Part 19 (1/2)
Abby stepped up and tried to grab Kona by the throat, but her hand was too small and she just ended up knocking him over on the dock. ”What the f.u.c.k, what the f.u.c.k, what the f.u.c.k, what the f.u.c.k are you talking about, Medusa?”
”Oh, dey doan tink Kona know, but only dem vamps Elijah make live long time. How 'bout a drop of Zion, now, brah?” Kona held the lancet out to Tommy.
Tommy was stunned. ”One more thing. Why would they bring the s.h.i.+p back here? They had to know that we blew up Elijah's yacht.”
”Ya mon, but the Raven, Raven, she ain't like dat. She protect herself.” Kona held up his arm and Tommy noticed for the first time he was wearing something that looked like a dog's shock collar on his wrist. ”If I doan have dis here on, da she ain't like dat. She protect herself.” Kona held up his arm and Tommy noticed for the first time he was wearing something that looked like a dog's shock collar on his wrist. ”If I doan have dis here on, da Raven Raven kill Kona dead dead, too. She knows. She knows them three. Anyone else, she send to Davy Jones.” kill Kona dead dead, too. She knows. She knows them three. Anyone else, she send to Davy Jones.”
Tommy took the lancet from Kona, unwrapped it, and p.r.i.c.ked his finger with it.
”Not going to happen,” Abby said, catching Tommy's hand as he was holding his bleeding finger out to Kona. ”You are not getting dirty hippie mouth on you. You might be dead but you can catch heinous hacky-sac rot from someone like him.”
”Gentle down, biscuit, Kona has him feelings, too.”
She reached into her messenger and came out with a retractable pen. She unscrewed it, squeezed Tommy's blood into the cap, then handed it to Kona. ”There.”
The Rasta man sucked at the pen so hard he nearly aspirated it, then sat back on the dock and dazzled a wide, white grin. ”Ya mon, takin' the s.h.i.+p home to Zion.”
Abby's cell trilled. She checked the screen, said, ”It's Foo,” then answered and turned away.
Tommy could hear Foo Dog on the phone, begging Abby to come back to the loft right away. He s.h.i.+fted his focus to Kona. ”Why?” he asked.
”Shoots, brah, a mon love his blood ganga, so jumpin' s.h.i.+p be powerful hard, but when I sign on the Raven Raven s.h.i.+p she have a crew of twenny. Dey say dem boys leave, but they ain't jumpin' s.h.i.+p when we out to sea five days. Dat Makeda deadie, full on African biscuit, too, she eatin' me s.h.i.+pmats, Jah's mercy. Only Kona left now.” s.h.i.+p she have a crew of twenny. Dey say dem boys leave, but they ain't jumpin' s.h.i.+p when we out to sea five days. Dat Makeda deadie, full on African biscuit, too, she eatin' me s.h.i.+pmats, Jah's mercy. Only Kona left now.”
”You? You're the only crew on a s.h.i.+p this size?”
”Ya mon. That Raven, Raven, she sail herself.” she sail herself.”
Abby turned around. ”We have to go.”
”What?” Tommy asked.
”Foo said all the rats are dead. All of them.”
Tommy didn't understand. He looked at the sky, which was starting to lighten. ”We can't get over there now.”
Abby checked her watch. ”f.u.c.ksocks! Sunup in thirty.”
RIVERA.
The sky was lightening behind the Oakland hills and the pink light reflected in the gla.s.s front of the Marina Safeway made it appear to be on fire. The Animals stood around their cars, unslinging the tanks and Super Soakers of Grandma Lee's tea. Clint had Barry's spear gun, and was holding it as if it were a holy relic.
”We're out,” said Lash Jefferson. ”What are we going to tell Barry's mom? We don't even have a body.”
Rivera didn't know what to say. He hadn't thought of the Animals as people, really. It was wrong in so many ways he didn't have time to count them up. Not just endangering the public, but actively drawing citizens into a secret operation that got them killed. Amid all the unreal things that had happened, having Barry plucked out of their ranks was too real. Too wrong.
”I'm sorry,” Rivera said. ”I thought we were prepared for them. They're just cats.”
”The Emperor told you that it wasn't just a cat,” said Jeff, the big ex-power forward. He was scratching Marvin's ears and the cadaver dog was smiling.
