The Battle of Jericho (24 page)

The brick had made it completely around the circle. Rick placed it back on the table, then picked up the small mirror and handed it to Jericho. “Next I want you to pass this mirror around the circle. What do you see?”

Jericho saw a round brown face with slightly crooked teeth, fuzzy hair, and ears that stuck out too far. He didn't like looking at himself in the mirror. He passed it quickly to Josh.

“Your face is just one of many, but it is unique. No other face in the world is exactly like it, yet all human faces are basically the same. Remember that each of you is an individual, yet each of you is responsible for the other tonight. Very soon we will be proud to include your face with ours as a Warrior of Distinction.”

Just as Jericho was ready to agree with him, Rick then picked up the gun. The room instantly grew so quiet and tense Jericho imagined he could hear the sound of the flame from the candle as it flickered in the darkness.

“The gun,” Rick began, “symbolizes our power. It is cold and silent as you see it now, but it can become hot and deadly in an instant.”

Jericho's heart pounded as he considered what the presence of a gun could mean. For the first time since the pledging began, he was genuinely scared.

Rick took the end of his shirt and carefully wiped a tiny speck from the barrel of the gun. “The gun also represents our strength and our silence. A gun never speaks unless it has to,” he said ominously. “As I pass it around, I want you to feel its power, its strength, as well as its silence. Touch it, explore it, learn its mysteries.” He gave it first to Jericho. “Don't be afraid,” Rick told him. “Be brave enough to discover a new and powerful reality!”

Jericho took the gun. His hands shook. He turned it over and gazed at it in the dim light with fear and foreboding. It
was heavy and cold. He passed it quickly to Josh.

Josh, his usual cheerful lightheartedness missing for once, took the gun carefully. He made no jokes as he held it for a few moments, then passed it on to Luis. The rest of the pledges all explored the gun silently and fearfully and it was quickly returned to Rick.

“I want to reassure you,” Rick told the solemn group of pledges, “we have never used the gun.” He paused. “It has never been necessary,” he added without explanation.

Eddie then took over the ceremony. The candle burned lower, the flame a wild and confused point of light as Eddie brushed close to it. Eddie picked up the bottle. In his other hand he held fifteen very small plastic cups—the type that comes on the top of a cough medicine bottle. “We began with reflection,” he said. “The next part of our ceremony is for relaxation.” He gave Jericho the plastic cups and told him to take one and pass the rest to the others.

Eddie then opened the bottle. The strong smell that escaped the bottle instantly let them know that this was no whiskey bottle filled with tea to fool them. This was hard liquor. Eddie walked around the group of pledges and filled their cups.

Jericho looked at the brownish liquid in his cup. He'd had beer before, but he didn't like the taste of it, so he rarely drank, even when his friends decided to party more than he cared to. He had never even tasted whiskey or any other hard liquor before. And he had no desire to taste any tonight.

“The purpose of this part of the ceremony,” Eddie explained, his voice syrupy and sinister, “is to release your
inner strength, and to show your willingness to become one of us. It will also relax you for activities to come later tonight.”

Jericho felt trapped. He knew he should leave, but there was no way he had the nerve to walk out now. After all, it was almost over. In just a few hours he'd be a Warrior! So he sat where he was.

“Drink!” Eddie commanded.

The pledges hesitated.

“Drink!” Eddie yelled again. “If you want to be a part of this group, do it now and do it quickly!”

Cleveland was the first to empty his cup. “Ahhhh!” he blurted loudly. Then he burped. The pledges giggled a little and some of the tension was eased. One by one the pledges drank the cup of whiskey.

Dana swallowed hers quickly. Jericho saw her face squeeze into a grimace, but she didn't choke or gag. Eddie walked around the group, making sure each cup was empty. He stopped in front of Jericho, who still held the cup of whiskey in his hand.

In one swift movement, Jericho put the cup to his lips and swallowed it all at once. His throat burned like he had swallowed flaming branches. Seconds later he felt a heat in his stomach like nothing he had ever felt. It was as if a fiery tree had grown within him. It began in his gut and expanded to every part of his body. He felt like he was caught in a science fiction movie where the character's guts get invaded and then explode. It was hard to breathe. Eddie laughed.

