The Charity Chip (23 page)

“You’re just going to leave me here?”

“You have two choices: you stay in hell until we decide to let you out, or you pass our initiation and become a member of
los mALditos
.”

Julio leaned against the smooth concrete wall. His legs were buried in the fabric scraps and the stench still burned at his nose. “What is the initiation?” he asked.

“Simple,” said Sergio. “You have to escape through the drainage pipe like all the rest of us have done.”
Los mALditos
whistled and jeered. They began to chant, “Escape! Escape! Escape!”

Julio sat down in the pile of fabric and buried his fist in the rotten mess.
Raúl is going to pay for making me go through this.
He spat and shook his head.
Los mALditos will pay too
. The jeers and chants echoed down the black shaft and bounced off the stench.
I guess if they all did it, so can I.
He kissed the pendant of Saint Michaels and started crawling for the back of the shaft. The chants from above grew louder. Against the back wall of the shaft, he could feel a dip in the pile of fabric and started digging. He tossed strips of rotting fabric into the center of the pile and clawed his way down. It didn’t take long to find the opening.

The elevator shaft was dark, but the pipe was darker. The stench of raw sewage and machine oil floated out from the pipe. He ran his hand around the opening. It was wide enough for someone his size to slip through, but it would be a tight fit for a grown adult. He stuck an arm in to feel for the bottom, but couldn’t reach it. “How do I know this pipe isn’t a dead end?” he yelled over the chanting.

“You have to trust us!” shouted Sergio. “You have to have faith to get out of hell.”

Julio looked up at the eager silhouettes in the doorway. He hated them. He hated Raúl. He zipped up his jacket and slipped into the pipe feet first in case he needed to crawl back into the elevator shaft.

His feet touched the curve in the pipe with his arms still above the opening. It was slippery and the acrid smell of raw sewage was impossible to ignore. He grabbed the edges of the opening and lowered himself in until he was lying on his back. Through the opening he could still see the dim light of the fire as it danced across the ceiling of the elevator shaft, and the chanting had melted into laughter as soon as he disappeared into the pipe. He craned his neck and looked through his feet. He thought he saw a light.

He pushed himself along with his hands and pulled with his feet. The slick surface of the pipe made it easier to slide, but the tight fit was suffocating. Water dripped in his face, and the smell transformed from rotting fabric and urine to mold and muck. He tried not to think about where he was, and focused on his movement. The thought of exacting revenge on
los mALditos
, and possibly Raúl, kept him moving. He had no idea how he would get back at them for this, but it was his anger, not faith, that motivated him. It wasn’t long before the light he had seen before was a few feet away.

With a final push, he slid out of the pipe and into a narrow drainage ditch littered with trash. He stood and climbed out of ditch. He pulled out the Saint Michael’s pendant and kissed it. His jacket and pants were wet and covered in black muck. He shivered in the cool night air and looked up at the back of the abandoned factory. The light from the fire flickered in the back windows. A rusting fire escape clung to the back of the building and led to one of the second-story windows. He grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder and pulled himself up.

The window was open when he got to the top.
Los mALditos
were gathered around the fire again, rummaging through the stolen items of the day. Julio shivered. He could see his backpack and skateboard against the front wall near the stairs. He clenched his fists. He wanted to rush in and extract his revenge somehow, but he knew the odds weren’t in his favor. He couldn’t take them by force, but he hoped that now that he had endured their hazing, they would let him collect his things and go. He figured they wouldn’t want to get near him since he stunk of sewage. He swallowed his anger, for now, and slipped through the window, knowing that the darkness wouldn’t provide him cover.

Brujo was the first to notice Julio. “Look who escaped,” he announced. All eyes turned to Julio, and
los mALditos
began jeering and laughing again.

“What is that smell?” shouted Chancho.

Julio ignored him and kept walking toward his backpack and skateboard.

Sergio jumped to his feet and hurried to cut off Julio’s escape. “Congratulations,” he said with a grin. “You escaped from the pits of hell through the bowels of the beast. Raise your right hand.” Sergio raised his right hand as if taking an oath.

