I wanted to climb up there - take a guard’s throat in one hand, turning to the people - sunlight coming down over my shoulders; the upturned faces - all teeth and hunger and exhaustion.
I wanted take the weight in my shoulder, bend my legs and throw him out - hanging in the air for a few seconds, the crowd moves apart, his chest slaps against the cement. And the people would pour over his body. One last cry for help. And I would feel…
Jesus.
I needed some help.
I needed a friend.
I stretched my neck and looked over the crowd.
The Slave-trader’s burner idled at the far end of the column.
I was lost in some sort of violent daydream - pushing my way through the crowd.
Somebody grabbed me by the elbow. Thin fingers digging into my bicep.
I spun around - fumbling with the tyre iron, throwing up my left hand into a weak defensive position.
“Relax!”
I was immediately ashamed of what the expression on my face must have been. I lowered my hands and smiled. My skin crawled.
“Boss-Lady!” I didn’t know how to play it.
I played it straight.
“You scared the christ out of me.”
She pulled me through the wall of people and over to the wheel of the burner.
The guard straightened up but she waved him away.
“What’re you doing down here?”
If she’d seen my surprise she wasn’t letting it on. A class act.
I straightened up and gestured to the slaver.
“I’m here to rent a friend. You know… classic modern society”
I did my best self-deprecating shrug.
She smiled and put her arm around my shoulders.
Her teeth were caramel-brown and easily the brightest teeth I’d seen in years.
Her left eye had been burnt away by tar but her right eye was wide and clear and piercing. The pupil would expand and contract as she spoke.
She was a few inches taller than me, her arms were thin and hard like wood.
She steered me toward the slaver.
I looked across at the crowd and was happy that I wasn’t just another empty voice.
I straightened up, shook my head and slipped a blue from my pocket and into my mouth.
I bit my cheek until the saliva bubbled against the pill.
“Okay, okay. I’ve got my head in the game now.”
She smiled but didn’t respond.
The slaver looked me up and down and their face said everything in the most insulting way possible.
The arm across my shoulders and the zipguns pointed at my chest barely suppressed my desire to feed him the tyre iron.
Boss-Lady took her arm away and patted me on the back.
“When you’re done, come around to the water. I need you tonight”
I bit down on the blue.
“Okay”
The slaver was short and wrapped in a massive coat. He seemed to spread out to an unreal size. I wanted to touch his arm to see if there was anything there, but it didn’t seem like we had reached that level yet.
I cleared my throat and straightened my jacket.
“What can you give me for this?”
I held out the jar of shine.
He looked down at it and up at me. He didn’t respond.
I looked up at the burner. I counted six ferals sitting on the tray, legs dangling off the side.
The were talking among themselves, occasionally laughing, punching the other in the thigh.
They seemed, at this precise, humid moment - much happier than I was.
I started again.
“I need somebody for a few days. Three at most. To…”
To do what?
“To run errands.”
The Slaver snatched the jar of shine from my hand and stuffed it in his coat. For a moment he didn’t move. I wasn’t sure if I’d been had. I evaluated the likelihood of my caving in his skull and escaping through the crowd.
It didn’t look great.
I picked the last fragments of blue from my molars and stared back at him.
He pointed backward without looking. A feral jumped from the tray and landed behind him.
“You, go with him. Two days only”.
The feral said nothing and looked at me.
The slaver turned and walked to the front of the burner.
It looked like I had my friend.
He was the youngest person I’d seen in over a decade.
The youngest person I’d seen since the curtain fell.
He was maybe a foot shorter than me, his arms and legs were bowed but strong, his stomach was distended and thick veins crawled over his body.
He wore no shirt or shoes but had a pair of thick pants that looked warm.
A fine picture of near-Old World normality; but for the color of his skin. Baby-pink tinted with grey or blue. Dyed by tar from the inside out.
“What’s your name, kid?”
I led him around to the water.
“Whatever you want it to be.”
I stopped and looked back at him. He looked right into my eyes and his face didn’t flinch.
I laughed.
“Nice. I like that.”
We cut across the back of the burner and came out facing the water.
The spray was thick and oily.
Boss-Lady was by the front tyre - standing with a group of slaves. Four or five of them. Well-fed and well-groomed, in the most relative sense of the words.
“Stay here, I’ll be back in a bit”
He didn’t say anything, just turned to look at the water.
It seemed like a strong foundation for a friendship.
I walked along the water.
Boss-Lady turned to me but didn’t smile. Her expression was serious. She took me by the wrist and her fingers ground against my bones.
“What are you going to do with him?”
She spoke firmly and without emotion.
I wiped the surprise from my face. I wasn’t sure how to answer.
She continued.
“Are you going to treat him well? You didn’t buy his life, remember. Just his time. A life sells for more than a jar of shine.”
