Building the Lost Boys

Dwayne (Gasoline)

He hated it. Hated it so much!

House is haunted
I just wanna go for a ride
Out and on before I set this room alight

Dwayne flew down the gravel road towards nowhere, anger pushing him as much as his feet pushed along his skateboard. He couldn't see though the fury, his vision teary as the wind whipped his hair into his eyes.

Left alone forever and for crimes unclear
With my patience gone
Someone take me far from here

He couldn't take his dad's abuse any more. It was just too much. It was bad enough seeing him sit around day after day, drunk, but when the name calling and yelling started, it was all Dwayne could do not to punch him.

It had never been like this before Mom died.

Clearly more than I can bear
Drag me off
Before I set my world on fire

He stopped short, the gravel spraying out under his wheels. This was farther then he'd ever run before, into the woods by the railroad tracks. Crap, he thought. It was getting dark fast and he was out here without a flashlight.

Picking up his skateboard, he headed back in the direction of the house. He really didn't want to, but he also didn't want to be alone out in the woods. They didn't call Santa Carla the 'Murder Capital of the World' for nothing.

As it grew darker still, Dwayne realized he'd gotten lost at some point on the road. Weary, he pushed his way through an overgrown tangle of bushes and came upon an old railroad bridge over a crevasse. He didn't hear water running; peering over the edge, he couldn't see below, the canyon filled with fog.

No what for's, only a can
Of red, says danger on it

Dwayne sat on the edge of a tie, his legs dangling out over nothing. What would it be like to jump, to fall, to crash on whatever lie below? To find darkness, the end, eternal blackness? It sure would piss off his old man. Dwayne chucked the last of his cigarette, watching it disappear into nothing.

"Nice evening, isn't it."

Dwayne whipped around, catching his balance before falling off the tie. "Who's there?"

A guy, who looked to be around his age, was standing about five feet from him. He was almost like a ghostly apparition. All Dwayne could see was his face and hair, which were both funeral lily white. He looked as though a giant black coat had swallowed the rest of him. "I'm David. Call me curious, but what are you doing out here? Not many people come here, especially at this time of night."

"Nuthin', really." Dwayne turned back to face the emptiness below him. He could hear the other guy's boots on the ties, walking closer.

"I'm David."

"Dwayne Gonzales. You new to Santa Carla?"

"You might say that."

"Thought so, 'cause I haven't seen you around before."

"Nope."

Dwayne lit another cigarette. What was this weirdo guy doing around here? Did he hang out on this bridge like some kind of troll? Was he one of those sicko, mass murdering types?

"Ever read Peter Pan, Dwayne?"

Dwayne cocked a brow. Okay... maybe David was just high on something. "Um, my mom might have read it to me, a long time ago. Wasn't it a cartoon movie?"

"Probably. Disney exploits everything." David lit his own cigarette and sat down beside Dwayne, his huge black boots dangling over the side of the tracks. Dwayne noticed the silver spurs buckled onto David's boots and raised a brow. "More importantly, do you remember the Lost Boys that Peter hung out with?"

Dwayne shook his head. He really should get up and leave before this weirdo said anything crazier...

"Well, they were boys who made the pact that they never wanted to grow up, never wanted to play by anyone's rules but their own. They held all the cards, you could say."

"So?"

David smiled. It was creepy, with the way his face glowed so pale in the moonlight. "You want to play by your own rules, Dwayne? I know you hate your father. You hate how he treats you."

Dwayne choked and coughed. "How the hell did you know!"

Out and gone
The sun will never set tonight

"In time, Dwayne. Come with me. Become a Lost Boy..."