by John Inman
While Joe grabbed for the phone by the cash register to make sure it was really dead, as he damn well knew it was, Ned still knelt beside the body on the floor. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off the pool of blood congealing under old Fred.
“He’s right,” Joe said, staring at the receiver in his hand. “There’s no dial tone. The phone’s dead.”
He slammed the worthless phone back in the cradle, then fished his cell phone out of his pants pocket and tried it again too. He gawked at its blank screen for a minute before he lifted his eyes to Ned.
“Told you,” Mr. Wong mumbled, as if nobody ever listened to him.
Joe leaned over Ned and spoke softly in his ear. “Help me,” he said. “I can’t look at this dead guy anymore. He’s giving me the creeps.”
He tugged at the freezer door and propped it open with his foot. Reaching forward, he clutched old Fred’s shoulders and started dragging him inside. Joe grunted with the exertion. Old Fred wasn’t light.
“What about police?” Mr. Wong asked, watching with interest but refusing to lend a hand. “What about forensic science? I watch CSI. I know what police do. You’re disturbing evidence. Everybody has job to do. They can’t do it if you screw up evidence.” He still did not offer to help. Apparently he figured his share of the undertaking was completed when he plunged a butcher knife into the old guy’s chest.
Ned was helping Joe now, each tugging at one of Fred’s lifeless arms, dragging him over the threshold of the freezer door while old Fred’s head flopped around, his empty eyes gaping at everything and nothing like a couple of marbles rolling around in a saucer.
While he worked, Joe tried to piece it all together. “I have a feeling the police have more important catastrophes to deal with. One dead homeless guy isn’t going to beep high on their sonar screens when they’ve got an entire city going nuts around them.”
Mr. Wong clucked his tongue, staring down at the trail of blood smeared across his spotless deli floor and over the threshold of the freezer door. “Look at that. What a mess,” he grumbled. He didn’t look happy, to say the least.
“Don’t worry,” Ned said, misinterpreting Mr. Wong’s words. “It was self-defense. We’re just keeping him on ice until the police show up.”
“I not worried about Fred,” Mr. Wong snapped. “I worry about my floor!” He snatched a stack of towels from a cupboard and scattered them over the mess old Fred left behind, scooting them around with his foot to blot up the blood.
Joe tried not to laugh. Apparently Mr. Wong no longer cared about maintaining a pristine crime scene. Now he was more worried about keeping his A card with the health department.
Joe and Ned tucked old Fred under a shelf of ice cream containers. Before they stepped out of the freezer, locking him inside, Mr. Wong stepped forward and plucked the knife from his chest.
“German steel,” he explained. He huffed out a puff of freezer air while looking wounded, clearly appalled by the way they were staring at him. He shook the knife in their faces. “I build two hundred sandwiches to pay for this knife. Not going to leave it in old Fred.”
“Umm, okay,” Joe said, still biting back a grin. “So much for forensics, then.”
Mr. Wong eyed the old man’s corpse a final time while wiping the knife blade clean with one of the towels he had used to sop up blood. “If he keeps, maybe next week we run him through grinder and serve Fred Salad Sandwiches for lunch, hey, Neddie?”
Ned rolled his eyes and groaned so sincerely that Joe and Mr. Wong both burst out laughing.
The three of them exited through the freezer door, leaving old Fred inside to chill—literally. They secured the door behind them, although Fred probably wouldn’t be trying to escape anytime soon. The moment they were outside and the freezer was locked, all three sets of eyes settled once again on the deli’s front door, which was the only thing between them and a civilization suddenly gone to shit. Somewhere in the distance they heard another gunshot.
“I not open today. World too goofy.” Mr. Wong made the announcement matter-of-factly. Like it was something he had decided on the spur of the moment, just for the hell of it. He turned worried eyes on Joe and Ned. It was Ned especially that he seemed to be concerned about. He reached out and patted Ned’s cheek, like he might one of his own children. “You boys go home and stay there.”
Ned edged closer to Joe, and Joe’s face softened when he did. A gentle light lit Mr. Wong’s eyes as he watched the two. For the first time he seemed to understand everything. Not about the world falling apart, but about Joe and Ned. About the changes that had taken place since the last time he had seen them together.