Eddie then walked around and refilled the cups. Jericho couldn't believe they had to do it again.

“Drink!” Eddie commanded once more.

Jericho noticed that for some reason the pledges drank the second cup much more quickly. Even he had very little difficulty the second time around. The liquid still burned like hot fire, but the shock and the hot reaction was softer and muted.

“Again!” Eddie ordered as he refilled the little cups. Once more the pledges obediently swallowed the liquor. “You like this, don't you?” Eddie taunted as he made them drink a fourth time. The rest of the Warriors, Jericho noticed through hazy observation, had their own bottles and were sipping from them periodically as they laughed at the pledges.

By the fifth round of drinks, Jericho didn't even care. He drank it sloppily, spilling a little in the process. For some reason, that struck him as incredibly funny.
This ain't so bad,
he thought dimly. He noticed that the liquor bottle was now empty.

Jericho watched with blurry vision as Eddie quietly opened another bottle and replaced the small plastic medicine cups with full-sized paper cups. “Let's party!” he heard himself say. He tried to stand up, but fell to the floor in a heap. Josh laughed so hard he fell off his chair, and Luis rolled out of his seat as well. By this time the pledges were voluntarily passing the bottle around, some of them ignoring the paper cups and drinking straight out of the bottle. They laughed, they sang, they told dirty jokes. A couple of them ran to the bathroom where the night before they'd been forced to dip their heads, and vomited. Jericho looked for Dana, and saw she was sitting
on Kofi's lap, giggling hysterically at something he'd said.

Jericho knew he was drunk, and he didn't care. Any doubts or worries he'd had about the Warriors disappeared in the bottom of that paper cup.

Eddie and Rick and the rest of the Warriors stood then and started chanting quietly, their voices almost a whisper:

You don't know what time it is—
It's time to get live!
It's time to represent!
Warriors rock! Warriors rule!
You don't know what time it is—
It's time to get live!
It's time to represent!
Warriors rock! Warriors rule!

Gradually the chanting got louder and louder. Louder and louder they repeated the rhythmic words. Slowly, hesitantly, the pledges joined them in the chant. They stood shakily, joining arms and swaying together as they shouted drunkenly with the others the rhythmic beats:

You don't know what time it is—
It's time to get live!
It's time to represent!
Warriors rock! Warriors rule!

The chant gradually slowed and stopped, but Jericho felt excited and anxious to begin whatever awaited. His head seemed as though it was full of cotton wrapped in
explosives. He wasn't sure if he felt like curling into a ball and sleeping for a week, or exploding like a grenade and destroying something. All he knew was that whatever they asked him to do, he was ready to do it.

The room was finally completely silent. Jericho glanced at the candle and noticed it had burned out.

In the darkness Madison's strong bass voice broke the silence. “Sit down, please. We will now remind you of the vows you made. Remember, we demand your dedication, your obedience, and your very life, if necessary. Any problems with that? If so, this is your last chance to back out.”

“Don't be hatin', man. We with you all the way. Bring it on!” Cleveland's slurred voice answered. He was sitting on the floor, laughing to himself. Jericho tried to remember what was bothering him earlier, but his thoughts were fuzzy and warm, and right now Cleveland sounded like the wisest man in the world.

Madison looked like he was holding back a laugh. “Remember that each pledge holds the responsibility for the other tonight.” Jericho looked at the pledges. He felt, for once, like he was part of the big picture. “In addition, you must agree to do
anything
you are asked to do,” Madison continued.

“Anything!” Cleveland shouted drunkenly. He burped.

“Anything!” the rest of the pledges cried out as well.

“It's all good.”

“Let's get it on!” They had all risen to their feet once more, and Jericho felt like their unsteady legs were his own, their gravelly voices belonged to him, and their
thoughts and vows were part of his as well. He'd never felt such power.

“Repeat after me,” Eddie demanded. “All of us or none of us!”

