“What is that?” Kizzy asked.
“A motorcycle,” he said.
“What’s it for?” she asked.
“Getting around.”
“Like where?”
“Well, I’m leaving the city tonight,” he said crossing his arms.
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“Are you even allowed to leave? Won’t the people in the country kill you if they see you?”
“Yeah, so I’ll make sure they don’t see me. I’ll move around at night.”
“But doesn’t that thing make noise?”
“They’ll only ever hear the engine in the distance.”
“Where are you gonna go?”
“I don’t know exactly. Someplace quiet.”
“I didn’t know city people ever wanted to be alone.”
“Well, there’s obviously a lot you don’t know,” he said. He seemed annoyed that she was even there. He furrowed his brow. Some of the scratches on his forehead were pretty deep.
“Did the crows do that?” she asked, pointing at his face.
“Yeah,” he said. His expression went serious as he felt at the scratches. “Is it bad?”
“It’s not great.”
“Well, they attacked me after I saved you. They knocked me down, but fortunately some of my friends came out looking when they lost sight of me.”
“Sorry,” Kizzy said. She looked up at the clock. “I should be going I guess. The concert is going to start soon.”
“Wait, do you have money for the ticket?”
Kizzy pulled some cash from her pocket.
The boy looked at the money in her hand and then looked up at her with his big green eyes. She could tell he felt sorry for her. She didn’t like that one bit.
“Is that even enough?” He snatched the cash and counted it quickly. “No it isn’t.”
He spun around and reached over to a coffee can on the table. He took out a $10 bill and handed it to her.
“I don’t want your money,” Kizzy said. It was the look of pity he had given her, it pissed her off.
“Yeah, but you need it. Just take it,” he said shaking the bill.
Reluctantly she grabbed it.
“Let me walk you there,” he said.
“No,” Kizzy said. She got up to leave.
“Well, let me draw you a map at least,” he said. He looked around the desk for a piece of paper. There was none. “Hey let me have that $10 back.”
He took a pen from the table and made a rough sketch of seventeen city blocks to the concert hall. Kizzy noticed him biting his tongue as he drew. She thought it was funny but she didn’t laugh. He continued to draw, turning the map around in circles as he sketched the route.
“There will be cops at this corner,” he said. “So make sure you keep your head down. Actually, wait a second.”
He walked to a closet and grabbed a red hooded sweatshirt with yellow stripes on the arms. “No one in the city would ever wear a coat like yours. Take these and you can pull the hood down over your face.”
Kizzy took the sweater.
“One last thing.” He scanned the workbench and grabbed a small silver key. “You can come back here if you survive everything. I’ll be gone by then.”
“Ok,” said Kizzy. She doubted she’d make it through the ordeal, but she appreciated the thought. She took the $10 map and went to the bathroom to put on the clothing. Glancing in the mirror she realized she looked like a wreck. Her face was covered in dirt and blood. She turned on the water and washed it all off. The sweatshirt was a little too baggy but it would work. She tied her hair up into a ball and pulled the hood up over her head. She walked back into the room. The boy was polishing a piece of metal at the table.
“How do I look?” she asked.
He turned and squinted. “Good enough.”
Kizzy looked around and patted her pockets to make sure she had everything. The money, the map, the knife, the key.
“My name’s Diego,” he said. “In case you need to find me or something.”
“I’m K...”
“No, don’t tell me,” he interrupted with his hands up. He pointed up at his head. “There’s only so much space up here. And I’ll probably never see you again. You seem too nice to just become a sad memory.”
“Bye then,” Kizzy said.
“Yep.” He went back to polishing the piece of metal.
Kizzy walked out into the evening. The air felt different here. Were all the people in the city as nice as he was? They didn’t seem like mutants. Just slightly different, that’s all. What was it they used to be called back before they mutated? Men? It was too bad she’d never see Diego again. What if she survived all this? She would hear his motorcycle driving in the middle of the night. Everyone else would just think he was a ghost, but only Kizzy would know who he really was.
Within half an hour Kizzy was near the city center. The feel of the place was completely different than she had expected. The tall buildings trapped her in. The smell of piss and garbage filled the air as the steam rose from the city grates. The mutants surrounded her, talking loudly, laughing, drinking. Pushcarts selling electronics and fruits and pans. She kept her face down, her chin almost to her chest, her eyes only up enough to read from the $10 map.
She turned down an alleyway. A man with raggedy clothes and a dirty beard approached her.
“Hey man,” he said. He smelled of booze and most of his front teeth were missing. “I need a dollar for the train.”
Kizzy ignored him and pushing her face down, tried to walk around him.
“Hey I’m talking to you!” he yelled and gave her a shove.
Kizzy staggered backwards and looked up at him.
“What the hell?” said the man, his face filled up with shock and terror. “You’re a woman.”