I smiled and put my hand over hers.
“I’m going to treat him like a friend.”
I thought for a second and rephrased.
“I’m going to treat him like a person that I know you would like to be treated well.”
She narrowed her eyes and searched my face.
“Okay.”
She let go of my wrist and I rubbed it with exaggerated concern.
I straightened up and tried to lift the tone.
“You wanted to talk about tonight?”
Her face softened, her shoulders relaxed.
“Tonight. The burners are going to be here overnight - which means my house will be busier than usual.”
I cleared my throat and put on my best business face. We were about to make a deal.
She continued, “I need you to come over and do a little supplementary security. Just… sit around, talk to the family. If any guest breaks the rules - drag them outside and make an example of them.”
She stopped and reconsidered.
“Make a modest example of them. I know that’s your kind of thing.”
She waited for my response. Lips tight. Face blank. All business.
I’d do it for free. I think we both knew that.
“Okay. That sounds fine. And for my fee, you will answer a few questions for me.”
I swear she was surprised. A vague tic. A fluctuation in her eyebrows.
“Fine. Ask away.”
For a grim second I wished I was young and fertile and potent and the curtain hadn’t fallen.
But I wasn’t, and it had.
“I saw the Doctor today. And I got my face smashed up by a massive freak with a ponytail. He told me there was a guy running around calling himself Jesus. Are yo
u aware of all this?”
She nodded and I pressed onward.
“Give me the high level summary.”
I leaned up against the wheel of the burner.
She cracked her knuckles. The skin on her hands looked thin. I could see the network of blue veins running down her arms and over her fists.
"They came in with my sister a few weeks ago. She'd been living down with the river people for a long time."
I nodded.
"I've seen her around. They call her Insect."
She shook her head.
"She calls herself Insect. I guess these people liked the work she was doing down there and somehow convinced her to join them. I haven't seen her this excited for a long time. She's convinced they're going to bring back the old world. You've heard the words they're throwing around. Law. Justice. Peace."
"And what do you think about it?"
"I think her motivations come from a good place. But it's a new world. Things don't work that way anymore."
"And how do they feel about what you do?"
She laughed. That was the crux of it.
"They tolerate me for now. A few of them are regular visitors. But as soon as they've got their Law and Justice and Peace... they'll ask for Freedom. And then we'll see what happens."
"You don't sound too concerned."
"Insect has never liked what I do. She thinks I exploit them. She tries her hardest to keep them from coming to me but... every few weeks, another knocks on my door."
She sighed and gestured to her companions.
"Freedom is the most depraved punishment of all. People would do anything to be rid of it. That's why they eat, that's why they endlessly attempt to procreate, and that's why inevitably they come to live with me."
A grim but fair assessment. I straightened my jacket and looked her in the eye.
“Okay. So. Where do they live? Where do they work? Is this an organized thing or are they just a bunch of pumped-up zealots out to ruin my day?”
I reconsidered and corrected myself.
“Out to ruin everybody’s day?”
She frowned and looked at me. She seemed troubled.
“They live and work from the Animal Hospital a few blocks south of my house. Yes it is an organized thing. Yes they are a bunch of pumped-up zealots. And I can see from your face that they’ve ruined your day.”
I smiled. My lip split open and I prodded the wound with my tongue.
“The Doctor said there was a man who called himself Jesus. What do you know about him?”
She shook her head and looked out toward the old city.
“Nothing. He looks like a Jesus, and he talks like a Jesus and he throws down commandments like a Jesus. So…”
I understood.
“He must be a Jesus”
I shook my head, lips splitting open in a grim smile.
“Last question. Is there any reason I shouldn’t send them all to the meat-bin?”
She turned from the water to face me.
“It sounds like you’re on the verge of doing something stupid”
I smiled and shook my head.
“I like you. I hope you know that. I’ll come to your house around twilight. On my best behavior. Maybe I’ll even bring my new friend”
I looked back to the boy.
He was still standing there, looking out over the water. His wet grey skin picked up the light and gave him a twisted aura of yellow.
If I were him, I’d be a few blocks away by now; pulling a sharp splinter of wood from a window-sill and planning my final retribution.
I had no idea how much I needed to tell him.
We walked along the waterfront, side-stepping clumps of hair.
He bent down and scooped up a ball of tar, slipping it into his mouth and wiping his hands on his chest.
“Hey. Catch up and walk next to me.”
He did as he was told.
“Why did you eat that?”
Silence. Mouth slightly open. Teeth lined with black.
The veins on his stomach twitched.
“Okay; Tarboy...”
I wasn’t sure where to begin.
“We’re heading up to see the ferals by the river”
I’d dropped the word before I realized who I was talking to.
His face didn’t change.
I started again.
“We’re heading up to see the people camped out by the river. I did a favor for one of them so they’ve got some sort of payment for me.”
