Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town

by Cory Doctorow

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  "And they all know the Greek," Alan said. "Three, two, one." He turnedon his heel and began to walk away.

  "Wait!" Link called. The girl swallowed a giggle. He sounded desperateand not cool at all anymore.

  Alan stopped and turned his body halfway, looking impatiently over hisshoulder.

  Link mumbled something.

  "What?"

  "Behind Kurt's place," Link said. "He said he was going to go lookaround behind Kurt's place."

  "Thank you, Link," he said. He turned all the way around and got down toeye level with the other girl. "Nice to meet you," he said. He wanted totell her, *Be careful* or *Stay alert* or *Get out while the getting'sgood*, but none of that seemed likely to make much of an impression onher.

  She smiled and her friend came back with three beers. "You've got agreat house," she said.

  Her friend said, "Yeah, it's amazing."

  "Well, thank you," he said.

  "Bye," they said.

  Link's gaze bored into the spot between his shoulder blades the wholeway to the end of the block.

  #

  The back-alleys of Kensington were a maze of coach houses, fences, deadends and narrow doorways. Kids who knew their secrets played ball-hockeynearly undisturbed by cars, junkies turned them into reeking pissoirs,homeless people dossed down in the lees of their low, crazy-angledbuildings, teenagers came and necked around corners.

  But Alan knew their secrets. He'd seen the aerial maps, and he'dclambered their length and breadth and height with Kurt, checking sightlines for his network, sticking virtual pushpins into the map on hisscreen where he thought he could get some real benefit out of an accesspoint.

  So once he reached Kensington Avenue, he slipped behind a Guyanese pattystand and stepped through a wooden gate and began to make his way to theback of Kurt's place. Cautiously.

  From behind, the riot of colors and the ramshackle signs and subcultureof Kensington was revealed as a superfice, a skin stretched overslightly daggy brick two-stories with tiny yards and tumbledowngarages. From behind, he could be walking the back ways of any anonymoushousing development, a no-personality greyzone of nothing and no one.

  The sun went behind a cloud and the whole scene turned into somethingmonochromatic, a black-and-white clip from an old home movie.

  Carefully, he proceeded. Carefully, slipping from doorway to doorway,slipping up the alleyway to the next, to the corner that led to thealley that led to Kurt's. Carefully, listening, watching.

  And he managed to sneak up on Krishna and Davey, and he knew that foronce, he'd be in the position to throw the rocks.

  Krishna sat with his back against the cinderblock wall near Kurt's backdoor, knees and hands splayed, head down in a posture ofsupplication. He had an unlit cigarette in his mouth, which he nervouslyshifted from corner to corner, like a soggy toothpick. Behind him,standing atop the dented and scabrous garbage cans, Dumont.

  He rested his head on his folded arms, which he rested on the sill, andhe stood on tiptoe to see in the window.

  "I'm hungry," Krishna said. "I want to go get some food. Can I go andget food and come back?"

  "Quiet," Dewayne said. "Not another fucking word, you sack of shit." Hesaid it quietly in a neutral tone that was belied by his words. Hesettled his head back on his folded forearms like a babe settling itshead in a bosom and looked back through the window. "Ah," he said, likehe had taken a drink.

  Krishna climbed slowly to his feet and stood off a pace or two, staringat Drew. He reached into the pocket of his old bomber jacket and found alighter and flicked it nervously a couple times.

  "Don't you light that cigarette," Davey said. "Don't you dare."

  "How long are we going to be here?" Krishna's whine was utterly devoidof his customary swagger.

  "What kind of person is he?" Davey said. "What kind of person is he? Heis in love with my brother, looks at him with cow-eyes when he sees him,hangs on his words like a love-struck girl." He laughed nastily. "Like*your* love-struck girl, like she looks at him.

  "I wonder if he's had her yet. Do you think he has?"

  "I don't care," Krishna said petulantly, and levered himself to hisfeet. He began to pace and Alan hastily backed himself into the doorwayhe'd been hiding in. "She's mine, no matter who she's fucking. I *own*her."

