The bass is cranked on the stereo, but Dylan McGrew turns it up one more notch anyway.
The afternoon is going easier than he thought it might, but best to keep focused on the task at hand. It’s Initiation Day – and nothing is going to stand in his way.
There have been a couple of close calls when he practiced holding the gun and his hand shook. It’s important to banish all the nerves. Soon enough he must prove his strength.
Eminem is on the stereo speaking words into his head – “Cause after I spit the bullets, I’m a treat these shell casings like a soccer ball. I’m a kick the ballistics…”
Yeah Dylan – focus man. You’re gonna spit the bullets. And then you’re in – and ain’t nobody can kick you out ever again.
Soon it will be time to take the gun and head downstairs and out the door. The gang will be waiting for him at the mall food court. He’ll wear a dark-colored hoodie to hide the gun – probably the one from O-State – and he’ll be ready when the time comes. They are going to order chili cheese fries and act cool until the right one comes along. Then pop! He’ll take out the gun, do the deed, and they’ll be out the side door before anyone can catch them.
“It’s easier with a drink. Go ahead – take a shot first. You’ve earned it.”
Dylan isn’t sure where the thought came from – almost like a voice speaking into his brain, but the suggestion made sense. He digs around in the bottom of his laundry hamper and comes up with a vodka bottle. Too bad there’s not Dr. Pepper up here to sweeten the deal, but probably best to drink it straight than risk going downstairs to the kitchen.
As the slow burn of alcohol touches his system, Dylan tries to picture how things will go down at the mall. Connor will be there cocky as ever, but this time it will be different ‘cause I’ll earn his respect. Demetrius is gonna be watching to see if things go down, ready for me to chicken out, thinks Dylan. But it’s gonna go down. They’ll see.
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid.”
Dylan hears the voice inside his head, but it’s a little different than other one. It’s just the words he wants to hear now though. Yeah, I’m strong, I’m courageous. I ain’t afraid, he thinks. But somehow there’s a nagging doubt still there.
Never mind. It’s all going to work out. It’s been planned for days.
“Just take the gun and pop someone” Connor had told him. “We all did it. Now you gonna do it or you not gonna hang with us. Put out or we put you out.”
There’s no way to walk away and not do it. When dad went to prison on that DUI manslaughter charge after they’d mortgaged everything to pay for his trial lawyer, there’d been no money left to live on. Mom moved them to this hell-hole neighborhood where it was survival of the fittest. Well, Dylan intended to survive.
“Just do this and get it over with and you’ll be respected.”
Dylan liked the words he was hearing in his mind. Yeah, respect. I’m earning it. No one respected me before. For sure not the old man. But now they will. They will know me and they will fear me and they will not mess with me or my mom ever again.
He would never forget pulling into the parking lot of the apartment complex for the first time and seeing the trashed out lawn, the empty faded playground and brick walls with sandblasted spaces where someone tried to banish the graffiti that kept re-appearing.
Dylan had known fear when dad was on his drinking bouts before, but nothing quite like this. Dad would eventually pass out after a long night of drinking. Here you never knew who was going to come at you or when.
Fingering the handle of the gun, Dylan tried to focus on the hard-biting lyrics on his stereo to get pumped up. But a voice was speaking in his head again.
“Lead me along the right path for my enemies are waiting for me.”
Dylan wasn’t sure where he had heard the line before, but it sure fit. His enemies were waiting for him. And he had to join them to become friends.
Downstairs in the cramped living room, Lucille McGrew was trying her best to concentrate. Between the bass thumping in cars outside and the vile lyrics spewing at top volume from Dylan’s stereo, it was nearly impossible.
As she got up to head for the stairs to holler at her teenage grandson to turn down that horrid music, Lucille was struck with the strongest urge to pray. It felt as if she was to pray immediately and fervently for Dylan, but wouldn’t it be easier just to head up to his room and talk to him? Especially since she could get his music turned off that way anyway.
Yet fear of an unknown origin gripped her and sent Lucille practically sprawling to the floor as she began a fervent prayer for Dylan.
“Lord, I don’t know what is going on here, but you do. Please help Dylan with whatever is going on, help him with what he needs most. Protect him Lord. Help him to remember you and your love and to turn to you in times of trouble.”
Anguished, distraught, not fully understanding what she was doing or why she was upset, Lucille found herself praying out loud. She was practically shouting the words. Not knowing what to say, she turned to the prayer recited nearly every Sunday of her life at the Community Church across town.
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.”
Upstairs Dylan was readying himself to leave. Grabbing the dark, thick hoodie from a hook in his closet, he put it over his head and walked across the room to turn off the stereo. He was reaching for the gun when he heard shouting downstairs.
Cautiously, Dylan set the gun back on the table. He heard the voice in his head again growing stronger this time. “Be strong and courageous Dylan. Find the right path.”
Moving softly across the floor Dylan cracked the door open to hear more of what was going on downstairs. He poised himself to be ready to run toward the gun if a weapon was needed to defend his household.
“Thy kingdom come, they will be done – on earth as it is in heaven.” Dylan heard the words booming out at him and sounding vaguely familiar. Where had he heard that before? And who was talking? It sounds a bit like Grandma, but not quite, he thought. And anyway, why we she be shouting about God stuff in our living room?
The words kept coming as Dylan opened the door wider and took a step outside his room to listen. Suddenly they seemed to reverberate all around him.
“And lead us not into temptation,” shouted Lucille. “But deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.”
Lucille felt emotionally spent, but strangely unembarrassed as she looked up on the staircase to see her grandson Dylan frozen in place midway down the stairs. He had the oddest look on his face.
“Grandma,” Dylan said in a tiny voice. “I need to talk to you. I think I need some help. I almost did something – something real bad – but I didn’t do it. I’m afraid Grandma.”
Lucille rushed to Dylan and wrapped him a special Grandma hug urging him to sit on the couch and talk.
“Whatever it is Dylan, we can work through it. You and me and Jesus,” Lucille said. “For our struggles in this dark world, the struggles against the forces of evil, they are no match for Jesus. Big or small, he can handle your worries and your cares. You just lay it on him.”
Dylan wanted to believe her. He remembered the voice telling him to be strong and courageous. It seemed to mean one thing then, and another thing now.
“But Grandma I’m in so much trouble. There’s these guys and they are expecting me to show up with a gun and they’re gonna hurt me – and maybe you too – if I don’t,” Dylan said.
Lucille tried to keep a neutral expression on her face as she offered up a prayer to God for wisdom and protection. A sense of peace settled over her and she took Dylan’s hand in her own.
“Nothing is impossible for God Dylan,” she said. “He can handle all of our worries, all of our problems – including this one. Let’s pray about it together.”
As Dylan closed his eyes and bowed his head, the evil spirit fled. Light had won the battle for a soul again.