Mat Johnson - Hunting in Harlem

The sound of a window creaking open was the answer to Snowden's unformed prayer. Go, Ryan Waters, do all of us a favor. When Snowden reached the living room, Ryan Waters was already halfway out onto the fire escape. Escape me. Incompetence was Snowden's plan B, as always. Oh Lester, I'm sorry, but that wascally wabbit was just too much for me. Snowden for the first time in so long felt the muscles below his cheeks contract and realized he was really smiling. In growing glee, Snowden ran toward Ryan Waters to help him out, to make sure he made it down to the ground safely before Lester could see. It was just that Ryan Waters didn't know that.

Ryan Waters saw that the paranoid schizophrenic who'd broken into his home was now running toward him grinning like a maniac, and Ryan Waters got nervous. Ryan Waters ran too. Ryan Waters, on the iced metal landing, just didn't stop. Waters had so much momentum as he slid out and over the railing that for a moment it seemed to Snowden like the man might fly across the street instead of plummet down to it.

The sound that came from Ryan Waters's mouth as he fell was like nothing Snowden had ever heard before. Nor the thud when his body hit the ground, the first time. People bounce, apparently.

Staring down out the open window, Snowden's own screams were interrupted by the shock of seeing Lester on his cell phone at the opposite end of the block, standing by a mailbox as Wendell pissed on it. Lester looked down, then looked up, then gave the thumbs-up before calling Wendell and walking off toward Lenox. Once the sight registered, Snowden spun around to see Waters's doorknob still jiggling. The sound of the tumblers on its lock finally giving was the loudest thing he'd heard all day.

Horus walked in, closed the door behind him.

"Where is he? What was all that yelling? Why the window open? It's freezing out there." Horus pushed past him to get a good look out the window. "Oh hell no, you didn't. See, that ain't no way for a black man to die. I thought you were gonna to hit him in the head with a toilet lid?"

"What are you doing here?" Snowden stepped cautiously backward away from Horus and the open window.

"Why you looking at me that way? Oh let me guess, so you thought you was the only one had some special projects. I get it, you thought it was over, that you'd already won, didn't you? See, I'm here in case they needed a real man to get the job done. Hey, don't think this means I'm like your backup or something. More like quality control. Yeah, 'quality control,' I like that. You better act like you know. Skills like mine gets recognized."

CEDRIC SNOWDEN, IN the closet, in the dark, on the floor, behind the coats, armed with only one lighter, a portable phone on which he kept hitting Redial, and the remains of four different packs of cigarettes. By the time she picked up her phone his battery was giving its death beep and the tobacco smoke was so thick Snowden realized he couldn't stop crying even if he wanted to.

"I don't care what the hell they're offering you, I don't care what you think you're going to get out of this, you got to get out of there now! Why the hell has the phone been busy for six hours!"

"I was on the Internet. Who is this?" Piper knew who it was, but she felt the question was still her prerogative.

"You don't even understand, oh yeah you think you do but you don't know what they have planned. I don't know what they have planned, but I do know you don't need to be there. You don't even like children." The phone battery was beeping faster, Snowden heard it as the desperate rhythm pushing his pleas forward.

"Fuck you, I have a maternal instinct. Look," Piper sighed, "sex is a funny thing, we both know that. The intimacy, it's inherent, even when you'd like it not to be. It creates social discomfort later. I know Horizon is sort of your pissing territory, and I can imagine you'd find my arrival very threatening."

"Piper, listen — "

"Snowden. I'm a big girl."

"Marks is the devil," Snowden said, but it was a parting shot, he'd already remembered she wouldn't listen to him. He couldn't imagine Piper listening to anyone who had something to say she didn't want to hear.

"The congressman is not the devil. The devil makes you sign a contract — I got a handshake deal. I never make my soul part of the negotiations, anyhow"

"Fine. Look, there's actually one more thing." It took Snowden the entire ritual of illuminating his hiding space with his lighter, igniting one more cigarette from the pack with a long dry gasp strong enough to turn two centimeters to ash before daring himself to ask it. "You think, I don't know, that maybe I could swing by? I could really use a hug right now."

"I'd like to say yes, but. . no. That wouldn't really be for the best, don't you agree? That reminds me, have you seen or heard from Robert lately? He doesn't answer his phone no matter when I call."

"Bobby? I don't know what the hell's going on with him. Look, I'm not trying to get into your pants. I mean, honestly that'd be nice, but what I really need — " Snowden caught his tongue, held it down while his thoughts caught up with it. "Hold up. Why the hell are you calling Bobby, anyway?" Snowden demanded, only to spend the rest of the night trying to figure out if his phone had died or if she'd hung up on him.

Two days later, hours into the afternoon, the doorbell rang. Snowden wasn't surprised at all; the phone had been ringing for hours the day before and even that morning, and when you considered the four appointments yesterday and three this morning that Snowden had simply not shown up for, you would assume that someone would eventually come calling. At first Snowden's inaction was out of shock and hysteria, but after a couple of naps his motivation for immobility had evolved into resistance and passive aggression. He just sat, watched the same cartoons Jifar used to. The door buzzer went off, Snowden heard it and realized that had to happen eventually. He just never expected it would be Bobby Finley's voice coming back through the intercom.

"Where you been? And why the hell is Piper trying to get in touch with you?" Snowden asked, hoping the sound of his suspicion would be relayed along the crackling system.

"Don't be a jackass. Lester sent me, he wants you to come back to work now."

"Lester can go to hell." Snowden had pushed the Talk button so hard he'd jammed his finger.

"Don't worry, if there's a hell I'm pretty sure Lester is already going there. Screw work, I'm here to take you to church with me. Get dressed and meet me on the steps of Mt. Zion around the corner."

Snowden was very excited about getting saved. In his lifetime, Snowden had met many saved people and even the ones in prison seemed fairly happy and Snowden was definitely not a happy man right now. Plus, Snowden found he was finally ready to believe in something, something bigger than himself, something huge to hang his load on, and he no longer feared it would crush him because his burdens were doing a pretty good job of that already.

Bobby Finley was standing at the base of the gray steps, nodding politely at the men going inside and helping the older women with a balancing hand between car doors and the entrance even though they didn't look as frail as he did. When Bobby saw Snowden coming, he turned around and started walking inside, pausing in the lobby for Snowden to follow, then heading up to the balcony.

"I think you'd better call in," Bobby whispered on the stairs. "At least tell them you're sick or something. You don't want to get on their bad side." Through a glass door and onto the balcony, the only other person was the organist. She waved, winked. Bobby did the same.

"Cuz, I barely seen you around the office for over a month, so who are you talking to? Trust me, I know how crazy they can be," Snowden snorted his incredulity.