The Artful (Shadows of the City) (13 page)

“No need, we are off for fame, fortune, yada yada yada, etcetera. We should leave before Gia wakes up. She’s going to do the whole ‘I’m a strong woman, I can fight like you guys’ and ‘Oh, but, Dodger, I love you!’ and honestly, we don’t need that!”

“Shouldn’t we at least say goodbye?”

“People only say goodbye when they plan to die.”

We left mid-day. We had time to pack our supplies and pick up some food at the feeding tent. Stale bread and crackers that we would save for later; I really had no appetite or desire to attempt to hold down food. I nursed a canteen of water like my life depended on it. It didn’t leave my lips for more than a couple of minutes at a time, as I regained my composure. We waded through the streets, aiming for the 23rd Street subway entrance just like I planned. Getting to the cathedral would be a half a day’s journey at the speed we were going. There was no one to bid us farewell. The Tribe spent a majority of their mornings and most of their days hung over or in coma-like sleeps.

We didn’t talk much, which was weird. Dodger always had plenty to say. I wondered if he was upset with me, or disgusted. Either way, it was starting to bother me. Out of all the things I’ve had to endure with him, a small mishap on my part and he starts giving me the cold shoulder? He would yawn as if bored and occasionally cough, his steps were sluggish, the confidence he normally exuded seemed somewhat fleeting now. It wasn’t long before my initial resentment turned to concern.

“Are you okay, did you sleep?” I asked, slowing down to match his pace.

“No, buddy, I couldn’t sleep with you so sick.” He offered me a half-hearted smile, looking down at his feet as he walked. “What kinda best friend would I be?”

“The kind that went drinking instead?” I mumbled loud enough for him to hear.

“Whatever, I was just a couple feet away. I mostly wanted to calm Red down, besides Gia was intent on nursing you back to health like a little pup. Next time, don’t go crazy without me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” There it was again. It always came down to this, as if I were a defenseless animal who couldn’t brave the world without the protection of Dodger’s wing.

“I dunno. I mean you should take care when I’m not around.” He shrugged his shoulders as if it were a simple matter of fact.

“Oh, like what? You’re my protector?”

“No, I mean like, I look out for you and you look out for me. We can count on each other and that’s it.”

“Dodge, I’m not that silly little kid who used to follow you around when we were younger, you know!”

“I never said that.”

“I can take care of myself! I don’t need to feel guilty because you were up all night worrying about me. I didn’t ask you to!”

“Calm down, will ya? I never said any of that. I was just saying you should be careful. You know, I’m the reckless one, you’re the sensible one. God knows the world would crumble if the two of us were reckless.” He gave a halfhearted laugh. There was something about the way he tried to placate me that both angered and worried me. He definitely wasn’t being himself. Could it be the virus? But, selfish as it was, I was too mad about the whole situation to afford him that concern. It was a horrible thing to do. But what can you expect from a stubborn kid who just had his pride shattered and watched the girl of his dreams choose his best friend?

“Just leave it!” I said. “We are at the station. Let’s not draw any unwanted attention to ourselves.”

“Fine.” He shrugged, coughed into the crook of his arm, and led the way down the subway stairs.

We could already feel the humidity as we walked toward the entrance. There used to be turnstiles, which allowed entry with the swipe of a card, now only debris and rubble remained. All painstakingly put into place, leaving only a small entrance, a steel-barred door. It was chained shut, we could see a large padlock on the other side being guarded by an ancient looking man. We’d have to pay the Toll Troll or talk him into letting us in.

His wrinkled face peered through the grating on the side. One eye was glazed over, and his hair was a mess of knots and lice. His skin was a sickly brown, pasty and covered in sweat, and his smile revealed a couple of gold teeth amongst empty sockets.

“Penny for the ferryman.” His voice was a slow death rattle.

“A penny! When’d you lower the price, Toll Troll?” Dodger asked.

“Still the same, just like saying penny for the ferryman.” He laughed or coughed up his insides, it was hard to tell.

“Here’s the thing―” Dodger began.

“There’s always a thing with you boys,” Toll Troll said.

Dodger held up his empty hands. “We don’t have any money.”

“That’s not a surprise.” The Toll Troll yawned. “May I go back to sleep now?”

“Now, listen,” Dodger grabbed onto the door’s bars. “We need to get in; it’s kind of a life or death type of thing.”

“Be that as it may, you’d think you would have brought money for the toll,” Toll Troll said.

“We didn’t have time to get our things,” Dodger told him.

“My cancerous heart bleeds for you.” Toll Troll sniffled. “Black blood probably… I dunno, maybe it’d be completely tar by now.”

“There has to be something else.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it were tar,” Toll Troll continued. “You know, I can feel my blood trying to surge through my veins, thick and coagulated.”

