- •Joe Pitt 2 - No Dominion
- •I look him up and down.
- •I turn to Terry.
- •I fiddle with my Zippo, snap it open and closed.
- •I look at Phil. He glances at the bar, cataloging the bottles on the top shelf.
- •I hand the waitress some cash.
- •I smile.
- •I put two of the specials in front of Phil.
- •I stand up and dig the last of my cash out of my pocket. After the drinks here and Niagara and the twenty for the doorman, there's about forty left. I drop it in front of him.
- •I try to touch her hand, but she moves it. She stares at the band, holding the smoldering cigarette unsmoked.
- •I set my half full coffee cup on the floor at my feet.
- •I hang on the line while she doesn't say anything. I hear a clicking sound, like maybe she's flicking her thumbnail against her front teeth. The sound stops.
- •I watch his eyes, trying to see if he's playing me. They're unreadable; black stones sunk deep in dark wells.
- •I start for the stairs.
- •I wipe the blood out of my eyes with the back of my hand.
- •I look at Timberlands.
- •I walk through followed by Digga, Timberlands, and the rhinos. The door swings shut behind us and we start down a stairwell.
- •I shake my head.
- •I stand up and move the chair back to the table.
- •I take the blankets and spread them on the couch.
- •I put it on the table.
- •I look behind us to the east, where the sun will soon be rising.
- •I look up at the old, well maintained buildings illuminated by ornamental street lamps and security lights.
- •I put it on, take my Zippo from the pocket and use it to light one of Percy's Pall Malls.
- •I climb.
- •I shut up and let them do it their way.
- •I scratch my balls.
- •I dress. I look at the ruined collar. I remember the day Evie gave me the jacket. It was my birthday. The day she thinks is my birthday, anyway. I look at the old lady and put the jacket back on.
- •Vandewater moves to the edge of the plastic, standing over the boys who kneel on either side of the Hispanic kid.
- •Vandewater looks at me.
- •Vandewater steps out of their way.
- •I shake my head.
- •Vandewater turns back to me.
- •I look at her.
- •I bring up the machine pistol.
- •I look.
- •I don't say anything. I don't really have to. Because he's right, that's some shit hitting the fan pretty damn hard.
- •I take it, set it down.
- •I think about it. And it scares me.
- •I point at his nose.
- •I light a cigarette of my own.
- •I finish my beer.
- •I take a drag, having witnessed what being sincere got Tom.
- •I grind some sleep from my eyes.
- •I point at his syringe.
- •I look at him.
- •I pull her face back to mine.
I shake my head.
--There is no reason you should. You are looking at a weapon. A very old weapon.
Another bag full, another attached.
--Although it has never been used as such before. In the past it has always been simply a vice. Albeit a very dangerous one. And very exclusive.
Another bag.
--One wonders where the original inspiration came from, who it was that stuck their finger in the air and declared, eureka!
She picks up one of the full bags.
--I suspect it was an accident.
She walks toward me.
--I suspect it was a Vampyre, crazed with hunger, attempting to feed on someone who had been very, very recently infected. Through some odd set of circumstances, this Vampyre fed only for a moment. And made a discovery.
Behind her, another bag is filled.
--That, when consumed, the blood of one freshly infected will induce the most remarkable sensations. Remarkable, and addictive.
She raises an index finger.
--An unbelievably expensive addiction, mind you. For who can afford to be addicted to blood twice over? Who can bear the risks of hunting not just for sustenance, but for pleasure? Thus the exclusivity. They're massaging the kid now, rubbing their hands over his legs and arms, as if squeezing dry a tube of toothpaste.
--That expense lies also at the heart of the secret as to why something like this has laid buried for so very long. Of course, I say something like this, knowing that nothing else like this exists. The point being, our lives are difficult to say the least. And they can be very long. And, if one does not have resources, very boring. An effective distraction from the basic needs for survival would be compelling in and of itself. Even if it were not addictive.
Another bag.
--It was decided some time ago, some very great time ago, that this was an indulgence that could not be afforded. It was declared anathema by the body that governed the Clans. When there was such a thing. In fact, that was the name it was given.
She shows me the bag in her hands, holds it in front of my face so that my nostrils are full of the stink of it.
-- Anathema: the name for both the substance itself, and the habit of indulging in it. It was forbidden. The addicts were hunted and slaughtered. It became a crime so heinous, no one even knew of its existence. And so you see my personal values employed.
She turns to face the kid being wrung dry on the floor.
--Employing something of the past in a new manner, in order to shape the future. It flows out of these sacrifices.
She points at the window.
--And we send it onto the streets below. To wear holes in their unity. To create dissent and expose weaknesses. To drive their children to hunt to excess and endanger themselves. Thus, it is a weapon.
One of the boys has hoisted the kid by his ankles. A bag fills in fits and spurts.
Vandewater turns back to me.
--A weapon that, given time, will spur a war.
The kid is dry. They begin to bundle him in the plastic sheet.
--It will drive the Hood to threaten war on the Coalition. Predo, clinging to the status quo as he does, will attempt to avoid this. But he will have no choice. The chaos reigning in the Hood will force him to take action. Especially once I have assured him that I will be taking action whether he does or not. He will not risk losing this settlement. Particularly not when he sees how vulnerable to attack I have made the Hood.
She points at the two plastic wrapped bodies.
--Put them in the kitchen for now.
Two of the boys haul them out of the room.
She shows me the bag of blood again, holds it balanced on the open palm of her large hand.
--And that is what you are looking at.