Know what that looks like, buddy? Looks like nothin’. Looks like what nothin’ looks like. Watched one of them things squirm out of it.
Closer.
– And then I stopped looking. ’Cause I didn’t want to see anymore.
Closer, whispering.
– Know what they say? Say about them? What Daniel said they are, buddy? Know what they are?
He licks his lips.
– They’re what happens. They’re what happens when the Vyrus is done with us.
He points at himself.
– They’re what’s gonna happen to me.
He points at me.
– And they’re what’s gonna happen to you, buddy.
He leans his mouth close to my ear.
– They’re what we become.
He puts a hand on my shoulder.
– So you never know, buddy, we both may get to see Daniel again.
He leans away and looks me in the eye.
– Boo!
I jump.
He laughs.
– Sorry, sorry, buddy, it’s the prankster in me. I may be a true believer now, but I still got discipline problems.
I crack a knuckle.
– Yeah. I can see that.
He stops laughing.
– Buddy, they call it a sense of humor. Look into it.
– Sure, as soon as you show me how I get the hell out of this place.
He points up.
– There. Up the ladder, buddy.
I rake the light up the wall and see the rungs bolted into the concrete, leading to a trap.
– It’s an alley up there. Might be a couple garbage cans on top of the trap, but no lock. That work for you?
I shine the light back at the floor.
– Yeah, that’ll work.
He reaches out and takes the flash and switches it off and we’re in darkness again.
– Well, up you go, then.
I climb.
At the top I put my shoulder against the trap and heave and some cans crash to the ground and it swings open and flickering Manhattan night light fills the narrow sky above the alley.
– Buddy, hey, buddy.
I look down into the black tunnel.
– Yeah?
– You sure about that, goin’ up there, you sure? ’Cause think about it, what’s gonna happen sooner or later?
– What’s gonna happen?
– Buddy, what’s gonna happen is that sooner or later they’re gonna find us out. Shit, buddy, they may already know about us. Seems kind of far-fetched to think they don’t, huh? And when they’re ready, when they got things set up for us exactly how they want, they’re gonna hunt us all down. Right, buddy, that sound about right? Sure it does. My religious zeal aside, I got no illusions. Why do you think I stay down here? Up there, what you got? Think. It’s not even natural. Trying to live a life that isn’t yours anymore, right? That’s all it is, buddy. Down here, I’m safe as houses. No one hunting me down here. I hit a bum for some blood, no one cares. No one calls the cops. Buddy, down here, I’m the top of the food chain. Down here, I can last forever. If I want to. Think about it. Down here is where you belong. It’s where we all belong, buddy.
I look up at the sky.
– I’m not saying you’re wrong. But I got someone up here.
– Huh. Well, that’s different, then.
I look back down into the hole.
– What’s your name, old man?
– Joseph. Yours?
I blink.
– Simon.
I hear his feet padding away.
– Be seeing you, Simon.
I climb out into the alley and close the trap.
I make for home, my stink clearing the sidewalk ahead of me.
I make for home.
Where I have blood and guns.
I want them so bad, I want blood in my gut and a gun in my hand so bad that I don’t even see Lydia’s bulls coming for me. Just the tattoo across the biggest one’s knuckles before her fist lands in my face.
FURY.
– I try, Joe. I try harder than most to take your smartass bullshit and not lose my cool. I try to understand that something made you the way you are, but there are limits to my compassion and my patience.
Lydia points at a chair and her bulls drop me in it.
– You push and you push and you push. You do just enough to make me think you might have an ounce of decency, and then you fuck it all up.
She leads the other women to the kitchen door and ushers them out. She closes the door behind them and turns to face me.
– What I really can’t stand is that you insist on engaging in behavior that forces me into taking actions that aren’t part of my nature. I end up doing the kind of things Tom would have done. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Unhealthy. That’s how. I hate it. But let me tell you.
She crosses the room.
– Shooting me was the fucking limit!
She’s spent a day getting straight. Drinking from some crazy stash of cage-free, no-hormone-injected, organic blood that she keeps around so her sensibilities won’t be offended. She took too much hurt in Brooklyn and from my gun to be a hundred percent. But she’s close enough. The fist she plants in my gut tears something in there. Something that hurts a lot. Her next punch might just put a hole in my stomach and go right out my back.
Fortunately Hurley comes in and pulls her off me.
Hey, I’m a lucky guy.
She jerks free of him.
– Don’t, Hurley, don’t ever touch me.
He rubs a hand over his whiskers.
– Sure, Lydia, don’t mean nuttin’ by it, I know I ain’t yer type a feller an’ all. Just dat Terry asked I should see ya don’t kill him none. An’ looked fer a moment dat der might be some danger of ya gettin’ carried away some.
From the floor I look up at her.
– Hey, Lydia.
She looks at me.
– What?
