people from their slavers in Egypt, that He had turned aside lions from eating a man, and had taken another out of the belly of a whale.
If God could do so many incredible acts, then surely he could grant one tiny miracle. “God,” Matthew began, “if you’re listening, please — please, bring my mother back to me. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t … my older brother, he’s just awful. He is my Cain, and I need…I need my mom. Please. You created the world, surely you can do this one thing?”
He looked to the sky, at the clear, gentle blue above him, where white puffy clouds rolled on without a care in the world. The sky paid no heed to Matthew’s plea, nor did the black crows that flew through it. The world was silent to Matthew, but still he waited expectedly. Matthew pressed his hands together that much harder. “Please, God. You saved the Jewish, you saved good men from bad, gave a mother a virgin birth. All I ask is that you please listen to me for this one little thing.”
Matthew waited a moment longer, and still no answer came.
He sat on the bricks for almost an hour more, desperately praying and listening for any sign that God might be answering him. A car passing by, Stevie coming over, the breeze to shift ever so slightly and brush up against his face. Something, anything.
But silence was all that remained, and Matthew, at last, got up.
HE went into the backyard, to the three apple trees in the corner of the yard and he climbed the tallest one of them. He cradled himself midway where the trunk split into three and dangled his legs out into the air. Waiting, listening, hoping, praying that God was hearing his pleas as the sun drifted slowly across the blue sky, Matthew’s heart was empty, for it seemed God had once again turned a deaf ear to his suffering. Lance had left, gone off to do dumb things with his stupid friends from school, leaving Matthew once again, alone. But as he was about to give up, a voice called.
“Yo!” Matthew turned, and found the local neighborhood bully, Scott, standing on the other side of the fence at the back end of their yard. In hand was a large street bike, one that was larger than anything Lance or Matthew used. “Where did your brother run off to now? The one that’s always making you cry?” Scott greeted, and Matthew said nothing, but his silence was enough. After all, God had given him much the same treatment, so why should Matthew not give the same silent answer to those who spoke to him?
But, even so, his mother would have at least encouraged a polite reply, so Matthew settled for a curt one. “What do you want?” his voice was laced with a bitterness that surprised even him, and Scott let out a hearty, but forced laugh.
“Just wanna hang out — I heard you guys got all kinds of goodies stashed in that house of yours,” Scott said. What he said was true, to an extent. Ever since their mother had left, Matthew and Lance’s father had been working around the clock, coming home in the dead of night and going straight to bed. But to make up for his absence, he had gifted the boys with all manner of toys and lavish offerings. A large trampoline, a built-in pool in the backyard, new bikes, an air hockey table, and even go-karts. All things that most boys Matthew’s age would kill for, but to Matthew, they were nothing more than appeasement, and they did nothing to make Matthew’s life better.
“And if we did?” Matthew returned.
“I’d say that you need someone to share them with,” Scott replied, and then climbed over the fence. “C’mon down from there and let’s see what you got.”
Matthew said nothing at first, but then suddenly, like a monkey, he swung down from one lower branch to another until he was close enough and then hopped down onto the ground.
Scott smiled, and despite the look in his eye, Matthew found that he liked that smile. It wasn’t like Lance’s cruel smirk; it was full of confidence and charisma. “Matthew,” he said. “I get the feeling that you and I can be good friends.”
The days passed, and Scott was proving to be an absolute joy to be around. He was confident, never once backing down from a challenge, and what’s more, Lance never said too much while Scott was around, and never once did he play any of his cruel jokes upon Matthew. Scott and Matthew swam together in the pool, bounced on the trampoline, and played air hockey until their fingers were red. To Matthew, Scott was patient and enjoyed the challenge of a good game. It was like breathing fresh air after drowning: being pushed down under the waves by his own brother before finally being lifted upwards by a kind stranger.
Scott played with Matthew, and not just physical stuff. When no one else was around, Scott came over, and they played Uno, Monopoly, and Chess, all of which Matthew adored. Matthew had yet to beat Scott in anything, after all Scott was almost five years older, but even so, these defeats were different from the painful humiliation Lance gave him. Another friend and neighbor, a boy named Denny, who was about to turn eleven, also began hanging out with them.
As spring approached, the three of them would venture out into the woods, where Scott and Denny had already begun building a series of forts. Matthew was shocked seeing how well they had been constructed. Scott and Denny had used branches, salvaged car parts, wood stolen from new housing construction sites around town, and cinderblocks to make these. For Matthew, this instantly made the duo two of the coolest people he knew. Being away from his house, where memories echoed and tormented him with each passing day, was a welcome relief.
One day, in the one fort that was already completed and rain-proofed with the use of tarps, Scott and Denny welcomed Matthew inside and then began to scour the pages of a magazine.
