Jeff Jacobson - Sleep Tight

The corridor was crowded. City employees, young couples searching for the County Clerk for marriage licenses, a few listless protesters, and self important politicians who tried to look busy while casting glances around to see if anybody recognized them, clogged the metal detectors. She ignored everyone except the two cops and stepped up to the desk, surreptitiously depositing the bag on the floor, between her feet and desk.

“Afternoon, Qween,” the older one said.

She clasped her hands and smiled. Without the cloak, the horns, and the All Stars, she might have been a kindly old lady on her way home from church. “Good afternoon”—she squinted—“Officer Nabor.”

“What can we help you with today, Qween?”

“Well, sir, I’ll tell you. You folks know me. You know I been here a long time. Seen lots a things. I’m telling you right now, there’s some bad things going on.”

“Bad things, Qween? Like last time, maybe the time before? When you were yelling about the city?”

Qween frowned. “I be lett—I was letting off some steam then.” She found her smile. “Punks be stealing from me, moving into my spot. Fuck— messing with me. I was down here trying to get the city to do something different then.”

Officer Nabor knew this. Today he understood Qween Dorothy was trying very, very hard to be polite. “Okay. So what’s different today?”

“Rats are dying, Officer Nabor.”

The young cop snorted.

“And this is a problem . . . how again?” Officer Nabor said.

Qween tried to be patient. “Have you seen the river? I counted fourteen dead rats in it. Last week I saw over twenty-five in one day.”

“Okay.” It was almost a question.

“When’s the last time you saw that many dead rats? Where you been? Ain’t you seen the subways?”

“We drive to work,” the young cop said. “Free parking.”

“You need to go down there. See for yourselves what’s happening.”

Officer Nabor leaned on the desk. “I’m sorry, Qween, but I’m just not following you. Dead rats. So what?”

She stared at him for a moment. “If you ain’t never seen this many dead rats before, why you suppose they be dying now? What you suppose is going on under this city?”

Officer Nabor shrugged.

“It’s like a warning. A sign. I dunno, gotta be some scientific name for it.”

“You mean like a portent?”

She considered this. “Maybe,” she said slowly. It was hard to tell if he was mocking her or not. If she couldn’t get them to understand that something was dead wrong, she wasn’t sure how to convince them. The suspicion was creeping back. She’d come in here, trying to get the Man to listen. She should have known better. She realized she was being stupid. Must have been drunker than she thought earlier in the morning. The peace was beginning to wear off. Without thinking, she touched the side of her cloak, just enough to brush the bottle inside her down vest, just enough to double-check it was still there.

Both officers saw the change in her face. It was like watching the side of an iceberg slough off. It started in almost slow motion, then caught speed, until gravity took over completely. The kindly old woman on her way home from church was gone. Qween Dorothy’s street face was back with a vengeance. She tried to smile again, and the effect was chilling. This time the young cop touched his canister of pepper spray much the same way Qween had reassured herself.

“If you two dumbass dog dicks ain’t smart enough to see that I be trying to help y’all, that ain’t my problem. I got me a meeting with the mayor.” She wrapped the cord that tied the bag shut around her wrist and moved briskly for the elevators.

The cops were in front of her in a heartbeat. Officer Nabor had his hands up, palms out, still trying to resolve things amicably.

“Now, Qween, let’s not take this too far,” Officer Nabor said. “The mayor’s a very busy man, and I don’t think they’re gonna fit you into his schedule. I’m sorry, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Well, I know what to tell you . You get the fuck outta my way.”

“We can’t do that, Qween. You know that.” He moved to take her by the arm. “Let me help you back outside, get you on your way.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch me.” She jerked her arm back, dragging the bag with it.

“What’s in the bag, Qween?” Officer Nabor asked. “Please tell me you don’t have a rat in there. You can’t bring that in here. Rats carry disease.”

“No shit, you dumbass cracker.”

The younger cop pulled the pepper spray loose, anxious to try it out.

By now, the confrontation had attracted a crowd. Behind Officer Nabor and his young partner, Qween could see more cops coming out of the elevator, no doubt sent by whoever was keeping an eye on the cameras. They were never going to listen. She hadn’t really believed that she would have gotten in to see the mayor, but she had hoped that someone would have at least written her complaint down.

Well, if they weren’t going to listen, then she was going to have to get their attention another way. She pulled the cord free in one smooth motion, and dumped the rat on the floor.

The young cop didn’t hesitate. He brought up the pepper spray, and blasted Qween in the face. She stumbled back, and the cop stayed with her, arm extended, spray canister still inches from her face.

At her feet, the rat was still alive. It blinked and shuddered, confused in the sudden light. Officer Nabor jumped back, exhaling harshly. “Whoa, whoa there.” The rat took off, scurrying into the shadows under the benches that lined the walls. Everyone screamed and scattered.

The young guard took his eyes off Qween for a half second to watch the rat get away, and Qween whipped her left arm over the cop’s, trapping it in the long cloak. She drew back her right fist, fingers tight over the shopping-cart wheels, and clocked him square on the jaw. He tried to pull away, but she still had her cloak wrapped around his extended arm. She hit him again. His knees buckled.

Officer Nabor turned from the rat and tried to separate the old woman from his partner. By now, the rest of the cops had reached them, and together, they pulled Qween off the young cop.

Three men wrestled her to the floor. As she lay panting under their weight, she turned her head, feeling the cool marble against her cheek, and saw the rat, down at the far end of the hall, scuttle down the escalator and vanish.

CHAPTER 21

2:19 PM

August 11

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Commander Arturo Mendoza slumped back in his chair and clasped his hands across his chest. “Please tell me you aren’t this goddamn stupid.”

Sam shrugged and sat down across the desk. “We’re not this goddamn stupid.”

Ed took the other chair.

Commander Mendoza didn’t appreciate the attempt to keep the meeting easy and quick. The bags under his eyes made it look he was peering out at them with a mixture of pity and resignation behind a mask that allowed no mercy. The rest of his face was frozen in permanent sour taste, as if he’d bitten into a rib and found that the bone had gone soft with rot. Only his narrow eyes showed any emotion.

The few photos and plaques on the wall in Mendoza’s office felt obligatory. Mendoza, in varying ages, with three different mayors. There were no family photographs. Only Mendoza getting awards, and frames around grim images of nature, the ghostly line of birch trees in fog, water dripping from a bright red leaf, the knuckled bones of roots that crept across the dirt in arteries and veins that split off like the circulatory system of a mammal.