Julio clenched his teeth and put up his fists. He could see his skateboard and backpack just a few feet away, but once again they had formed a circle around him. “Why should I?”

“You passed the initiation, but if you want to join us, you have to swear an oath of loyalty.” Sergio’s grin disappeared. “Raise your right hand.”

Julio looked around at the faces. He shivered involuntarily. Brujo stared at him with hollow eyes and a blank face. Chancho raised his eyebrows and winked. Esqueleto cracked his fingers. Peludo ran his hand over the scar on his head. Julio hadn’t thought they could do any worse than what had already done, but judging from their faces, he wasn’t sure. He stiffened and clenched his fists. “No, I’m not going through that pipe again, and I won’t join your group of thieves and thugs.” He spat.

Sergio clicked his tongue. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? You shouldn’t insult your host.”

“Mamá taught me to stay away from gangs. She told me they would take my life and make it theirs; bend my will and make it their own.” Julio locked eyes with Sergio. “Do you think you can force me to take an oath of loyalty?”

Sergio’s black eyes danced in the glow of the fire. “Perhaps not, but we can make you pay for insulting us.” He pulled a knife from his back pocket and flicked open the blade. “I think
you
need a scar to help us tell you and Puma apart.”

Julio backed away from the blade, but someone pushed him forward. He tried to break through the circle between Esqueleto and Peludo, but they shoved him to the ground. Before he could get back up, Brujo and Chancho had pinned his arms and put a knee in his chest. He kicked and squirmed, but he felt other hands and feet subdue him and pin him to the floor. His eyes searched back and forth for an escape, but all he saw was Sergio circling the group brandishing the knife.

“You should have taken the oath,” said Sergio as he cleaned a dirty fingernail with the tip of the blade. “We watch out for each other. We are like family, a brotherhood of sorts.” Sergio knelt beside Julio’s head and grabbed his hair with his left hand and ran the flat edge of the blade along Julio’s cheek. “We could have protected you from danger.”

Julio took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The blade was cold against his cheek, and he forced himself to stay calm. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him react to the pain.

“I think you need a scar across your forehead. It will remind you to think before you cross
los mALditos
,” said Sergio as he continued to rub the flat of the blade against Julio’s face. “Or perhaps you need a scar on your lip to remind you to control your smart mouth.”

Julio kept his eyes closed and waited for the blade to cut into his skin.

“Maybe he needs a scar over his left eye, like the one he gave me a few years ago,” said Raúl from the stairwell.

Julio opened his eyes and twisted his head as much as Sergio’s grasp would allow. He could see Raúl clearing the stairs and walking toward the group with a hand over his knife wound. Turco was right behind him.

“Leave my brother alone,” continued Raúl. “He might have a smart mouth, but if anyone is going to give him a scar, it’s going to be me.”

Sergio let go of Julio’s hair and stood. “Looks like your brother was telling the truth. Nice eye.” He closed the knife and tucked it into his back pocket. “Did they cut you too?”

Raúl lifted his shirt and exposed a white bandage with spots of blood. “It’s not bad.” He glanced down at Julio. “My doctor tells me I have to lay low for a week. Eh, Julio?”

“You shouldn’t be here now,” answered Julio, still held fast by the gang. “You should be home in bed, but you never listen.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t listen,” scoffed Raúl. “You shouldn’t have come. I can take care of myself.”

“Sure, and that’s why you have a swollen eye and stitches,” mocked Julio.

Raúl looked at Sergio and nodded. Sergio pulled the knife from his back pocket and held it out in the palm of his hand. Raúl took the knife and knelt beside Julio. “And that’s why you are pinned to the floor with my brothers on top of you.”

“I’m your brother!” screamed Julio, squirming in vain to free himself.

Raúl flicked open the knife. “You are my brother by birth. They are my brothers by choice.” Sergio cackled, and several others howled. “I should pay you back for the scar you gave me,” said Raúl. He touched the blade to Julio’s right eyebrow.

