Ambient

by Jack Womack

  "I guess I am now," I said. "Unless we've been fired."

  "So fuck 'em," she said. "Fuck me first."

  Romance's room, in our house, was down the hall. I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

  "You sleep in here?" she asked.

  "Yeah," I said, pushing aside plaster chunks with my feet as I made our way across the room.

  "Where's your sister sleep?"

  "In here."

  "Really," she said as I set her down. She noticed a pool of dried blood on the floor. "Heavy period?"

  "Had company drop in about two months ago."

  She flung herself onto my bed face down, parted her legs, and, raising her bottom, moved it in slow circles. It seemed to me that her smirker tattoo glared at me, as if condescending to my presence.

  "Do me double," she said, laughing, her face pressed against my pillow. "I'll suck you dry."

  I found myself short on repartee under the circumstances. She rolled onto her back, looking up. "Why's a blanket nailed to the ceiling?" she asked.

  "To cover the hole. "

  "Where'd the hole come from?"

  "That's where our company dropped in."

  She nodded, as if any of it made sense. She stared at Enid's block of foam but said nothing. I took off my clothes, feeling it very strange to undress before a woman who was not my sister. Avalon raised her head, vizzing me up and down.

  "I've never seen so many scars," she said.

  "I get around."

  "What's the long one running down your shoulder from?"

  " Bayonet. "

  "The big one in your shoulder?"

  "Hatchet."

  "That one?" she asked, pointing.

  "Cigarette."

  "You don't smoke."

  "Enid does."

  I got into bed with her. "You nervous?" she asked.

  "Yeah. "

  We were busy for what seemed to be hours. Avalon had a vivid imagination and reveled in the perverse.

  "You like it?" she asked, after some passage of silence. We'd not been interrupted. I nodded.

  "You're shivering. You cold?"

  I shook my head.

  "Scared?"

  I didn't answer.

  "Was that your first time?"

  "No," I said, adding, "Kind of."

  "Kind of?" she laughed. "Who with before? Lalas?"

  "No. "

  "Neighborhood girls."

  "Kind of. I never did much-"

  "Don't you like girls?"

  "My work kept me so busy-"

  "You sound like Sonny now. This isn't better than work?"

  "Much better."

  "You sweat like a hog," she laughed, rolling against me, pressing her face against my chest, biting my nipples. "I love it.

  "I'm glad." I dipped my fingertips into the nubby furze at the base of her skull. "You can let your hair grow out now."

  "I like it this way."

  "Whatever. I didn't mean-"

  "I think I do love you," she said, very softly. "This is kind of new."

  "I love you," I said. "I love you so much."

  "Scared?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "They still out there, Shamey?" she asked. "Go look."

  I pulled myself up and walked to the window. It was late; Ruben and Lester were dragging off the unclaimed. "Yeah," I said. "Maybe I better try to contact tomorrow."

  "We better stay awake," she said. "We might have to make a speedaway."

  "Unless they kill us first," I said.

  "They won't," she said. "Come back here. I've got to do something to keep from fallin' asleep."

  "I'm sleepy," I said, climbing back into bed beside her. She eyed me for a moment, her face shining moonbright. She pushed me onto my back and climbed aboard, grinding against me, her strong thighs crushing my hips as she leaned forward.

  "Rape me," she said, her hands circling my throat.

  We lay like knives, blade to blade; care's nurse called and we answered. During the eve a new dream alit me: Avalon and I drifted into the sky through the hole in the roof, borne gracefully toward something like heaven; a copter buzzed near, rousting our apotheosis. I awoke; my eyes unglued. The Serena had come during the night. Waves of black water baptized us. I took the high ground; Avalon washed out with the tide.

  "O'Malley!" she shouted, hitting the floor. She splashed to a gentle stop against the wall.

  "Rise and shine," I said.

  "Those guys still out there?" she asked.

  "Fit and ready to play," I said, seeing from the window their dark car's rain-spattered gleam.

  "How many are there?"

  "Three," I said, stepping into my trousers.

  "Recognize 'em?" she asked, pulling on her sweater.

