part four

"What the hell do you think you're doing!"

Isaac looked up. Things were bleary...fuzzy. It made him laugh. Things were all fuzzy...it must have been from all the beer he had. That was what had done it. Isaac couldn't believe how many bottles he could chug all in the time period of three hours. Was he even counting? No, he guessed, he most probably stopped at eight. After that, he didn't know if he could count anymore.

Eleven o'clock...it was only eleven o'clock. Why was the party ending, Isaac thought to himself, before his mind answered him, slowly and unclear from the alcohol. The neighbors called. They called the cops. We had to lave. Damn.

Isaac didn't want to leave. Besides, he had paid Jessica ten dollars to come up with a good excuse for the brothers' lateness, and he wasn't going to waste the money like that for nothing. He couldn't go back in, though; the police were sure to stop by any time soon, and all hell would break loose if the Hanson's three oldest came home in a squad car.

Something held him by the shoulders and shook him roughly. His vision cleared, albeit harshly, and Isaac didn't like what he saw in front of him. Taylor. It was Taylor. Taylor was shaking him? Was it Taylor, his little brother, that was now saying something into Isaac's face, spitting ever so often, and shaking him like there was no tomorrow?

"Taylor," Isaac mumbled, not sure if his brother heard him over his own shouting. He pushed the hands away, hands places squarely on his shoulders, hands pushing him against some car, shoving Isaac's body after every syllable the shouts created. Shouting...there was too much shouting. Why did his brother have to shout? Stupid Taylor... "Let go'a me," he slurred, pushing Taylor's hands away again, feeling way too claustrophobic right then, even in the cool night air of downtown Tulsa's outskirts.

The hands were upon him again; no matter how hard he tried to push them off, they just kept returning to his shoulders, shoving harder and harder against his body, never relenting, never stopping for any explanation. This time, they shoved Isaac away from the car; onto the black asphalt parking lot, puddled and wet from the torrential downpour of the night.

"You're not going to, Ike!" He heard Taylor clearly that time. Not going to do what? He couldn't understand; why were they in the rain? He knew they couldn't go back into the house, and all the other cars had long since departed from the scene, escaping the wrath of the oncoming policemen.

Stumbling backward, soon falling, almost in slow motion, or as Isaac felt, he could hear the cling of a familiar object near him. Looking around, he saw what it was: his car keys. Laying beside Isaac's sitting body on the cement, were the familiar keys to his car. His car. The Mustang. Oh, boy, was it a beauty. Isaac had always cherished the car, and treated it better than many members of his family. Given to him on his eighteenth birthday, the '69 cherry red Mustang - Isaac's favorite car color - was his most prized possession, and he had always kept it in perfect condition. And he had always driven it himself.

Isaac, sluggish and disoriented from the alcohol, reached for the keys. He had to get his Mustang home. Wasn't going to let it get too soaked in the rain; he had to get it out of there. Couldn't let the cops confiscate it, either; this was his beauty, and he'd be damned if he let anyone else drive it.

Right before he reached his goal, right before Isaac's fingers touched the metal keys, they disappeared; gone, right before Isaac's eyes. Where did they go? They couldn't just walk away...

"Isaac, what the fuck do you think you're gonna do!" The voice again. It was Taylor. Looking up, Isaac saw his little brother towering over him, a stern look on his face, the coveted car keys in his hand.

Isaac stood up, taking a moment to gain his balance, and tried to grab the keys back from Taylor. "Gotta get our asses home, Tay," he slurred, his eyes transfixed on the keys in his brother's hand. "Gotta get us home..."

Taylor took a step backward, holding the keys behind him for extra measure. "Not in your condition, Ike," he said, never taking his eyes off the drunken heap he thought was his brother. It couldn't be his brother...always-responsible Ike would never let himself go like this; it couldn't be the same brother he knew... "You're not driving anywhere."