Kizzy was frozen. The man snatched the $10 bill from her hands and ran away. Kizzy scurried around the corner and hid next to a fruit stand. She put her face in her hands. What was she doing here? She was so far from home, so far from safety. But there was no choice now. She just had to keep going. She looked down and realized the map was gone. The map was gone! The man, the smelly one, he took it. Why had Diego drawn the map on money?
Suddenly she heard police sirens going off. The man must have alerted them. She had to run. She stood up and sprinted across the street, dodging the people and the carts that were crossing. She tried to remember the directions from the map. Was it three blocks and a turn right or was it four? There was no way of knowing now. And there were still four or five more turns she had to make before she got to the concert hall.
She couldn’t ask for directions, she just had to keep running. Why weren’t there signs on the street showing the way? She turned right at another corner and left at the next. She was completely lost now. At least the police sirens were further away.
All the streets looked the same. To the left was an alleyway that led to a small train station. From one of the train cars men were unloading musical equipment and taking it in through a garage door in a large sandstone building. Kizzy noticed the Banshee logo on one of the drum sets. It must have been the backside of the concert hall. She carefully walked over to the musical equipment and when no one was looking she snuck inside and hid in a dark place in the corner.
Well this was the right building, but she was on the wrong side of the curtain. There were dozens of people carrying things around and testing sound equipment. She went and hid behind a large stack of speakers. The stack began to move as someone pushed the cart away. Kizzy looked around for another place to hide and scurried down a nearby orange hallway that was lit with a soft yellow light.
Every now and again something fortuitous happens, as if life decides
to make things easy for you for once.
Kizzy looked to the end of the hall and there he was, there was Banshee. It seemed surreal for him to be existing in the world like that, yet there he was. A living breathing human with two legs and everything. He walked down the hall towards her, wearing black leather pants and a blue denim vest. His arms were muscular and tattooed with flames. He didn’t notice her and turned into a dressing room, closing the door behind him.
Kizzy’s heart was on fire. Her adrenaline was pumping just from seeing him. She had to meet him. But it was far too intimidating, she couldn’t bear it. What if he tried to kill her?
Kizzy shook her head. Finding Enoch was the only purpose in her life now. Banshee would understand. She had gone through so much just for the chance to talk to him. He’d appreciate all she had done. His music was all about that, understanding the things hard to understand.
Kizzy snuck over and gently knocked on the door.
“Who’s there?” came the voice from the inside.
Kizzy tried to think of what to say. Nothing came to mind, she just knocked again.
“Yeah, who is it?”
She knocked again.
“Are you deaf?” he asked as the swung door open.
Kizzy stood with her face exposed. Banshee’s eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. His head bobbed a little as if he were trying to say something. In the end he just stepped back and gestured for her to come in.
Kizzy entered. The room was richly decorated with dark cloth hanging from the walls. It smelled of incense and fruit. Some strange music came from a small record player. Banshee closed the door behind her. He stood there with his hands at his sides and looked at her for what felt like a full minute. Finally he walked to his desk and sat down with his legs crossed. He squinted. Was he trying to figure out her story? It felt like he was trying to look through her. He appeared to be 27, that’s how old he must have been when the plague happened.
“So what are you doing here?” he asked finally. His voice was deep and smoky, just like she imagined it would be.
“Well, I came to see you,” she said. She felt excited, foolishly excited but she didn’t care. “I believe you know the location of Dr. Enoch.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Messages on the albums. The poems and the notes and the words in your music.”
“How’d you even hear my music?” he asked. “Don’t you have radio jammers or something?”
“Yeah, but out in the fields there are some unjammed places,” Kizzy said. “In the tractor sometimes I could hear your music.”
“Unjammed places huh?” He reached for a cigarette box, slid one out with long bony fingers and lit it with a diamond shaped lighter. The smoke crept from his mouth and up each side of his face. The smoke wafted towards Kizzy. It was sweet and funny. His eyes were fixed on her like headlights. Green and intense, like tiny emeralds. “How does your mother feel about all this?”
“She doesn’t approve,” Kizzy said, crossing her arms. “She broke one of your albums actually, when she found it.”
“Well that is a shame,” he said and smiled. He exhaled smoke through his teeth. It was hypnotic.
“Yes it is,” Kizzy said in a whisper. “But I’m here because a friend of mine was killed by the crows and it was my fault. I was supposed to kill myself, but I couldn’t do it, knowing that you might be able to help me.”
“How?”
“Because you know where Enoch is. Don’t you?”
“I may. Or I may not,” he said, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Everyone seems to think I have all the answers.”
“Well do you?”
He looked at her with his head tilted to the side. He seemed to think for a moment, trying to decide which direction to take the conversation. He reached into the desk and took out a small wooden box that was decoratively carved with swirls and stars. He unlocked it and pulled out a small newspaper clipping. On it was a map. Kizzy stepped forward. It was the same map she had seen on the albums, only this one was filled in with streets and city names.
