All American Boys

Chapter 34: Riot of the Statues

Right. It was my birthday - the 20th of October. I had been to preoccupied with Isaac to care.

"Thanks," I muttered, as I turned to look out the window. "You remembered."

The forests covering the hills that nestled Bethlehem had begun to turn from a lush green to various hues of yellow, red and gold. I never noticed how beautiful Autumn was. It was ironic, how death could be so beautiful – that the leaves in their dying breath let out one final flourish of vibrant colour before falling to the ground. I guess it was a show of defiance, in their last moments dying in glory.

I could see him looking at me through the reflection. A sense of shame crept over me. Here he was, the boy who loved me more than anything, yet here I was, wanting to break up with him. That desire was fleeting, coming in waves. Sometimes I wanted to just outright breakup with him then and there as I sat in the car, but at other times I held my ground. Cyril was important to me.

To be precise, Cyril's position and proximity to his father was a strategic asset, not his heart. If his feeling were hurt, that's just collateral damage. War is nothing without casualties.

There are days when I feel lie doing just that, to hurt him, to tell him how he doesn't mean anything to me. To watch him cry and make him bleed. But of course, he was much more useful to me if I stayed on his good side.

Sure, he was enjoyable, but he wasn't enjoyable enough. He was plain, perfect, and to be really honest, boring. Everything there is to him, there left something more to be desired. From his personality to his to looks, to the sex that we had, I just wasn't satisfied. Well, he was stellar if you just put him on his own, and I was sure many others would rather be in my place. But when I compared him with Isaac, the answer was obvious. Isaac understood me, he knew me. Whereas with Cyril, I couldn't help but feel like there was always a clear glass screen separating us. He was always so distant, despite being so close. It was because he just couldn't stop looking at me with his rose-tinted glasses. But Isaac, despite his flaws felt like he was always with me, even though we may be far apart.

And as painful as it was, I'd always crawl back to Isaac. I was sick and tired of running away. I was finally willing to make things work out.

"Are you hungry?" Cyril asked me, as we drove further along the shore. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Well," I said. "I bought a sandwich earlier from the vending machine."

"Oh come on," he said. "We'll go get you some proper breakfast. It's your birthday, you gotta eat right."

I only smiled and thanked him. We were on the coastal highway now, somewhere heading north, towards the naval base. He couldn't possibly be taking me to the naval base, could he? What business does he have there in the first place? I was too tired to ask.

For all I know, he might bring me to some abandoned construction site and smash my head in.

Not like I think he would do that. He was too sweet, too kind. Even if it comes to it, I doubt he could kill another human being. I don't think he's capable of doing that. A shame, really.

"We're heading to Antioch," he told me, even though I didn't ask.

I only grunted in response. Antioch. The closest thing to a small city in the area. I've been there a few times with Alicia and Hayden, but never really stayed there for long. There were probably about a couple hundred thousand people there, located right next to the naval base. The last time I've been there was with Isaac, when we passed through it to meet his brother. Even now, I couldn't stop thinking of Isaac.

"So did the doctors say anything about when Isaac's going to wake up?" Cyril asked, not helping his case.

"They said he might wake up soon, but who knows?" I said. "What if he never wakes up?"

Cyril reached over and placed his free hand on my lap gently.

"He'll pull through," he tried to assure me.

I only kept quiet, until he finally pulled his hand away. The only affection I needed right now was from a boy unconscious in a hospital bed.

I tried to distract myself. It was my birthday after all. And surely Isaac was in safe hands now. Whatever happens, I was no longer responsible. I had done my duty to make sure he was going to be alright. If he dies it wasn't my fault.

It wasn't my fault.

We stopped by the waterfront, where there were a row of cafes with alfresco seating overlooking the water. Cyril walked down the street with me as we looked for this fancy-looking breakfast café in a historic brick building in Antioch's tree-lined historic district. I couldn't help but notice that most of the shops were empty, devoid of any customers. They weren't even open. Then again, it was a weekday morning, so perhaps it was just the time. But I did expect the place to have more people at least. But then again, the air was thick and heavy, and I could hear voices and noises in the background. It sounded like there was a festival going on, so why would the streets be so empty.

But honestly it wasn't the first time I felt like Antioch was a bit too eerily empty for a city its size. During our drive to the historic district, we passed a few neighbourhoods lined by brick townhouses and storefronts. Some were abandoned, wooden panels nailed onto hollow windows. Others had signs stating that the place was for sale. Shops were closed, their glass storefronts empty. I wondered why.

It turned out the café that Cyril had wanted to bring me to was also closed as well.

"Well," he said as we walked up to the door that had a huge 'closed' sign on it. "Maybe we should go somewhere else."

I couldn't help but get a sick feeling in my gut. A sense of dread just drew over me. Something was wrong.

"Maybe we should leave?" I suggested. "I don't feel so good about this place."

Cyril bit his lip as he shoved his hands in his pocket.

"Me too actually," my boyfriend muttered. "What's going on around here? It's usually not this deserted."

The clamour in the background got louder, and I was sure there was something going on a few streets away. Cyril seemed to have caught notice of the noise as well.

"Let's get back to the car," my boyfriend said, to which I was more than happy to do so.

I thought we were about to get out of there, instead, Cyril seemed to be driving towards the disturbance.

"What are you doing?" I asked, starting to worry for my situation.

"I have to find out what's going on," he replied, as he turned a corner.