He settled his eyes on Joe. Reaching out, he laid a gentle hand on Joe’s arm. “Take care of my Neddie,” he said, his gaze delving deep into Joe’s. “Keep him safe. Old Fred not the only thing dangerous out there.”
Joe nodded, even as he slipped his hand through Ned’s to anchor him close. “I will, sir. It’s my highest priority.”
Mr. Wong smiled, first at Joe, then at Ned. “I thought it might be,” he said, plucking a key from his pants pocket. He scooted the juice cooler out of the way and knelt to unlock the front door. When it was unsecured, he rose, peeked outside, then stepped aside to let them pass.
“Run,” Mr. Wong said, his eyes suddenly serious again. “Run like the wind. I do same. Make sure Mrs. Wong and the babies okay. You boys lay low and protect yourselves. Don’t come out till this craziness over. Promise me.”
Suffering no arguments and not waiting for an answer, Mr. Wong pushed them through the door and banged it shut behind them before they could protest. A second later Joe and Ned stood outside in the misty red morning, listening to the key turn on the other side of the deli door.
Once again Joe found the two of them facing a world where everything was wrong and nothing made sense. Nothing… but Ned’s hand in his.
JOE WAS a little out of breath because he was dragging Ned down the street at a pretty good clip. They ran close together, jostling each other, while trying desperately not to trip each other up.
Ned sounded frightened, but not of their surroundings. “Mr. Wong killed a man, Joe. What’s going to happen to him?”
Joe was concentrating on trying to see through the haze. He didn’t want any surprises coming at them while he tried to get Ned and himself home. He spoke softly so they wouldn’t be overheard by anyone lurking in the shadows. “Don’t worry. It was self-defense. They won’t blame him for trying to protect himself. And he tried to call the cops, so they can’t blame him for not reporting it either. Even we tried to call, so he’s got witnesses. The police probably have bigger things to worry about now than one dead homeless guy anyway.”
“You think?”
Joe reached over and tousled Ned’s hair while dragging up a reassuring smile that was pure show. “Absolutely. As long as Mr. Wong doesn’t follow through on his threat to serve up Fred Salad Sandwiches. If he does, then it’s a whole new ball game.”
He offered up a theatrical shudder, but it didn’t seem to amuse Ned much. Not that Joe expected it to.
They stumbled to a stop at the first street corner they came to, looking both ways for oncoming traffic. There was none. The street was an empty ribbon of concrete. Dead silent, it rolled off and disappeared into the haze in either direction. They did a slow turn, cocking their heads to the side, listening. The city was as silent as the street. It was like a ghost town. Before, there had been distant screams and scattered sirens. Gunshots. Wailing dogs. Now there was nothing. Not even the chirp of a cricket broke the stillness.
“It’s so quiet!” Ned hissed. “Where’d everybody go?”
Joe shook his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it. There’s a tension in the air. Can you feel it?”
Ned nodded, eyes wide. “Yeah. It’s like in a horror movie just before the closet door flies open and a maniac with a chainsaw jumps out.”
Joe rolled his eyes and bit back a groan. “Well, that mak
es me feel a whole lot better.” Then, lowering his voice, he said, “Still, I think you’re right. Something is about to happen. Something bad. Let’s get off the street. Now.”
Once again, they took off running. They didn’t bother holding hands now; they were too busy concentrating on moving as fast as they could while making as little noise as possible. They tried to stay on the grass so the slap of their footfalls fell dead on the hazy air, like the gentle patter of faraway heartbeats.
They ran three blocks flat out as fast as they could. Finally, Ned plucked at Joe’s jacket. Sucking in air, he cried, “Wait! Stop! Let me catch my breath.”
Joe pulled up short, and Ned ran right into his arms. Joe held him upright while Ned gasped and wheezed. As Ned sucked in oxygen, Joe rested his chin on the top of Ned’s head and kept an eye out for anything coming at them.
