The older man sagely nodded. ‘Pissed them off. right?’
‘You could say that,’ Carl said.
‘Happens all the time,’ the man said. ‘People in this city, trying to make an honest living, and the Army’s cur there to harass ‘em.’
Sandy spoke up. ‘Then how do you keep going, as public as your business is?’
He shrugged. ‘At night the streets belong to the people. Army just does a few patrols to pretend they’re in charge. Plus, this whole place is hollowed out, lots of lofts and ladders and tunnels. I got a kid or two up on the roof, to see what’s coming down. We get word the greenies are on the way, we’re down and out. They take our stuff, we open up somewhere else. No matter. So. What’s your business? You trying to get off this lovely island paradise?’
‘That’s right,’ Carl said. ‘And the sooner the better.’
The man opened a ledger in front of him and ran his fingers down the columns. Next to him Melanie continued to knit, the needles moving slowly. He looked up. ‘That’s not my business, you know. I deal mostly in trades. But I got a good lead with a group a few blocks out, I know they do regular transport. They can be pricey, but they’re reliable.’
Sandy squeezed his hand and he said, ‘That will be fine.’
‘Let’s talk price, then. I’ll want a finder’s fee before you get the name and location.’
Sandy looked troubled. ‘How can we...how do we know this is reliable information?’
He smiled, revealing discolored teeth. ‘That’s not what you were going to say, now, was it? You was going to say, how can I be trusted? Lady, truth is, if you can find anyone else out there that can do better, be my guest. You talk to anyone, you’ll find out I’ve been here two years, and I may drive a tough bargain, but I’m honest. If I weren’t honest, then I wouldn’t get the business, and I’d have to close up. So. You kids ready to deal?’
‘Go ahead,’ Carl said. ‘What’s the price?’
‘Depends what you got. You got batteries?’
Only if we strip the flashlight, he thought, and he said, ‘No, we don’t.’
‘How about a portable radio? Shortwave would be nice, but I’d settle for a transistor.’
He shook his head.
‘Weapons? Ammunition? Flashlights?’
Carl said, ‘No, nothing like that.’
The man tugged at one of his ears and said, ‘Well, unless you can rustle something up—’
The camera came to mind but instead he said, ‘Chocolate.’
The woman stopped knitting. Albert’s eyes seemed to narrow. ‘You serious?’
‘Yep.’
‘What kind?’
‘Hershey’s. Regular size.’
The man tapped his fingers on the ledger. ‘I’ll give you the name, for six bars.’
They only had three. ‘One.’
The man laughed again. ‘I can see you kids aren’t from around here, the way you go insulting me like that. Five.’
Carl tried to conjure the face he used to use, back when he was playing poker with his Army buddies. ‘Offer still stands at one.’
From behind the protective glass the older man made a show of sighing and shaking his head. ‘That isn’t dealing, you young buck. But all right, I feel sorry for you two, all alone and not knowing the territory. Four.’
Sandy tried to say something but he didn’t let her. He shrugged the knapsack off and lowered it to the floor He opened the top flap and after a few moments of rummaging, came up with two Hershey’s bars. He held them up to the window.
‘Two,’ Carl said. ‘And I throw in a pack of smokes. Camels.’
The woman, knitting still silent in her hands, spoke up. Albert, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten chocolate, a real Hershey’s—’
‘I know, I know,’ he said, irritation tinging his voice. ‘It’s just that—
She picked up her yam and needles, jaw set. ‘Then close the deal. Now.’
He ran a hand through his thin hair and said, ‘All right, all right, it’s a deal.’ He turned to glare at her. ‘And you wonder why I don’t like having my wife at my side, when I work. You close too early.’
She resumed knitting, a thin smile on her face, her sightless eyes staring. ‘And if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t do anything at all. You always try to close too late, tick people off. That ain’t no way to run a business.’
The man managed a smile, moved his right hand, and the metal drawer underneath the window slid open. Carl tossed in the Hershey’s and the pack of Camels, and the man moved the drawer back and slowly picked them up in his thick hands and looked at them. ‘Very nice,’ he said. ‘Very nice. We’ll make these last a couple of weeks, just you see.’
Then he bent down and wrote something on a piece of paper, slapped a rubber stamp on it, and slid the drawer back around. Carl picked up the torn sheet of paper and read it in the dim light:
PS 19 gang, Houston and Varick Street subway stop, ask for Jim. Show him the stamp and you’ll be fine. A.
Below the handwriting was a red ink stamp mark: ‘Village Traders. Fine Deals Since 1970,’ it read, printed inside a circle.
Carl looked at the man, who had opened the pack of cigarettes and was counting each one. ‘Who’s the PS 19 gang?’
‘They’re the ones that own that part of the subway line, and they got connections across the river to New Jersey,’ he said. ‘They’re a couple of blocks east. Easy to find. But trust me, they sure as hell ain’t going to ferry the two of you across for a couple of chocolate bars. They’ll ask a heavy fare.’
Sandy leaned over and looked at the paper in Carl’s hand. ‘You’ve been here for two years?’
