Past, Present and Future - The Devereaux Case Files Book 6

Chapter 13

Max had been in the gang for a week now, and it was time for his initiation. The name Maxwell Harding was gone. He would be known by his codename from that day on: Hawkes. Hawkes was a Crazy 15 gang member. Hawkes was a fully fledged Waynflete agent. Max was a kid from the wrong side of the tracks, who had got into too much trouble as a teenager. Hawkes was useful and smart, strong and talented. Hawkes could have a good life, Max couldn't.

All the same, he was nervous. He didn't like gang life and he had spent a lot of time trying to escape it when he was younger, but working at the agency was his dream now. It was all he wanted to do and so he gritted his teeth and bore it with only the slightest grudge. That night, he dressed all in black, so that no-one could see the blood, or so the boys told him, and walked the two blocks from the gang 'headquarters' to the place where his initiation was going to happen. He had only been provisionally accepted into the fold because of the recent loss of the leader. If he failed his initiation he would be out for good and he would have to go sulking back to Murray admitting he had failed. He had no idea what his initiation would be, but he was ready for anything.

Hawkes arrived at the small park and waited beside the swing set, as he had been instructed. After almost five minutes, almost exactly at the time of his initiation, the fourteen other gang members of the Crazy 15s arrived from all directions. They swarmed closer until they were three feet away and then the new leader, Lorell stepped forward until he was standing just in front of Hawkes.

"Here are the rules kid. We're going to test you and all you have to do to get into the crew is to keep your mouth shut. You don't say a word, you don't fight back against anything we do to you and you're in. Do you accept this challenge?" Lorell explained shortly, worrying Hawkes with the fact that they could, and probably would, do absolutely anything to him. And he wasn't allowed to protest, fight back, complain or even make a whimper of a noise. No whispering, no groaning, no gasps of surprise. Not a word.

"Yes." Hawkes agreed only because he had to. Images of a million horrifying things floated through his head, imagining anything and everything a gang of fourteen grown men could do to him in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. In this neighborhood, if someone screamed or a gunshot rang out in the darkness, everyone closed their blinds and turned the music up rather than acknowledge it. No-one would help him, no-one would save him. If he didn't like what they were doing, he would have to fight back until they killed him because there was no other way out.

"Alright then. Boys...get to it." Lorell stepped back into the ranks and signaled for the other boys to move forward. Lorell didn't get his hands dirty and so Hawkes braced himself for whatever was coming. He couldn't run, crawl or walk away from this now. He would either be a member of the Crazy 15s by daybreak or dead. Those were his only choices.

Hawkes bit his lip by accident when the first punch to his jaw took him by surprise. It made him sway slightly on his feet, but he just turned back to the gang members and faced it silently. A punch from a second person hit him in the kidney and he molded his body into the impact to try to prevent too much damage. But it was too difficult. Punches were flying from all over now, kicks hitting his shins and his gut. They were going all out. They would beat him to death or into submission and the choice would be his.

He tried moving into each hit but it was impossible. The pain was almost unbearable and he was soon on his knees, his hands stopping him from falling any further. He didn't want his head in any way close to getting kicked. He lifted his head and looked at Lorell, who stood by smiling at him, using his hatred of him and the other gang members to keep him quiet. It was difficult but it needed done and he wasn't a quitter. He took each kick, punch, hit with a pipe and each crack to his ribs and head from the butt of someone's gun silently. He managed to keep his head off the ground for nearly half an hour before someone stomped on his arm and broke it.