Russell Hoban - Linger Awhile

‘What was all that about?’ I said.

‘Obviously they want to match up some DNA sample they’ve got,’ said Fallok, looking at Justine, ‘and you can be sure they’ll be back again. In any case, we’re fucked. It’ll take Hunter about ten minutes to establish that Justine is technically and officially a non-person and that’s when the shit hits the fan.’

‘I’ll be damned if I’ll go to jail,’ said Justine. ‘I didn’t ask to be here. I didn’t even ask to be . I think I was better off dead.’

I was wondering if she mightn’t be right about that. ‘What did she mean before about half a pint?’ I asked Fallok. ‘Half a pint of what?’

‘Hello?’ said Fallok. ‘The blood is the life?’

‘What,’ I said, ‘she’s a vampire?’

‘No racist remarks, please,’ said Fallok.

‘I don’t want any blood from him,’ said Justine. ‘Besides which he’s got none to spare.’

‘You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me,’ I said.

‘That makes you Number One on my shit list,’ she said.

‘Let’s not squabble among ourselves,’ said Lim. ‘Right now we need to find a safe house for Justine.’

‘Any ideas?’ said Fallok.

‘Rosalie Chun’s got a big house,’ said Lim, ‘and there’s nothing to connect her to Justine.’

‘Sounds good,’ said Fallok. ‘Better get her out of here before Hunter pops in again.’

‘That OK with you, Justine?’ said Lim.

‘That’s the first time anybody’s asked my opinion about anything,’ she said. ‘Let’s haul ass, Chaunce.’

10 January 2004. Being alive after being dead for forty-seven years is weird to begin with, and it gets weirder from one minute to the next. I didn’t know when I was born or when I died but Chauncey looked me up on the Internet Movie Database and found that I was born in 1932 in Amarillo and I died in 1957 on location in Arizona when I was thrown by a horse. I don’t remember that. I was married to an oilman named William Connors and I don’t remember that either. He’s probably dead by now or as good as.

When we left Hermes Soundways Chauncey took me to a place called Topshop in Oxford Circus. This was on a Saturday afternoon and Oxford Circus was full of traffic and big red buses and people and noise. Topshop was noisier inside than it was outside. The music was so loud you couldn’t think and the store was full of wild-looking girls. Chauncey bought me jeans and sweatshirts, underwear and pyjamas and sheepskin boots and a lilac duffel coat with lime-green lining and toggles. And a pair of leopard-print sunglasses because the sunlight hurt my eyes. ‘A little bit of retail therapy is always good for what ails you,’ he said. ‘How’re you feeling?’

‘I’m feeling pretty good,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I’ll need topping up today.’

‘Good,’ said Chauncey, ‘but we’ve got the transfusion kit just in case.’

We took the Underground to Golders Green and it was a very long ride. There were more different kinds of people than I could remember ever seeing before: black, brown, yellow, white, and all different shades of those colours. Some of them looked at me and I wondered if they could smell what I was.

When we came out of the Underground we walked to Elijah’s Lucky Dragon. It was closed for the Jewish Sabbath but Rosalie Chun was still there and she came to the door when Chauncey knocked. A big woman in one of those Chinese dresses that’s slit up to the thigh. A nice face and she must have been pretty when she weighed fifty pounds less if she ever did. ‘What’s up, Chaunce?’ she said.

‘I’ve got an emergency here, Rosalie,’ said Chauncey. ‘Can you help us?’

‘Yes,’ said Rosalie. ‘What’s your name, emergency?’

‘Justine,’ I said.

‘Come on in and set right down and make yourself at home,’ said Rosalie, and I did feel at home right away.

Chauncey explained the situation to her and he said to Rosalie, ‘Do you think there’s any chance of weaning her on to regular food?’

‘You came to the right place,’ said Rosalie. ‘Give me about half an hour in the kitchen and let’s see what I can do. Don’t you worry, love,’ she said to me. ‘I’ll see you right.’

After a while she put a bowl of broth and a plate of dumplings in front of me. ‘This is Golem broth,’ she said. ‘The spoon can stand up in it which is about right. And these on the plate are gosky patties Ba’al Shem Tov.’

‘Gosky patties are from Edward Lear,’ said Chauncey.

‘His recipe is nonsense,’ said Rosalie. ‘Mine has been in my family for generations and it’s the real thing.’

‘What about your North Chinese cuisine?’ said Chauncey.

‘There’s a time for multicultural,’ said Rosalie, ‘and there’s a time for going with 4,000 years of your own people.’ To me she said, ‘Eat, and be strong.’

I ate and I did feel better. My momma didn’t raise no vampires. I don’t know how long this second life will last but however long it does I won’t forget Rose Harland. I hope I don’t do any more killing.

Rosalie and her husband have an apartment over the restaurant and there’s a whole other apartment above that one. She and Lester Chun keep it for business visitors but it’s empty now and that’s where I am, thanks to Chauncey. The bed is big and soft, the sheets smell like fresh air and sunlight, there’s a big comforter that they call a doovay, and the whole place is warm and cosy. From my window I can see the Kim Chee restaurant and Supersave across from us and people in the windows above them. They can all remember where they were two weeks ago. Two weeks ago there wasn’t any me, I was dead and long gone.

I know I’m not real the way real people are, I’m not alive in the same way. But I am alive in some kind of way. I think about Rose Harland a lot. I wish I hadn’t taken her life. Now I feel like she’s part of me. Maybe I have to stay alive for both of us.

I’ve been slipping around like a regular little whore. First I let Istvan crawl on top of me and then there were those two men whose names I don’t even know, then Istvan again, then Chauncey but that wasn’t the same thing because he was very polite and I kind of liked him. But those others, Jesus. There’s not going to be any more of that, things are going to be different from now on. Well, like the feller says, ‘I ain’t got to where I’m going but I’m past where I been.’

I get mixed up between what’s a real memory and what’s not. I told the inspector that I was born in Tornillo but then Chauncey told me it was Amarillo. Sometimes I thought it was Tishomingo, Oklahoma. We come out of there in a old Ford truck with everything piled up on it and tied down — mattresses and pots and pans, picks and shovels and Grandma’s rocking chair. Or was that in some movie that I seen. Saw. My land, listen at how I’m talking. Sweet Jesus, help me get straight. Just a closer walk with thee, Lord, let it be.

Sometimes Rosalie and Lester have business meetings in their apartment and then they put a parrot in this one. Flat, I have to stop saying apartment. In this flat. The parrot’s name is Elijah. He’s a very smart bird. When he saw me he said, ‘Phwoarr. Chauncey won the totty lottery.’ I thought totty was some kind of drink but Chauncey said that totty is a woman you go to bed with. Live and learn.

12 January 2004. Interesting report from Harrison Burke: ‘Cause of Rose Harland’s death we know: all of her blood was sucked out of her body, probably by whoever made the wound in her neck. There were traces of blood and saliva on her throat and the collar of her jacket. The blood was her own; the saliva was not. DNA testing of the saliva cells on throat and jacket on 9 January showed a match with the sample taken from Istvan Fallok 10 January at Hermes Soundways. The 10 January sample taken from Justine Trimble matches that of Chauncey Lim on the same date. The sample from Irving Goodman on 10 January does not match anyone else’s.