Charlie Huston - Half the Blood of Brooklyn

He puts his mouth close to my ear, the heat off his body far more intense than what I felt from the Count, his burning unlimited.

– One day, as many have before, one of us will open the doors of this place and in the bright light of morning, will walk out naked. And not be burned. The Vyrus having consumed entire its vessel and made of it something not earthly. When it happens, when one of us crosses into the Vyrus’ plane, but retains corporeality, that one will guide the others through the same path. And we will be true vessels for the Vyrus. Uncorruptible to the sun, intangible to the weapons of this world, able to project the Vyrus through our physical selves at will. We will bring it to all, the great and the meek. And make the world Enclave, make it Vyrus. As it is meant to be. As it already truly is.

He’s at my side, burning me and crazier than fuck.

I don’t move.

– There’s only a hundred of you.

He steps away, raises his hands.

– Well, we’ll just have to see what we can do.

He turns to go.

– Daniel?

– Mmm?

– The way you know the Count is Enclave?

– Yes?

I watch his back.

– The way you say the Vyrus told you that? Does it tell you other stuff?

His shoulders rise and drop.

– How so?

– If you met someone, could you tell, by looking, could you tell if the Vyrus would kill them? Or, the other thing, infect them? Make them like us.

His head tilts back. I can see the seam of bone where the quarters of his skull meet under the skin.

– Yes. Actually, yes, I can do that.

– If I brought someone here?

He lifts a hand.

– Come back in the morning, Simon. Your friend will be sensible by then. Come in the morning and talk to him. Ask him questions. And anything you’d like me to look at, bring it with you.

He walks into the darkness.

I take a step toward the doorway.

– The morning?

His white shade is fading.

– Just before sunrise. I’ll be going out after that.

I take another step.

– Going out?

A candle flame reflects a last flicker of him.

– I’m done here, Simon. I kept telling you I was failing. Did you think I could hold out forever? Time for me to find out what the Vyrus wants from me. And the sun will show the way.

I step close to the darkness, but I don’t go in there.

Instead I walk east, headed out of the no-man’s-land that surrounds Enclave turf. Turf I’ve always crossed alone, because no one else wants anything to do with it. I think about coming back across it before sunrise.

But not coming alone.

– Joe.

I look up. My foot has just hit the east side of University Place, the edge of Society turf, and Hurley’s waiting for me.

– Hurl.

He moves his toothpick to the corner of his mouth, juts it eastward.

– Terry’s bin callin’ ya.

– I wasn’t home.

– Dat’s what he said.

– Man’s fucking psychic or something.

– Must be, told me ta look fer ya comin’ offa Enclave turf. Me, niver woulda figured anyone ta be over der.

– Yeah. Well. Tell Terry I’ll catch him later, got some things to do.

I move around him and he drops his hand on my shoulder and almost knocks it back out of its socket.

– Said, Terry wants ta see ya.

I look at the hand weighing my shoulder down.

– With all due respect, Hurley, you want to get your hand the fuck off me?

He takes the toothpick from his mouth with his free hand.

– Let’s nae fook aboat, Joe. Yer head o’ security, sure, but Terry’s dah boss, an’ when he calls, ya come to ’im. So, an wit all due respect fer ya an’ yer job an’ all, come da fook wit me er I’m gonna have ta beat ya till ya do.

I lick my lips.

– Sounds important.

He puts the toothpick back in his mouth.

– Fook do I know, I’m just da fookin’ help.

The pie at the Odessa Diner is shit. But I ordered it anyway.

Terry ordered the veggie pirogies.

– Really, Joe, it’s just the kind of thing we have to start getting used to. Whether we like it or not, our world is getting bigger. Trying to stay on our turf won’t change that. And, think about this, if we try to just stay in our space, just kind of cling to what we have from Houston to Fourteenth between the river and Fifth Ave. while the world outside that patch is getting bigger, well, we’ll just be getting smaller the whole time. Think about that, and see if it doesn’t blow your mind.

I pick up my fork, poke the pie, but it doesn’t look any better than it did when the waiter put it in front of me.

I put the fork down.

– However big the world’s gonna get between now and tomorrow night, it’s gonna have to do it without me being involved. I got other things I’m working on, and I am sure as fuck not going to Brooklyn tonight.

Terry cuts a pirogi in half and dips it in applesauce.

– I hear you, man, I hear you. Brooklyn. Wow. I mean, how many years have we been talking about that place like it’s a different world. The undiscovered country. Like only Lewis and Clark would know how to handle a land like that, right? Going to Brooklyn? I must be crazy asking you to do that at a moment’s notice. Something like that, man, we should be planning an expedition with, like, Sherpas and stuff.

He pops the piece of pirogi in his mouth and chews and swallows.

– Problem is, problem is, our debate with the Docks Boss and his people last night, that seems to have caused some ripples.

He pushes the other half of the pirogi through the applesauce and watches me.

I point at his plate.

– Those things are better with sour cream.

He nods.

– I’m trying to stay away from dairy.

I poke my pie again. It’s clearly store bought. The crust flat and shiny, the overhead fluorescents reflecting off it. The filling gelatinous, dotted with three or four clots of apple puree.

He eats the last piece of pirogi and wipes his mouth with a paper napkin.

– So, ripples. Like, the Docks weren’t the first of the Brooklyn Clans to get in touch with us.

– I gathered.

– Right. And now, this other group, well, they seem to have, and I’m not saying I know how this happened, but they seem to have gotten ideas of how we handled our differences with the Docks. And this has made them, I don’t know, leery, I guess. And they want, well, some assurance. Some direct contact with the Society. And they want it soon. Like, and this is where the urgency comes from, they want it tonight. They’re willing to send a representative, but they want us to handle transportation.

I dig my fork into the pie and put it in my mouth. It’s as bad as I thought it would be. I wash it down with thin black coffee.

– So go give them some direct contact. Last time I checked, diplomatic missions weren’t something I specialized in.

He pushes his plate to the side and wraps his fingers around his cup of chamomile tea.

– There’s nothing diplomatic involved. You go, you get their representative, you bring their representative back here, and after the meeting you provide return transit. And hey, you know, I wish I could go. First contact, man. I mean, direct face-to-face contact, I’m not saying it’s Nixon in China or anything, but it’s a pretty major deal.

I look past Terry, out the big front windows of the diner, and watch the Friday-night barhoppers parading up and down Avenue A.

I glance at the clock above the front door. Well past midnight. Way past visiting hours at the hospital. If I call the night nurse she’ll shine me on again, tell me Evie is fine no matter how she is.

The taste of the crap pie and the lousy coffee is still in my mouth.

I look at Terry, blow some air, give with a big helpless shrug.