  "Internal security, maybe. Or Home Army. Down from Midtown, likely. It's a big car. "

  "How big are they?"

  `Very. , f

  "Help me get my pants on, Shameless," she said, lying on 136 the floor, lifting her legs. It was but a few minutes before we had her jeans yanked up so far as her waist. "Gimme the pliers," she said, sucking in her breath. "In my bag." I passed them to her before she could turn bluer than her pants. Seizing the clasp with the pliers, she pulled her zipper shut. I knew that there were proxies who had the Health Service remove part of their small intestine during the required ovariotomies so that they might wear tighter pants, but Avalon had never been so diligent.

  "What'll we do?" she asked as I helped her stand.

  "Watch them."

  "Watch?" she said, peering out. "Look."

  I did; three got out of the car and started walking across the street, as if aiming for our building.

  "Rent's due," I said, stepping back.

  "Want to meet 'em here?"

  "I'd prefer not to meet them at all. We can get out before they can get up. Come on." I tossed her one of Enid's more subtle jackets-one of bright magenta leatherette-and I pulled on my own Krylar model. "Put it on and let's go."

  "Where are we going?"

  "Out. Follow me. Don't worry."

  We stepped into the hall; I heard Lester arguing downstairs. Suspecting that he and Ruben could detain them long enough, I locked up, turned and shoved in the door of the apartment across the hall. Dad had evicted the building's squatters when we moved in here. The tenants left, this apartment had been locked and had not been entered-no need-until the moment I broke in. The rooms were as they had been left when I was still young; only where some of the ceiling or the walls had caved in was anything disturbed. Dust and soot lay over the old furniture and on the floors, several inches deep; the spiderwebs were laced like spun cotton. The only light that came through the dust-opaqued windows-those left unblocked-was pale yellow-gray.

  "Nobody lives in this whole place but you two?"

  "Above the first floor," I said. "Ruben and Lester live behind the club."

  "Why'd you pick this place?"

  "We inherited the building from our father."

  "Why?"

  "As an investment."

  "He was serious?"

  "It was all he had left," I said, "He always said you couldn't go wrong owning New York real estate."

  "What happened to him?"

  "I don't know," I said as we came to the apartment's bedroom. The doorknob fell off as I turned it, and I pushed the door open. "He disappeared one night not long after we moved down here. Somebody might have pounced him outside. We'll never know. I don't think he ever got used to things. He was a worldly man, but it was a different world-" I shattered the window facing the airshaft. Both of us sneezed in the thickened dust as the falling glass stirred the sediment. The building next door was two feet away; the window across was already broken out.

  "You know where we're going?" she asked as I helped her across the sill.

  "Sure," I said, crawling across. The building over was in excellent shape; there was a floor at every level. Once we reached the roof we could dash across and clamber down t
o the next street over, away from our friends.

  We ran up the stairs. When we reached the fifth floor, we stopped to catch our breath; one apartment lacked a door. We looked in.

  "Shameless," Avalon panted, "what the fuck-"

  A fellow in the apartment had hung another one from the ceiling; the dangler was draped in chains and resembled a chandelier. The fellow standing flogged merrily away with a long braided whip. He looked up, hearing Avalon's voice. Distracted from the moment's heat, he turned and ran toward us.

  "We're bigger than he is," she said as we ran up the stairs.

  "I don't care," I answered, crashing against the door that led to the roof; it fell away. We lost him, a few buildings over. We missed the roof's weak spots as we ran; he stepped onto a sag. The sound of crashing reached our ears as he plummeted through the floors. Slowing our pace, we made our way along. With short leaps at appropriate intervals, we reached the other side of the block.

  "Down that fire escape," I said. "Be careful."

  We climbed down, Avalon going first.

  "What street is this?" Avalon shouted up to me.

  "Avenue B," I said.

  "This thing keeps shaking," she said, clutching the railing.

  "We're lucky it's here," I yelled back. Fire escapes hadn't been required for years, having been long ago ruled an infringement on the rights of property owners; when old originals were scavenged, they were never replaced. Rusted support bolts pulled from the crumbling wall with our every step. "Throw yourself out of the way if it goes down."