Matthew looked over their shoulders to get a look at the magazine’s cover. On it was a girl in a bunny outfit stretching her legs across the hood of a car. The title of it was Playboy, which to Matthew didn’t make a lot of sense. As Scott turned the pages, Matthew realized that the magazine didn’t have a lot of guys in it, or indeed, any sports. Instead, it had pictures of girls in strange outfits and as the pages continued turning, girls who were completely naked. He sorta liked what he was seeing even though it was weird, and looking at the pictures over and over again made Matthew feel like his breath was running hot through his throat. A strange sensation began to flutter around in his stomach, as well.
Matthew didn’t know what to call these feelings, but Scott noticed the look on Matthew’s face and just laughed when Matthew told him about them. “Ha! That means you’re finally growing up!”
Pleased at finally growing older, Matthew grabbed a magazine from off a pile in the back corner of the fort. This one was titled Penthouse, and it had more naked ladies. Then came Hustler and other magazines Scott had taken from his dad’s trash. These had naked men and naked ladies doing stuff together. Matthew fell into some kind of tizzy. He had never before understood what sex had been all about.
That night, after dinner, Lance said to Matthew, “I saw you in Scott’s fort today.”
Matthew did not respond.
“Word of advice?” Lance frowned. “That dumbass — you should stay away from him.”
Matthew just turned and walked away, muttering under his breath, “It’s not like you’ve ever cared about me, so why should I care about what you think?”
Stevie was worried, something which rarely happened, but when it did, it usually meant that he had every right to be. Matthew hadn’t been around much these days, as he was always hanging out with Denny and Scott. Stevie’s parents had told him that he could still visit Matthew, but not while those other two were around.
Even so, Stevie was usually very busy with boy scouts, charity events, church, and more, and had not had time to spend with his best friend in the neighborhood. Even when Stevie had the time, he was now leery about visiting Matthew as Stevie’s father had muttered something about how Matthew’s father had treated Lance during the past few months, using the belt to discipline him right in their front yard, and that he didn’t like that Matthew was always hanging out with those two kids Scott and Denny— both trouble-makers.
Stevie had heard the rumors about Scott, especially, which had surfaced at school — how he groomed kids like a parasite, taking advantage of their goodwill just to abuse, and later, steal from them.
Stevie blamed himself, and Matthew’s older brother Lance for this. It was Lance’s fault for not protecting Matthew like an older brother should, and now, Matthew did whatever Scott wanted, and he was playing the part of the fool quite happily. But Stevie knew he was also to blame, for he was too busy with everything, and thus, could not find the spare time to hang out with Matthew much anymore. At most, they could only give each other passing glances when they happened to see each other in the hallways at school. It was all Stevie could do just to say hi as they passed each other.
But today, Stevie determined he had to get a word in edgewise.
Right after school, Stevie went to Matthew’s house and rang the bell. He was relieved when Matthew answered. “Hiya Matthew!” Stevie greeted with a chipper, though forced, smile, “How’s it going?”
“It’s … well, going okay,” Matthew said. “I’m better, I mean, most of these days I’m doing okay.”
“You mean you’re doing well in school?” Stevie asked.
“Well, yes,” Matthew nodded. “It’s nice to get away from Lance for a while and I don’t have to worry about him much at school.”
“How are things going around the road here, in the neighborhood?” Stevie tried. “You’ve been doing a lot of stuff?”
At that, Matthew’s gaze turned a shade darker, as if Stevie had just hurled an accusation at him, and for a moment, Stevie feared he had said the wrong thing. “They’re…” Matthew paused, and then recovered. “They’re good.”
“Are ya alright?” Stevie risked a step forward and reached out to put a hand on Matthew’s shoulder, at which, Matthew took a step back.
There was an awkward moment of silence between them, and then Stevie said, “Oh, sorry man! Just haven’t see ya in a while.”
Truth was, Matthew was angry and felt abandoned by Stevie and his sisters. He felt disconnected from all of them, but he did not want to risk letting Stevie know what he was feeling, and so he just said, “School has just been….distracting. Weird — like I don’t feel like I need it anymore.”
“Like ya don’t need it anymore?” Stevie blinked in confusion. Matthew was talking nonsense, or perhaps, talking about something else. Just what, Stevie had no idea. He just let it go.
“It doesn’t matter,” Matthew shrugged.
They went out back to play in the apple trees, but it just was not the same for Matthew as it once had been. Their friendship had lost its spark. Stevie felt it, as well. Matthew took one final stab at rekindling their bond. “You want to sleep over tonight?”
Stevie knew his parents would not allow it. So, he lied, “My asthma is acting up a lot lately. There might be something in your house which would trigger an attack. I have to stay home because it’s safer for me.”
Thank you for reading and for your time. This Chapter One is Part III of a series which make up the first few chapters of my book, Terror Road. Please click these titles for Terror Road, Part I and Terror Road, Part II which comprise the Prologue and are already published in SM Mamunur’s The Masterpiece on Medium. Click here for Chapter Two which is also published in Illumination Book Chapters.
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