“Can I have it?” Kizzy asked.
“What makes you think you’re so special?” he asked.
For a split second Kizzy considered saying she was immune—that she was growing older as they spoke. But that made her special in the wrong way. It made her a freak. She wasn’t about to tell him that. She wasn’t about to tell anyone that. It had to stay locked inside. “Because I need to find him,” she said. “To bring my friend back.” Banshee smiled and shook his head. “Well, that’s not good enough a reason.”
“Please, I beg you,” she said. Her hope was deflating.
“If Enoch wanted to be found, it would have happened already. So you’re not getting this map.”
“Why are you being stupid?”
“Excuse me?” he said.
“What good is it doing anybody locked up in that little box?”
Banshee grinned with crooked teeth. “You’re feisty. I like that. You remind me of someone I used to know. She’s been gone for 18 years now.”
He reached into the drawer and pulled out a leopard print handgun. Kizzy froze. She had only ever seen pictures of them in school. Couriers of instant death. Her arms and legs went rigid and cold.
“She died in the plague. And the one thing I’ve regretted all these years is that we didn’t die together.” Kizzy backed towards the door and tried to find the handle.
“Hey, not so fast,” Banshee said, raising the gun. “Get away from there.”
Kizzy stepped away from the door.
“Now how about you take off that ugly sweatshirt.”
“What?”
“And those pants too,” he said. “Take them off.”
“No,” Kizzy answered. She didn’t understand why he would want that, but it felt fundamentally wrong. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Look,” Banshee said, taking a long drag his cigarette. “What’s your name?”
“Kizzy,” she said softly.
“Look Kizzy. The way I see it, you don’t have much of a choice. If you don’t want to do what I ask, I could just shoot you. I don’t need any rhyme or reason to do that. I tell the authorities you attacked me and I acted in self defense. No one would ever think badly of me. I’d be a hero in fact. If you try to run, you wouldn’t get very far. I’d call security and they’d catch you and either bring you back here or take you to prison. They might even kill you, I don’t know what their protocol is. Or lastly you could do what I ask and maybe you’d have a little fun. I might even give you a private box seat to see the concert.” He pointed the gun at her and turned his head slightly and grinned. “And everybody wins Kizzy.”
Kizzy dropped her head. It was obvious now that everything was a mistake. Coming to the city. Coming to the concert. Finding Banshee. It had all been a bad, bad idea.
In that moment she realized the sick truth behind Banshee’s music. He may have been a genius, but it came from a disturbed mind. She looked at him now, sitting there, holding the leopard print handgun and staring at her like she was a piece of meat. He looked more animal than human. She should have seen this coming. The music that came from his tortured soul appealed to the tortured soul within her.
Kizzy took off the red hooded sweatshirt and laid it over a chair. She stood up stiffly. She didn’t know what he wanted, she just knew didn’t want to be there anymore. But what could she do? He had a gun. She couldn’t outrun a bullet. And she knew she wouldn’t be able talk her way of this. He seemed dead set on it. All of a sudden Kizzy remembered she was holding a knife in her boot.
10
Diego didn’t watch the girl leave. It was pointless. It would only make him feel guilty and when he felt guilty he usually did things he regretted. He brought the polis
hed gas tank to the motorcycle and connected it to the frame. He adjusted the rear view mirror. He could see her out there in its reflection, walking off into the city. She was so small and helpless. He felt sorry for her. She’d be killed for sure. She was so reckless. What had made her that way? The guilt filled his stomach with marbles.
Shouldn’t he do something? No. She didn’t want his help anyway, it would only piss her off. Let her do what she wants. He had plans to worry about.
He looked at the clock. There were still two hours to kill before his escape. And the motorcycle was ready to go and his bags were all packed. He could follow her at a distance, just to make sure she got to the hall safely. He had wanted to see the concert anyway. It could be his last hurrah in the city. He grabbed his leather jacket.
Keeping a good distance he remained close enough to not lose her, and far enough not to be noticed. She followed the directions beat by beat. But Diego knew the tricky part was coming. There were always police that stood at the corner of Raven Street. It was crucial that she turn down into the alley before that corner.
Diego hid behind a tree and watched as she walked right past the alleyway. She was headed straight for the cops at the end of the street. Should he shout something? That would get the police’s attention though.
Suddenly the girl stopped, looked down at the map and turned back towards the alley. Diego exhaled. He crossed the street and peaked round the corner. The girl had bumped into a homeless man. He had seen her face.
“What the hell?” said the man, his voice was full of fear. “You’re a woman.”
The man ran down the alley past Diego and turned the corner to where the police were stationed.
“There’s a woman down that alley!” the homeless man shouted to them.
Diego held his breath, trying to think of where he could hide the girl.
“Really?” the cop gasped.
The Enoch Pill Page 10
