Undead L.A. 1 (37 page)

“Skateboarding used to be considered a kids game,” Caesar explained in between shoving bacon and ketchup soaked hash browns into his mouth. Nothing works up your appetite like surfing! “It was a fad, like the Frisbee or the pet rock. It had all but gone out of style until Ho and his buddies started messing with it. They had a surf shop over on Main with a team of guys, but they started a skate team made up of local groms kinda as a gag. Stacy Perralta and Tony Alva and Jay Adams were on the team. They used to live right here, just like us. Shit man, Ho's the reason that guys like Tony Hawk or the fucking X Games even exist today. But Ho didn't get rich and move away. He's still here.”

“
So how'd Bronan fit in?”

“
I guess some photographer who shoots for Surfer magazine saw Brody riding one day by the pier and snapped a ton of pictures of him. Later the editor got flooded with feedback, so they sent the photog back out in search of more. Soon Brody started getting a following for his big aggressive air tricks.”

“
I still don't get it,” I said, fending off another grab for my bacon.

“
The guy snapping the pictures writes “New Z Boy” on the twenty sheets before he passes them to his editor, to set them apart from all the other shit he's shot that week. The editor thinks it's cool so he runs them with the title, “New Z Boy: The Next Generation of Dogtown.” Before you know it, everyone is flocking to Venice again to either surf with or take a picture of the young sensation. The name stuck. He brought pride back to us – not just to the sport, but to our city.”

“
What happened?”

“
Let's just say a lot of people began to notice Bronan's raw talent, and eventually the right guy took him under his wing and brought him into the inner circle of professional surfing. Next thing you know the guy is on the ASP World Tour with sponsors and everything, surfing against guys like Slater and Machado and the Irons brothers. It's like a dream come true, man.”

“
So why is he back here if he was on the pro tour? Why surf this short break if you can surf long, easy lefts in Peru and get paid for it?”

“
Nothing gets past you,” Caesar said, snatching a piece of my crispy bacon at last while my guard was down and devouring it before I could stop him.

“
Hey fucker!”

“
Take it easy. I'm buying breakfast. Bronan ranked as high as 50 at one point but never broke the top 20. Eventually he got tired of being in the traveling circus and kissing sponsors asses and just came home. He's been here ever since, shaping boards part time over by Pinche Tacos on Main and hanging out at Block's spot, Venice Originals, educating the youth on surf history. Our neighbor, Rocky, grew up with him. He introduced me one morning in the break. Guy is totally on his own level, like a Zen warrior.”

I saw Bronan ride a few times after that. It was always amazing. His style was aggressive but fluid. He rode with grace and style, but his days of showing off with flashy tricks and acting cocky were behind him. He was a mix of slacker poet and pit bull. He was also the kind of guy you didn't want to be on the wrong side of in an argument. His nose had been broken so many times in street brawls that it had never healed right and was permanently twisted to the side. He had a knife mark on his right cheek as evidence of his bad-assery, as well as several chipped front teeth.

I just felt honored as fuck that he knew who I was and how I surfed.

“
So what's the plan, Bronan?”

“
I'm glad you asked, li’l bros,” he said, acting like Travis hadn't been pointing a loaded weapon at him just moments before. “I'm thinking we're gonna have to clean up this mess by ourselves.”

“
You mean you're going back out there?”

Travis look flabbergasted at the idea.

“Someone has to,” Bronan shrugged. “This is my city and I'm not gonna sit on my ass and wait for someone else to tell me everything is safe again. Besides, the sooner I get to busting heads the sooner I can get back to surfing.”

“
What do you want us to do?”

“
Just stay here for now,” he said. I could see the look of relief on Travis's face out of the corner of my eye. “Sit tight and keep the doors locked. I'll come back when I know more about what's happening and I've located more survivors.”

“
Have you seen my brother?”

“
No li’l man,” he said, trying to sound sympathetic. “I have not. That's good news. If he was one of them, I'd probably have seen him by now.”

He went back to the fridge and grabbed another beer before heading back down the stairs. I followed him like a lost puppy.

“Like I said, keep the doors shut and locked and don't let strangers in. If anyone gives you a hard time tell 'em they'll have to deal with me.”

And then he was gone. I shut and locked the door behind him as he left, praying he wouldn't get torn to shreds before my eyes. Hours went by with nothing but our imaginations to keep us busy. I took a shower, but the water went cold half way through and then the power went out. We spent the rest of the daylight hours grabbing supplies from around the apartment and piling them up in the living room. Travis’s mom was a nurse, so the place was pretty well stocked. He even had extra flashlights and batteries. Plus, there was an earthquake kit with water purifying tabs and all sorts of shit. We tuned in the old radio she had as well, but the broadcasts were all either silent or just music and commercials on loop. We laughed to hear Snoop Dogg selling cars for Cal Worthington in Long Beach, thinking of who might show up during this mess to purchase a Ford Focus with no money down. Snoop kept telling us to “come on down and tell 'em your big homie Snoop sent ya.”

We made a pact not to write off our loved ones for dead until we had confirmation. That meant we had to talk about Travis's mom and my brother Caesar like they were still alive, just out there somewhere and unable to get back to us. I felt a ball of nervous energy just sitting in my stomach at the idea that Caesar might be gone for good. I'd gotten so used to relying on him always being there that I couldn't imagine life without him. We jabbered about how we thought things might end and how far this chaos had spread and what had started it and, most of all, when Bronan would be back. Night came and went and nothing changed at all. That’s when I knew we were pretty well fucked. I started thinking that we'd starve to death up in that apartment, that no one was going to come for us and if they did it would be those disgusting creatures roaming the streets.

