– I don't mean the other guy named Hurley that's out there with you.
– Ya gotta mouth, Joe.
– Yeah, forgive me, I'm a little tense.
– Yeah, s'tuff, ain't it?
– Uh-huh. So what's the longest?
– Almost two weeks once.
– No shit.
– Yep.
– What happened?
– Shouldn't oughta be talkin' wit' ya, Joe.
– Jesus, Hurl, what the fuck can it hurt? Oh, God!
Return of the mongoose.
– Ya OK, Joe?
– No.
– OK.
– So two weeks, huh?
– Yeah.
– What happened?
He doesn't say anything. I press my face close to one of the cracks at the edge of the door.
– C'mon, man, I'm just trying to take my mind off the cramps.
His chair scrapes as he shifts.
– OK. Dis wuz way back. Sure ya wanta hear dis?
– Yeah, yeah.
– OK. Way back. I wuz workin' fer some bootleggers. Way back. Stuff would come in onna water, onta Long Island. I did da muscle, rode shotgun like.
– Some things don't change.
– Well ya gotta talent ya gotta stick wid it.
– Sure.
– Anyhows, no big ting, da boats is runnin' up onna shore an da guys is takin' da booze off an' we get hit.
– Another outfit?
– Naw. Law.
– Same thing.
– No lie. Specially dese coppers. Dese wuz da ones we had paid off so's we could work da beach. Decided dey'd sooner handle distribution demselves like. Did'nae even give a warnin', jus opened up. Tommy guns. Ya been shot much, Joe?
– Once or twice.
– Hurts, doan it? Kee-rist! Got me good. Riddled up me legs and me belly. Fellas got me inna car an blasted us out. Foockin' cops had a roadblock a mile up. Got us good. Blew da rig right off da road. I went out da winshield, so I missed it when dey trew a grenade inna winda. Blew dose guys ta hell. Too bad, good guys.
– What about you?
– Me? Flew twenny yards when da car crashed. Landed inna culvert next ta one a dem steel drainpipes. Used me arms ta drag meself inta it. Den, just passed out like. Time I came to, cops wuz all gone.
– Then what?
– Lied dere, Joe. Legs wuz blown ta bits. Could'nae even crawl anymore. Just lied dere and lied dere. Holes healed up quick, like dey does. But me insides wuz a mess and da bones wuz all splinered. Shite takes a little longer.
– Sure.
– So's I'm lyin' dere fer some time. A week I'm lyin' dere. Lost all dat blood, bones heelin' slow. Vyrus gettin' bad on me. Prayin like, dat da sun don't get reflected down inta dat pipe.
– Rough.
– No lie, Joe, I taught I'd bought it. Kept gettin' worse an worse. Me gut an den me head an den me skin. Fore it wuz over, every-tin' hurt. Friggin' hair hurt.
So I got that to look forward to.
– 'Bout da middle of da second week, it just stopped.
– The pain?
– Everytin'. Could'nae feel nuttin'. Taught,
– How so?
– Cuz suddenlike, I wuz feelin' everytin'.
Mongoose attack.
– Sorry, missed that last bit.
– Sure, I heard ya in dere. I wuz sayin' how I tink dat ting happened, how dey talk about dat place when da Vyrus is just about down an out. Cuz all a sudden, I was fine, better'n fine. Boy wuz I hungry, dough. Jus' hopped up an walked over ta da road. First car I flagged stopped fer me. Way I looked, musta tought dered bin a accident. Guess der had been at dat. Anyhows, family in dat car never got ta ask any questions. Whew! Never fed like dat 'fore or since, Joe. It wuz sumpin'.
– Enclave talk about that place. Daniel says they all live there.
– Yeah, dat's what Terry said when I got back an told im da story.
– Terry was around?
– Sure, we go back.
– Terry goes that far back? I thought-
– OK, dat's enough story time. Ya shut up in dere now, Joe. Ya got better tings ta worry 'bout den dat ol' histry.
And he shuts up. Fine with me, I got something new to think about. Me, I always thought Terry went back to the sixties, right about the time the Society was formed. Far as I know, that's what everyone thinks.
The mongoose comes back and I stop thinking.
– Hey, Pitt.
Time has passed. Unpleasantly.
I come out of my latest swoon and a bright light hits my face. I squint up into it and something far more substantial than light hits my face.
– Lydia went to one of her queer meetings.
I lift my head off the floor and he knocks it back down.
– And Hurley slipped out to check the message drop, see if the runners have brought any word from Terry.
I leave my head on the floor, so he kicks it this time.
– Guess who got left with guard duty?
He's at it for awhile, kicking and punching. He knows that kind of pain will only go so far with the shape I'm in. But that doesn't seem to keep him from enjoying it.
– You're looking pretty bad, Pitt. Know what's looking worse? Your future.
He kicks me again. I groan. He nods appreciatively.
– That's right, looking pretty fucking bleak. Even bleaker than it was a couple hours ago. Know why?
One of my molars has been knocked loose and hangs by a flap of skin. I bring my cuffed hands to my face, yank the tooth free and flick it on the floor.
– Didn't know you were a fortune-teller, Tom.
He laughs.
– Man, I can't wait, I can't fucking wait for it to all come down on your head. When that tough-guy shit finally cracks I just know you're gonna turn out to be the biggest fucking crybaby I've ever seen.
– You reading my future or what?
– We found the kid.
