by Toby Neal
Dolf’s shiny black Lexus SUV, stashed in the alley behind Avital’s, hadn’t gone unnoticed by the boys in the neighborhood. He ducked his head and thrust his hands into his pockets. His fingers curled around the cool metal of his father’s lighter. “Frankie, just wanted to stop by and tell you I appreciate how you’re keeping the neighborhood safe and want to offer my help.”
“Thought you Lucianos didn’t care for our kind of company.” Frankie, like everyone in the neighborhood, knew that Paulie Luciano was a straight cop who’d worked undercover on an organized crime task force, and that his body, missing a nose, was found floating in the Schuylkill River.
“Desperate times, man. I just want to make sure my mom, sister, and brother’s widow are safe.”
“We all want to make sure our families are safe.” Frankie looked up and down their quiet street, cluttered with parked cars, a small safe zone in a city that was melting down. “You’re enjoying the protection of this neighborhood and yet you have not offered any funds to help. Why is that, Mr. Lexus?”
“I was busy burying my twin.” Dolf clutched the lighter in his pocket so hard that the metal heated. Who knew how long it was going to take to pry Mama, Lucy, and Avital out of the neighborhood so he could put his plans in motion? He needed more time.
Frankie nodded, waiting for more.
“Put me on a shift.”
Frankie sat back, running his hand along the shotgun, petting it the same way Dolf touched his cat. “Tomorrow night. We meet here at sunset.”
“I’ll be here.”
“And JT?”
“He left.”
“Right, walking to DC with that piece.” Frankie whistled through his teeth. “That girl is fine. Skinny, but I like blondes.”
Dolf quirked a brow. Blondes were all he’d dated, too, not that any of them mattered.
Frankie leaned forward. “It ain’t cheap keeping the neighborhood safe. I planned on talking to your mom about that later….”
Dolf cut him off. The thought of Frankie in his mom’s kitchen asking for protection money brought bile to the back of his throat. “Of course. I have a little something put away to make your time and effort worthwhile.”
Frankie leaned back. “You’ve got a little something put aside, Mr. Lexus Luciano from New York City? Stock market not bringing in the same returns it used to, eh?”
Dolf didn’t respond. He couldn’t tip his hand to how well he’d prepared for this catastrophe without making himself or his family a target.
“I’ll tell you what,” Frankie said. “You bring me a little something for my protection, and start showing up for shifts. But don’t bother with cash money. I’d like something harder, if you can get it—like gold. Something that will keep its value.”
Dolf nodded stiffly.
“Okay then, Mr. Lexus. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Dolf hoped like hell “Mr. Lexus” wasn’t going to be his nickname with the boys, but chances were good it was. After today’s convo with Frankie, he wished he drove something else.
Dolf headed to the alley behind Nando’s where the Lexus was parked. With the power out and thus alarms off, there was no telling if his stash was safe. It was time to move it from the storage unit to the neighborhood where he could keep an eye on it and be ready to roll. The storage unit was in an industrial part of town, and he was bound to attract the wrong kind of attention in the fancy Lexus.
Locked inside the glove box were a pair of Glock 19s and the ankle rig he’d brought with him. He wasn’t a fan of guns, but they had their uses—and it was clear that they were going to be needed daily with everything that was going on.
Dolf strapped on the ankle holster with the .22 in it for backup and shrugged into the shoulder holster. The third weapon he stashed under his seat.
He pulled the SUV onto the deserted street. No one in their right mind was driving around in a Lexus outside of his safe neighborhood, but his actions last night proved he wasn’t in his right mind.
Dolf navigated around snarled clumps of cars, abandoned because they ran out of gas, and vandalized by looters who weren’t sick yet.
How long would it be before he got sick? Before Avital did?
A shiver ran over him. Nando dying was enough, wasn’t it? Did he have to see Avi go too? His mother? Sister Lucy? No!
Dolf had to get Avital and his family to Idaho.
