Andrew Vachss - Blossom

He walked a few feet away, back to me. I let him have his silence, waiting.

Sherwood turned to face me. "You're crazy. Crazy as he is. If this boy's the one you want, he's certifiable. Got him a Get Out of Jail Free card behind his past record. Hell, he was on medication right up to the time he cut loose and disappeared."

"I'm not crazy. I'm waiting for a car. Special car. You'll see. It should be able to handle anything he can throw."

"And what's my piece?"

"You got to be in position before dark. Nice and early. I'll park right where the Lincoln is right now. You can work anywhere from the left."

He scanned the terrain. "I was in 'Nam," he said. Absently, under his breath. "Infantry. It looks like that. I could deploy a dozen men in there. Spotlights, the whole works."

I moved close to him, my voice pitched low. "It has to be a deal, Sherwood. A square deal, both sides. You work from the left , okay? Nothing to the right of that point…see, where the tracks make that kind of peak?"

"Who's gonna be on the right?"

"Someone for me. I'm not gonna testify in court, okay? This works, he throws down on me, opens up, I'm out of here. Turn the key and go. Just make sure you fire across, not down."

"What else?"

"Just your own people. You post this on the bulletin board, Officer Revis takes a look, I could have trouble. The way this is, you and your team, you're staking out the place. On a hunch. You be as surprised as anyone else, a car pulls in."

"You want me to risk my badge?"

"Up to you. All I want, you either stay out of here or come in the way I said. Either way."

"When you gonna start?"

"I'll let you know."

153

AT VIRGIL'S HOUSE that night.

"What've you got that you're sure of?"

He brought down an old lever-action .30-30 carbine, the stock burnished with generations of hand-rubbed oil. "This Winchester was my daddy's. He taught me to use it. Before this all started, I was teaching Lloyd. We was going deer hunting, this winter, him and me."

"There's no paper on this?"

"No. I got me an old thirty-ought-six too. The one I was gonna have Lloyd use."

I lit a smoke.

"You started up again?"

I ignored him. "Lloyd, you sure you want to do this? This isn't some bar fight now."

"Yessir."

"'Cause of all the trouble this guy caused you?"

The boy's fists were clenched, voice vibrating, working for control. "Not him. The other one. The one who…"

"I know," I told him.

154

BLOSSOM WAS IN the kitchen with Rebecca, Virginia monopolizing conversation, Junior sitting quiet.

I thought about all Virgil had. Watching him polish the cut-down barrels of a twelve-gauge with emery paper.

"You could walk away from this," I told him.

"Why didn't you?"

I didn't answer him.

Wesley knew.

"He knows I'm coming," I told my brother.

The mountain man jacked a shell into the chamber of his carbine. It made a sharp, clean sound in the living room. His face was set in lines of bone.

"The bear can't leave the woods just 'cause he knows it's hunting season."

155

LATE THAT NIGHT, in bed.

"Do you know why they do it?"

"They?"

"Perverts, freaks, degenerates…whatever you want to call them." Her face was soft, little-girl questions in her eyes. But I felt the long muscles tense in her thigh, testing. Pushing the buttons, watching the screen.

"What'd your mother call them?" Testing back.

"If they liked to play dress-up, harmless stuff like that…she called them customers. Clients. Somebody wanted to really whale on a woman, really hurt her, he'd know better than to come to my mother's house."

I lit a smoke, buying time. "One way you can tell a country's gone real evil…when the doctors are working the torture chambers. Telling the sadists how much a prisoner can take before he checks out completely. You know what a snuff film is?"

"I heard of them. Just rumors."

"They're no rumors. And they didn't start a couple of years ago. A guy I met in Africa told me the Shah of Iran had video cameras in his torture chambers. Idi Amin too. Why do you think Hitler's freaks kept the cameras rolling? There's always been people who get off on pain. Other people's pain. And people who like to watch."

"Everybody has that in them?"

"No. Hell, no. But some do. And we keep breeding them. Monsters."

"Not criminals?"

"Past criminals. I'm a criminal, Blossom. My buddy Pablo, he's a doctor too. A psychiatrist. I asked him once, what I was. He said I'm a contrabandista . An outlaw, you understand?"

She sat up, hands clasping her knees. "Not like them. And not like us either, huh?"

I thought of Virgil, his family. Who's "us" anymore?

"Right on the borderline," I told her.

156

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, on my way to Virgil's, the car phone made its noise.

"What?"

"Place your bets, I'm on the set."

"Prof?"

"No, fool, it's Jesse Jackson."

"Is the thing ready?"

"Have no fear, your ride is here."

"Here?"

"Time to jump, chump. Boston Street, northbound from Thirty-ninth. Cruise it slow, lights down low. When the honeybees swarm, you found the farm. Ask for Cherry."

157

VIRGIL SAT NEXT to me in the Lincoln, Lloyd in the back seat. "He's really here?"

"Must be. Said to take Boston Street, northbound from Thirty-ninth."

"Boston Street? There's no Boston Street anywhere around here."

"He said to see a hooker. Cherry."

"He's holed up in Cal City maybe?"

"On the stroll, Virgil. A street girl. Where'd they be, close by?"

"Off Broadway, I guess." He dragged on his cigarette, thinking. "Ah, he has to mean Massachusetts Street. Over in Glen Park. Make a left up there."

The sun didn't reach all the way to street level on Massachusetts. Three-story frame houses leaned against each other for comfort. A slow-moving line of cars worked its way up the block. I drifted over to the curb. A flock of girls descended: spandex pants, tube tops, high heels. Working.

I pushed the power window switch, letting them know I was the man to talk to. Ebony woman with long straight hair, lipstick slashed carelessly across her mouth, leaned into the car, unbound breasts slopping against the windowsill. Up close, the hair was a wig.

"I don't do triples, honey. Your friends want to wait their turn, or I can ask a couple of my girlfriends along? Whatever you say, anyway you want to do it."

"I'm looking for Cherry. Wasn't that her that just went by? Girl in a red leather coat?"

"Yeah, catch Cherry wearing somethin' that'd cover her ass. Fat chance, get it?" She blew smoke airily at the night ceiling. "Cherry? Cherry ain't nothin', man. Whatever you heard 'bout her, you can double up for me."

They all sing the same sad song.

"How much is the ride?" I asked her.

"How far you want to drive, honey? Around the world?" And they all use the same lyrics.

"Short time," I said, looking for the quickest way in.

"Twenty-five."

"Bring Cherry to the car, I'll give you twenty."

"I don't see no cash."

"I don't see no Cherry."

They came back together. Cherry was shorter, stockier. Her wig was blonde.

"Hi, honey! You lookin' for me?"

"If you're Cherry."

"That's me, baby. You heard about me, huh?"

"I'm looking for a friend. Your friend. He'd of told you I was coming."

"Oh yeah. He's right…"

"Tell me his name."

"You mean the Prophet, don't ya? Yeah! An ugly white man would come to set me free…Wow! Just like he said."

I handed the other girl a pair of tens. She moved into the line of whores working the other cars. Cherry got into the back seat. Virgil took one whiff, pushed his own window down. Lloyd sat across from her, watching like he'd seen E.T. up close.