I must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing I knew there was a loud thumping on the door. I scrambled to my feet, but froze in place. Sunlight was pouring in through the windows. It must have been around 6 a.m. or so. I could still hear moaning, but also the sound of seagulls fighting over food. Travis got up off the sofa and waved his hands at me. He held his finger up to his lips, telling me not to make a fucking peep. The knocking came again and I nearly pissed myself. My heart was jumping all around in my chest.

“You groms still alive up there?”

I let out a big breath and practically ran to the front door at the muffled sound of Caesar's voice. I threw open the door to find him standing there with Bronan, both of them covered in dried blood.

“Ya see,” Bronan smirked. “I toldja I had him tucked away safe, bro.”

Caesar pulled me into a bear hug that crushed the wind right out of me, then shoved me back and punched me hard on the arm.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“
You scared the shit out of me, bro,” he growled. “I came home to find all hell had broken loose and you were nowhere to be found.”

“
Hey,” Travis called out from behind me. I turned to see he looked kinda sick. He was pale and his complexion was waxy. He fidgeted nervously and kept running his hands through his greasy unwashed hair.

“
S’up Travis,” Caesar said.

“
You've been out there the whole time?”

“
Not all of it. We had to hide in a building at one point until reinforcements arrived. That's when I ran across this fucker right here. Bravest man I've ever met in my life. He was just drinking a beer and taking down Zedheads like he was bored or something. He told me you two rats were barricaded in over here. We came as soon as daylight broke.”

“
Crazy man,” Travis nervously muttered. “You haven't seen my mom, have you? I mean, I'm not even sure if she was in Venice when the shit went down you know, but she might have been.”

“
Nah man,” Bronan replied. “We didn't run into her. Only other dudes.”

“
Sorry,” Caesar offered.

“
No, that's cool,” Travis said, shifting back and forth and rubbing his arms. “She's probably at a friends house, just waiting it out like we did. I just thought maybe since you were outside, you know, you might have bumped into her, or what used to be her.”

“
That's tough man,” Bronan said, “but don't you worry about your mom. I'm sure she'll be okay and in one piece.”

“
Come on, Yermo,” Caesar said at last, putting his hand on my shoulder.

“
Wait. Where are we going?”

“
Home, man.”

“
But those fucking things are still out there!”

“
Not for long,” Caesar said, turning with a smile to Bronan. “We're clearing 'em out block by block, alley by alley.”

“
The hard way!” Bronan swung his homemade weapon over his head in a demonstration.

“
What about Travis?”

“
You can come back and see him after we've cleaned up our place and secured it again.”

“
It's cool, man,” Travis said, looking down at his feet. “I could use a little time alone to think anyway.”

“
I'll be back, man. I'll use the knock.”

“
You better or else I might shoot you for real this time.”

“
Quit wasting time,” Bronan said anxiously. “We're missing all the good head smashing!”

*** *** ***

I like to start my day out by brushing my teeth. It's funny. At the start of summer I didn't give a shit about proper hygiene. But it's the little routines that help keep you sane, keep you moving forward. You grow to need them. When there is no other way to measure just how fucked up things are, it's good to know you can count on something – and those ‘somethings’ are generally self-appointed, in my experience.

I looked at the ink scribbled onto my arm. It had hurt like a bitch when they did it, and I hated having to stay out of the water until it healed, but seeing the familiar lines come together to form the symbol filled me with courage now. It was a bond with something real, something bigger than me, bigger than all of this – at least that’s what we hoped. From the moment I first saw it, I knew it would always fill me with courage. It would never let me down. It couldn't. It was a symbol, and unlike everything else, symbols can't die.

I ran my finger over the raised skin, feeling the letters like Braille. The guy who put it on used to work at Ink Monkey on Lincoln and Venice. He'd boosted half the studio the morning after the shit went down, snatching up enough needles and ink to keep him busy until Christ decides to grace us with his presence. I could read each letter with the slightest touch.

D. L. U.

It started off as a joke between those of us that survived.

“
We're not a gang,” we said to each other whenever one posse would roam into another during daylight patrols. “We're just Dogtown Locals.”

“
We're used to living in the midst of chaos.”

“
That's right, man. That's where we thrive.”

“
We're more like a club.”

“
Or a union.”

That was it! Just like that it was off and running. You couldn't go half a block without hearing someone shout it out.

“Dogtown Locals Union, reporting in!”

Caesar told me that he saw a wave of them coming for Venice as he was heading home from Inglewood over by LAX. Little did he know they were already smashing up our apartment by that time, for sure. He said he saw people turning so fast it was like watching hell rise up from the grave and stare at him with those evil, lifeless eyes. Why'd we survive when so many other people were almost instantly consumed in the flames? Because we're survivors, man. Not just now. Our whole lives. Get it?

We weren't the only survivors, though. In addition to small groups of people who happened to be in the right place at the right time when the shit hit the fan, there were those who had planned for a hostile take-over. Government types. Military dudes. New World Order stuff. They don't tell me much about that kind of stuff so all I know I got from Bronan, and who knows how reliable that guy is. Don't get me wrong. Bronan is still a cool guy, for sure. If it wasn't for guys like him taking on the Zedheads in hand-to-hand, we'd still be neck deep in the shit right now. No one else was gonna do it. It's just that once you hang around Bronan a while you start to see why he's a loner. He's not like other people at all. One minute he's this philosopher poet and the next he's like a dark messiah, prophesying about how aliens are gonna come down and take over the planet.