Loose dogs prowled around the alley near the storage facility where Dolf parked the Lexus. Dolf double-checked that he had everything he needed out of the vehicle—he didn’t plan on seeing it again. Patting his weapons and tools for reassurance, Dolf got out and beeped the vehicle locked in a symbolic gesture.
The day was hot, the kind of weather that wrapped you up, held you down, and smothered you like being rolled up in a mohair blanket. Philly in August was not for the faint of heart, and Philly with no power in August was a little slice of hell.
A band of looters smashing into parked cars looked Dolf’s way. He ignored them, projecting purpose and strength as he walked, the Glock in his fist an advertisement they’d be taking on trouble if they stopped him—so no one did.
The storage building was locked down tight and appeared intact. The exterior units were surrounded by a high chain-link fence topped with razor wire. The electronic coded doors, sheathed in metal, wouldn’t open with the power outage.
One thing he was good at was climbing. Dolf also carried a pair of bolt cutters in his back pocket.
Dolf stowed the second Glock in the back of his waistband and grabbed onto the fence, digging the toes of expensive, lightweight black all-terrain shoes into the diamond-shaped holes. In moments, he’d cut the razor wire and was over the fence, loping across the asphalt to the series of metal garages linked in rows side by side.
He trotted to unit number 179, a double-wide. He worked the heavy padlock combination and pushed the rollaway door up with a roaring clatter.
Sunlight shone into the depths onto the jacked-up Humvee bought two years ago from a military supply company. This was no pretentious suburban assault vehicle—this matte black Humvee was the real thing, a High Mobility Multipurpose Vehicle with a powerful engine and clearance high enough to barrel over most obstacles. He’d paid extra for bulletproof glass and armor plating.
The vehicle was filled with supplies he’d stashed on his last visit, telling Nando and Avital he was playing golf with some investor buddies when he was really provisioning the SUV with canned and dehydrated food, water, and medical supplies.
The interior of the storage unit was well over a hundred degrees. Dolf was glad he’d finished his preparations in spring when it was cooler. He got into the Humvee, and though it appeared undisturbed—a thin layer of dust coated the exterior—he couldn’t resist checking on the gold.
Using the Phillips-head screwdriver on the all-purpose tool he kept in the glove box, Dolf unscrewed one of the interior door panels and peeked in.
The gold had been rendered into bullets dipped in brass-colored paint. They were small and easily hidden. Boxes of incredibly expensive “ammo” lined all four doors of the three-inch space between the exterior metal of the vehicle and the lightweight padded steel interior panel. Bundled cash he kept in the locked glove box to throw off thieves.
The ammo boxes were untouched. Good.
Ten million in gold bullets ought to get them to Idaho with plenty to spare. Dolf took out two of the bullets for Frankie. He screwed the panel back on, sweat soaking his shirt and making his hands slippery as he scanned his environment, making sure the coast was clear before he fired up the Humvee and pulled out.
The gate was locked, of course, a twelve-foot steel-topped edifice. Dolf took the bolt cutters, walked up to the fence, and started clipping.
The rest of the way back to the neighborhood wasn’t as easy. Dolf had to put the Humvee into four-wheel off-road mode, and crawl it over a barrier built of sandbags and wrecked cars. The Humvee’s engine howled and the wheels spun and shriek
ed before each of them found purchase—and the angle tipping over the wreckage on the way down was enough to get his heart rate up. Fortunately, the vehicle’s powerful torque handled it, and once Dolf reached more trafficked areas, he got some momentum going and simply drove through anything that was in his way, the steel bumper cage on the hood getting a workout.
Once back in the neighborhood, Dolf pulled the Humvee up onto the curb next to Mama’s house. The Luciano home was on the corner with a double lot back yard. He’d paid to install a new six-foot cedar fence a few years ago, and the only place to park the Humvee out of sight was behind Mama’s house in the back yard.
Dolf stuck his head inside the front door and called. She hadn’t even locked it. “Mama!” No one answered.
