Charlie Huston - Every Last Drop

I lost one of the enforcers' guns in English Kill, but the other rests in my pocket. I touch it.

Its good to have a gun again.

— What the hell are you thinking?

I make for the bar. -I'm thinking I need a drink.

Sela follows me.

— We go to all that trouble to get you out with no one seeing you, and you just come to the goddamn front door and start banging on it? You think Predo

suddenly got tired of keeping an eye on us over the last few hours? You think he wont want to know how you got out and where you went?

I pour a drink in a glass then pour it down my throat. -It doesn't matter.

Amanda is still behind her desk, still holding the sheets of paper that were in her hand when I came through the door. -You haven't been gone very long, Joe.

I pick up the bottle again, start to pour it in the glass, realize what a waste of time that is, and pour it in me instead. -Thought you'd be happy. Thought you said there was a big hurry.

She sets the paper down. -Well yeah, we're in a hurry. But I mean.

She gives a big shrug. -That was really fast.

I look at the bourbon still in the bottle. Even if I drink it all at once, it's not enough to get me drunk, not with the Vyrus cleaning my blood. -Fuck. -Something the matter?

I take a drink. -More than the usual? Not that I know of.

She flicks the edge of a paper.

— I don't want to rush you or anything, Joe, but I am kind of totally busy. I mean, if you have anything?

I look at the rug. Swirling mandalas. Rust background. Gold and white. Curls of thumb-thick purple.

I take another drink. -You're right, Sela.

She clears her throat. -Excuse me?

I wave the bottle. -I fucked up coming in the front way. But.

I take another drink.

— Maybe Predo did pull off. That's what I was thinking. Maybe he wants to give me room in here. He told me he would. -And?

— Be good to know for sure if I'm wrong about that. Someone should take a look. See if his peepers are out there. Not seeing them wont prove anything, but if they're visible, be good to know for certain that they spotted me coming in.

She doesn't move. -What are you playing? — Go take a look, Sela.

Sela looks at Amanda. -What?

Amanda stands.

— Joes right, go take a look, see whatever. -Bullshit — Sela. -This is bullshit. What the hell are you playing at?

Amanda comes around the desk and crosses to her lover. -Baby, I'm not playing at all.

She points at the door.

— I'm saying go downstairs and take a look outside.

Sela's mouth tightens.

— Little girl, if you want to be finished with me, this is the fast track to getting there.

Amanda raises herself on her toes and kisses Sela's lower lip. -Big girl, I'm never gonna be finished with you.

She lowers herself. -I just think you should go take a look.

Sela looks at me, looks daggers. Looks sabers and spears. -She trusts you, Pitt. I know better.

I wave the bottle. -So you re a well-educated lady, go take a look like you re told.

She makes for me.

Amanda gets in her way. -Baby, he's working your nerves. He's totally trying to get under your skin.

Sela grits her teeth. -I know. He's doing a good job of it.

Amanda's fingers tangle with Sela's. -Except you're way better than that.

Sela pulls her fingers free. -No. No, I'm not.

She goes to the door.

I raise the bottle. -Sela.

She doesn't stop. -What? — Make it a long look around.

She doesn't bother to reply. She also doesn't bother to come back across the room and kill me. Watching her slam out the door, I can't help but think I got off easy on that one.

I lift the bottle high, empty it in my mouth, and steel scrapes a nerve under my arm and I drop it, spilling the last of the bourbon.

Amanda comes over and picks up the bottle. -Something bothering you, Joe?

I stick my left hand inside my jacket and poke around in my right armpit. -I got a scalpel blade stuck in here that needs digging out.

Amanda nods, goes through a door on the other side of the bar, snagging a bottle of scotch as she goes.

— Come on then. I know this isn't your usual flavor, but it should get you through, toughguy.

She pushes the door open on a bathroom.

— And while I'm cutting, you can tell me what you saw that you don't think Sela can handle.

Sitting on the edge of the tub in the bathroom behind the bar, my hand held behind my head so the girl can dig into my armpit with a long pair of tweezers, after cutting the wound back open with my straight razor, I take slugs from the bottle of scotch. Not that it does anything for the pain, but it helps to wash out the taste of creek water still in my mouth. -OK, OK, don't move.

I grit my teeth. -I'm not moving. -So don't breathe, OK? I cant get a grip on it cause it's slippery as hell.

I stop breathing.

She bites the tip of her tongue and yanks and pulls the scalpel blade free, along with a nice bit of my flesh. -Wow. That is nasty, Joe.

I crane my neck to get a look under my arm. -Could have cut a little cleaner.

She drops the blade and the tweezers in the sink, passes me a washcloth. -Put that under your arm.

I put it under my arm, take another drink.

Amanda stands at the basin, looking at the blood on the thin rubber gloves she took from a first-aid kit and rolled onto her hands before slicing me open. -Cord blood.

I drink some more.

She peels the gloves off.

I point at her bare hands. -Be careful.

She frowns.

— It's dead, Joe. I mean, how many times do you have to be told? The Vyrus dies outside its host. It's a pussy bug.

She runs water over the bloody steel in the sink.

— The umbilicals you saw in that cooler. The Coalition must want the cord blood.

I watch the blood swirl, turn pink in the water, and run down the drain.

She stares at her reflection in the mirror over the sink.

— Amazing stuff, cord blood. Very rich in stem cells. Not like bone marrow rich, but really useful stuff. I mean, as soon as you start thinking about the Vyrus, really thinking about it and what it does, right away you have to start thinking about white blood cells. I mean, blood cells in general, because you know it cant have too much to do with plasma. And you don't think too much about platelets, either. I mean, sure, you can get caught up in them if you want to study clotting factors and stuff.

She turns and takes the cloth from under my arm.

The bleeding has stopped, the wound sealed. -But that's not the essence of the Vyrus.

She squeezes the cloth, and my blood drips into the sink.

— The essence is that it consumes. It attacks. So it makes sense, I mean, this is so obvious, but it makes sense that it goes after white blood cells. Not just to attack them before they attack it, but to invade them. Make them do what it wants them to do. I mean, the T cell counts in infected blood is off the chart, especially cytotoxic Ts. Memory T cells, also out of whack. But suppressor Ts, like, barely there. Which means the cytotoxic Ts, the ones that fight invaders, should be going berserk and fighting the whole body. Killing everything. But they don't.

She drops the towel.

— Cause the memory T count is so high. They keep the cytotoxics from getting out of hand. They, right, they remind them what to attack and what not to attack.

She looks at me in the mirror.

— Until you haven't fed. Then the memory Ts start to die. Poor little cytotoxic Ts don't know what to do. They go totally crazy.

She runs water over her hands, washing away the blood from the towel. -But they all start as little baby stem cells. They all start the same. Nothing but potential.

She turns off the water.

— Like the babies you saw in that nursery.