The city seemed deserted, but Joe knew it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
When Ned lifted his head and said, “We can go now,” Joe didn’t wait around for him to say it again. He once more tugged Ned forward. Walking quickly now, not running, Joe bounced off the balls of his feet to move as silently as he could. After a while, Ned got the picture and did the same.
They reached the place where they had seen the pool of blood earlier and immediately jerked to a stop, crashing into each other. Two bedraggled coyotes were standing on the sidewalk, lapping at the blood. They cowered there, the hair bristling across their skinny backs like they thought the two humans might try to steal their food.
Joe pulled Ned slowly backward until the coyotes were lost once again in the red mist. Only then did he lead Ned back out into the street and around to the right so they could get past the coyotes without being seen by the creatures. He thought he felt Ned trembling against him but, in a stunning rush of awareness, realized he was the one trembling, not Ned. And apparently Ned knew it.
“It’ll be all right,” Ned whispered. “We’re almost home.”
Joe had to smile. Who was the brave one now?
Far away, a cacophony of sirens bleated feebly at the very edge of earshot. The sound was so thin and reedy, Joe knew it had to come from blocks and blocks away. It sounded like every cop in the city was converging on one spot. Quelling a riot, maybe. Or attending some massive disaster. Like the whole fucking world wasn’t enough of a disaster already.
A figure loomed suddenly out of the haze directly in front of them. It was a man with what at first glance Joe thought was a rifle. On closer inspection he realized it was a double-barreled shotgun, which was even scarier. The man was young and trim. Handsome. But even at a distance Joe could see there was something wrong about him. He stood sideways to them, leaning slightly forward, peering into the gloom. There was a look of pure hatred on his face like he was itching to use his gun on somebody.
Joe’s breath froze in his chest. The man hadn’t spotted them yet. Thank God.
Holding a finger to his lips to command silence, Joe tugged Ned under the hanging branches of a pepper tree that stood at the side of the walk. The tree’s long leaves hung in streamers almost to the ground, covering them like a curtain. It was a perfect place to duck out of sight.
They stood in the shadows, peeking out onto the street at the man with the gun. He hadn’t moved yet, but they could hear the incessant click, click, click as he nervously flipped the shotgun’s safety on and off, on and off.
Joe’s eyes flitted to Ned’s face and he saw not only fear there, but also cold. Ned’s ears were red, his cheeks were flushed, and his teeth were quietly chattering. For the first time, Joe saw his own breath bursting out of him in little white puffs.
With everything that was happening, Joe hadn’t noticed how cold it had become. He didn’t think San Diego had ever suffered a cold snap like this one. Even the burst of frigid air that rolled over them yesterday when they were in the alley behind the deli talking to Mr. Wong’s son wasn’t as bone-cracking cold as this one.
He quickly scooped up Ned’s hands and rubbed them between his own, chafing them to life, hoping to take the chill away and get the blood moving again. While he did that, he continued to peek between the branches to see what the asshole with the gun was doing. He breathed a little easier when he saw the man was not only still facing away from them but had also moved a few feet farther off. Now he could barely be seen standing there in the mist at the very edge of sight. If he moved away another foot or two he would disappear completely, swallowed up by the fog. Joe wasn’t sure if that would be a good thing or a bad. While it would also mean the guy couldn’t see them, Joe didn’t like the idea of an armed maniac hiding in the shadows, waiting to flip his lid and start shooting at anything that moved. The haze might keep them hidden, but it wouldn’t do much to stop a barrage of shotgun pellets.
He studied Ned’s expression. With a gentle tug, he coaxed Ned down to the ground where they squatted at the base of the tree. If nothing else, it made them a smaller target.
Ned returned his look with a jittery smile. He puckered his mouth like he was blowing smoke rings. “I can see my breath,” he said.
Joe spoke in the faintest of whispers behind an equally nervous smile. “Me too.”
Ned took a fistful of Joe’s jacket, either to balance himself as he squatted, or just because he wanted the connection.
“Mr. Wong was right, Joe. In the blink of an eye the world has suddenly gone crazy.”
“Only he said it without articles or prepositions.”
Ned snorted, then slapped a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh. He had no more done that than his eyes grew sad. His hand fell away from his mouth and he clutched a little tighter at Joe’s jacket.