Just as well. She wasn’t going to like what he was up to.
He opened the side gate. It wasn’t wide enough for the Humvee, but a few minutes with his battery-operated Sawzall and Dolf drove into the back yard. He mowed down Mama’s tomato patch and parked close to the house.
It was time to make the old homestead into a fortress.
Chapter Six
Avital
Seventy-eight deaths and forty-eight torturous hours later, Avital stood in the hall, swaying on her feet. Dr. Keller came out of his office and, spotting her, marched over.
“Avi, you need to go home.” His voice was hoarse. He’d been there even longer than she had.
“No, I’m fine.” But she wasn’t—her exhaustion was intense, dangerous, the type of thing that caused mistakes.
“I’m going home, too. We both need to rest. We’re useless here until we’ve regrouped and reenergized. When was the last time you ate?”
Avital remembered a granola bar from the snack machine she’d scarfed down. It tasted like the antibacterial foam she’d lathered on her hands and forearms constantly for the last few days. Her empty stomach clenched on itself, not with hunger but in disgust.
“I can just go lie down again.”
“You were in there for about twenty minutes last time. That’s not enough. You need to get a change of clothing, to sleep, and to eat some food.”
“I can’t go back there.” Her exhaustion was making her too honest.
“Yes,” Dr. Keller touched her elbow gently. “You can. You’re strong, Dr. Luciano. I know who you lost, but I also know you. And I know that you can take it.”
Avital nodded, refusing to make eye contact. He knew her? No one did. Avital didn’t even know herself anymore, after what she’d done.
“Okay,” Avital said, stepping away from her friend. “I’ll be back in six hours.”
“Make it eight.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat and hit her with a strong glare. “I’m not kidding. I hear you’re back here in less than eight hours and I’ll send you home for twelve.”
Empty threats. He couldn’t afford to lose her for that long, but Avital nodded. Eight hours of rest sounded impossible, but maybe she’d surprise herself.
Avital left through a side exit, avoiding the street side entrance of the emergency room which was crowded with people, overflowing from the seating area inside with its power and air-conditioning.
She couldn’t stand to see all those desperate people and leave so she avoided them, like the coward she was.
Avital biked down dark streets. People were outside their houses, escaping from the heat of the interiors to the relative cool night. It was still over 80 degrees and the humidity was thick, but a house without air-conditioning in this weather would be even hotter.
Avital passed a large truck stenciled with FEMA that was handing out jugs of drinking water. Without power, the water was no longer running. She swerved onto the sidewalk to avoid the crowd gathered around the truck.
Up ahead, on the next block, she saw a hulking garbage truck, two men lifting a body wrapped in black plastic into the gaping maw of the crusher. She turned to avoid it, going out of her way, not wanting to see one more dead body today. She was too tired; it just wasn’t worth it, better to go the long way home.
Candlelight flickered in the windows of houses, casting dancing shadows onto the interiors.
The city without power was transformed; the constant rattle of air-conditioning and clicking of fans, the buzz of streetlights and the murmur of televisions were gone. In their place, Avital heard the scampering of rats, twittering of birds, and the wind’s voice—a low howl, as it swooshed through the trees.
A lightning strike lit up low clouds, followed by a thunderous boom. A storm was coming, thank God. It would help break the heat. And if people put out buckets, they could collect rainwater for bathing.
Avital made it home just as the first patter of drops began to fall, and the familiar scent of wet cement rose from the sidewalk, mingling with the putrid rot of death and the acrid smoke of burning buildings.
Avital hoisted her bike onto her shoulder and started up the stoop, getting out her keys with her free hand, something she’d done thousands of times before. As she inserted the key into the lock she muttered a small prayer: please let the house be empty. She needed to be alone, to get rest so she could continue helping the sick and dying.
Her prayer was answered. The house was dark and cool. A fan hummed on the kitchen counter next to the open window. A generator in the back yard gurgled along. Dolf must have set it up.