“Listen!” I said, my patience running low. “We are doing a personal favor for Red, you think she’s gonna take kindly to knowing you didn’t let us in?”

“A favor for her or a favor for yourselves?” he asked. “Gutter Punks, I know the likes. Everyone knows the Empire wants you boys. Why bring all that trouble to my doors?”

“Please, if we paid you, you wouldn’t care a bit!” I pleaded.

“And you never planned to pay, so now I care quite a bit.” He flashed his gold tooth smile once again. We all stared at each other in silence, throwing looks back and forth, impatience, exhaustion, and annoyance, as if we collectively decided the conversation would best be finished telepathically.

“We can just walk to the next station,” I said to Dodger.

“Too far, and we’d have to go through some heavy scavenger territory.”

“And then some,” Toll Troll added. “Most of the stations around here have no entrance, thanks to me!” It sounded like he laughed, or croaked to death. “Had to monopolize the business, so I blew ‘em out, BOOM!”

Dodger broke off into a fit of coughing; he hit the metal door and cursed. I’d never seen him so angry, only for a second, but totally out of character. The light-hearted nature he normally displayed all but vanished. “So what can we do?” He wiped phlegm from his mouth. “I don’t really feel like dealing with this, so why don’t you tell us…you want to sleep with Twist?” He winked at me, and, in an odd way, it was almost comforting, even though I was mad at him. He was so off that day, his one little jibe made me remember how annoying he was.

“Hmm, can’t say I do. Not yet, at least, maybe if I had a couple of drinks?” Toll Troll laughed at his own joke.

“Hey!” I yelled.

“So a couple of drinks, huh?” Dodger asked

“Yeah, something that would make your boy seem downright pretty.”

“Why are we still talking about this?” I asked, not enjoying the direction of this joke.

“Okay, we’ll see what we can do!” Dodger pulled me off to the stairs, the mid-day breeze cooling us from above.

“What were you thinking” I asked.

“Look at him, man! He’s a drunk. We just gotta get him a bottle.”

“Jeez, you really want to leg it back to Red’s?”

He looked around, thinking, hands on his hips, forehead knotted in thought.

“Dodge?”

“Nah!” Color seemed to return to his skin for the first time; a slight surge of energy ran through him. He had an idea, and as most of Dodger’s ideas went, it was most likely a bad idea.

e were topside and out of Red’s territory; this was Dodger’s plan. Unclaimed territories were scavenger hot spots, free rein for scavenging and, of course, killing, with no hope of protection. Not to say that any part of the topside wasn’t dangerous; frankly it all was. But unclaimed territory was the worst of the worst. Unsurprisingly, I was too nervous for words as we stepped into no man’s land, me nursing a hangover and him clearly coming apart at the seams.

“Maybe we should just leg it back to Red’s?” I offered, cautiously walking at his side. All my previous anger toward him had vanished, replaced by doubt and fear.

“Trekking it back would lose us the rest of the day, and, honestly, I’m not feeling that great.” As if to solidify his point, he coughed thoroughly into the crook of his arm.

“You think it’s whatever Just Stan stuck you with?”

“Must be. I never felt this horrible in my life. Whatever. We just gotta stick it out. I know an old bar around here, never totally licked clean, or it was, but scavengers like to keep it used, for drinking and trading.”

“You think that’s a good idea, messing with scavengers?”

“Never a good idea, but I don’t plan on them seeing us, do you?”

I shook my head and followed, pulling the hood of my sweater up over my head and adjusting the goggles; wearing all the extra clothing was uncomfortable. Not only did the sun burn our skin and strain our eyes, but encasing ourselves in all the extra material only made us sweat and suffer more. But we had to pick and choose our battles.

We walked down streets occupied by abandoned cars and silence. Old restaurants and storefronts with broken windows and disheveled furniture showed us glimpses of the world that used to be. I imagined walking into the past, people filling these tombs of time, eating, laughing, and enjoying their lives. The cars driving up and down used streets and the hustle and bustle of life. Now life just seemed to be a cautious thing. We had to cherish each second of it we were allowed, suffering and all. I wondered what it must have been like back then, just being able to go out with no concern for your well-being. These were the pleasures of ignorance we would never afford.

Dodger took the lead, with rare determination. He was definitely off; I was worried. More often than not, he would break into a fit of coughing, and he just generally looked like every part of him ached. But he wouldn’t complain; that was never an option for him. Instead, he walked on, navigating the maze of streets, using long faded street signs as markers; only once or twice did he backtrack his steps or curse because we had walked in a circle. I stayed quiet at his side, not wanting to confuse him. I had never walked these streets and had nothing to offer. Once again, Dodger was leader.