"Well who the hell else is going to drive?" he asked, sobering up just a bit. The thought of his car staying in an unknown parking lot for the night wasn't all that appealing to him. Whatever neighborhood they were in, whenever time of the night it would be, that car was bound to be stolen by anyone who wanted it. No, he was bringing that car home that night, and there wasn't anything in hell that was going to stop him... "The cops'll impound the car, and then Mom and Dad'll be so pissed at us. Do you want to come home in a squad car?"

Taylor stuck to his ground. "You're not driving, Ike," he said again, his tone even and simple, so Isaac wouldn't get muddled. God, how many drinks did he have at that party? And it had only been three hours...if they had stayed as long as they expected in the first place, who knows how ripped Isaac could have been. No, there was no way Taylor was going to let him into that driver's seat that night. There was just no way.

"Who the hell else is gong to drive, then?" Isaac asked again, his face turning into a sneer. Some of the alcohol was wearing off, and he could think more consciously now. And all he knew was that he was getting his car out of there any way he could.

"I'm going to drive us home."

Isaac looked at his younger brother then, his face holding the most serious look ever given by him in all of his seventeen years on this Earth, and laughed. "You think you're going to drive my car," he started. "my antique '69 Mustang, in the pouring rain, at night, to get us home?" Isaac laughed in Taylor's face then, making sure he got the point. there was no way Tay was driving his car, no matter what the circumstances. "I want this car home in one piece, Tay, and that means not letting you near the driver's seat. Give me my goddam keys, Tay. Now." He held out his hand, rain falling through the cupped fingers, awaiting Taylor's response.

Taylor stood his ground. "You're not driving tonight, Isaac. You're totally wasted; you can't drive. I'm not letting you drive Zac and I home. That's just not going to happen."

Zac. Zac. Where is Zac, anyway? Isaac thought momentarily, last remembering his not-so baby brother refusing a joint from one of his older friends at the party. But that was two hours ago. Where was he now? He wasn't there in the parking lot; no, Isaac was there alone with Taylor, fighting for the car keys. Where was Zac? Had to be here somewhere, Isaac wasn't just going to leave his brother in a strange neighborhood, with no way to get home and no way of knowing if he would be okay. His parents would kill him if he did that.

"You? You're going to drive home instead of me." Isaac smiled. This was hilarious. He was a better driver than Taylor on any day of the week, no matter what the circumstances. "You think you're a better driver than me? That you could get us home safer? Taylor, that's a laugh." He laughed in his brothers face, one loud, gigantic cackle, to prove his point. "You can't drive better than Zoe. They don't call you 'Telephone-Pole Tay' for nothing, you know. Now give me the keys!"

"I think I'm a better driver than you would be right now, Ike."

"You think too much, Tay." Isaac walked over to the car, feet stumbling slightly, startled by the sudden order to move. Walking to the driver's side door, he opened it, and stepped inside. Sitting down upon the brown leather upholstery, his legs gave out a creak of relief; sitting was going to me undeniably good for his tired joints. He looked back at Taylor, whose eyes started to grow larger and bulged the minute Isaac stepped into the driver's seat. "Now let me drive, Tay."

"Get out of the car, Ike!" Taylor yelled, clutching tighter to the set of keys in his hand. He couldn't let him drive, he just couldn't deal with the guilt if Isaac were to do something stupid and Taylor knew he could have stopped it. And God, what if Zac would get hurt... "I don't give a fuck about you, and I don't really care about me right now, but I'll be damned if I let you drive Zac home like this." Taylor wasn't going to be responsible for Isaac's actions. He wasn't going to let him go anywhere near those keys. It was up to him to stop this, and the Lord help him, he was going to stop this.

Isaac looked at Taylor again, not believing of the words coming out of his little brother's mouth. "You're telling me to get out of my own car?" he asked. "You've got to know your place, boy. There isn't any way in hell I'm getting out of this seat, and there's no way you're gonna stop me from driving this car home. Now give me the fucking keys!"

"I said, get out of the car!" Taylor was practically screaming the words to his older brother, though he was less than ten feet away. The rain started coming down in torrents around them, the large drops falling against the windshield of the car, rattling against the hood. Rushing over to the car, Taylor confronted Isaac and, with one swift movement of arms and hands, grabbed Isaac by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of the car by force. If Isaac wasn't going to get out of the car voluntarily, he was going to get out forcively.

