Goodnight, Spaceboy

In the night chill of a bitter December, two boys fled through the narrow back alleys of New York City, the taller one carrying a duffel bag in one hand and tugging the smaller boy along behind with the other. They tore through the eternal detritus of the city between dark brick walls forever stained with ancient graffiti, their ragged shoes splashing up water as they ran across puddles from the previous night’s rain.

“They’re over here!” a voice called from behind them.

“No, no, no,” said the older boy between exhausted breaths.

They skidded around a corner into the next alley, the darkness swallowing them whole. “My feet hurt, Riley,” said the younger boy.

Riley stopped abruptly, the younger boy slamming into his side. “In here,” he said, lifting the lid to a dumpster and tossing the duffel bag inside. “Quick!” He put a hand out and the younger boy stepped on it and pulled himself up and over the wall of the dumpster. Riley followed, his foot slipping on some grease before tumbling inside onto piles of full garbage bags and shutting the lid.

“It smells real bad in here, Riley.”

“Shh, keep quiet.”

“What are we keeping quiet for, Riley?”

“I said shh!”

Footsteps approached from outside the dumpster, the soles of their shoes slapping against the wet pavement. “Where the hell did they go?” a voice said. “Little punks are probably back on the street by now. We’ll find ‘em. Come on,” said another voice, their footsteps disappearing into the distance.

“Can we go now? It smells real, real bad in here.”

“Not yet. Let’s just wait a while. Do you have your notebook with you?”

The younger boy produced a small black notebook from his jacket pocket.

“Good. You can make some drawings while we wait. Here’s your flashlight,” said Riley, handing it to the younger boy.

Riley unclipped his own from his belt loop, clicked it on and unzipped the duffel bag. Stacks of cash spilled out, each marked with one thousand dollar bands. “Oh my god. There’s like $20,000 in here,” he said, running his hand through the bag. “We can finally leave this rat hole.”

“Look what I drawed, Riley,” said the younger boy, holding up his notebook containing a crude sketch of a stick man floating in space with stars dotted around him.

“Drew, Spaceboy. Not drawed. Do you remember how old you are? Can’t be talking like a little kid anymore.”

Spaceboy held up nine fingers and grinned.

“Almost. One more. You just had a birthday, remember?”

Spaceboy extended his thumb and started clapping.

“That’s right,” said Riley, smiling. “But keep quiet.”

“Do you like my drawing, Riley?”

“Of course I do. I always like your drawings. What else you got?”

Spaceboy smiled and flipped the notebook back to the first page; on it was a similar drawing to the last: a boy floating in space with a bubble for a helmet, a big wavy smile across his face and surrounding him were the stars Riley had taught him how to draw. “This one is me.” He flipped the page and again it was almost identical, but the person had long hair. “This one is Mommy.” He paused a moment looking at the sketch and Riley was sure he was going to cry, and wasn’t entirely sure he could hold back his own tears. For Spaceboy, heaven was a place in outer space, and Riley very much liked that idea. He put a hand over the page and looked at him.

“Now that we have money, we can get you proper markers instead of that ratty old pen. You can make it look like real space. What do you think?”

Spaceboy broke into a smile again. “Yeah!”

Pointing his flashlight up towards the black dumpster lid, Riley looked at the specks of debris glued there, some dripping down onto the bags in the winter condensation. “Look, Spaceboy. Stars.”

Spaceboy looked up and smiled. “Wow! Are they real, Riley?”

“Not quite. But it’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Real pretty.”

Riley piled the cash back into the duffel and zipped it back up. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He peered through a small gap between the dumpster and lid, and when he was sure the alley was empty, he lifted it and leapt out, helping Spaceboy down after him. He was nearly to the street when he looked back to see Spaceboy was still by the dumpster, looking up to the empty black sheet spread out beyond the ethereal glow of the city lights - the starless New York City sky. “Do you think we’ll ever see real stars, Riley?”

“Yeah,” said Riley, smiling. “Yeah, I think we will. Stick with me. Space men don’t ever leave each other, right?”

“Never.”

They came out of the alley on E 90th and sprinted south towards 86th, the accusing yellow eyes of the street lights burning their dark skin.

“I’m tired, Riley,” said Spaceboy.

“I know, I know. I am too. Not much further.”

They arrived at 86th and Lexington out of breath and dripping with sweat, even in the cool December air.

“Hey! I found them!” a voice called out from behind.

“No, no!” said Riley. He gripped his brother’s hand and they continued towards the subway station stairs.

“Get the hell back here!”

Riley looked back at the shadowy figure chasing them through the evening gloom, a gun in one hand aimed towards them.

“Spaceboy, get in front of me!” Riley pulled Spaceboy in front of him and pushed at his back as they weaved between cars.

A gunshot rang out - thunderous in the streets. It pinged against the metal subway station railing. Both boys ducked and kept running, tearing down the stairs and nearly slipping on the slick pavement at the bottom. Green pillars whooshed by like concrete trees as they ran. Another shot came from behind them as they leapt over the turnstile, reverberating against the graffiti-covered station walls and piercing their eardrums. Spaceboy covered one of his ears with his free hand. “It’s loud, Riley!”