Rivera shook his head. It was the Emperor. He was a loon. How could you know that that that part of the story was true? part of the story was true?
”Did he have a wife, girlfriend?” asked Rivera. ”We could put together some money for her.”
”No, he didn't have a girlfriend,” said Troy Lee. ”He worked graveyard s.h.i.+ft like the rest of us. Got high in the morning, slept until time to go to work at eleven. Girls won't put up with that s.h.i.+t.”
The other Animals nodded, sadly, for Barry and for themselves.
”You can't quit now,” said Cavuto. ”You don't even know if your spray works. Don't you want to see? Get revenge?”
”What's the up side?” asked Lash.
”You save the City.”
Lash slammed the car door. ”We have two hours to get our whole night's work done. You guys need to roll out of here.”
Rivera said, ”Can we have a couple of those sprayers, then? And you guys should keep them with you. We know that Chet retraces his territory. You might be territory now.”
Clint reached into the back of his Volkswagen, grabbed a Super Soaker, and threw it to Cavuto.
”Great,” said the big cop, ”I'm going to save the friggin' world with an orange squirt gun.”
”Okay, in the car, Marvin,” said Rivera. He opened the rear door of the Ford and Marvin leapt in. ”Call us if you need us.”
The two cops drove off. On the roof of the Safeway, the vampire Makeda checked her watch and squinted at the eastern sky, which was threatening sunrise.
OKATA.
Okata had never been to the Levi's store on Union Square, yet that's what the burned-up girl had drawn on the map, so that is where he went. It appeared to be a good place to find blue jeans. He handed a young girl the list the burned-up girl had given him. He paid in cash and left fifteen minutes later with a pair of black jeans, a cotton chambray s.h.i.+rt, and black denim jacket. The next mark on his map was the Nike store, and he left there with a pair of women's running shoes and a pair of socks. Then, about a block along the way to his next marker, he turned, went back to the Nike store, and bought a pair of running shoes for himself. They were bouncy and light and on his way to the next mark, he started skipping, but then caught himself and returned to deliberately pacing out his steps with his sheathed sword. People might ignore a tiny j.a.panese man in an orange porkpie hat and socks, with a sword, but if you went around expressing unrestrained joy, they would have you in a straitjacket before you could belt out a verse of ”Zippity Do-Dah.”
Next Okata found himself in the very soft and satiny world of a Victoria's Secret boutique. It was nearly Valentine's Day, and the entire store was festooned in pink and red, with very tall mannequins standing around in very small swaths of underwear. It smelled of gardenias. Young women moved back and forth, trailing bits of silk, not really talking, each entranced with her own decoration, in and out of fitting rooms, back to shelves, touching, feeling, stroking the lace, the satin, the combed cotton, then moving on to the next soft scene. He imagined that this must be what it was like in the control room for a v.a.g.i.n.a. He was an artist, and had never been in a control room, nor a v.a.g.i.n.a for nearly forty years, but he was sure he remembered it having a similar sensation. This was embarra.s.singly public, though, and he sat on a round red velvet settee to conceal the sudden memory rising in his trousers.
He was approached by a pet.i.te Asian girl with a name tag. He gave her his list and said, ”Please,” and was shocked out of his fuzzy, separate world when she answered him in j.a.panese.
”Is this for your wife?” she asked.
He didn't know what to say. She was there in the room with him, this young girl, in a v.a.g.i.n.a control room with him and his distant erotic memories. He could feel his face go hot.
”A friend,” he said. ”She is sick and sent me here.”
The girl smiled. ”She seems to know exactly what she wants, and her sizes are here, too. Do you know what color she likes?”
”No. Whatever you think is best,” he said.
”You wait here. I'll go get some samples and you can pick.”
He wanted to stop her, or bolt out the door, or crawl under the cus.h.i.+on of the settee and hide his embarra.s.sment, but gardenia was in the air like opium, and there was music playing with the rhythm of slow s.e.x, and the young women moved like diaphanous ghosts around him, and his shoes were very, very comfortable, so he watched the young girl picking out pairs of bras and panties, gathering them like rose petals to be sprinkled over a snowy path to heaven.