The air-conditioning was off, which made sense. The gas would run out eventually and without the generator Avital would be as desperate as those people on the streets clamoring for water from a truck.
She left her bike at the entrance and stripped off her shirt as she walked upstairs, leaving a trail of dirty clothing in her wake.
The bathroom light flickered but glowed to its full brightness within a moment. Dolf had filled the tub. He was smart, always thinking ahead.
Avital took a washcloth from the closet and dipped it into the lukewarm water before running it over her skin. She wiped away the sweat and grime from her many hours of labor.
The simple white washcloth was the same as the one she’d used to clean Nando’s body, how many hours ago now? She couldn’t keep track of time. Her mind was too overworked.
Avital wrung out the washcloth and hung it over the edge of the sink to dry, then wrapped herself in a towel. She needed to sleep but it wasn’t going to happen in the master bedroom with its bare mattress and recent devastating memories.
Or in the guest room, for obvious reasons.
As she passed the door, cracked open, Avital pushed it with her foot and peeked in.
The bed was stripped.
Dolf’s shame must match her own. At least she could find comfort in that. They’d agree that it was a mistake. Surely they’d agree it could never happen again—if they ever talked about it—which she still hoped they wouldn’t.
But really, wasn’t it foolish to think that they could just not talk about it? She stepped into the room and looked at the nightstand. Dolf’s cufflinks were there, but his lighter and watch were gone. He planned on coming back.
It was a terrible idea for him to stay in her house, but she desperately wanted to see him again. Wanted to see that face she’d loved her entire adult life.
Avital turned and left the room, heading to the third bedroom, a small space Nando had used as his home office. There was a worn leather loveseat in it. Nando sometimes fell asleep on it, his long legs hanging over the edge, a brief resting on his chest, a pen between his teeth.
Avital opened the window. The rain was really coming down now and a cool breeze wafted in, lifting the curtains and caressing her damp skin. Slash padded into the room, his crooked tail twitching as he mewed loudly.
“Hey, you old pirate.” Avital patted the couch. “He left you all alone, did he? Come on up and keep me company.”
The battle-scarred tomcat hopped up beside her and started up a purr that sounded like an outboard running out of gas. It was oddly soothing. She curled up on the small couch around him, stroking h
is fur, and closed her eyes.
When Avital woke, the rain had ceased and the air was cooler. She checked the battery-operated clock on Nando’s desk; it was four a.m. She still had three hours before she was expected back at the hospital, but she doubted that Dr. Keller would know she’d returned early, and even if he did, the man understood how important it was that she be there.
Still naked with just the towel wrapped around her, Avital walked into the master bedroom, pausing at the door.
There was no light but she knew the room by heart. Her eyes were adjusted to the dark and she could see the glow of the bare mattress. Avital walked by it and slid open the closet door. Nando’s shirts and suits hung next to her dresses and blouses.
She pulled open her top drawer and grabbed a pair of underwear, slipping them on before picking up some scrubs and a bra. She was about to turn away when Nando’s shirts pulled her to them. Avital touched one of her favorites, a green button-down that he’d worn regularly. It brought out the green in his eyes, something few people besides her noticed about the twins. You’d think their eyes were just this one color, this dark brown, almost black. But when they got really excited, when Nando was talking about something he was really passionate about, or making love to her, the green came out.
She lifted the sleeve to her nose and inhaled. It smelled like laundry detergent. He had not worn it since its last cleaning. Regret welled up in her. She should have made him wear it, so that it would smell like him now. So that she could smell him now. So that she wouldn’t have to miss him so much.
Tears fell from her eyes and wrenching sobs shuddered through her body. The shirt fell off its hanger, and she clutched it to her face, crying into it.
Avital dropped to her knees, feeling the soft wall-to-wall carpeting against her bare skin. They’d made love on this floor.
After they had the carpeting installed, but before the bed arrived, she and Nando had sex right here. He banged her all the way across the floor until her head was in the closet, and they laughed when it was over, both sweaty and happy and fulfilled.