Julio was furious inside, but he knew that if he made any sudden moves, it would be worse. He kept his eyes open and glared at Raúl. The steel blade flickered in the dim firelight. The expression on Raúl’s face was one of indifference, like he was about to carve into a piece of wood or cut a string. A gust of wind covered them all with acrid smoke for a moment. Julio clenched his teeth and waited for the cut.

Raúl turned the blade slightly and shaved a chunk out of Julio’s right eyebrow leaving the skin intact. “That should make it easy to tell us apart for a week or so,” said Raúl as he examined his handiwork. “Even you can tell us apart now, eh, Turco?” He grinned and patted Julio on the cheek with a cold hand. “You didn’t really think I was going to cut my own brother, did you?” He threw back his head and laughed.

Raúl closed the knife and tossed it to Sergio. When he stood,
los mALditos
holding Julio on the floor followed suit. Brujo put a hand in Julio’s chest and pushed himself up. Chancho rolled away and then gathered his legs under him before standing. All of them were chuckling and patting Raúl on the back to welcome him home.

When Raúl offered Julio his hand to help him up, Julio swatted it away and stood on his own. He ran a finger over the shaved eyebrow and felt the stubble under his finger. Still wet with filth from his escape route, he shivered. His jaw was tight as thoughts of revenge swirled around in his head. He walked straight to his skateboard and backpack, ignoring Raúl and his
brothers
.

“What? No thanks for saving you from a gash in your forehead?” asked Raúl. Julio just glared at him. Raúl laughed. “Nice eyebrow.”

Julio wanted to tackle his brother and make him pay for what he’d done, but he knew it was the wrong time and place. He slung his backpack over one shoulder and grabbed his skateboard. He pointed a finger at Raúl and growled, “I’ll deal with you when you get home.”

Sergio stepped forward and wagged a finger at Julio. “No, no, no. If anything happens to him”—Sergio flicked open his knife—“we’ll come finish the job we started tonight.” Turco and several other gang members closed ranks behind Sergio.

Julio was furious, but he swallowed his anger and started for the stairs feeling wet, cold, and humiliated. The jeers echoed against the concrete walls of the forgotten factory, and he hung his head in defeat.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Sergio before Julio could start down the stairs. “I think you have some money for us. I think you need to pay up before you go.”

Julio stopped and shook his head. “You said earlier that only Raúl could pay his debt. He’s right there. Get your money from him.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” said Sergio with a shrug. “Pay up.”

Julio thought about making a run for it, but Turco and Brujo were already moving in his direction. He pulled the soccer ball key chain from his pocket and tossed it to Sergio. “There. We’re even, and Raúl is paid up.”

Sergio dangled the soccer ball in front of him. “I’ll determine when we’re even. What’s the password and how much?”

“The password is one even you can remember,” answered Julio. “
Los mALditos
, with the capital A and L just like you always write it, with one hundred and fifty soles.”

Sergio ignored the dig and grinned. “
Los mALditos
with the capital A and L for Alianza Lima. I like it.” Sergio glanced at Raúl. “One hundred and fifty soles is a nice gesture, but the package your brother lost was worth twice that amount.” He pocketed the key chain. “You have two days to come up with rest, or your brother has to earn it some other way. Now get out of our house before we throw you back in hell.”

Julio opened his mouth to protest, but Turco folded his arms and glared. Sergio threw his tattooed arm around Raúl and pulled him toward the fire. “
Hermanos
, our chant leader Raúl ‘el Puma’ is back! Lead us in a chant, Puma.” The circle of
los mALditos
closed around the fire, turning their backs on Julio.

Raúl glanced over his shoulder at Julio and shouted, “
Hermanos! Alianza Lima es el Peru!
” He turned back to the gathering circle and began stomping his foot. “
Olé olé, olé olá, Alianza Lima a ganar. Olé olé, olé olá, Alianza Lima a ganar
.”
Los mALditos
began clapping and stomping their feet in rhythm with Raúl and joined in the chant as they danced around the fire.

Julio shivered and shook his head.
I should have never promised Mamá.
He shuffled down the stairs, hopped on his skateboard, and shivered all the way home.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

El Hospital