Charlie Huston: Half the Blood of Brooklyn

– Or was that a mistake? ’Cause you’d rather no one know you were supplying him?

He blinks.

I don’t.

– Where do you get all that blood, man? Where do you guys get all that fucking blood?

He touches the knot of his tie.

– Don’t overreach, Pitt.

He slides into the car.

– Good night.

The door closes and the engine starts and the lights come on.

I rumble the bike up alongside the driver’s window and knock on it.

The giant tightens his lips and rolls it down.

I shake my head.- Deveroix? You made that up, right? Come on, you can tell me. I mean, Joe’s not my real name.

He squints.

– You’re on the outside now, pissant.

He makes two fists and places them end to end and twists them apart like he’s ripping something in half.

– Watch your back.

– Yeah, yeah.

I pull the revolver and empty it in the giant’s face.

I look at the shadow in the backseat.

– That was a freebie.

I toss the gun in the limo and ride up Slip to Pearl and north.

A guy like that, it doesn’t pay to have him around when you’re out in the cold. Besides, not like I didn’t tell him I was gonna do it.

A couple miles away I park the bike and unscrew the cap from the gas tank and slip the hose inside and suck on the other end until the gas flows. I fill the empty beer bottle and raise the end of the hose and the rest of the gas runs back into the tank. I toss the hose aside and screw the cap into place and walk over to a dumpster and find a rag and stuff one end into the neck of the bottle.

Back on the bike, I ride around the corner and stop in the middle of the block and straddle it. I look up and measure the distance as I remember it and light the rag and heave the Molotov in a high arc up over the Enclave warehouse, and above the sound of the Commando, I hear shattering glass.

Fire.

It will do little.

But I want him to know.

That I’m alive. That’s it’s not over.

And that I’ll be coming back for her.

Thirty minutes later I’m crossing the Broadway Bridge at the northern tip of Manhattan. Onto original turf. Unhallowed ground. Home.

The Island is done with me. Closed its doors and cast me out.

That’s just fine. I wasn’t born there. Only made.

And soon enough the city will be burning.

And I’ll be going into the flames.

To get my girl.

Dreaming of fire and love and an enemy’s blood, I ride into the Bronx.

CHARLIE HUSTON is the author of The Shotgun Rule; the Henry Thompson trilogy, which includes the Edgar Award-nominated Six Bad Things; and The Joe Pitt casebooks. He is also the writer of the recently relaunched Moon Knight comic book. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife, the actress Virginia Louise Smith. Visit him online.