  The fire escape shook like a Vibrabed; a rumble-the sound of bees aswarm, and nearing-grew louder. When we reached the second floor landing we discovered that someone had borrowed the ladder to the ground. The fire escape kept moving even after we had stopped, and from its shuddering bones rose an unpleasant creak.

  "Jump," I said.

  "Where?"

  "Garbage," I said, hurtling over the rail; Avalon wasn't far behind. We just hit the stack of bags at which we'd aimed.

  "You all right?" she asked as she stood up.

  "Yeah," I said. "We need a plan-"

  "Look out!" she screamed, throwing herself across me; we hit the ground again. In my confusion I marveled at her passion's wildness; then her true motive showed. The fire escape, weak ened by our prancing, dropped from the building, bringing half the structure's facade down with it; I was reminded of vids showing icebergs breaking away from glaciers in the cold south seas. Screams filled the air as the innocent were crushed. We were showered only with brick dust; for long moments we lay there, attempting to recover.

  "You still all right?" she asked.

  "Barely," I said. "How about you?"

  "Great," she said, coughing and brushing dust away. "Fucking great. You were saying-"

  "A plan," I repeated, rising. Uninjured passerbys were at work pulling the shoes from the feet sticking out of the bricks and iron.

  "What?"

  "We've got to act nonchalant," I said.

  "Nonchalant," she said, pointing down the street. The black Redstar turned the corner onto B, entering the narrow street's heavy traffic.

  "Follow my lead," I said, taking her hand. An old man with a bag of candy bars attempted to sell us one as we passed. We stepped beside a food wagon; a woman there sold lumps of akee and chunks of ice soaked in coconut milk.

  "That's our only choice?"

  "It'll have to do. Let's go." We edged between a fruit cart and a peddler hawking wallet-sized calculators.

  "Looking nonchalant," said Avalon. The Redstar came closer.

  "Naturally," I said, "But be ready for anyth-"

  The grenade fired from the Redstar hit the woman's cart; coconut ice fell from the sky like hail.

  "Move!" I yelled, and we ran up the street; a block ahead, a cab had paused, stalled by the passage of people walking across. At once I saw what to do and nodded to Avalon; she'd already seen. She ran around; hopped into the front passenger seat. I rushed over, opening the driver's door.

  "Sorry," I said, heaving him into the street. Another missile shot past us, hitting a restaurant across the way. I was sure that this bunch had to be Home Army undercover, for their aim was so bad. As I sat behind the wheel, it occurred to me that there might be a problem, but I had no time to fret. The cab was an ancient overdubbed Mustang with what I thought was a shift and clutch-driving was something I never had to do in my daily work.

  "Get outta here, Shamey-" Avalon shouted. I judged that if I worked the pedals like a bicycle's we might move, and so began jerking the cab ahead. Lurch, jump, stop; lurch, jump, stop. By accident I slipped the shift into the right gear and we took off. Another blast sounded behind us. The path ahead was reasonably clear; the crowd scrambled to get out of our way.

  "Come on. O'Malley, drive!" Looking in the rearview I saw the boys coming furious-fast in their Redstar.

  "I'm trying," I mumbled, attempting to shift into another gear; the car's engine groaned, and we swerved into a clump of peds that hadn't yet found security, bowling them over; it didn't seem wise for us to stop and offer apology. At Eighth Street I turned left; our car wasn't picking up speed.

  "You know how to drive a shift?" Avalon asked, calmly.

  "I've watched Jimmy," I said.

  "The limo's automatic."

  I pulled, by accident, onto the sidewalk, avoiding a ditch, and we smashed through a cluster of street vendors, scattering their wares. We almost stalled; awful grinding noises came from the shift as I tried to force it into place.

  "You know how to drive?" Avalon asked.

  "Sort of-"

  "E!" She reached out, grabbing the shift knob. "Move over," she said, scooting over, taking the wheel. "Get," she said, lifting herself past me. "I can't drive sittin' in your lap." I pulled myself over to the passenger side. In admiration I watched her rush through the gears.

  "They still back there?" she asked; we took off through the old park and then down Ninth as if we'd been kicked.