I paused and looked him over. He didn’t look like a city feral and he didn’t look like a trader.
“Do you know your way around the city?”
He swallowed and nodded slightly; we continued walking.
My skin was slick with spray but the breeze was refreshing. I licked my lips. They were salty and dry. I still hadn’t found a drink of water.
A raft sat in the harbor a hundred feet offshore. A writhing colony of hair had gathered around it and the two ferals struggled to pull the raft through. With every dip of the paddle the hair rushed up the wood and the feral would frantically scrape it against the side of the raft.
A swollen gutterfish was stretched out between them. Its stomach shook as it panted and its long whiskers frantically probed the air. Its skin was pale pink and unusually clean. Even the hair wouldn't touch black meat.
The raft barely moved. The water was heavy and the hair held it in place.
He broke the silence.
“And what do you want me to do?”
It was a good question.
“Stay by me until I’ve collected the payment. After that I’ve got a building full of people who I’ll need you to watch for me. I’m not completely sure of what I’m going to do yet, but… It won’t take long and it should be fun.”
He sighed.
“Tell me when you’ve made up your mind.”
He dropped back again - two paces behind, one to the side.
Somehow, I felt more alone than before.
She was old. Too old.
It seemed obscene for her to be alive, milky eyes rolling in their sockets.
She must have just stretched out on the slab when the curtain dropped. And now here she was, dragging herself around like a corpse that never got the message.
I was surprised she hadn't put herself in the meatbin by now.
I guess she was just like everybody else - patiently waiting for the future to deliver on promises made by the past.
God’s eternal Ponzi scheme.
The veins in her arms were thick like leeches - it looked like her blood had long since coagulated. Heavy black chunks slowly crawling under her skin, pooling in her heart, clogging the vessels in her brain.
I should have killed her. That would have been the charitable thing to do.
But I didn't have it in me. The whole thing would be depressing and wet. All tears and bile and hair.
I took the ear from my pocket and held it in front of her face. It had turned hard like plastic.
“As requested.” I said, and gave it a little shake.
Tarboy was still behind me, staring off into the distance.
We were on the outskirts of the camp. A hundred feet from the shore. A tar-stained wooden lean-to crammed up against the side of a crumbling redbrick. The woman stood in front of a campfire burning black wood. It popped and hissed and spat acid clouds.
Somebody had scrawled a massive black figure on the brick wall. It was at least two stories high. Its eyes were empty and its fingers were disturbingly long. I looked down along the row of abandoned apartments. The tar-painted figures repeated in surreal succession. Deformed carbon copies. Jesus was watching.
Be Human.
I shook the ear again.
“It’s yours. I did what you asked. He’s dead. Or at least…”
New World concepts…
“… inert.”
She shook her head slowly and looked from side to side.
“No, no, no. No
t mine.” - she spoke softly and into her chest.
I looked around. A few ferals had gathered to watch but it was nothing unusual. They were all well-proportioned but dejected.
“It certainly is yours. Look at it.”
She lowered her eyes.
“Look at it!”
I slapped her with an open hand and shook the ear in her face. Her skin was hard like wood.
She let out a deep, rolling sob and continued to mutter.
“No, I didn’t ask that. I didn’t ask that.”
I threw the ear in the fire and put my hand on the tyre iron.
“I didn’t do this for fun. I didn’t have to do this at all. I could have come down here any day of the week and beat your brains out across the wall and taken whatever I wanted. You made a civilized deal. And I expect you to behave in a civilized manner”
The Tarboy choked and I glare at him.
He didn’t look at me, just turned to watch the growing audience.
The old lady looked at the ground. The ferals started to move in.
They were muttering, quietly objecting but avoiding my eyes.
I took out the tyre iron and flipped it once. It slapped against my palm and my arm was flushed with blood.
“You’re an antique. You’re a collectible. And by christ I’d hate to do it - but I’m going to kill you - and everybody within ten feet, unless you hustle into that little shanty of yours and get me my goddamned pay.”
She looked up. Her cheeks were wet with tears. Her off-white eyes were wide and afraid and she was looking out across the camp.
She shook her head. “No more. No more. No killing. I don’t kill anybody. I’m human. Human. Be human. Human.”
Over and over, her mouth working over the words like a religious chant.
There was a heavy buzz in the air. My chest tightened.
“What is this?”
Nobody moved. They looked at each other but nobody made the call.
"You fucking... Jesus christ. Fuck."
I spat on the ground. I could feel the blood flooding my stomach cavity. My eyes came over red.
I stood close to her. Her breath was wet and salty.
"Do you see my fucking face? Do you see my hands?"
I pushed my broken knuckles into her face.
"I tore my fucking elbow on that asshole. Do you understand? Do you understand?”
Blue Meat Blues Page 5
