No Dominion

– Uh-uh.

He leans forward.

– That don’t sound right. Before, you was all, uh-huh, like in the affirmative. That there, that sounded like, uh-uh, like in the negative. That what I heard?

– Uh-huh.

A sharp line draws itself between his eyebrows.

– You best start findin’ some extra fuckin’ syllables to ’splain yo-self, muthafucka.

– No.

He makes a move.

I bring up the machine pistol.

– Digga, we’re not in your barbershop. We’re not in The Jake. We’re not at Percy’s. You don’t have a gun in your hand. And I do. Sit back and relax.

He sits back, but he doesn’t relax.

– You wanted proof. You got it. In abundance. You want to take jerkoff here and cut him to ribbons, be my guest. You’re planning a big unveiling, gonna show up Papa Doc in public, put him in his place? My blessings. Me, I’m going home. All I need from you is you call off the dogs and get me my passage.

He looks out the window, shakes his head.

– Call off the dogs. Get me my passage. You take a look outside? You see the time of day? Call off the dogs? Muthafucka, they ain’t my dogs. Peeps out there spottin’ for you, sittin’ behind shaded glass with an eye on the street, they all Papa’s. A passage? Where to? Gonna go home now? Want me to arrange a passage for yo ass ’cross Coalition turf? That what you want? Shit. That takes time. ’Specially seein’ how Predo all on the warpath for yo ass. What you think been happenin’ all night an’ all that time you been up on that hill. Phone been ringin’ off the damn hook. Check this shit out.

He pulls out his phone, flips it open and scrolls to the incoming calls screen.

– Look at this shit.

I look.

PREDO

PREDO

PREDO

– The fat is in the fire. The man knows you crossed his yard. Says you went runnin’ through his flower bed, trampled some prize shit. Says one of his gardeners went MIA, last seen heading in this direction. Has an APB out. Here. There. Everywhere. An’ now you tell me you just laid a smackdown on that crazy witch up on the hill? You know who that grandma is? That is one of the truly last of the old-old skool. She an original piece of work. Word from the X, she the one used ta wipe Predo’s ass when he was little. Now, things X told me, things you just shared, sounds like they had something of a fallin’ out, but that doan mean he gonna be pleased ’bout you makin’ a mess up there. You want to go home? Muthafucka, there ain’t no home for you. Not now. Terry Bird gonna want nothin’ to do with yo ass down there. Not till this shit gets sorted fully out.

He leans back, runs a finger over his moustache.

– You come with me. Kick it up at Percy’s place. Nobody gonna mess in Percy’s shit. Not Papa. All the shit in the world can rain from the sky, not a drop gonna land on Percy’s roof. That’s truth. Kick up there for a few days. I need it, maybe you bear a little witness to some of the shit been going on. Predo gonna kick and scream, but when I drop the knowledge on him, he’s gonna have to back down. Gonna give up some shit. An’ I tell him so, he gonna lay off yo ass. Once that happen, yo boy Bird gonna welcome you back with open arms. Hail the conquering hero an’ all that shit. All you gotta do? Sit tight. Give this shit some air to breathe. It all gonna sort out just fine. Cool?

He puts out his hand.

I don’t take it.

– Yeah. Trouble is. I got a date tonight.

He raises his eyebrows.

– Got a date.

I shrug.

He keeps his hand out.

– Know, Pitt, that shit ain’t funny. Man’s here in front of you offerin’ his hand, offerin’ a way out of some shit you in, offerin’ to pull you up out of it, an’ you makin’ jokes. Best thing you can do here, stop bein’ a fuckin’ comedian an’ take what’s bein’ put yo way. Kiss this shit off twice, it doan come back around.

I look at his hand. I think about the sun and all the hours of daylight between right now and sunset. I think about those couple pints I drank before I came up here and the one left at home and the punishment I’ve been taking. I run my tongue around the inside of my mouth, feel the last traces of the cuts Vandewater’s boys put in there when they tried to make me eat that poker chip. I look at the man who sent me up that hill, the hand he’s holding out to me. I think about pulling the trigger on the machine pistol in my hand and watching the bullets disintegrate his face.

He sees my eyes.

Not a stupid man, he sees I don’t like him. He takes his hand back.

– Have it yo own damn way, Pitt.

I put the gun down.

– That’s kind of the point.

I pull Shades’ ski mask over my face. I slip on his gloves and his shades.

– That the A stop across the street?

Digga watches me.

– Yeah. Got the train fare?

– Got that grand you bet for me on your weak-ass dog?

He fishes his hand in his pocket and comes out with a roll.

– Here’s the G.

I take the money.

He thinks about something, licks his thumb and peels off another thin sheaf of bills.

– Here’s another G. For yo trouble.

I take it.

He puts his roll away.

– Kind of throwin’ good money after bad on my part. Seein’ as how you ain’t gonna live ta see nightfall. But you did yo part. Guess you deserve to least hold it for awhile, ’til whoever takes you down pulls it off yo corpse. That train takin’ yo ass nowhere, Pitt. Only place they can watch with the sun up is the hole. ’Tween here an 14th, gonna be nothin’ but hell to pay.

I open the door.

– Got no choice. My girl, she hates to be stood up.

I get out of the car and walk into the daylight.

It’s the direct UVs that get you. Uncovered skin gets hit by the direct rays of the sun, you cook like that boy got cooked in Vandewater’s apartment. Keep covered, stay in the shade, get lucky, and you can get by. You’ll burn alright; you’ll burn, and the more you burn the more you’ll push the limits of the Vyrus. But stay covered and you can get by. I am far too well protected by my covering for the sun to do any permanent damage here. I would have to walk in the direct rays, unshaded, for blocks before the UVs could do serious damage through all these layers.

And yet.

One step out of the garage, walking in the sun-protected lee of the mall, I feel it. Its pressure and heat. Like a Russian bath, a Russian bath that causes cancer. I feel the heat straight through the mask and gloves and every other stitch of clothing on my body. Sweat erupts across my scalp and rolls down my sides. My mouth goes dry and I feel a hot flash that ripples out from my gut, rolling through my organs and my blood. The Vyrus writhes