Seventeen Heroes

It’s 1957. It’s been five years since it happened. We were young and stupid, and had no clue what lay ahead of us. We had golden futures with promises of fame and fortune. But a promise only comes true if you fight for it. A promise can be destroyed.
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It was Friday night. We won the big game. Of course we were going out to party. What else would we do, stay home and celebrate with our families?

Jason was the ringleader, so we waited for him to give the call and tell us where we were going. And yes, he was the quarterback. What did you expect him to be, a lineman? The quarterback always calls the plays.

We were standing outside the Whirlpool, the most happening club around. It was right outside of town, the only club within forty miles of our small West Pennsylvanian town. It was 21+, but that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter the year before when we won State. People knew us there. They loved us. Who wouldn’t love a champion?

The night was great, wild as usual. We threw money around like crazy and downed beers like it was our job. That night it was. And we were working overtime.

Jessie wasn’t having such a good time though. He said he wasn’t feeling well, had severe stomach cramps. I kind of figured that’s what it was. I mean he didn’t make a move on any girls all night. And with guys like us, it doesn’t take much to ring in the ladies.

So Jessie took off. We all felt bad that he couldn’t party, but that didn’t stop us. We rocked it even harder. The boys were calling out for shots every other minute. It was almost too much.

The party came to an end when Nick puked all over the bar. It was an accident, but the bartender didn’t take too kindly to it. But because we spent so much money there, they asked us kindly to leave.

Nick stumbled out of the club with the grace of a blind toad. We weren’t much better. We were a pack of hyenas, ready to feast upon the town. Although it felt like the town fed on us; our wallets were empty and our stomachs were growling. We hadn’t eaten since after the game.

“Let’s get some fooooood,” Brian groaned. The glazed stare in his red eyes suggested that alcohol wasn’t the only thing he put into his body tonight.

“Yeah,” Robby shouted. “Let’s do it!”

I had never seen anyone get that excited about eating food before. Other than my drunk dead-beat for a father. All he does is eat food. He sits on his ass, watches the game, and shoves garbage down his throat like a damn coon. Nothing good has ever come from him. Nothing.

“Hey Billy, you coming?” Robby’s voice echoed in the still dead of night.

“Yeah, hold up,” I picked up my feet and caught up with the rest of the guys. “Where we going?”
“There’s this great place called…” Jason’s voice trailed off in the dark.

“What?” I looked ahead. “What’s up?”

I turned the corner and saw two men in the alley going at each other. And no, it’s not what you think. They weren’t fighting. They were loving.

“Damn homos!” Jason ran at them, knocking one in the back of the head with his great fist. The others followed his lead and charged at the other man, hollering hateful words as loud as they could. Their actions spoke intolerance, and I despised them for it. But I didn’t do a damn thing to stop them.

I looked on in horror as the entire team, my friends, beat down on these two men. They stomped on their backs and kicked them hard in the stomach. They were a bunch of animals; fifteen ravenous wolves tearing apart two unsuspecting deer.

It was terrible. Every second of that moment I hoped it would end, but it kept going on. These men, who we didn’t even know, were being beaten down without mercy or meaning. And these other men, whom I have grown up with, they were disgusting. To this day, it sickens me to think that I hugged these vile creatures. These…these beasts, were my best friends.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Robby screamed as police sirens wailed in the distance. I would’ve thanked God that they came, but it was too late. Two bodies laid still, facedown in their own fluids. I stared down at them, emotionless, careless.

Behind all the blood and bruises, I could make out one of their faces. I looked closer and studied its features. It was Jessie. We just killed Jessie. Twelve years of friendship and now…I murdered my best friend.

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I lay awake at night thinking about what happened. I can still hear their screams. They begged us to stop. They said please. Please stop. Jessie told us to stop. And we killed him. We were a team. We fought for each other. We’d die for each other. Never a day went by where we weren’t together. We were seventeen heroes with seventeen dreams of stars. And now…sixteen men are locked in cells, all alone, and one is buried underground, all alone. We are all alone.