“He really killed that man.”
Joe sighed. “He didn’t have a choice.”
Ned fidgeted, drawing a shaky breath, still clearly trying to come to terms with what Mr. Wong had done. “I know. He—he did what he had to, didn’t he, Joe?”
“Yes. And that’s the same thing we have to do,” Joe answered softly, all the while stroking Ned’s arm, hoping to keep him calm. Turning away, he peeked through the branches of the pepper tree again. The man was completely out of sight now, and Joe liked that far less than having the man visible.
“Right now what we have to do,” Joe whispered, “is work our way around this armed asshole and make it home without getting shot.”
Ned nodded. “I’m glad you’re with me, Joe. I feel sorry for anybody who’s alone right now. Wondering what’s going to happen. Trying to stay safe. Not having somebody to….” His voice faded away.
Joe studied his face. “Not having somebody to what?”
The blush in Ned’s cheeks blossomed. His ears practically caught on fire. “To care for them,” he said quietly, his eyes downcast.
Joe blinked in surprise. His throat constricted as he reached over and touched the back of his hand to Ned’s cheek. “I do care for you, Ned.”
Again, a tiny smile played at Ned’s mouth. He finally looked up. “I was hoping you did.”
“Do you care for me too?” Joe quietly asked.
Ned didn’t hesitate. The words were freed before he took his next breath. “You know I do.”
Joe saw the courage it took for Ned to utter those simple words. Especially to utter them in the middle of everything that was happening. It was as if Ned had arranged in his mind all the things that were most important to him and telling Joe he cared for him ranked even higher than knowing there was a crazy fucker out there with a shotgun itching to blow their heads off.
Joe leaned in and brushed his lips over Ned’s mouth. Ned immediately closed his eyes, as if losing himself in Joe’s kiss was the most natural thing in the world, regardless of the circumstances. Joe pulled back far enough to watch Ned’s eyes as they slipped open again. He didn’t see fear now in their blue depths. He saw only… peace. And Joe was pleased by that.
He pulled back and licked the taste of Ned’s kiss from his lips. Suddenly he realized how helpless they were, cowering
there under a tree. “We have to get home.”
There was a calm bravery in Ned’s frown that made Joe’s heart give a flutter inside his chest.
Ned’s eyes narrowed, fearless, even while his mouth turned down in a determined frown. “I know. I’m ready to go when you are.”
Joe tapped Ned’s chin with a fingertip, causing the frown to disappear. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he spoke the words for the first time in his life. “I don’t just care for you, Ned. I think I’m in love with you.”
Ned blinked. His lips parted to become a silent, astonished smile. When his voice came, it was little more than a squeak. “Honest?”
Joe nodded. Once. His gaze was so focused on Ned squatting there in front of him with that sweet smile on his face, that he barely heard himself mutter, “Honest.”
Joe leaned in once again to press another kiss to that perfect mouth. Before he got there, Ned’s eyes flew open and he screamed in outrage, “No!”
Before Joe knew what was happening, Ned violently pushed him away. Joe struck the ground so hard the air exploded from his lungs. When Ned lunged to his feet and leaped across him, Joe actually flung his arms up in front of his face, thinking he was being attacked.
And he was. Only not by Ned.
Spinning around, Joe saw the reason for Ned’s fury. The fucker with the gun had snuck up behind the trunk of the tree. He must have heard them whispering. He was standing there with a nasty, victorious smirk smeared across his face.
As he raised the shotgun to firing height, Ned plowed into him with a roar of fury, fists flying, one knee pistoning up to catch the guy squarely in the nuts. With a feeble whimper and an expulsion of air that must have emptied every ounce of oxygen from his body, the man collapsed under Ned’s barrage of anger like a stray dog being mowed down by a speeding car. He didn’t stand a chance.
The second he was on the ground, Ned wrenched the shotgun from his hands, and swinging it by the barrel, used it like a club to strike the man in the chest. One, two, three times. When the guy was rolling around in agony, clutching his chest, Ned flung the shotgun as far as he could. It pinwheeled out of sight, swallowed up in the haze. They heard it clatter when it hit the street.