‘That’s right, Brit girl. Been at this location since 1970, and never left the island, even after the war.’
‘What’s it like here?’ she asked. ‘You mentioned a village council. Do you mean there’s some sort of government?’
‘Of course there is,’ he said, marking an entry in a ledger. ‘Whaddya think we are, savages? Oh, it took a while, after the evacuation, but the traders got together and there’s councils everywhere. SoHo. Midtown. Harlem. The councils give licenses to the salvage workers, and they can either trade with us, or try to get stuff off the island on their own.’
Carl looked around the tiny room. ‘You mean you didn’t leave after the bombing?’
Melanie spoke up. ‘Why in hell should we? This is our home, always will be. Even after I was hurt in the bombing, I wouldn’t let Albert take me away. I can’t live anywhere else but New York, and there’s plenty of people who think just like we do. Plenty.’
‘But...isn’t it tough?’ Carl asked, wondering how they did it, year after year.
Albert shrugged his shoulders. ‘Oh, we make do. There’s plenty to eat, if you don’t mind the boring food most of the time. Fish, some goat meat. And squab, which is just another fancy name for pigeon. Plus we do well enough trading, and there ain’t no goddam city health inspector or tax collector or anybody else who can tell me how to run my business.’
As Sandy spoke up, Carl saw she was quietly taking notes. ‘And what about the Army?’
Melanie answered the question. ‘This is a big city, little girl. The Army does what they have to do during the day, and we do our business at night. They stay out of our way, and we try to stay out of theirs.’
‘And you don’t have any trouble?’ Sandy said.
Albert smiled again, showing off his poor teeth. ‘You kids didn’t see the holes in the walls, just when you came in?’
Carl looked back at the crudely cut marks and saw movement behind them. ‘You’ve had us covered, since the minute we came in.’
‘We sure did. Two of my sons, both with shotguns. Had a bead on you every second. Oh, it’s not as bad as it was back in the early sixties, but I’m a careful man. I’ve got a family to support.’
The door opened, and a man and woman entered, their clothes old and patched, their boots held together wit
h string and masking tape. They were carrying bundles of clothing and their hair was long, and they went over and sat down on one of the wooden benches.
Albert leaned closer to the window. ‘And if the two of you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do. This ain’t no bus station, and I’ve got customers a-waiting.’
~ * ~
Outside, Sandy slipped her arm through his and said, ‘Carl, I can’t believe what we’re hearing. This place is extraordinary!’ It was cold and he debated zipping up his coat. He moved away from the storefront, wanting to get to the subway station as soon as possible. Who knew what wandered the dark streets, crowded with the abandoned vehicles that were so much of the familiar fabric of this city. There were lights in some of the windows, and bonfires burning in fifty-five-gallon drum containers at a couple of the street corners. There were some faraway shouts and some music, and Sandy leaned into him and said, ‘This isn’t a dead city, not at all!’
He swiveled his head around, not feeling well at all. ‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’
‘Why?’ Sandy asked.
Carl was going to say something about the city reverting to some form of barbarism. He was going to make a cogent remark about what Rome must have been like, after the last legions had died or been disbanded. He was going to say something about how frontier cities—like this New York City - could never be relied upon to have a police force or any other agency that was dedicated to order.
He was going to say something like that, and would have, but three men swarmed out of a cellar and attacked them.
~ * ~
‘Yee hah, look what we got!’ one of them shouted, and Sandy screamed. Carl stepped back and stumbled as he tried to get a free hand under his coat. It was too late. Two of the men grabbed his arms and slammed him against a brick wall and Sandy screamed again.
Something sharp was held to his neck and he tried to move his arms. There was a dim light from a burning trash barrel up the street and furtive movement in the shadows. Part of him desperately thought, there really never was a cop when you needed one.
The men’s clothes were ragged and all three had beards and stringy hair. One of them held Sandy, his arm across her throat and his hand over her mouth, his other hand holding a knife to her chin. Her captor wore a wool coat, filthy and with buttons missing, and he was laughing. Sandy was struggling and her satchel was on the ground.
‘Man, another great one,’ he said. ‘Pop ‘em right after they get out of Trader Al’s, great idea. Let’s see what they got.’
The man at Carl’s left said, ‘Zeke, what you got there is pretty good. Am I gonna get seconds this time, or what?’ and the man to Carl’s right giggled and said, ‘Let’s get rid of this burden first, ‘fore we get to the fun times.’
Sandy squirmed some more. The man called Zeke laughed and said, ‘She’s a newbie, guys. Man, I don’t feel no bones and she smells great!’
More laughter, more shouts, and Carl clenched his fists, then stomped down hard on the nearer man’s foot. He yelped and Carl broke free and spun, jamming an elbow into the second man’s face. Carl moved again, grabbing his pistol out of its holster and then Zeke was before him, eyes skitterish, the hand still across Sandy’s mouth, the knife still at her chin.
‘You move any closer, man, I’ll cut her,’ he warned.