  I looked. "Forty back," I said. "They're crossing the avenue. "

  "What avenue?"

  "A. The exit's at Third and Fourteenth. Let's break and fly uptown. "

  "Why?"

  "They won't shoot at us in Secondary Zones," I said. "I hope."

  We reached Third in a matter of minutes. She cut right overfast, bumping over a shallow excavation, skidding onto the sidewalk, then pulled the car back into the street. A kid stepped into our path, pulling his box behind him on a wagon of rude construction. We didn't hit him but we did hit his box, scattering the components. Speakers and knobs rained onto the sidewalks. I felt sorry for him, remembering the box I'd had as a child; it took me two years to steal all the parts.

  "When we get up there," I said, "drive onto the sidewalk. It'll be easier to get through the ped turnstiles and they aren't that well built. There should be room enough."

  "There'd better be," she said."Duck under the dash."

  We were going forty or so, approaching the barricade. As I dove to the floor I saw the Army boys raise their rifles; massive steel plates sprouted from the street's roadbed, looking like flowers blooming. Avalon held tight to the bottom half of the wheel as she slid down in the seat, keeping her foot full on the gas. The windshield shattered under fire as we hit the turnstiles; we kept going.

  "Keep going straight," I shouted. I rose and looked behind us. No one fired at our pursuers; they rolled down the IA lane as if going to a funeral.

  "Shit," Avalon said, slowing as traffic thickened. "I don't know how Jimmy does it."

  Traffic was quite heavy in the Murray/Gramercy Secondary Zone, and we had to go much more slowly. We'd gained enough distance to have left the Redstar ten lengths or so behind. She pulled the cab ahead as she could, scraping along, stopping two or three times in every block; our followers, luckily, had to do the same. It seemed safer, just then, to stay in the car and not stop to run for it.

  "Something burning?" I asked sniffing the air.

&nb
sp; "The car," she said. "Musta knocked something loose when we crashed through. We gotta do something quick."

  Wispy smoke drifted from beneath the hood as we passed Thirtyfourth. Our stalkers neared and attempted to pull closer to us; an Entenmann's van blocked their approach. They were so near that I thought I might be able to size them onceover better. I was more than surprised to see one of the lads ready his bazooka.

  "Floor it," I shouted. Avalon roared ahead, pushing through a break in traffic; the van that saved us shattered as it blew, spraying dessert fragments blockwide.

  "I thought you said they wouldn't shoot at us up here."

  "They're not supposed to."

  Avalon pulled in front of another cab, cutting it off. "Culo!" the cabbie shouted as we passed. "Fuckin' asshole!" Speeding up, he rammed against our side with his cab.

  "Fuck off!" Avalon yelled back, slamming back against him. The smoke coming from our engine grew darker, and richer. The boys behind us fired again, blasting the attack cab.

  "They're going to get us, next-"

  "Maybe not," she said. "Look." After Thirty-seventh Street, Third Avenue had been closed to traffic; there seemed to have been a blast from a different source. Glass rang like wind chimes as it showered the street from above; black smoke billowed from what had been the penthouse of Conbroco. Strikes were common enough in Secondary Zones; this event was no more than a hiccup, and the blockades were haphazard.

  "We can get through, I think."

  "I got an idea," she said, breaking the police barriers. "I saw it in a movie, once."

  "What movie?"

  "Robert Mitchum was in it. Drug runnin', I think. Out in Kentucky or Tennessee somewhere. "

  Cutting the wheel, she simultaneously stepped on the emergency brake. It might have been a good idea had we been driving a different car. We spun in a tight circle in the middle of Third; I knew how Crazy Lola must have felt. Following our whirl, I judged that the plan was to take off in the opposite direction, but when she hit the gas once more we slipped into reverse.

  "Hold on," she shouted, shaking the gearshift; it wobbled loosely, as if unattached. Shooting backward at twenty per, smashing the barriers at the far end of the blast zone, we entered traffic less heavy than that through which we had previously driven, coming to rest against a storefront on the west side of the avenue. The boys in the Redstar sighted and sped toward us, apparently certain that head-on would do us fine.