The rumble of a subway train shook the ground as it screeched to a halt next to them, its doors opening with the sound of clanging metal. “Get in!” Riley shouted and shoved Spaceboy inside. Another bullet shattered the window next to them, the raining glass glistening silver under the humming fluorescents like spilled mercury. “Go, dammit, go!” The door shut and the train hissed back to life. The boys heard their pursuer yelling something, his voice trailing off into the distance as the train barrelled onwards through the tunnel.

Riley threw the duffel bag onto one of the seats and slumped down next to it. He felt a sharp pain and a cool wetness tugging at his t-shirt as his back touched the metal. Tentatively, he peeled the fabric off his tender skin and brushed his fingers over the wound, wincing. “Aw, no.”

“You okay, Riley?” said Spaceboy, scribbling away in his black notebook.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

They got off at 116th in East Harlem and hailed the first taxi they saw. It pulled up to the street corner and Riley guided Spaceboy inside before stepping in himself, wincing and holding his back as he squeezed in next to him. Sweat coated his forehead and dripped down from his nose onto the duffle bag. The cabbie looked at him from the rearview mirror. “You alright there, kid?”

“Do you have a map?”

The cabbie dug through his glove compartment and handed Riley a folded, coffee-stained map. Scanning it with his finger, he left a trail of red up north to the Bronx - looking for anything green and far. “We need to go to Woodlawn Cemetery.”

“I ain’t goin’ that far, kid. My day’s almost up.”

Riley unzipped the duffel bag and handed the man one of the stacks.

He looked back at Riley, shrugged and put the car in gear. “Alright, boys. Buckle up.”

Riley watched through the window as the street lights drifted by in a ghostly haze, his vision clouded by sweat. Spaceboy’s eyes were still firmly fixed on whatever he was drawing in his notebook.

“Hey, you got any markers?” Riley asked the cabbie.

“I got a couple Sharpies. That good enough?”

“Yeah, give them to me.”

The cabbie passed him the markers.

“Here, Spaceboy. These should help,” he said, handing them over.

Spaceboy looked at his big brother and smiled before popping off the lid to his new Sharpie.

The night became darker the further they got from the city, as did Riley’s vision. He struggled to keep his eyes open as the low hum of the engine nearly lulled him to sleep. Can’t sleep, can’t sleep. He counted the gradually slowing beats of his heart to keep himself awake until finally, the car came to a stop. “End of the line, boys.”

Riley stumbled out with the duffle bag and looked back at the stain he’d left on the seat. Spaceboy still scribbled away even as he stepped out of the car. They came out before a gate and Riley tossed the duffle bag over it with some strain. He boosted Spaceboy over first before attempting it himself. His stomach lurched as he kicked his leg over and fell to the pavement on the other side. Drool dripped from his jaw and his back burned in protest.

“Are you okay, Riley?”

Riley picked himself up and swung an arm over Spaceboy’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah.”

They walked over rolling green hills decorated with grey gravestones of varying shapes and sizes - angels and tombs and plain small ones. To Spaceboy, it looked like they were in one of those old black and white horror films he despised so much. Spaceboy held Riley up as they went. His breathing had become shallow and hoarse. “Up that hill. We can stop there.”

Riley tumbled from his brother’s arms in between gravestones as they reached the top of the treeless hill. Spaceboy sat next to him and opened his notebook to the page he was working on. Riley rolled onto his back and looked up into the sky. “Hey, Spaceboy. Look up,” he said and coughed. Spaceboy did. Snowflakes drifted down from the still night sky like thousands of white-hot meteors tumbling through space. “Stars.” Spaceboy wiped his face as they fell to his skin in tiny droplets, some falling onto his drawing.

“Are they real, Spaceboy? I’m not dreaming?”

Spaceboy hesitated and looked down at his big brother; his eyes were half open and snow rained down onto his clammy face. “They’re real, Riley.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I knew we could see them from here.”

“I drew you a picture, Riley. It got kinda messed up though.”

Spaceboy handed his notebook to Riley who took it with trembling hands. The page was almost completely black, save for the two figures clad in space suits floating in the middle; one with long hair and the other with none. It reeked of Sharpie. Wet marks dotted the paper, leaving small splotches of grey in the black ink like dim stars. “It’s you and Mommy.”

Riley looked at it a long while before tearing out the page and slipping it into the pocket of his tattered jeans. “I’m gonna take it with me and show the other spacemen.”

“Where are you going, Riley?”

Riley pointed up to the starless sky. “Up there. To space.”

“But spacemen never leave each other, remember?”

“Well, sometimes they just go to other planets, right?”

Spaceboy wiped his eyes. “I guess so.”

Riley handed him back the notebook and took his brother’s hand. Smiling, he closed his eyes. His breathing had become even more shallow, but the ache in his back was little more than a faint echo of pain now. Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he saw stars. “Goodnight, Spaceboy.”