Carl moved out into the street, flicking his gaze back and forth from Zeke to his two friends, who were slowly getting up from the dirty sidewalk. He kept his arm out straight and cocked the hammer of the Colt .45.
‘Any closer!’ Zeke said louder. ‘Any closer she’s cut!’
Carl took a few steps, the pistol still out, an extension of his arm. He could hear whispers from the two men he had just thrashed, and whimpering noises from Sandy, but he kept his focus on Zeke, making him the center of his attention.
‘I’m warning you!’ Zeke said, voice wavering.
Carl cleared his throat. ‘And I’m telling you, sunshine. That hand with that knife gets any closer, I’m going to shoot you.’
Zeke laughed sharply. ‘You’re talking to a true Gotham rat! You think I’m afraid of dyin’?’
Another step closer. ‘No, I didn’t say I was going to kill you. I said I was going to shoot you. I’ll blow off your left leg and let you bleed out here on the sidewalk. How many doctors do you know?’
He moved his eyes, one more time. The other two were keeping their distance. He looked back at Zeke, who for some crazy reason almost looked like he was about to cry.
‘Listen,’ the man said, talking in a blur. ‘Listen here, I got a good deal. Lining of my coat, near the rear, I got some gold coins sewed in there, coins I lifted from the First Mercantile Bank, up on Broadway, before the Army came. You let me have her, the gold is yours.’
‘No deal,’ Carl said, taking another step. Even in the dim light he could see that Sandy’s eyes were wide and tearful.
‘But it’s not fair!’ he said, his voice louder. ‘Not fair! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a woman like this?’
Another step, and the barrel of the Colt .45 was pressing gently against the man’s bearded face. ‘I don’t care how fair it is,’ Carl said, trying to keep his voice even. ‘Let her go. Now.’
Zeke clenched his eyes and keened an awful noise, and then he pushed Sandy at Carl. Carl grabbed her with his free hand and pulled her behind him. Zeke scampered down the street, now joined by his friends, but he stopped and shouted back, ‘I hope you two puke! I hope you suck in some hot spots and die, you fuckers! Puke and die!’
Carl put his arm around Sandy, feeling her tremble, and he looked around. He could see candles and the lights of other people across the way, walking about now that the fracas was over. Are you all right?’ he said. ‘Sandy?’
The trembling increased. ‘I. . . I’m afraid I’ve wet myself, Carl. I was so frightened.’
‘I was scared, too,’ he said, not letting his eyes rest. ‘Look, let’s get going. We’ve got a couple of blocks to go, and maybe we can get you cleaned up there.’
She shivered again, picking up her satchel. ‘You . . . you were very brave, back there . . . taking on those men.’
Something in the air tasted sour. ‘No, I wasn’t. Not brave at all.’
They walked past another fire, burning in a small grate. There was a door and a blackboard that said ‘BOGIE’S RESTAURANT—NOW OPEN’ and two men sat on the granite steps, baseball bats across their knees. ‘What do you mean, not brave?’ she said. ‘I saw what you did. You were quite—’
‘I was too strong for them,’ he said, keeping the pistol in one hand and holding tightly onto her with the other.
She stopped, looked over at him. ‘What did you say?’
‘I’d rather we keep going and talk about this later.’
‘No, I want to talk about it now. What happened back there?’
They could hear more music, up the street. He looked around. This was unbelievable. The island wasn’t dead, wasn’t empty, not by a long shot. It was two cities. One during the day when Army patrols and helicopters went up and down the deserted streets, and one at night, when the Army pulled back into its bases and armed hotels and buildings, and the other people, the ones left behind or the ones who came back, ruled the land.
‘Sandy, they were skin and bones. Probably hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks. It was like fighting with ten-year-olds, that’s what it was like.’
‘But you saved my life, Carl.’ She reached up and touched his face, shivering again. ‘Don’t sell yourself short, Yank. Those men were going to rape me and ... God knows what else, and you took care of me. And I’m damn glad you were too strong. I’d hate to think of what would have happened if it had been otherwise.’
Carl felt something wet on his neck and a burning sensation. Sandy lowered her hand and said, ‘You’ve been hurt. You’re bleeding.’
He gingerly touched the wound, felt the sticky blood. ‘It’s not too bad. Just a scratch. Let’s get to the subway st
ation.’
She touched his face again. ‘You’re still a brave man, Carl.’
‘Hardly,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘I’m a smelly man. I need a shower and change of clothes.’
‘And what about me?’
He tugged at her hand. ‘You’ve got your best clothes with you, always.’
She tugged back. ‘That sounds like something my grand-mama would have said.’
The next two blocks were easier going, and it looked like someone—though probably not the Army—had made progress in at least getting some of the cars and trucks and buses to one side of the street. Carl looked at the lights ahead of them and wondered what these people would do, once the power came back on and the Army opened up the barriers. Was it true, what Greg had said—God, it seemed like weeks ago!—that Rockefeller would be inaugurated here next year? Could things have progressed so far? Or was it just a fib, one in a long series of lies?
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