I felt like the character in a horror flick who was the only one that doesn't want to explore the haunted house, but was dragged along anyway. Nothing good comes out of investigating bad gut feelings or noises. But I supposed sheltered prince Cyril has never watched a horror movie.

"Over there," Cyril said as we drove through the city. "The road's blocked."

I looked up. Indeed, what he said was right. The street two streets down the block was impassable. Someone had set up a barrier. And the street weren't just blocked, it was full of people. They were marching, holding signs, shouting, all headed in one direction.

"Where do you think they're going?" I asked, curiously watching from afar.

This was as far as I was willing to go. We were at a safe distance, so if anything went wrong we could just get the hell out of here.

"I don't know," he said. "But let's go find out what the whole racket is all about."

"Are you sure about that?" I asked. "Isn't it dangerous?"

Cyril pulled up into a street parking lot. There was a boyish excitement in his eyes as he undid his seatbelt.

"I've never seen a real protest before," he said. "I've only seen them on the screen."

Really? This boy got excited over a protest? Is a sheltered life in a privileged town really that boring for him?

"We don't even know what they're protesting about," I said, trying to dissuade him. "Come on, it's not safe."

"It's just for a little while," he said. "We'll get out of here the moment there's trouble."

He was almost as excited as a child asking his mother to bring him to an amusement park. Except this was a protest. I could already see smoke and tyres burning in the distance.

I didn't know whether it was just a naive, boyish curiosity to experience the unknown or a sadistic voyeuristic desire to see people get hurt. I doubt it was the latter. If anyone was to go to a protest to watch people get hurt, it was probably me. But I wasn't going to risk getting hurt myself. The whole idea was stupid.

Cyril walked out of the car, and I had to follow suit. I didn't want anything bad to happen to him. It wouldn't serve anyone any good if he got hurt. Especially not me.

We walked down the street, to where all the chaos was. Cyril was moving at a brisk pace with me closely behind him, ready to just pull him away at any sign of trouble. We walked towards the barrier, which upon a closer look was a mishmash of pellets, tyres and dumpsters. In the corner of my eye I noticed a few young men, some wearing ski masks, others pulling their hoods over their heads stood loitering around the edge of the protests. I wondered what on earth could they be doing.

It turns out the protests were about the rising gas and oil prices. That made me remember that we were at nearing 7 dollars a gallon now, and piped gas prices were starting to go up. It wasn't really a problem in Bethlehem, since people had so much money that we could just afford it, and even for me, it didn't feel that bad. We still had a pile of cash from dad's life insurance and his life savings that he had left us. It was enough for a rainy day, or perhaps a few rainy months. We didn't use too much gas anyway. My mother and I mostly just travelled within Bethlehem, so all that money wouldn't just be drained just because the oil prices went up. Once that ran out however, would then I be worried.

Standing from behind the barrier, I could see the townsfolk, men and women, some carrying children in tow marching towards the city hall to the right. I read the signs they held – 'no gas, no life', 'release the reserves', 'my kids are hungry' – just to name a few. The building with its grand façade and golden domes looked grand and intimidating from the small hill it stood on. On the other end of the street, just beyond the sea of people chanting for lower oil prices I noticed a few armoured vehicles, together with a line of riot police, blocking any movement into the street on the other side.

Cyril walked into the crowd, and I had no choice but to follow suit. Surrounded by people shouting and chanting, I found myself in the middle of the crowd.

My boyfriend turned to me, a smile on his thin lips.

"I told you it was going to be alright," he said drawing closer towards me.

I could barely hear him over all the clamour. As people slipped past us, enveloping the two of us within the crowd, I felt Cyril hold my hand, a familiar sensation amidst this sea of uncertainty. He seemed satisfied, now that he finally got to experience a protest. It was a little bizarre, kind of naïve, but hey, whatever floats his boat. But I had to admit, it wasn't as scary as I thought it'd be. Things had remained peaceful so far.

"Can we go now?" I asked after we stood there for a few minutes, looking like complete idiots. "You've seen your protest. Let's get out of here."

"Fine," he chuckled as we began to make our way to the edge of the crowd, back to where we came from. "At least now I can say I've participated in a protest."

"Oh please," I replied sardonically, rolling my eyes. "You didn't even know what they were protesting about until just a few moments ago."

As we were leaving, I noticed one of the men whom I saw loitering around the edges earlier walking in a hurry towards the crowd. His face was concealed with a scarf, and he wore a white hoodie. His hood was down, and I suppose he was just in my line of sight which was why I just noticed so many details about him as he got closer – but most noticeably his ginger hair and a sleeve tattoo on his right arm, inked with patterned wave motifs.

He brushed past me, and I noticed his haversack was open. He smelled strongly of alcohol, but I thought nothing of it. Hooligans mostly got drunk anyway, nothing out of the ordinary if I was being honest. But he didn't seem drunk to me, walking like that so intently.

It didn't occur to me that anything was wrong.

But once we made it past the barrier it was then when I heard it – the shrill screams, the shouting, the sound of gunfire.

Gunfire. A few loud bangs. There was no doubting it.

For a second, I froze in shock. I didn't dare turn around to see what was happening back there, but instead I turned to the boy beside me. The only familiar face in this strange, dangerous city. Cyril looked at me with widened eyes before reaching out to grab my wrist, locking my hand in a tight, strangling grip.

"Run!" he mouthed.