  "Look at that," Darrel said. "Look at him talking to them, his littlearmy, like a general giving them a pep talk. He got that from mybrother, I'm sure. Everywhere he goes, he leaves a trail of manipulatorswho run other people's lives."

  Alan's stomach clenched in on itself, and his butt and thighs achedsuddenly, like he'd been running hard. He thought about his protégéswith their shops and their young employees, learning the trade from themas they'd learned it from him. How long had Don been watching him?

  "When are we going to do it?" Krishna spat out his cigarette and shookanother out of his pack and stuck it in his mouth.

  "Don't light it," Drew said. "We're going to do it when I say it's timeto do it. You have to watch first -- watching is the most importantpart. It's how you find out what needs doing and to whom. It's how youfind out where you can do the most damage."

  "I know what needs doing," Krishna said. "We can just go in there andtrash the place and fuck him up. That'd suit me just fine. Send theright message, too."

  Danny hopped down off the trash can abruptly and Krishna froze in hispaces at the dry rasp of hard blackened skin on the pavement. Daveywalked toward him in a bowlegged, splay-hipped gait that was more ascuttle than a walk, the motion of some inhuman creature not accustomedto two legs.

  "Have you ever watched your kind, ever? Do you understand them, even alittle? Just because you managed to get a little power over one of mypeople, you think you understand it all. You don't. That one in there isbone-loyal to my brother. If you vandalized his little shop, he'd justgo to my brother for protection and end up more loyal and more. Pleasestop thinking you know anything, it'll make it much easier for us to getalong."

  Krishna stiffened. "I know things," he said.

  "Your pathetic little birdie girl is *nothing*," Davey said. He stumpedover to Krishna, stood almost on his toes, looking up at him. Krishnatook an involuntary step backward. "A little one-off, a changelingwithout clan or magic of any kind."

  Krishna stuck his balled fists into the pockets of his space-agefuture-sarcastic jacket. "I know something about *you*," he said. "About*your* kind."

  "Oh, yes?" Davey's tone was low, dangerous.

  "I know how to recognize you, even when you're passing for normal. Iknow how to spot you in a crowd, in a second." He smiled. "You've beenwatching my kind all your life, but I've been watching your kind for allof *mine*. I've seen you on the subway and running corner stores,teaching in classrooms and driving to work."

  Davey smiled then, showing blackened stumps. "Yes, you can, youcertainly can." He reached out one small, delicate hand and stroked theinside of Krishna's wrist. "You're very clever that way, you are."Krishna closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose, as thoughin pain or ecstasy. "That's a good skill to have."

  They stood there for a moment while Davey slowly trailed his fingertipsover Krishna's wrist. Then, abruptly, he grabbed Krishna's thumb andwrenched it far back. Krishna dropped abruptly to his knees, squeakingin pain.

  "You can spot my kind, but you know nothing about us. You *are* nothing,do you understand me?" Krishna nodded slowly. Alan felt a sympatheticache in his thumb and a sympathetic grin on his face at the sight ofKrishna knelt down and made to acquiesce. "You understand me?" Krishnanodded again.

  Davey released him and he climbed slowly to his feet. Davey took hiswrist again, gently. "Let's get you something to eat," he said.

  Before Alan knew it, they were nearly upon him, walking back down thealley straight toward his hiding place. Blood roared in his ears and hepressed his back up against the doorway. They were only a step or twoaway, and after a couple of indiscreetly loud panting gasps, he clampedhis lips shut and held his
breath.

  There was no way they could miss him. He pressed his back harder againstthe door, and it abruptly swung open and a cold hand wrapped itselfaround his bicep and pulled his through into a darkened, oil- andmust-smelling garage.

  He tripped over his own heel and started to go over, but a pair of handscaught him and settled him gently to the floor.

  "Quiet," came a hoarse whisper in a voice he could not place.

  And then he knew who his rescuer was. He stood up silently and gaveBilly a long hug. He was as