Isaac, momentarily startled by the act of violence on his little brother's part, looked up at him, at the moment sobered and unclear of his brother's intent, his eyes filled with uncertainty and worry. Then, almost as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and the only emotion left in Isaac's eyes was anger. He had thrown him out of his car. His own car. How dare he throw him out of his own car. Oh, now this boy was going to get it.

With all the strength he had, Isaac stood up and rammed hid brother against the car's hood. Though Taylor was taller, more built and considerably stronger than his older brother, Isaac's newfound strength from the alcohol he had ingested throughout the duration of the party fueled his rage intensely. Seething, he threw his fist at Taylor, colliding squarely with his jaw. Taylor looked up at Isaac, this raging lunatic who used to be his sensible and composed older brother, the brother that he looked up to, the brother he always wished to be like, the brother who would die to protect him and his family, and braced himself for his brother's fist.

Isaac never stopped the barrage of punched and welts towards his brother's face. Fueled by rage and alcohol, the attack continued, Isaac's anger never diminishing, until the torrential rain pouring down upon them rained down red with its pristine droplets, Taylor's blood melding with the gasoline puddles upon the asphalt ground. He never knew how far it was going to go. Isaac kept throwing punches, unrelenting, never stopping for care of the brother he loved, never noticing that his punching bag had lost consciousness long before the majority of the attack.

"What the hell? Isaac, get off of him!"

A familiar voice cut through Isaac's consciousness, and he ceased the torrent of blows to his brother. Zac, he thought. It was Zac. Finally, the little man decides to show up.

Zac, rushing over to the site of a horrible dispute gone wrong, simply looked at Isaac, then at Taylor, finally resting his gaze back at Isaac, pure fear and horror embedded into his chocolate stare. "Isaac," he whispered, as Isaac picked up Taylor's unconscious yet breathing body and almost threw him into the passenger seat of the Mustang. "What the fuck did you do?"

Isaac wiped the blood of his brother off of his right fist, feeling slightly disgusted with the burst of anger on his part. But it was justified. Taylor threw him out of his own car. He deserved every blow he got. Glancing at Zac, he replied, "He wouldn't let me drive." Changing the subject, Isaac threw a thumb at the car. "Get in the car," he told Zac. "We're going."

Zac shook his head, still disbelieving of the scene he had just witnessed. "No, Ike," he said, backing up slightly. "You can't drive. You're drunk. Something's gonna happen -"

"How the hell do you know that!" Isaac retorted, sneering at his baby brother. Zac backed up even more because of the sudden outburst from the young man who had just beat his brother into unconsciousness.

"I...I don't know, Ike. I can just feel it...something's gonna happen if you drive home tonight, something really bad, I just know it." Zac's voice wavered slightly, his hands slightly raised in a sign of surrender towards Isaac. He was scared; scared of his own brother, for what had just happened. Isaac had never been this wasted before, and Zac didn't know what was going to happen next. Oh, God, it could be him next...

"Well, who the hell else is gonna drive, if it's not me?" he directed the question to Zac, the same question he had asked Taylor less than fifteen minutes before. "We can't stay here, we can't go anywhere else, so we might as well just get in the fucking car and go home." He started walking towards the car again, stooping to pick up the slightly rusted and now bloody keys Taylor had dropped during Isaac's attack. Returning to his seat on the driver's side of the Mustang, he waved to Zac to get into the car as well. "Get in the fucking car, Zac," he said, placing the keys into the ignition.

"Ike, I -"

Isaac stopped what he was doing, and turned to look at Zac, a look so cold and hard that it could have frozen the rain falling around them. Zac stopped his words cold, terrified by his brother's stare. "Get. In. The fucking. Car." Isaac spoke slowly and evenly, to prove his point to Zac. "You want to end up like Tay, too?"

"N...no."

Isaac smiled. He fired up the car, his smile brightening as he heard the roar of the engine over the noise of the downpour. "Good," he said, unlocking the back door. "Then get in."