“All of us or none of us! All of us or none of us!” Jericho and the other pledges yelled back. “Warriors rock! Warriors rule!” Jericho found himself accepting it, believing it, swallowing it whole.

The room gradually settled into silence. “Follow us,” Madison commanded. The Warriors opened the door of the warehouse and headed into the darkness.

JERICHO COULDN'T IMAGINE ANYTHING ELSE
they could do to them. The cold slapped his face and bare arms as they left the warehouse, but the night was icy clear. The fifteen pledges followed Mad Madison, Rick Sharp, Eddie Mahoney, and the other Warriors out the door, through the parking lot, and around to the back area where the Dumpster loomed darkly in the distance.

“Give me five laps around the building,” Eddie demanded. The pledges shrugged and started to jog. Jericho was a little glad for the run because it seemed to clear the thickness in his head, but he still ran as if he were another person watching himself from a distance. A couple of the pledges vomited between laps. When they returned to the starting point, exhaling hot breaths while inhaling the cold night air, Jericho waited with the others for the next task.

“We are almost finished,” Madison called to the anxious
pledges. The wind had increased and was whipping them all.

“The sooner you complete this last task, the sooner you can go to a place of warmth and celebration. Mr. Culligan is back at school, getting everything ready for our party, so let's get this over with!” Madison shouted over the wind. “A warm shower and your black silk jackets await you!” That was enough to get them going.

“March!” Eddie commanded. He and the other Warriors then led the pledges behind the Dumpster, down the broken and crumbling driveway, and into the yard of the deserted house in the back. From a distance the house looked shadowy and forlorn, but up close it was dilapidated and frightening. The wooden porch was almost rotted away, with huge gaping holes looming darkly between the boards that still remained. The windows had been boarded up, but time and weather had loosened many of the wooden coverings so that jagged glass protruded and gleamed in the light of the Warriors' flashlights. The front door, hanging by just one hinge, stood ajar. To Jericho it looked like a scene from one of those horror movies where chain-saw killers lurk in the darkness. He almost wished he had another drink to get rid of his returning feelings of fear and misgiving.

As if he read his mind, Eddie pulled another bottle of liquor from a bag and passed it around to the pledges. “Drink!” he told the pledges. “You will need this.”

Jericho didn't even think this time. He swallowed several huge gulps, grateful for the temporary warmth he felt. He searched for that feeling of kinship and peace he'd felt earlier, but it was gone.

“You will enter the house together. Make your way to the second floor, enter the first room on your left, go to the window there, and wait for further instructions. Here is a flashlight.”

The pledges walked slowly toward the crumbling porch. Jericho, who had been given the flashlight, placed one foot shakily on the first step. It held but groaned under his weight. The others followed quietly. Jericho reached the front door, cautiously grabbed the handle, and pushed. It took very little effort to open it fully.

Jericho wasn't sure how he ended up first in line, but here he was, so he pressed forward. He peered into the darkness of what had once been a living room. One whole side of the floor had caved in, but the side that led to the staircase seemed to be solid. Heart thudding, he carefully entered the room. The others followed.

“Talk about your haunted houses!” Luis whispered.

“If some freak with a mask or a butcher knife comes around the corner, I'm outta here!” Josh laughed quietly.

“Dana, stay close to me,” Kofi called to her.

“I'm right here. Eddie's freaky enough to scare me—don't need no real monsters,” she quipped.

“Aw, you just want her to protect
your
tremblin' butt!” Josh teased.

“I bet there're rats in here,” Cleveland whispered.

“And spiders—look at all those webs.” Jericho pointed them out with a shudder.

The room, heavy with dust and decay, was not as deserted as they thought. In one corner they saw a pile of newspapers that were stacked on what looked like a bed.
The papers were partially covered with an old blanket, and dozens of beer bottles were strewn over the floor. The room smelled of old garbage and urine.

“Looks like somebody else has found this place too.”

“Probably some homeless people.”

“I hope they're not here hiding or something. I'll freak,” Luis admitted.